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dronebiscuitbat · 3 months

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Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 40)

It was weird, being alone again.

Uzi was in her workshop, wiring up key parts of her railgun with the precision only a drone could have, Tera was curled in her lap upright, gripping onto her like monkey would it's parent, purr emanating from her core periodically.

N had left that morning brimming with excitement about asking her dad for a job at the WDF, he'd said something along the lines of “what's better then a living weapon to protect the bunker?”

She'd wanted to argue, to tell him he wasn't a weapon, but he'd been giving her a chaste kiss goodbye and was out the door before she could even say a word.

“Mama?” Tera's voice wafted up towards her, causing her thoughts to immediately get lost in the sea of her consciousness, she looked down, one hand already on the toddlers back.

“Yes, Jellybean?”

Tera didn't know any more words yet, but she did know that she had her mother's attention, and opened and closed her mouth, a bit like a baby bird, only with less terrifying open mouthed screaming.

“Hungry?” Uzi laughed, and Tera flashed her a big grin, clearly proud of her communication skills.

“Alright, come on then.” Uzi put down her tools and lifted her daughter up to her chest as she stood, Tera giggled, though it was intermingled with a low trill that sent a pleasant haze through the older drones system.

Kit is happy.

Don't need your freaking input.

She made her way to the fridge, the appliance didn't get much use, but it did allow her to preserve several bottles of oil for Tera, keeping it cold. It didn't seem to help cool her down anymore, but it did give her side a much needed break.

Which was helpful, if she was going to doing this for the next six years. Ugh, her systems recoiled from that, maybe her side would eventually get used to it.

Speaking of, she was checking her oil for any signs of being contaminated, considering the head wound she had gotten bled, but the oil coming out of her side panel seemed to be normal, thankfully.

She was still a little wary, Tera had been showing signs of… solver bullshit. But nothing entirely concrete had cropped up yet, and she was hoping it would stay that way. What she knew of it, it was code, something genetic or the closest thing drones had instead, Tera had none of her code, so she should be safe.

At least, Uzi really, really hoped so.

She gripped one of the tiny bottles and tipped it into Tera's mouth, and while Tera's hand rested on the side of it, she made no attempt to grab at it, her moter functions were about the equivalent of a 8 month old human baby, just… combined with JCJenson industrial strength hydraulic grip.

“There you go.” She cooed, slightly embarrassed at herself, she'd never thought of herself as being maternal, not really, she knew how to care for a baby from her mom and the time they spent in the nursery, but she had fallen into this quite… naturally.

She couldn't ever imagine leaving her daughter alone, not when the droneling looked up at her like she was the greatest thing ever, even when she was working, Tera was with her, or, at least, so long as what she was working on was relatively safe enough for her to be nearby.

Right now, her railgun was completely depowered, and whatever parts could discharge were now housed safely in the railguns frame, leaving the only one to get shocked if Uzi misplaced a wire, was herself.

Tera finished up her meal, and Uzi took the bottle away from her mouth, wiping what was left away with her finger, Tera giggled at the ticklish sensation, before blowing a raspberry and sticking out her tongue.

“What? Tickle?” Uzi smirked, before poking the toddler in the stomach lightly, causing several more giggles to erupt from the droneling, which of course, caused Uzi to rapid fire a couple more until Tera began to try to swat her away (clumsily and unsuccessfully).

“Mmm.” Tera made a noise, before pouting with a look that Uzi probably made this morning, all that was missing was the crossed arms.

“Jeeze, I hope you're not a mini me. That would be depressing.” She commented, she'd turned out the way she did through the absence of her parents, and Tera would always have her and N, so at the very least, she wouldn't be alone.

As long as she could help it.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

N got to the front door of the WDF office extremely quickly, aided in part to his height but also his extreme excitement in being useful again, both to colony and to Uzi.

After all, isn't that what he was supposed to do? Provide?

He blinked, before smiling, Yes! Yes that's exactly what he was supposed to do, provide for his family, protect them, and this way, he could do both!

He was given weapons for a reason, right?

He knocked on the door, it being a deep, ancient wood instead of the automatic steel ones of most the bunker, a bronzed plaque pinned on the front; Worker Defense Force HQ.

“Comin’!” A gruff muffled voice came out from behind the door, it wasn't Khan, the voice wasn't deep enough, but it did sound like a throat destroyed by years of drinking battery acid.

N felt nervousness bubble up into his core, he'd come here to talk to Khan, but he'd entirely forgotten that there were more people who were actually in the WDF, which made sense… now that he thought about it.

The door opened to reveal dull blue eyelights, permanent stress lines below them, speaking of battery acid, he smelled like it, it radiated off him like a particularly strong colone.

His eyes went hollow for a moment, having to look up despite the fact he was fairly tall for a worker drone, but still N eclipsed him entirely, N's tail wagged idly as he tried to make himself slightly smaller, trying to be non-threatening with a brilliant, sunny smile on his face.

“Hello!” He waved, both hands held in front of him to show he wasn't going to attack unexpectedly, his head tilted to the side.

The worker in front of him went from startled, to visibly annoyed.

“What do you wan’” His accent was comicly southern, bordering on unintelligible, N blinked for a moment, running the gruff voice through his processors another time before he really understood it.

“Uh- I wanted to talk to Khan, is he here, Mr….?” The need to be polite had been programmed (and beaten) into him, regardless of how hard to understand the drone in front of him was.

“Baylef, Yeah ‘es here, why you askin’ for him?” The older drone squinted at the taller one, N did his best to not let it get to him.

“I wanted to see if he would let me get a job here! I've been living here awhile, and it feels kinda bad to not give anything back.”

“Yer a Murder Drone.” The drone said back dryly, as if he wasn't just pointing out a fact.

“Ah- Disassembly Drone, please. But y-yes.”

“The WDF was founded to keep th’ colony safe from you lot, and you wan’ a job here?”

Well, he should have expected something like this to be honest, it wasn't like those many years spent killing every single worker drone on sight just didn't happen.

“Uhm… Yes?”

The drone just about shut the door in his face, but another voice called put from further in the office. A very familiar, fatherly one.

“Dale, who's at the door? They sound familiar.”

“Err.” The drone stopped mid-shut, looking like he'd just been caught trying to steal cookies from the top shelf.

“It's me Mr. Doorman!” N called into the room, hoping it was loud enough for Khan to here.

“N!”

Dale, the drone that had not-so-politlely nearly told him to fuck off, opened the door all the way before Khan came into view, a smile on his face as he held a clipboard in his hand.

“What are you doing here? Is my daughter hurt? Oh! Is Tera-” Khan was already working himself up, but N stopped him with a friendly laugh.

“Uzi's fine Mr.Doorman, and if my daughter wasn't, I'm sure the whole bunker would know!”

“Daughter?” Dale grumbled out confusedly, looking surprised.

“Yes! Dale you remember me talking about my granddaughter? This is N, my daughter's fiancé.”

N blushed heavily, finding some of the words in his throat dying there before he could say them.

“Boyfriend… we're… not, I haven't uh-” He tried to quickly clarify, but Khan wasn't having it.

“Bah, you love her, she loves you, if it hasn't happened yet it will soon and I'll be ahead of the curve!”

“You can't- uh, you can't just tell people we're engaged though! That's not true!” Even if he agreed with the words coming out of Khans mouth, and he did, he did want that… eventually. But he hadn't thought about it in any degree of seriousness aside from how Uzi would look in a wedding dress.

Which was incredible, but he didn't think either of them were ready for that… yet.

Khan just shrugged, N was left embarrassed, Dale, standing back a few feet from the two, looked like someone just dunked him in a bath of coolant.

“Why are you here then?” Khan carried on the conversation like it was nothing, so N had to gulp down whatever emotion he was feeling to continue as well.

“I uh, wanted to ask for a job.” He repeated what he'd told Dale, only now more sheepishly.

“You? Want a job? Here?” Khan repeated slowly, eyes slowly growing hollow as he turned back around to face N.

“Yeah?”

“Oh! Absolutely! This is great news! I'm gonna teach you so much about doors!”

Oh… great…

Next ->

#murder drones #uzi doorman #serial designation n #nuzi #biscuitbites #n and uzi #oil is thicker then blood #tera doorman #hey look racism #or botism i guess #also Tera and Uzi being cute AF

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starsfic · 1 year

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prompt to continue the azure/wukong storyline

azures longing turns into something sharper; obsession.

when MK has a small fight with wukong’s husband azure’s mind randomly decides that “qi xiaotian is my son and this bastard is his kidnapper.”

maybe he puts a love potion into food he knows wukong likes and sent it home w/MK unknowingly. poor MK has to watch his baba get delirious and tired, eyes blown out leaning over the table mumbling azures name as the powerful potion kicks in

So I presume this is for the Art School AU. Unfortunately, the au is no magic. So, instead, you get this!

The news nearly made Azure fall over.

“Wukong is alive?!” He gripped the table tight, trying to steady himself, unsure of how to react to the news he had just been presented with. Some part of him screamed in anger- Wukong and his successor was the biggest challenge against his campaign. The other part of him, the weak part that he had given away so many centuries ago, screamed in joy.

No matter what, he could not silence that weak part of himself.

“Well, yes. The boy-” Of course, of course, it was Qi Xiaotian. Azure had found it too easy to give a part of that weakness to him- they both loved too easily. “And Macaque.” Also of course. “They managed to release him.”

“I…” Wait. He barely managed a chuckle, straightening. Oh, he was an idiot. He had forgotten what he had done, before he had left for the ridge. A simple backup plan. “They’re hiding out at the mountain.”

“Yes, of course they are, but what is so amusing?” Yellowtusk said. “I have not heard you laugh like that before.” He sounded tense, as if worried reality would begin to break again.

“Just a backup plan.” Azure straightened. “Wukong will not be an issue.”

Peng cackled as Yellowtusk's eyes went wide.

"You poisoned him?"

-_-

"Alright," Wukong clapped his hands together. Everything was going great! The plan was fully hammered out and everyone was on the same page. "Before we get to training, who wants snacks?"

Hands went up. Even Nezha, who he figured would be furious at the pause, even raised his hands.

"Yeah, I figured." Wukong chuckled. "I-"

"I got them!" Qi Xiaotian bounced up to his feet and zoomed into the kitchen. Immediately, noises began in the kitchen. Hopefully, Xiaotian was breaking into the cabinets designated for him and the others, not the giant fruit storage pantry.

As the others drifted around, Wukong turned to the art. His heart ached, just for a second, at the little drawn Camel Ridge Trio getting sucked into the scroll. He bit it back. Nobody needed him getting cold feet.

Even if he had questions.

-_-

“No. Nothing like that.” Azure had too many close calls with poison to ever use it. Besides, he didn’t want to kill Wukong, no matter what his anger claimed. “A moment of weakness, I admit.”

Yellowtusk’s eyes narrowed. “Not poison.” he said, slowly. “Something else.”

-_-

"Need some help?"

Xiaotian glanced back over his shoulder in time to see Pigsy press the pause button on the microwave. "Always." he said, barely fighting back a massive grin.

Son. Pigsy, for the first time Xiaotian could remember, had called him "son".

He knew Pigsy and Tang both viewed him as a son. He knew it. Too many stories had been told of Tnag calling himself Xiaotian's father figure from Pigsy gushing about him to his relatives. But it was the first time Xiaotian had ever heard it out loud.

Soon enough, a wide array of snacks was on the tray. "Need anything else?" Pigsy asked. "I was thinking water."

"Yeah, but the monkeys also make this really great peach juice. I'll grab it."

"Got it!" Pigsy picked up the tray and marched out.

-_-

There had been food in the weird cold box. Azure had not stayed long, the little vial burning in his pocket.

Too many solid things. Too much of a risk someone else would drink from that jug.

-_-

Xiaotian opened the fridge to grab the jug of peach juice and paused. An open peach yogurt was on the top shelf, right next to the others. It was something Xiaotian had found that Wukong had liked with great delight. Although, he had never seen his mentor not finish one . Even weirder, it looked completely full, as if Wukong had opened it, stirred it, and just set it back.

"Hey, Monkey King?"

His mentor's voice raised over the talking in the next room. "Yeah, bud?"

Xiaotian poked his head out, showing the opened yogurt. "Do you wanna finish this yogurt?"

Wukong raised a brow. "Huh. Didn't know I had that in there." He seemed worried for a second before shaking his head. 'Eh, probably forgot. Sure, bud!"

"Okay!" Xiaotian pulled out a spoon, set the yogurt on the other tray, and walked in with the jug and the rest of the snacks. The moment he set the tray down, Wukong grabbed the yogurt. He eyed it, looking like he was wondering if it was off. "I did come out of the blue," he suggested. "Maybe you didn't get to touch it?"

Wukong hummed. "Yeah." He scooped up a good dollop and bit down. He hummed. "Tastes good!"

-_-

The potion had slipped from the vial easily and, with a few stirs, had disappeared. Azure had set the yogurt back without another word and had left the small cottage.

Something slammed down. “You gave him a love potion?!” Yellowtusk bellowed.

“You gave him a love potion?!” Peng squawked before bursting into laughter. Their chuckles died down when a heavy jug full of wine sailed at their head.

“That is not okay!” Admittedly, Azure should’ve kept in mind how the others would react. Yellowtusk was the most sensitive to the idea. The number of times Wukong or DBK or even himself nearly got love potioned and had to be saved by Yellowtusk was ridiculous. “Why would you do that to him?!”

-_-

“Hey…Wukong? You okay there, bud?”

It was Macaque who first noticed. Of course it was, because Xiaotian was an idiot. His mentor looked weirdly pale, setting down the yogurt. Or, tried to set down the yogurt. It more fell out of his hand.

“Wukong!” Nezha actually sounded panicked, gripping his shoulders as the golden monkey slumped over. From where he sat, Xiaotian could see how his pupils had dilated. The lighter yellow was drowning out the gold. “What’s wrong?!”

“I…Azure…?” The words were slurred, Wukong pitching forward. Suddenly Macaque was there, leaning him back. “Where’s Azure…?” The slurred voice sounded distressed.

“He’s not here.” Nezha said, sounding like he was trying to be comforting. “He can’t get to you, Wukong, you’re safe.” If it was meant to be comforting, it didn’t work, based on the tears welling up.

“What’s wrong?” Xiaojiao said, grabbing Pigsy’s hand. She squeezed it as distress clouded her eyes. “What’s wrong with him?”

“I don’t know!” Xiaotian nearly whined, meeting his mentor’s clouded eyes.

Were they…pink?

-_-

“I just want to be happy with him.”

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bloody-bee-tea · 10 months

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Assumptions

This is 7k long, so if you'd rather read it on AO3, you can do that too

Suguru is on the way to his room, fully intending to enjoy the rare afternoon off by taking a thorough nap, when he hears Satoru’s tell-tale steps behind him. Satoru is not trying to be quiet, which Suguru is thankful for, because it gives him time to brace himself.

And not a second too early because just then Satoru almost jumps him, draping himself over Suguru’s shoulders and hanging off his back.

Suguru’s step doesn’t falter with the added weight and he knows Satoru notices it when he makes a surprised noise in the back of his throat.

“Why are you never, ever caught off guard?” Satoru whines in his ear, his volume just low enough to not make Suguru flinch but he still takes that opportunity to try and push Satoru off, his hand right in Satoru’s face.

“What are you being so rude for?” Satoru’s voice comes out garbled and he clings to Suguru like a deranged monkey, even going so far as to sling his legs around Suguru’s middle.

That almost staggers Suguru until he finds his balance again and Satoru drops his head into Suguru’s shoulder.

“You can’t just do that,” he whispers, a note of despair in his voice and Suguru frowns.

“I’m not the one doing anything,” he gives back, flicking Satoru’s forehead, though he’s careful not to make it hurt too much.

“Yeah, right,” Satoru mutters, but he continues to cling to Suguru instead of walking by himself.

“Fair warning, when I get to my room, I am going to flop down on my bed, with you attached or not,” Suguru tells him as his door comes into view and he can already hear the sweet siren call of his bed.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Satoru confidentially says and maybe Suguru wouldn’t have, but this–this is practically a challenge for him to do it and Suguru is not one to back down. Not when it comes to Satoru.

“Watch me,” he promises him and laughs when Satoru freezes in uncertainty, though he still doesn’t let go.

He’s going to regret that in a second because Suguru might not look like it, but he’s all compact muscle and Satoru is nothing more than some sticks strung together to form a humanoid shape. Suguru is going to break him, and he’s not even going to be sorry about it. He did warn Satoru.

“Come on, you wouldn’t, right? Right?” Satoru asks, over and over again, poking Suguru’s cheek, and the easy solution to this would be for him to simply let go of Suguru but of course he doesn’t.

Suguru can’t even find it in him to complain, not really, because Satoru is pressed against him, warm and comforting and solid, and when he reaches up to at least pretend to try and dislodge Satoru’s arm around his neck, he finds himself holding on instead.

Satoru must notice too but he doesn’t mention it and Suguru doesn’t know what to make of that.

He never knows what to make of Satoru in these moments, where he allows Suguru more than he probably should, where they both get a little bit clingy with the other, where Satoru acts as if all of this is normal and in fact wanted by him.

Suguru is never sure and he can’t find the courage to ask, in fear of shattering whatever it is they do have at the moment.

“If you don’t let go, you’ll have to nap with me,” Suguru threatens Satoru, his hand on the door handle and Satoru scoffs, his breath fanning over the side of Suguru’s face, making him shudder.

“As if that’s the worst thing that could happen to me,” he mutters, and Suguru thinks he must know that no matter how quiet he tries to be, with how close they are it is impossible for Suguru to not hear this.

It’s impossible for him to not hear it, and it’s equally as impossible to not be filled with warmth at Satoru’s words.

“One nap, coming right up,” Suguru cheerfully says, trying to distract Satoru from the blush on his face, but they are too close for that as well, Suguru knows.

“Do your worst,” Satoru says with a decided nod, as if he isn’t going to scream and complain the moment Suguru does flop down on him and just as Suguru is about to step into his room, Yaga’s voice rings out behind them.

“Geto, Gojo. A mission’s come up.”

Satoru and Suguru both go still for a long moment before Satoru drops his head to Suguru’s shoulder.

“Fucking geezer,” he whispers into the fabric of Suguru’s uniform, before he finally untangles himself and stands back on his own two feet. “We have the afternoon off,” he calls out to Yaga, sounding distinctly disappointed and Suguru sighs.

“Curses don’t keep to schedules. Now get going, I texted you the information,” is the heartless reply they get and true to his words, Suguru’s phone helpfully informs him of one unread message when he takes it out.

Suguru doesn’t want to admit that he’s just as disappointed as Satoru sounds even though he is. So instead of joining Satoru in glaring at Yaga, he pokes his side.

“Come on. We’re supposed to go together. If we do it in under an hour, we still have ample time to rest,” Suguru cajoles him, and he knows Satoru is on board when sparkling eyes meet his.

“Bet I can do it faster than you,” Satoru says with a wicked grin and Suguru knows that it’s on.

They’ll be back before the hour is over.

~*~*~

The curse is fast, and it’s elusive. Satoru and Suguru have been trying to get it to stand still for the better part of twenty minutes and even though there is no real rush, an imaginary timer is ticking away in Suguru’s head. He knows it’s the same for Satoru.

They said they’d be done in under an hour, but the curse is making it difficult for them by always slipping away.

It almost feels as if it’s dancing with them and Suguru can’t say that he likes it. He fears that something worse is coming, that it’s just trying to whittle them down, make them reckless and stupid.

Suguru can only hope that Satoru noticed the same thing, because he doesn’t actually get a chance to call out to him, not with how hard he’s breathing, just trying to keep up with the curse.

He doesn’t know what this curse’s goal is and it’s puzzling. There have been no dead bodies around, no mindless destruction and Suguru wonders if this isn’t a special grade curse, one with enough intelligence to have its own agenda.

It’s worrying.

Suguru meets Satoru’s eyes for a split second when the curse escapes one of Suguru’s own curses again, and he sees the same worry reflected back in Satoru’s impossible blue ones.

At least he’s not alone in this.

Still, Satoru wouldn’t be Satoru, if he wasn’t at least a little reckless.

“Hey, we said an hour, remember? Better get going,” Satoru calls out to him and Suguru wants to roll his eyes at him but in that moment the curse lets out an unholy cackle.

“Time to be serious then,” the curse hisses out and Suguru’s stomach drops out when he realises that they have been played.

It’s terrifying to know that the tables could be turned so easily on them, and he sees the same shock reflected in Satoru’s face when his eyes dart over to him.

It doesn’t take him longer than a second to focus his attention back at the curse, but by then it’s already right in front of him. Suguru sees the curse reaching out for him, he hears Satoru call out his name, and then everything is plunged into an inky darkness.

“You’re one of us,” the voice of the curse echoes around him, its hand wrapped around Suguru’s wrist and it feels as if he’s freezing inside out.

“What,” Suguru tries to say but the darkness swirls around him, making him dizzy and he has to cut himself off so he doesn’t gag right where he stands.

“More curse than human, more darkness than not,” the curse goes on and things start to take on some semblance of form.

Suguru can’t say he likes it much, but at least the dizzying feeling is subsiding.

“I’m human,” he finally gets out, still too caught off guard to do anything else, and the hand on his wrist is unforgiving.

Suguru doubts he can break free of that hold.

The curse cackles again and Suguru takes that time to get his bearings back. He’s not in a domain, though whatever the curse is doing to him must come close to it. Some innate technique maybe? Things are still shadowy around him, but the longer Suguru watches the more shapes he can make out, though everything is plunged in darkness.

“Yes, look, adapt,” the curse hisses and Suguru immediately stops looking because he’s not going to do what this curse tells him. “You’re one of us.”

“I’m not,” he still says, can’t allow this curse to even insinuate that and he startles when the curse takes on a physical form again.

The glee on its face is unmistakable.

“Look at yourself, look,” the curse urges him and it raises Suguru’s hand. “You’re like us, dark, tainted.”

It sounds elated by that and Suguru tries to punch it with his free hand but his hand shoots right through its head. It seems as if it doesn’t have a physical form inside this technique and just when Suguru is about to call out one of his own curses, his eyes get caught on his own hand.

It’s black too, like the inky darkness surrounding the curse itself and Suguru freezes.

“See, you’re like us, tainted. Willingly accepting us into your body and not realising that it changes you,” the curse almost hums out, satisfaction running through it and Suguru shudders.

His eyes dart to his left hand only to see that one perfectly unmarred; his skin almost starkly white against the darkness of the shadows around him. It’s only his right hand that’s black and Suguru feels like throwing up.

It’s the hand he always uses to condense the curses; it’s the hand that holds their essence.

“Yes, yes, it is,” the curse agrees as if Suguru had spoken out loud. “Here, too,” the curse goes on, reaching out for Suguru and caressing his cheek, before it trails his hand down Suguru’s throat, down his chest, until it comes to a stop at his stomach. “So many of us. So similar to us.”

Suguru looks down at himself and is horrified to see that his stomach swirls with the same shadows as his hand does, as his surroundings do.

He can’t let this get to him, though.

“You’re a liar,” he gets out, trying again to push the curse away, but his hand doesn’t connect with anything.

“Look, look,” the curse urges him again, but this time it directs Suguru’s attention away from himself, to something outside of their little bubble.

There’s a blinding, bright light that makes Suguru squint for a moment, before it takes on a humanoid form.

“He’s not like us, so different from you.”

Suguru frowns but it only takes him a second to realise that the curse must be talking about Satoru. Satoru, who is enveloped in energy so pure it makes him look radiant.

“Satoru,” Suguru breathes out, because he almost forgot that he’s not alone, almost forgot that Satoru is still there and can help. “Satoru!” he says, louder, hoping to get Satoru’s attention through the shadows but the curse only laughs again.

“You already started tainting him, too,” the curse cackles out. “You’re so useful to us.”

Suguru wants to tell it to shut up, but his eyes got used to Satoru’s blinding light and now that he can see him somewhat clearly his eyes get caught on a black shape on Satoru’s face.

It’s in the form of a handprint and Suguru goes slack with shock. That doesn’t stop him from taking in more of Satoru though, and he notices the receding darkness on Satoru’s chest, right where he was pressed against Suguru not even an hour ago.

“It’s contagious,” Suguru breathes out, his heart hammering away in his chest.

“You’re going to spread it,” the curse agrees, clearly pleased. “Soon, there will be no difference between us and him.”

Panic grabs at Suguru’s mind. Satoru is bright and happy, everything a curse is not and the thought that he could taint that, could spread this darkness to him simply by touching Satoru is sickening.

But he can’t let this get to him, can’t trust the words of a curse, of all things.

“You’re a liar,” he says again, much more certain this time, as he summons a curse of his own to throw at the one currently holding him hostage.

He very decidedly does not notice the swirling darkness running down his arm, moments before his own curse manifests.

Suguru doesn’t have time to think about that right now. He needs to get out of whatever technique this is and then he needs to take this curse in so he can verify what it just said. And just as he’s thinking that, Satoru shatters the technique surrounding Suguru and the curse.

“Suguru!” he yells out as soon as the first cracks appear and the curse shrieks.

Suguru takes that opportunity to throw his own curse at it, watching with satisfaction as it’s being teared at by vicious claws.

“Suguru, you good?” Satoru asks, coming to a stand next to him, hands extended as if he’s going to cast red at this curse.

“I am,” Suguru gives back, putting his hand on top of Satoru’s—decidedly ignoring the way it makes him flinch, thinking that his blackened hand should leave a print on Satoru behind—and lowering his arm. “I need that curse. Don’t obliterate it.”

“Did it hurt you?” Satoru asks, tension visibly still running through him and Suguru thinks that if he says the wrong thing now, Satoru is going to explode the curse where it stands.

“No,” Suguru tells him, keeping an eye on the curse at all times, so he doesn’t miss the moment when he can take it in. “I’m fine, Satoru. But I need that curse, so don’t do anything stupid.”

It has the wanted effect, because it makes Satoru puff up with indignation.

“I never do anything stupid,” Satoru immediately complaints and Suguru allows himself a small smile.

“Sure,” Suguru agrees and follows the fight of the curses, hand at the ready to take the curse in.

It doesn’t take much longer, the curse not standing a chance against Suguru’s own and before he knows it, it’s in his hand. Suguru doesn’t particularly want to swallow it, but he needs to verify what it said on his own, because a curse is not to be trusted, and so he brings the sphere to his mouth.

The taste is the same, he’s pretty sure about that, but this time it feels so much worse than it usually does and Suguru gags before the curse even made it down.

“You’re not fine,” Satoru accusingly says from his side, watching him over the rim of his glasses and his gaze is piercing. “What’s wrong?”

Suguru forces himself to swallow, waits for the curse to at least settle a little bit so he doesn’t throw up the moment he opens his mouth before he gives Satoru a tight smile.

“It was a strong curse. I’m good,” he then tells him, putting a hand over his stomach as if that could help to make the curse settle peacefully. As if that could help to keep the darkness inside of him, where it should be.

Satoru continues to stare at him, his gaze searching, but something in Suguru’s expression must convince him, because he bumps their shoulders together.

“If you say so,” Satoru mutters before he gives Suguru one of his trademark smiles. “Then it’s time for some sweets!”

Suguru wants to argue that they agreed to do this in under an hour so they can rest some more, but something sweet on top of the vile taste of this curse might not be the worst thing, so he simply nods.

Satoru laughs at his agreement and drapes himself over Suguru’s side, one arm thrown around his neck, and Suguru fights the urge to flinch away. There is no reason at all to believe the curse. There is no reason at all to think that he could be tainting Satoru at this very moment and there is actually no way he can explain what happened with the curse without sounding stupid.

He needs to verify what the curse said, first.

But that comes after dessert with Satoru.

~*~*~

The curse said the truth.

Suguru verified it the moment Satoru left for his own room, sneaking out beyond the protective barrier so he doesn’t get in trouble with the higher-ups as he summoned the curse to come out again, to use that innate technique on him again.

Suguru is coated with darkness; his hand, his stomach and—Suguru can only guess at this—his mouth and throat as well.

Everything that regularly touches curses is tainted, seems more curse-like than human and Suguru feels sick again.

To think that he touched Satoru like this all this time, that he rubbed that inky darkness all over him without a second thought makes Suguru want to tear his hair out.

“What is happening,” Suguru whispers out, hunched over as if that could stop the darkness from spreading further, and he almost sets the curse free, he’s that unwilling to take it back in again.

He can only imagine the dark smudge it leaves behind on him as it goes down again.

Suguru presses a hand to his mouth, tries to keep the curse and the bile down, as he wonders how he’s going to stay at the school once he becomes more curse than human. He distantly wonders if the alarms will ever go off due to his mere presence and it tears a desperate laugh from his throat.

It will only be a matter of time until he has to leave, that much Suguru is certain about, and until then he’ll have to make sure to keep the darkness to himself.

Suguru hides his face against his legs, presses into his knees until colourful spots appear behind his eyelids and he pretends the burning is due to that instead of tears.

He’ll have to keep away from everyone; he can no longer allow Satoru to touch him so casually, can no longer reach out for Satoru in turn, because he has to keep him save and bright and untainted.

Suguru will simply have to stay away from everyone.

~*~*~

It works for about two days, before Satoru clearly catches on that something is not alright. Two days of desperately putting space between himself and Satoru, of dancing out of the way of reaching hands, of turning when Suguru hears Satoru come up to him so Satoru doesn’t get a chance to drape himself over Suguru’s back.

Two days of keeping Satoru as far away from him as he can.

It’s been two of the most miserable days of his life.

Suguru is despairing on his bed, trying to keep out of the way of everyone when Satoru comes into his room without announcing himself and Suguru immediately tenses.

Satoru doesn’t step further into the room though; instead he leans against the closed door behind him and going by the look on his face, Suguru briefly fears that someone died.

“What’s wrong?” Suguru asks, sitting up as if there is anything he could do if someone really died.

“That should be my line,” Satoru gives back with a bitter smile, “though I can guess. The curse a few days back—it talked to you, right?”

“What?” Suguru breathes out because he doesn’t understand where this is coming from all of a sudden.

“When it touched you, I thought it was just for a brief moment, but it was longer for you, wasn’t it?”

“I was—yes,” Suguru admits because that one is easy. He was trapped in that technique for long, long minutes.

“And it talked to you?”

“It did.”

Suguru isn’t quite sure why that admission is enough to make Satoru’s face twist like it does and he hunches his shoulders as if he’s bracing for a fight.

“It told you, didn’t it?” Satoru finally asks, his voice only audible because it’s deadly quiet in the room and Suguru reels back.

It leaves him speechless for a moment, before a question bubbles up his throat but when Satoru looks at him over the rim of his glasses, the words die on his throat. Of course Satoru would know; if anyone it would be him, with his Six Eyes, seeing right through Suguru, seeing everything that is stained and bad about him.

So instead of asking the question with an obvious answer, he settles for the next best question.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice shakes and it makes Satoru flinch again.

“Because of this, obviously,” he gives back and nods at Suguru. “You’re pulling away, you’re avoiding me. You think I wanted to have that happen sooner? Of course I wouldn’t tell you, Suguru.”

The answer leaves Suguru speechless before anger boils up inside of him.

“You’re so goddamn selfish, Satoru,” he hisses. “How dare you decide that for me? I have a say in this, too, and it doesn’t just concern you!”

“Suguru,” Satoru breathes out, his face pained like Suguru has never seen before and he wants to reach out, wants to pull Satoru close and wipe that look off his face, but he can almost see the black smudges he would leave behind on Satoru and so he curls his hands into fists in his lap.

Satoru might not care about that, but Suguru does.

“No, Satoru,” he bites out. “I want you to go.”

Satoru opens and closes his mouth several times without getting a single word out and Suguru pretends he doesn’t see the sheen of tears in his eyes.

This is not just about Satoru; Suguru is spreading the darkness to everyone he touches, so it’s unfair of Satoru to act like the only victim here.

“I’m sorry,” Satoru eventually gets out, his voice thin and reedy and he leaves without a look back.

Suguru pretends he doesn’t see how the hand that reaches for the door handle shakes, because this is—for once—not about Satoru. He has no right to act like this, has no right to make Suguru feel bad about protecting him and that thought is enough to make the anger take root in his chest.

Suguru is protecting Satoru and for him to act as if that is a bad thing—no. It’s best if Suguru doesn’t come near Satoru at all again.

No matter just how much that hurts, how much Suguru misses Satoru all the time. It doesn’t matter. As long as Satoru can stay bright like he is, Suguru will keep his distance.

It will be fine.

~*~*~

Suguru barely leaves his room anymore for anything but class and missions. He doesn’t remember the last time he simply chatted with anyone, doesn’t remember the last time someone touched him and Suguru didn’t think it would affect him like it does but he feels so goddamn alone these days.

It’s a self-chosen isolation, he knows that very well, but that doesn’t change the fact that he hates it, hates every second of it with a passion he didn’t know he still had in him.

Moments when he sees Satoru are the worst; he’s still angry with him, still mad that Satoru would put himself in danger like that without a second thought, but that doesn’t stop Suguru from wanting to reach out for him.

It almost feels as if his fingers itch, as if there’s a physical ache whenever Suguru doesn’t reach out for Satoru and that alone is reason enough for Suguru to double down on his decision.

If it was up to him he would touch Satoru at every given moment; it would only make the darkness spread faster.

Suguru has confirmed with the curse a few times already that the lingering darkness on Satoru has left, likely being burned away by his own brightness, and the thought that Suguru hasn’t damaged Satoru irreparably yet is the only reason he even stays at the school.

Time passes slowly like this, with Suguru being as alone as he’s never been before, and there are days where he wonders if it’s worth it.

He misses Satoru so much that he finds himself wondering sometimes if a little bit of darkness on him would really hurt that much. Clearly Satoru is capable of cleaning himself of it; what harm could a touch to his shoulders really do then?

Thoughts like these always leave Suguru sick to his stomach; he can’t believe how selfish he is capable of being, how irresponsible.

It makes him want to leave, makes him want to disappear so that Satoru never has to lay eyes on him ever again, but duty keeps him at the school.

There are curses to fight, missions to take on and if Suguru doesn’t do that, then someone else will have to go out. Someone who might get corrupted the same way Suguru already has, and it’s not something he’s willing to risk.

So he continues on as best as he can, even though it feels as if he’s half-dead already.

And it must show, despite how rarely Suguru ventures out of his room, because a few weeks later, Satoru is back.

And this time he seems angry.

“What are you doing?” he asks without preamble, pinning Suguru with his gaze to the bed.

“What do you mean?” Suguru gives back, aware of how empty he sounds, but he can’t change it.

There is nothing fun in this life anymore and he wasn’t aware just how much Satoru brought to his life by simply being there, by being himself.

Suguru misses Satoru something fierce in that moment, and the fact that he’s in the room, that he’s just out of reach makes it worse.

“I get why you keep your distance from me, with—everything, but everyone else? Haibara asked me several times already if something is wrong with you, because you won’t even talk to him. Hell, even Shoko asked if you’re dying and you know how she is. She practically admitted to worrying her head off with that. Why are you avoiding them, too? Your issue is with me!”

“My issue,” Suguru repeats tonelessly and it drags a tired chuckle out of him.

It sounds so insignificant put like that.

“That’s one way to put it,” he mutters, and he has to give it to Satoru, he always has a way of downplaying things, intentionally or not.

“I’m sorry it’s giving you so much trouble,” Satoru whispers out and he seems honestly sorry about it, too. “That’s exactly why I never wanted to tell you. I was afraid that would happen.”

“Oh right,” Suguru says and now the anger is coming back. “You just wanted to let me go on like I did before, casually reaching out and touching everyone? Spreading it?”

“Spreading it?” Satoru asks and rears back as if he has been hit. “Is that what you’re—I didn’t think you were this prejudiced, actually,” Satoru bites back, but even though he tries to sound angry, all Suguru can hear is how hurt he is.

And what right does he have to be hurt when it’s Suguru’s life that’s in shambles? When it’s everyone’s life he endangers.

“So you think just because you shine so brightly, the other’s lives don’t matter? Just because you think you can handle it, I should go around and carelessly endanger everyone else, too?”

“The other’s lives?” There is a pause before Satoru cautiously goes on and he isn’t quite able to meet Suguru’s eyes anymore. “I’ll take it where not talking about my feelings here.”

“Your feelings? What do you mean, your feelings? Gods, Satoru, for once in your life things aren’t about you, alright?” Suguru hisses out and Satoru flinches at the venom in his voice.

But Suguru is near his breaking point; he has spent the last few weeks away from the one person he wants to be close to and now Satoru acts as if only his feelings matter. As if Suguru wouldn’t rather die than keep going like this.

“What is this about?” Satoru asks, guarding himself against Suguru’s answer and Suguru glares at him.

“You said you knew. When I told you the curse told me, you acted as if you knew, so don’t pretend otherwise now.”

“I think—” Satoru rubs a hand over his mouth. “There might have been a misunderstanding. I need you to spell it out for me, what that curse told you. Please,” he adds, and it’s so unlike him that Suguru almost immediately folds.

“I’m turning into one of them,” comes tumbling out of his mouth and once he started he can’t stop talking. “It showed me that I’m just like them; tainted and corrupted. And I’m spreading it. I’m spreading it to everyone, Satoru, I’m hurting all of you with it as well and you especially. You shine so bright, you emit such a strong light, and yet my touch leaves darkness on you as well. I can’t do it, I really can’t, you’re only going to get hurt in the long run.”

His voice breaks over the last sentence, and Suguru is too tired to feel ashamed of the tears that spill down his cheeks. He has missed Satoru so much and it had hurt to stay away from him; it had hurt even worse to find that Satoru simply accepted it and kept his distance as well.

But now that everything is laid out, Suguru feels even more alone.

It’s not as if anything is going to change, after all.

“What do you mean, you’re corrupted? You’re still you, Suguru,” Satoru says and Suguru flinches when his voice is a lot closer than he expected. “Nothing about you has changed.”

“Right,” Suguru scoffs, and jerks when Satoru kneels down in front of him. “Because I was corrupted to begin with. Ever since I took in my very first curse.”

“I still don’t really understand,” Satoru says after a moment of silence and Suguru is glad that he’s not reaching out for him.

He doubts that he could move away, that he could bring himself to deny Satoru’s touch at the moment.

“You have the curse, right?” Satoru then asks and Suguru nods. “So I’m guessing you confirmed whatever it told you?”

“Of course I did. That was the first thing I did when we returned that day.”

Suguru is almost affronted that Satoru could think he wouldn’t double check it. As if Suguru would simply believe the words of a curse.

“Show me, then. Let me know what it is you saw.”

Suguru doesn’t want to; he doesn’t want Satoru to know just how tainted he already is, but when he meets his impossible blue eyes, he knows that he doesn’t have a choice. He brings out the curse and orders it to show Satoru exactly what it is it showed to him multiple times already.

“Oh, I didn’t know I’m that bright,” is the first thing out of Satoru’s mouth. “If that is what curses see all the time then it’s no wonder they hate me so much.”

Trust Satoru to be as self-absorbed as always, Suguru thinks, and even in a situation like this he has to admit to himself that he sounds more fond than anything.

It’s probably just Satoru’s way of trying to alleviate the tension, anyway.

“I can’t get it to speak again,” Suguru whispers out as Satoru stares at him, the course touching him so it becomes clear just what is wrong with Suguru. “But it’s pretty self-explanatory, I think.”

“It’s actually not,” Satoru says and it’s so surprising that Suguru dissolves the curse in his shock. “Rude,” Satoru mutters. “I wasn’t done looking. But now that I know what to look out for,” he trails off as he closes his eyes.

Suguru wants to ask him what he’s doing but a look of concentration is on Satoru’s face and Suguru knows better than to break him out of it. Satoru always gets cranky when something disturbs him during moments like this.

“There,” Satoru says as he opens his eyes again, and just by how he looks at Suguru now, he knows that Satoru figured out how to see the corruption by himself.

“You shouldn’t,” Suguru whispers and he has to fight the urge to hide himself away and never resurface.

He never wanted Satoru to see him like that again.

“I should. Suguru, you’re not turning into one of them,” Satoru says and reaches out to take Suguru’s hand in his. “Wait, I think I can—” he closes his eyes again, but this time he’s clearly reaching out for Suguru’s own cursed energy because with the next blink, Suguru can see what before he only could when the curse touched him.

Satoru shines just as brightly as Suguru remembers.

“Look, Suguru,” Satoru says and looks down at their still clasped hands. “It’s not turning you, it’s just the residual of what the curses leave behind when you touch them.”

As if to make his point, he wipes Suguru’s hand with his own and true to his words, Suguru’s hand underneath it is still distinctly human and not black.

Satoru’s on the other hand—

“You just took it onto you,” Suguru accuses him and he can just hope that such a small amount is not enough to turn Satoru; that Satoru’s own light will be able to take care of it.

“Think of it as dirt,” Satoru says and looks back up at Suguru. “Curses are dirty, so when you touch them, that dirt stains your hands. If you stopped, it would eventually wash away. If you touch someone else, it wipes off on them. But it’s not permanent, and it’s not altering you.”

“Then what about this,” Suguru whispers and puts a hand to his stomach.

He wants to believe Satoru’s words so badly, but he knows that his stomach is practically leaking with darkness. He doesn’t even need to look down to know it.

“Also residuals. It’s just like—mh, how to put it,” Satoru mutters and taps a finger against his chin. “It’s like water passing through a sieve. The curses being the water here and you’re the sieve. Just because water can get through the sieve doesn’t mean the nature of the sieve changes. Just like your nature as a human doesn’t change, no matter how many of these curses you take in. In fact, I think that if you would stop, and simply let them sit with you, you would purify them and eventually absorb them, but that’s just a theory.”

Suguru can do nothing but blink at him.

“Where did I lose you?” Satoru asks, that trademark asshole grin back on his face and Suguru wants to punch him for it.

And if what Satoru says is true, then he can, again.

“Are you sure?” he asks, the fear still lingering in his mind and Satoru’s expression immediately turns softer.

“I am sure,” he promises. “Besides, if you were really turning into one of them, all of you should change, not just the parts that regularly come into contact with the curses.”

Put like that it makes a disturbing amount of sense and Suguru feels foolish for not coming to the same conclusion before.

But then again—the curse did pray on his fear of hurting Satoru, so Suguru thinks he can maybe forgive himself for not seeing beyond that.

“Great, that means I can do this, then,” Suguru gives back and immediately puts his hand to Satoru’s face and pushes him away.

“What did you do that for?” Satoru says, now from his position on his ass where he fell over with the force of Suguru’s shove.

“Just because I can,” Suguru breathes out and Satoru must realise how much that means to him, because he doesn’t comment further on it.

“So no more avoiding me?” Satoru asks, rubbing the nape of his neck and it dawns on Suguru that there must be something else they have to talk about.

“What did you think I was avoiding you for?” he asks and watches how Satoru freezes.

“No reason,” he rushes out and even if Suguru knew him less well he could tell that it’s a lie.

“Satoru,” Suguru admonishes him but Satoru only gives him a forced smile.

“Seriously, no reason at all,” he repeats, just as unbelievable as before and Suguru frowns.

“You said—your feelings, before. That we’re not talking about your feelings,” he mutters and his stomach does a funny thing. “What feelings?”

“None, I don’t have feelings, you should know that best.”

Suguru probably should, given how close they are, but the truth is most likely not something Satoru wants to hear. Because Satoru has so many feelings, he sometimes doesn’t know what to do with them.

“I do, that’s why I know that’s bullshit,” Suguru gives back and Satoru opens his mouth as if he wants to argue further, before he completely deflates.

“Fine. Fine, Suguru, I have feelings, but—let’s not do this, alright? I just got you back, I couldn’t stand it if you—” he cuts himself off here, a hand pressed to his mouth as if he wants to physically stop more words from spilling out.

“You thought we were talking about feelings, about your feelings, and that I was avoiding you for it,” Suguru mumbles, trying to figure out just what he is missing, what Satoru thought was happening. “You thought I was prejudiced—Satoru, just what are we talking about here?” Suguru demands to know because it cannot be.

He has an inkling of what Satoru could have meant, but he doesn’t dare to trust it. Because that would mean that Satoru—

“We’re not talking about anything here,” Satoru mutters, avoiding to look at Suguru. “Let’s just drop it, alright? It’s not important.”

“Not important?” Suguru’s voice goes high with disbelief. “Satoru, are you telling me you thought the curse told me about your feelings—for me—and I avoided you over it?”

Speaking it into existence almost feels wrong, because surely this is not what’s going on here. Surely, Suguru is reading too much into this and Satoru will laugh in his face every second now.

Except Satoru stays quiet.

“You thought I would avoid you because of that?” Suguru asks again, because he needs an answer to this, he needs to hear Satoru say something.

“Well, why wouldn’t you? It’s not reciprocated, so why wouldn’t you, Suguru?” It seems as if Satoru has found some anger to lean on in that moment because his eyes are blazing. “It’s just the logical thing to do when your best friend confesses his feelings to you and you don’t feel the same.”

“Fuck you, Satoru,” Suguru hisses out, because how dare Satoru make assumptions about Suguru’s feelings. “You have no clue about my feelings.”

It’s enough to get Satoru to deflate again and now he simply seems tired.

“I know. This misunderstanding really drove that home, right?” he asks with a tired chuckle. “Still, I’d rather not hear you say anything to that. Just let me—I have missed you, okay? Let me have this for a few days. And then you can reject me.”

“You’re still assuming things about my feelings for you,” Suguru chides him as he slides down to the ground. “And you still didn’t actually confess anything.”

Suguru reaches out for him, carefully tangling their hands together. It’s been so long since he did that, so long since he allowed himself to touch Satoru and it’s only in that moment that he realises just how incomplete he felt all this time.

“Suguru,” Satoru breathes out and there’s a thread of hope in his voice. “If you’re playing with me, I’ll hollow purple you into the next life,” he threatens but Suguru can feel how his hands shake.

“Fair,” he gives back with a small smile and it seems to be enough for Satoru.

“I’m in love with you,” Satoru says, the words falling between them like a promise and Suguru is not going to let it go unreciprocated for a second longer than it takes him to form the words himself.

“I’m in love with you, too.”

Satoru sucks in a breath, as if it’s really a surprise to him and Suguru takes that moment to pull him into a hug. Satoru slots against him like he always has, and when Satoru’s hands grab onto him almost painfully, Suguru knows that he’s not the only one who has missed this something fierce.

“Next time we should both use more words,” Suguru mutters into Satoru’s temple, who lets out a weak chuckle.

Suguru doesn’t mention how wet it sounds because his own eyes are burning as well.

“Let’s rather make sure that there isn’t a next time,” Satoru shoots back and that, too, works in Suguru’s eyes.

“Deal,” he agrees and presses a kiss to Satoru’s temple.

Now that Suguru no longer has to be afraid to taint Satoru with his touch and now that he knows he’s actually allowed to—and even welcomed—to touch Satoru, he fears he’s going to have a hard time stopping himself.

But when Satoru rubs his nose into Suguru’s throat, his hands still clutched tightly into his shirt, he thinks that maybe he doesn’t have to; not with Satoru doing the exact same thing.

#bt writes #jjk #satosugu #stsg #hurt/comfort #misunderstandings #angst #curses #assumptions #touch-starved #love confessions

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freuleinanna · 2 years

Text

night randez-vous

Young Masriel AU in which Asriel lets Stelmaria scope out the area before sneaking into Marisa’s room.

the idea & gifs by @tragicotps So uuuh... *nervous chuckle* I did a thing, and I hope it's okay? You absolutely destroyed me with that post, and I wanted to write it as soon as I stopped screaming in my pillow over how talented you are. It's insane, you're insane, I love your work 💛

I am also crediting @queenofnabooty because the "worse half/better half" exchange came from your tags and I died laughing, I hope you don't mind :D

Word count: 1,130 Also on: AO3

'You're late.' 'You weren't exactly elaborate in your instructions.' Within the amber eyes, a mild rebuke and a twinkle, almost a teasing. 'We spent some time searching for your room.'

The stars are dancing, and the candles are lit, and lovers are, as lovers always are on nights like this, awake and longing.

Marisa, in bed, is doing her best to concentrate on the pages, but her mind wanders. She finds herself looking at the door way more often than she promised herself she would. She also finds her heart leaping at every sound. It shouldn't do that, they agreed long ago. Distracted, she almost starts biting her nails again, a habit that has long been beaten.

'Oh, hush.'

Her daemon chatters lightly, restless because she is. A frown on her face, when she buries her nose back in the book, is not the kind that causes trouble. She hasn't turned a page once this evening. Both are well aware of that.

A sound comes three long quarter-hours later, and it is not the sound she expects. Instead of careful steps, a barely audible scratching.

'Hush, I said!' Marisa scolds, before she realizes that the monkey is listening, too. Tilting a head, he regards the door, his tail curled in a golden question mark. Looks are exchanged: his – sharp and insistent, hers – well, hers is softer for once. Their nature keeps getting mixed up in unpredictable ways.

As the scratching continues, her daemon jumps on the bed and squeaks eagerly.

'Him, you think?' A swelling, arythmic noise in her chest. Then, with a nod, 'Yes, who else.'

She kicks the covers off, throws on a robe. Pauses before the mirror to check her reflection and put a few unruly curls back to their place. Then hurries to the door. Then comes back for a candle. Just in case it's someone else, to pretend she was sleeping, and just lit it, and surely did not expect–

Silky gold at her knees, pushing her forward.

'Ohhh!' she exclaims in a whisper, unable to even get properly mad. Then finally, finally–

There isn't anyone at the door. Marisa opens it just a crack at first, then wider. The hallway is dark and empty to the eyes, as her expectations grow dark an empty, too.

Maybe he left. Maybe she waited too long. Maybe he thought her asleep. How could he have thought her asleep? What a rude, intolerable...

Shadows come alive suddenly. One in particular does, and Marisa recognizes the graceful step. Candlelight turns the pearliness of the leopard's fur to near-gold, like her own daemon's; colors the eyes amber. Stelmaria slides closer, greeting Marisa with a slow whisk of a tail.

'We thought you changed your mind.'

A deep voice blends with the curtains' rustling. To the right, a window is open, leading to a cascade of balconies on the outer wall. She must have come through there. Marisa's eyes examine the shadows for a moment, trying to guess where Asriel might be.

Not far, though. The thought is warming.

'You came,' she smiles down at Stelmaria. The leopard nods with her usual enigmatic expression, yet looks subtly pleased. 'You're late.'

'You weren't exactly elaborate in your instructions.' Within the amber eyes, a mild rebuke and a twinkle, almost a teasing. 'We spent some time searching for your room.'

'So, where's your worse half?'

If leopards could snort, that's what this sound would have been. Stelmaria glances at the windows.

'Conquering heights. Where's your better half?'

The monkey brushes past Marisa's legs, chattering excitedly, though making sure to lower his voice. His fur in orange light is gilded with a color so deep, it shines from within.

It's sweet, to see the mightly leopard in such a twitter. She grumbles tenderly, then treads forward to let the monkey throw his golden arms around her neck. She even gives him a lick on a shoulder. Both let out a sigh of the deepest content.

The same emotion is trembling in Marisa's own chest, lungs, hands, a longing so profound she can hardly stand it for a moment longer. The need to hold, and to be held. To call him his. Her Asriel.

She bites her lip, and worries. Outside, the rain is splattering – in quietude, gusts of air through the window bring its noise.

'Why would he climb the balconies, or the roof? It isn't safe. He's being reckless.'

'We couldn't go through the house', Stelmaria hums, 'the help was everywhere. And he was determined to come see you.'

She pauses, with something resembling a smile. 'Of course, he's not as agile as I am, hence the delay.'

Marisa bites a nail again, frowning. With the utmost care, the leopard slides out of embrace. Her voice is spiked with honey as she comforts Marisa by settling on the floor right at her side. Down below and out of the orange shimmer, she regains her ghostly silver frame once more.

'He's close, child. I can feel him.'

The monkey comes to lay a hand on her neck. Marisa aches to do the same, but Stelmaria, probably knowing her better than she knows herself, is already whispering a caution.

'We don't want him to fall.'

Well, that is true. Being away from your daemon, albeit barely, and then a feeling so intense and unexpected – he could fall. So Marisa waits, and keeps tangling her hair, and longs in silence. She could look out of the window and see him. She doesn't want to distract him. Three pairs of eyes, none moves away from a wide frame behind the curtains rustling in the night.

Then – a creak, a thump, a loud breath, and Asriel is here, grinning in triumph. Stelmaria perks up. He greets the daemon with a hearty laughter and a rub over her forehead, but his eyes are already drawn to Marisa. He does not lose more time.

He's cold and wet all over, hair slicked with rain. When he lifts her and turns, Marisa laughs the happiest she ever did in life. Her heart leaps. Asriel keeps every promise at once by kissing her in the only way he vowed to – like she is his, forever will be. A longing in Marisa's soul finally soothes and purrs, even though the bastard nuzzles her neck, leaving chilly raindrops on her skin. She only laughs, they both do.

'I say, lady Coulter, you made me run around like a whipped boy.' Asriel is playing with her hair, smug as ever. Marisa feels soft and light in his arms.

'I say, lord Belacqua, it's the least I'm going to put you through.'

'Oh, I sincerely can't wait.'

He sweeps her up, with shushes and whispers covering their joy, and carries her inside. Their daemons follow.

***

By dawn, they're all asleep in a tangle: Marisa on Asriel's shoulder, her golden monkey curled up happily by his other side, and Stelmaria sprawling behind Marisa, nose to her back.

#FOR THE LONGEST GODDAMN TIME #these gifs weren't showing up on GIF search #and then as soon as i spammed the owner BAM of course they did #smh #hdm #hdm au #hdm fic #his dark materials #masriel #marisa coulter #asriel belacqua #marisa x asriel #asriel x marisa #young masriel #stelmaria #stelmarisa my love #golden monkey

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floorpancakes · 2 years

Note

ohh also my le anime blog is priestincairo if you ever wanna shoot the shit maybe message me there T__T if not that's totally cool thank you for keeping the douwata/holic tag somewhat alive LMFAO

that's great to hear!!!

honestly i went back to tumblr initially cause of the twitter scare then immediately converted it to a mostly holic rant/fucking around side account when i realised a handful of people actually gave more of a shit abt holic and i felt better rambling abt it back in my old haunt where things were a bit quieter and stuff, even if im coming off like a noob cause ive not been a tumblrie for a While fjrjekddkdk

im constantly torn between the existential horror of being perceived and the longing to scream into the void abt holic so im always unsure whether i want to tag things or not but this is me being a silly goose and if people are entertained and it makes the fandom look slightly more alive maybe im doing something right ..? idk 😭

im not very good at making the first move when starting conversations with people but feel free to wind the wind up key on my back so i can be one of those monkeys with cymbals but instead of cacophonous noise its just me word souping abt my favs. id be happy to talk! talking is my primary hobby besides making fun of the sad heterophobic twink that lives rent free in my head 💗

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isopodsoup · 2 years

Text

Hey, so I'm gonna make an update here because this blog format means I can fit a LOT more text + information into one post which is super useful to a rambler like me.

Testing out 'read more' for the first time but TLDR: drawing is going bad and I'm being put in a mental health care facility with bad reviews about abuse and Christianity being pushed on patients (the transfer is all without my consent, too) after having a mental breakdown and having the police called

(TWS HERE AND IN TAGS) // knife, self harm, police/police tasers, mental breakdowns, racism mention

So, basically. I had a huge build up of dealing with a stupid amount of stupidity from my father in particular for almost 2 decades. I'm still not entirely sure what even happened but as far as I've managed to figure out:

I was listening to videos with headphones in my room with the door closed (as I always do in my noisy house when I want to chill) and my family wanted me to do the dishes (especially my father, ironic because he has never done dishes) and I couldn't hear anybody calling from where I was. He ran into my room and started screaming and kept screaming while I asked for an apology and for him to just ask normally because I obviously had no idea why he was suddenly so angry and I obviously hadn't just been 'ignoring' him. He kept screaming, ripped my devices and chargers out of the wall and ran off. Then, my mother turned off anything online and just ignored me.

Problem is my self sooth method is just mindless silly videos on YouTube because it blocks out noise + distracts me. So, I lost my only sooth method and had to listen to loud noises and people talking and yelling (not just about what happened, my parents are always fighting daily LOL) all while having a mental breakdown.

So uhh, I ended up cutting most of my hair off with scissors, cutting my arm with a knife and rubbing hand sanitiser in it (it's fine). Continued to the next day when nobody would tell me anything about my stuff and I had no idea what the hell was going on at this point or why I was really being punished and forced to just 'push through' a whole mental collapse after a long year of struggling and isolation finally coming back and biting me in the ass full force.

My mom walked in and tried to take the knife I had used to hurt myself when she saw it next to my pillow. Not in a nice way, as usual. She hasn't really cared about this kind of stuff for years and just insulted me for it. And... IDK man. Maybe it was the year of isolation after switching schools to one I had avoided for several years because of people there giving me likely PTSD (Likely, they said, yeah. Cause they're useless at actually screening for things) and then spiraling into a paranoid mindset basically seperate from reality (think: people are stalking me, people want to attack and assault me constantly, always in danger, anyone walking behind me was following me, etc for the whole year) and most of the students being huge bigots (Think mullets, thick NZ accents and slurs. One straight up called black people monkeys on my FIRST DAY) but I ended up holding the knife upwards instead (not at her), refusing to give it to her and kept telling her to back off? Short of pointing it at her I was trying to intimidate her away from me cause I was just so skittish and freaked out at this point. Basically, threatening my mom.

So, she had to call the mental health office I was with at the time (explained later) and eventually after she tried again to take the knife she was told to call the police. They ended up threatening me with a taser and really didn't do anything to help but that's the police for you.

Pretty much complete isolation and a few days crying and rubbing sanitiser into my left over cuts from there until my next mental health session with the office. Now, it was probably my mistake for even staying with a doctor who was obvious neurotypical (I'm autistic) just cause I felt guilty admitting I didn't like her because she always kept implying things instead of outright telling me and getting frustrated I wasn't picking up on things I literally... can't pick up? But, anyway. I ended up cancelling anymore sessions. They weren't doing anything to help me at all and really didn't seem to understand communication is a two way thing and I can't just... do whatever I want. She also was supposed to bring a doctor in to talk about testosterone with me (non-binary, transmasc) but she keeps cancelling (several months of cancelling scheduled meet ups) and never showing up so I just gave up on ever getting that part of my mental health taken care of.

But, the BIG thing is that she mentioned in that stupid implied way "is anything happening next week?" I was obviously super confused but figured it was just small talk since the session was almost over. I told her I had an exam next week but nothing else I knew about. She seemed confused about that but NEVER SAID ANYTHING ABOUT WHY.

I find out AFTER the session I'm being sent to a 'place' nobody will tell me about. What it is, where it is, who is there, when I'm going, etc. Nothing. "Let's tell the person whose brain literally functions on being aware of things and told things directly with severe anxiety absolutely nothing about being sent away for "a few days" including the fact they're even being sent away! What a fantastic idea!" is some wild neurotypical mentally stable logic but here we are. They were supposed to go through paperwork with me that session for the place but they never told me ANYTHING or asked for my consent but apparently, I'm still going! Not even sure how they can do that.

I only today - after pressuring my parents - learned where I'm going. This place has 3 stars and reviews are talking about judgy staff, dismissive mindsets and the facility trying to convert the patients to christianity??

Truth be told, I'm scared. I'm terrified. I'm probably just... not going to speak to anyone as best I can and hope they'll just leave me alone but from the website that doesn't look like the case. It's probably more like staff members talking to you, monitoring you and shifting you around place all the time.

So, yeah. I don't know when I'm going to be online again. For all I know, they might take all my devices.

I don't know what to do but, I really hope this isn't goodbye. Thank you.

#knife #self harm #mental breakdown #police #mental health #racism

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lokislytherin · 3 years

Conversation

establishing dominance

vox: *monkey noises*

mysta: *more monkey noises*

vox: *louder monkey noises*

ike: what the heck are they doing??

shu: they're trying to establish dominance, have some popcorn ike i want to see who wins

luca, tposing: *takes a deep breath* POOOOGGGGGGGGGGG

vox and mysta: *stunned silence*

shu: huh. didn't see that one coming

#luxiem #incorrect luxiem #vox akuma #mysta rias #ike eveland #shu yamino #luca kaneshiro #wow a post with everyone!#i feel like foxakuma would actually do this #or maybe just screaming instead of monkey noises #akumamatata #mystaworldwide #yikesmemeland #shunanigans #kaneshitpost

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seijorhi · 3 years

Text

To the Wolves

my (first) entry for the Deal With the Devil collab, because i couldn’t resist writing for Yakuza Getou <33

Getou Suguru x Female Reader

TW Extremely dubious consent, coercion, manipulation, threats, implied murder, smut, nsfw

“No. I- I won’t.”

Sitting comfortably on the old, worn couch in your cramped little apartment, Getou raises a single eyebrow, “Oh? Is that so?”

His voice is perfectly pleasant, the smile on his face a touch amused, but you’re not so naive as to believe that the question is anything but a generous offer for you to rethink your reply. A smart person would take it – since the day you’d first arrived home to find him waiting for you, Getou hadn’t so much as laid a finger on you. He had no need for guns or knives, never shouted or bullied you, his reputation more than enough to cow you into submission before he’d even opened his mouth.

Of course, once he had, the simple threats to your friends and family’s lives had made certain that you were more than amenable to his request.

A mutually beneficial arrangement, he’d called it, as if there hadn’t been tears silently streaming down your face, your whole body stiff with fear.

But that was the world he came from. Violence and ruthlessness, cruelty masquerading as kindness.

By all accounts, someone like you – a lowly admin assistant living a very boring, mundane life – should never have crossed paths with a man like Getou. The irony, of course, being that it was precisely because of your job that he’d been drawn to you in the first place.

“I-I said no,” you stammer. “I’m not doing it.”

Getou sighs, long, pale fingers idly fixing the cuff of his left sleeve. “I had no idea the lives of your loved ones meant so little to you.”

“Please, I-” you break off, biting your lip as your hands curl into useless fists at your side, “I can’t. Anything else, I’ll do anything, I swear it, just… please.”

Men like Getou aren’t the type to be swayed by pretty words or tearful pleas, but there’s an unmistakable glimmer of interest that flickers in his eyes at the offer. Casually, he leans forward, resting his chin on the palm of his hand and regarding you with a smirk. “So you’ll bring me the list of witnesses then?”

The barely audible hitch in your breath is enough to make him chuckle.

“No? How about those surveillance tapes, hm?” Smoothly, he rises to his feet and makes his way towards you. “Careful, little one, first rule of negotiation is knowing when you have something to bargain with. Don’t promise me what you can’t give.”

“Getou–”

He raises a hand and you quickly fall silent. There’s only inches between you two now, Getou’s taller, broader frame looming over yours. He could kill you like this, you realise with panic – reach out and wrap his hands around your throat and snap your pretty little neck before you could so much as scream. The tailored line of his jacket hides the gun he has holstered at his side, but Getou knows you're aware of its presence, have been since the very first time he’d broken into your home and threatened you.

It’d take him only moments to draw the sidearm, even less for him to pull the trigger.

The walls of your apartment are thin, would your neighbours come if they heard gunfire? Would you, for that matter, if your roles were reversed?

Yet Getou makes no move for his gun, instead reaching for your chin, tilting it up with two curled fingers until you meet his gaze, “You understand, don’t you, that I make one phone call and that charming sister of yours and her fiance meet a very tragic, very untimely end?”

He pauses, waiting until you jerk a quick nod of assent before continuing. “You love them. There’s nothing wrong with that, nothing wrong with prioritising the ones you love over everybody else.” His voice is gentle, but the words make you shake, dread rising from the pit of your stomach as the pad of his thumb grazes over your bottom lip.

You don’t know if you’re supposed to say something to that, but even as you try, you can’t summon the words. The by now familiar scent of his cologne tickles your nose and invades your throat, the warmth of his touch burning through your veins. Your own heart hammers like a drumbeat in your chest, every cell in your body screaming danger, but you don’t run, you don’t even flinch.

Getou smiles kindly, and perhaps if you hadn’t seen first hand the aftermath of his handiwork you might be tempted to believe it. His spare hand reaches into his jacket, but instead of the gun you’re expecting, he pulls out his phone, the screen flickering to life with a swipe of his finger. “So tell me, before I make a call you and I both know you don’t want me to make, why you’ve suddenly decided that their lives aren’t worth your compliance?”

Nanami. Your boss’s face flashes to your mind, the odd, fleeting glances he’d sent your way over the past few weeks when he’d thought you weren’t paying attention. Your stomach erupts with butterflies, your cheeks unwittingly warming, but you just shake your head, “If I give you those files, you’ll kill them. You’ll hurt them.”

“Maybe,” he hums, “maybe not. It’s no less than those monkeys deserve, don’t you think?” He spits the word like it’s venom, the twitch in his jaw the only chink in his otherwise effortless composure. “You’re protecting them, even now.”

You make no attempt to defend yourself, terrified of saying the wrong thing and setting him off, but Getou seems entirely unfazed, laughing coldly at your stricken expression.

“Your boss, the one with the perpetual stick up his ass; Nanami,” potent disdain drips from his tone at the name, “Always so morally righteous, sitting up on his high horse. You think he cares for you, that he’ll protect you when all of this comes out? And it will come out eventually,” he says, his smirk widening at the sudden pallor in your face. “At some point there’ll be one too many unfortunate coincidences, and the higher ups will realise that they have a mole in their ranks. Fingers will be pointed of course, but eventually even those idiots will figure it out.”

A knot tightens inside of your chest at his words, constricting until it feels like you can’t breathe. You’re shaking your head, eyes filling with tears, “N-no–”

“Oh, little one,” Getou murmurs, dark eyes drinking in every ounce of your distress. “Surely you realised that they have security cameras covering every inch of your floor? There was no reason to look before, but once they do…” he trails off, letting go of your chin in favour of brushing the back of his knuckles along your cheek. “They’ll throw you to the wolves.”

His voice is soft and cruel, belied by the gentleness of his touch, but it does nothing to quell the rising sense of dread inside of you. You want to believe it’s a lie, another threat meant to scare you into submission, but some deeper part of you recognises the truth in his words.

Nanami, who’d told you once that there was innocence and there was guilt and very little in between. Nanami, whose office you’d bugged, whose trial only weeks ago you’d all but derailed with a few misplaced documents. You think back to the late nights shared in his office, bowls of ramen and case files scattered across the desk between you. You think of the rare smiles, his oddly dry sense of humour, the pleasant fluttering in your heart–

“You’ll rot in prison long before I do, and there is not a soul among that insipid bunch that would lift a finger to stop that from happening to you.”

A soft, strangled noise leaves your lips as you fight not to sob, and Getou sighs, the corners of his lips twitching downwards in contrived sympathy. “Say the word and I’ll walk away tonight. I’ll still have to kill your sister – I am a man of my word, you understand – but I promise it’ll be the last you see of me.”

He slides his phone back into the breast pocket of his jacket, taking your face in both of his hands as tears spill down long lashes. “And when they come for you, you can tell them I threatened you, show them what little proof you have – if you have any at all. Maybe it’ll even make a difference,” he says. “But I doubt it.”

Every word is like a knife, slicing away at the raw, bleeding, vulnerable parts of you.

“Please…” It’s weak and desperate, your voice cracked and broken. You don’t even know what you’re begging for anymore; your sister’s life, for Getou’s mercy, or maybe just for him to stop saying such awful things. He must take pity on you though, because he sighs once more, his right thumb sweeping across your wet cheek to brush away silvery tear tracks.

“I’m not a complete monster, you know. I protect what’s mine.”

And in one breath, everything screeches to a standstill and a trickle of very real fear creeps down your spine. There’s no mistaking his implication, not when he’s holding your face like that, his eyes dark and simmering with an intensity that makes your stomach flip.

“W-what?”

Getou closes the gap between you two, a startled noise leaving your lips as his hips press flush up against you. “Don’t play stupid, sweet thing,” he murmurs, and it sounds like a warning, “It doesn’t suit you.”

One hand slips to your neck, the other curling almost possessively around your waist. There’s no room for you to move, to back away or free yourself. For a moment, neither of you speak, the heavy silence deafening between you.

Does he notice the way your pulse races under his fingertips as they circle your throat, how you’re shaking like a leaf beneath him? Does he want you afraid? A scared little bunny rabbit cowering from the gaping maw of the big, bad wolf?

Judging from the bulge of his semi-hard cock pressing into the soft flesh of your belly, he’s not entirely unaffected, and for the first time it’s not Getou’s gun or his threats that you’re most afraid of.

It’s the selfish, twisted want that glitters and glints in those pitiless depths. You’ve never felt so entirely at somebody else’s mercy as you do with Getou now, staring you down like he wants to lay you bare, claim you again and again for all the world to see. And you don’t understand. There’s a thousand and one questions running through your mind, your insides twisted up into knots.

You know what it is he’s asking of you – though asking feels like a generous word when he can so easily just take – but none of this makes sense, not when he was threatening your family’s lives only minutes ago.

As if he can sense the turmoil and confusion raging through you, he leans down, his lips ghosting over the outer shell of your ear. “Tell me to stop, and I’ll walk away right now.”

I am a man of my word.

His earlier statement rings through your head as you search his face for any sign of deception – you find none. But walking away means your sister dies. It means you’re left on your own to fend off the wolves when they find out what you’ve done.

Nanami might believe you. He might even defend you, but you’ve worked in the Prosecutor’s office long enough to know that duress isn’t the bulletproof defence people think it is, and for tangling with the likes of him…

You were screwed the moment he showed up in your living room, this- this is just the coup de grâce. The final damnation.

“Why me?”

Getou doesn’t answer, but when he draws you into a kiss, his lips moving torturously slow against yours, there’s an edge of… something there, lying hidden just beneath the surface. And it terrifies you, more than his words and his promises ever could.

But when your back’s to the wall, what choice do you really have?

It feels like defeat when he takes you by the hand and leads you into your bedroom, ignoring the uncertain glance you cast over your shoulder towards the living room. You don’t want any of this, but you can pretend that it’s just… business if he fucks you out there.

Not in the bed you sleep in.

It’d be easier, you think, if it was cold and impersonal. If you cried and it stung and the only sounds in the room were flesh hitting flesh, ragged breathing and an occasional rough grunt.

There’s nothing impersonal about the way he watches you strip out of your clothes at his command. His own join yours on the floor without much ceremony – his gun pointedly set just within reach atop your nightstand.

The first time you’d laid eyes on Getou Suguru, it was two months into your new job; a photograph pinned to a thick, heavy file Nanami had dropped on your desk. A surveillance picture, you’d gathered, snapped as the man was exiting some neon lit club downtown. And you remembered the smug smirk he’d had, staring directly down the lens of the camera like it was a challenge, but that wasn’t what had struck you most.

It was the flutter of interest that’d shot through your veins the moment before common sense kicked in. Tall and fit, with long, dark hair swept up in the wind, a sharp jaw and a handsome face, you remember thinking he was probably the most attractive man you’d ever seen.

Now, standing naked before you, bright, colourful tattoos inked across his torso, accentuating the muscles that rise and fall with every measured breath, you can’t bear to look. It’s easier just to stare at the wooden floorboards, the corner of the shagged rug you’d bought at a thrift store when you first moved in. Easier to pretend Getou isn’t pulling you closer once more, pressing searing, open mouthed kisses along your neck, murmuring words that are lost to you entirely as his hands wander. You can feel it now, the heat of his body as he cages you in, his cock, thick and heavy and flushed nudging insistently up against your stomach.

You expect him to shove you to your knees, to force his cock down your throat in some archaic show of dominance before he claims your cunt, but he doesn’t.

“I want you to touch yourself for me,” he whispers into your ear, teeth catching lightly on the sensitive lobe as you shiver. “Like you do when I’m not here, those pretty legs spread, fucking yourself on your fingers…”

The comment feels too familiar to be entirely offhanded, striking a chord of panic somewhere deep inside of you–

But it doesn’t make a difference. It doesn’t matter now.

You allow him to kiss you again before climbing onto the mattress. Like a good girl, you fall back onto the pillows, let your legs ease apart, wrapping your lips around two fingers and sucking for a brief moment before gliding your hand down between your thighs.

His breath hitches, a soft curse sounding when saliva slicked digits spread your folds, the tip of your middle finger brushing lightly against your clit as you stroke your pussy. Your nipples harden and peak under the cool night air and you use your free hand to palm at your breast, pinching and teasing at the sensitive bud while one finger slips into the warmth of your cunt.

The mattress dips, Getou climbing onto the bed, settling himself back on his knees, your spread legs either side of him.

“Beautiful,” he breathes.

Your heart stutters, movements jerking as you brace for him to interfere, to touch you, but aside from nudging your thighs further apart to get a better view of your glistening cunt, he seems content simply to sit back and watch, his own hand lazily stroking at his cock.

Trying in vain to block him out, you squeeze your eyes shut and focus on the way your fingers feel between your legs, the pleasure–

(Not the shame, don’t think about that, don’t think about Getou watching you debase yourself for his enjoyment)

–that pools in your core as you rub the shining pearl of your clit. It’s a familiar dance, a routine you’d normally help along with a glass of wine and a few faithful toys, but you don’t exactly have that luxury here.

And even with the rigid tension in your shoulders, the unwanted presence of a man you’re terrified of impossible to ignore, you can’t help the quiet moan that slips past your lips, the way your hips stutter, grinding against the heel of your palm as your fingers hit that sweet, delightful spot inside of you.

Getou tenses at the sound, the last, fragile thread of his composure snapping–

He strikes fast. One moment you’re biting down on your bottom lip, your index and middle fingers knuckle deep in your dripping pussy, the next he’s braced atop you, one hand locked around your wrist, the other propping himself up. And as your eyes fly open with a startled cry, his lips crash against your once more – desperate and ravenous, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth to taste you.

And you don’t fight it when he pulls your hand from your pussy and drags it to his crotch, his fingers entwining with yours as he wraps them around his heavy, throbbing cock and moans. It’s humiliating, the way he thrusts into your hand, tightening his grip so you’re forced to feel every shivery twitch of his dick while he sucks eagerly on your tongue.

This is the choice you’d made, the deal you struck. It’s too late to back out now, and even if you tried to…

“I want you,” he pants, his lips glistening with saliva, an almost manic look in those dark, pretty eyes, “to ride me.”

… you’re not so sure Getou would let you.

So you allow yourself to be manhandled, lifted and situated across his lap like a doll. Hands braced on his tattooed chest, you lift your hips just enough for him to guide his cock to your slick entrance before slowly sinking down onto his length.

Every inch hurts.

It doesn’t make it any less painful, the way Getou soothes you, his thumbs stroking gently at your waist as you whine and mewl, feeling every ridge and vein of his cock as he stuffs you full.

“Fuck– good girl, taking me so well,” he purrs.

You’re not sure if it’s shame, pleasure, or some sense of twisted pride at the praise that has your pussy clenching, fire racing through your veins when Getou experimentally rocks his hips upwards. And if your cheeks weren’t already burning, the lewd moan that escapes you when the head of his cock hits your g-spot would certainly do the trick.

Ever observant, he wastes no time capitalising on your slip, lifting you up just to drive you back down onto his length at the perfect angle. You shudder around him, keening out a cry that has him groaning in pleasure.

There’s no illusion of control here between you two.

You might be the one on top, but Getou’s grip’s too tight, guiding every roll of your hips against his, his own rising in time to fuck his cock deeper into your warm, velvety cunt. And somewhere distantly you recognise that this could be a thousand times worse. How easily he could change the narrative in a heartbeat, flip you over, force your face into the pillows and fuck you like a dog until you’re gasping for air. He could use you, hurt you, probably kill you without ever needing to touch the gun he’d left on your nightstand – and you wouldn’t have a hope in hell of stopping him.

But he doesn’t. Lying back against your pillows, dark hair falling from his half up-do, cheeks flushed from exertion, Getou’s attention is wholly fixed on you - on your face, eyes screwed shut, bottom lip caught between your teeth as he hits somewhere deep inside of you that has you seeing stars, on your tits, the way they bounce every time you sink back down onto his cock.

His eyes are hooded, dark and intense, searching for every hint of pleasure he’s drawn from you. You gasp his name, fingers digging into his chest, your cunt fluttering so deliciously around him – and he loses that last little bit of his self control.

He jerks upright, one arm wrapping around your waist to anchor you to him as he braces himself with the other, and before you can so much as gasp his mouth is at your tits, hot tongue laving at soft, supple skin there.

“Suguru,” he growls, hips snapping feverishly against yours.

“Suguru,” you parrot, head lolling back as heat coils tighter in your core.

You’ll worry about the consequences later, when he pulls you boneless and sated into his arms and you feel his heart thumping at your back as he kisses you and tells you to sleep. When tomorrow you arrive at work and Nanami stares a beat too long as the love bites scattered across your throat, no doubt wondering why you won’t so much as look at him.

For now, you settle for pulling him closer, gasping as you chase that quaking, blissful end.

#yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere getou suguru #yandere getou #yandere getou suguru x reader #yandere getou x reader #yandere jjk #tw: dubcon #tw: coercion #tw: threats #tw: implied murder #yandere #deal with the devil collab

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lale-txt · 3 years

Note

Can I request the “I still love you okay?” prompt with Robin please?

I AM SO HAPPY THAT YOU REQUESTED ROBIN AAAAHHHH i was hoping someone would do, so thank you <3

prompt: "i still love you, okay?" w/ Robin

word count: 756

What a mess.

You look at the book in your left hand and the... well, probably five hundred other books that were now scattered all over the floor. Books that were on the shelf where they belonged only ten seconds ago.

If it wasn't way past midnight and the rest of the crew long asleep, you probably would have screamed out of frustration, but the sound of a collapsing bookshelf must have been noise enough to wake the whole ship up. Not you though, because you were the one who couldn't sleep that night, so you went for a nightly stroll to the library to get yourself something to read, hoping it would help you to calm your thoughts and find some sleep soon.

Well, that plan failed obviously.

You step closer to the pile of scattered books. Should you have used the ladder like a normal person instead of climbing the shelf because your monkey brain went "nah I got this"? Probably. When you heard the loud crack, you managed to jump down and stumble a few steps back before the avalanche of books came down within a second.

Robin is gonna be so mad. The library was her treasure, her everything.

Shit. You start picking up some of the books, trying to pile them up at least neatly on the floor, but knock them over again whenever you turn around to grab some more. This was bad. You can feel tears welling up, but you're not sure if they're out of frustration over your own clumsiness or the thought of having to look Robin in the eyes and confess what you did to her favorite place on the Thousand Sunny.

"Oh no. What happened here?"

You spin around and freeze at the sight of Robin in her nightgown, leaning in the doorframe. Her expression is unreadable, but her hand covering her mouth wasn't a good sign probably. Usually you would be beaming over the moon to see her, but right now all you could feel was panic rising up inside of you.

"Robin, I am so sorry, it was an accident, I...", you stammer, head bowed, unable to look her into the eyes. You try to focus on your breathing to calm yourself, but it was already too late. Hot tears are now running down your cheeks, you try to wipe them quickly with the sleeve of your shirt but they just keep on flowing. You felt so guilty.

Over your sniffles you can't hear how Robin steps closer, crouching down next to you and gently rubbing your back. Maybe she was looking for the perfect spot to stab you right here, right now. Which was okay, you probably deserved it. Instead, she wrapped her arms around you from behind, holding you tight. Still crying, you wondered if she decided to switch from stabbing to simply breaking your neck for a cleaner solution since her books were still scattered all over the place.

It took you a few moments to realize that she was actually comforting you which only made you weep more, overwhelmed by her kindness. Being offered forgiveness was a feeling you never experienced before. Why did it hurt so much? Was it because it set your past on fire, the prickling feeling under your skin, the love that feels like taking a deep breath after being underwater for too long?

"It's all good, y/n. Please don't cry. I'm just glad that you're not hurt.", Robin whispers, patting your head. You melt under her touch, calming down a little and turn around to finally face her, still sniffling a little. She gives you a warm smile.

"But... your books! They're your everything! I sorted them with you and it took ages, just for me to tear it all down. I'm so..."

She interrupts you by putting a finger on your mouth, signaling you to stop talking. Her eyes linger on you for a few heartbeats, before she starts speaking again, her voice gentle and calm.

"First of all, you're my everything. I could own all the books in the world and would still feel like something... someone was missing. A broken shelf is something we can fix easily. And if I get to spend more time with you sorting them in, I'm more than happy about it. Please don't beat yourself up over something silly like this. I still love you, okay? You better never forget that. We can tidy up tomorrow, so let's read a bedtime story together for now?"

#one piece #nico robin #devil child nico robin #one piece x reader #one piece scenario #one piece reader insert #robin x y/n #robin x reader #robin x you #3amevent

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x-chubby-reader · 4 years

Note

Oh MY GOD what about Bakugou, kirishima, and sero who get hit by a quirk who turns them into a lil toddler or whatever and they’ve got the biggest crush on their chubby/plus size classmate 🥺🥺

A/N - I literally love this idea so much, thanks to @fandom-fander for helping out with this headcannon.

Not Prof Read

Lowercase Intentional

Cursing

Toddler!Bakugo, Kirishima, and Sero x Plus size reader

Bakugo

aizawa sure as hell didn't feel like dealing with the angry pomeranian in minature form

he decided to leave the boy with the class and let them decide among themselves on who should watch the little firecracker for the day

extra credit anyone?

everyone immediately pinned the responsibility on you

kirishima, he didn't feel like getting screeched at by a small bakugo and needed to apparently go study

he also knew that bakugo had a fondness for you in his teenage form, so why not see if he still has it

fr little bakugo pretends to hate your guts

somehow this little toddler has the most hurtful insults

“you can't even get a boyfriend? that's pretty sad.”

suddenly choking out a child is okay

do it… no one has to know how it happened

even though he had pretended to hate you, he still kept trying to show off to you

you decided to take him out on a little bike/tricycle ride? homeboy flipped it trying to show off how fast he could go and then proceeded to complain about scraping his knee

hey at least he got your attention

he is a literal leash kid fight me oh my god

bakugo will simply run away

you expected him to listen? oh you're in for a surprise

the only option that you give him is to either wear the embarrassing monkey pack or to hold your hand

he immediately grabs your hand and is literally so giddy and its adorable my lord-

smiles for days my heart i can’t-

he may seem all happy and nice, but that can flip in a minute

he’s the biggest brat sometimes and you are literally this close to punting him across the room

you don't get him something that he wants? little pomeranian boy will turn into a velociraptor child in an instant

the decimals that that kids voice can reach up to is kind of impressive not going to lie

“no bakugo, you can't have that right now maybe later-”

screech

thankfully he tires himself out quick enough to set him down for a nap

but nothing is ever simple, is it?

he wont go to sleep without you though, claiming that there are monsters and he needs to know where you are so he can protect you

no matter how many times you had explained to him that there weren't any monsters around, you slowly succumbed to his pleas

almost feeling bad for him, he just looked so serious about how you could get hurt that it made you feel bad

you didn't notice how much taking care of a kid took out of you until now

you had made a mental note to apologize to your mom for having to deal with you when you were younger later

As soon as you settled down on the couch with the toddler laying on top of you, you almost instantaneously passed out

oh boy were you in for a surprise when you woke up to a teen bakugo, still curled into your torso

he looked up to you after feeling you stir, he almost had a smirk on his face before burying his head back into you

mostly to hide the redness spreading over his face, he wasn’t going to admit that he was blushing

no way in hell

he just mumbled a “later” before his breaths softened into a steady pace

yeah, you may be stuck here for a bit

Kirishima

you were there for the whole thing

red-top had pushed you out of the way of an incoming quirk blast and suffered the consequences

he became young again, almost too young

you felt bad

and who wouldn’t

so of course you took it upon yourself to watch him until the effects wore off

the thing you learned about him was that he was an even touchy-er child

homeboy just wanted to be held all the time

just climbing up and latching himself onto your calf

it was adorable but hard to walk with

If you pick him up, you’ve basically sworn an oath with the devil himself

you cannot put him down

ever

he gives the most pitiful looks when you do and drags his feet when you walk

he also wont leave you alone

so curious in whatever your doing at that exact moment

and he is impressed by everything you do

“what are you doing?”

“reading”

“wow so cool!”

a bug came in through the window and he screamed

you walked in all nonchalant, grabbed your shoe, and smacked that some of a bitch into a next dimension

he lit up omfg

“wow y/n, that was so manly!”

you brought him in to class since it had been a school day and were too afraid to tell aizawa about the incident

the girls were literally all over him

i mean, who wouldn’t be all over an adorable and friendly (looking at you bakugo) kid?

and the pebble boy was lapping up the attention like a thirsty dog on a hot day

you never expected him to act like this

shy maybe, but then again he was pretty outgoing in his teenage form

he was grinning from ear to ear

literally posing like a mini body builder and making little huffing noises

even you couldn’t help it, letting a little aww out like most of the other girls

this had been causing a slight disturbance to the class

so the whole going to school thing was pointless as aizawa sent the two of you home anyways

he is already a tired dad, he dosen’t need to be dealing with a toddler right now

putting the little strongman on your back you began to walk

you had been hoping that the effects would wear off in a few more hours

but nothing ever goes to plan dose it?

while you had been walking, you noticed a significant weight increase, but just decided to ignore it

hey you were more sturdy and thicc, you wern’t no pussy, why stop all of a sudden because of the extra weight?

the only single thing that had alerted you to kiri being fully back was the whisper in your ear

instead of a sqeaky and mousy voice, you heart a more smooth and even comment

“hey stranger”

girl you dropped him and ran, him having to catch up to you

he has the audacity to give you a heart attack, he better suck it up

Sero

this was the same situation as bakugo, aizawa just didn’t want to deal with the kid

and especially a kid who kept mixing up two languages

he really was just so one

aizawa gave him the option to go to anyone

of course he ran straight to you, clinging onto your calf, as that was as high as he could reach

hey you looked the most inviting and least scary

he was literally terrified of bakugo and almost started to bawl is eyes out when he went near him

though he calm down slightly when he went down to get to a similar height as him.

why wouldn’t you take the opportunity to watch a cute little kid and skip class

hey, aizawa said whoever watched him got extra credit

but there soon was a slight problem that you noticed

well not really a problem, but more of a hurdle

with sero being raised in a household that spoke both english and spanish, he started to mix the two, not knowing any better

he would be asking for “leche” and you would just stand there trying to understand with your limited vocab

just the loading circle above your head whenever he started to talk

but you managed with google translate and going off of the vast amount of spanish soap operas you watched at 3 am once a week

surprisingly, he was a very artistic kid

at least every ten minutes he would walk over to you and hand you a squiggly picture of a flower, you, or him and you holding hands

and he would just giggle before running away to make another

bro heart go melt

being pre occupied with some papers that the father teacher had sent home with you, sero couldn’t get your attention

he might of forgotten your name and got stuck in a predicament

then the most rational thing popped into his head

well his dad called his mom “mi amor” and you and his mom were both pretty ladies

it made total sense to him so he went with it

“hey...”

nothing

“hey...”

nothing again

“hey... mi amor~”

your head shot up immediately

since he noticed that the name had gotten your attention, he just started using it

when he had shifted to being a teen again, the two of you never mentioned the name again

until a few days later when he was back to normal in class

homeboy was trying to get your attention and the multiple taps on the shoulder weren't cutting it

he got an idea

“hey... mi amor~”

yep that got you immediately

and he still uses that nickname for you

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pillsarchive · 3 years

Text

Otto Octavius / Reader - '13 squids' Chptr 1

In which you rip a piece of glass out of the Doctor's arm and he starts to feel things, feel things for a person. Ew, gross, that's never happened before. Maybe he's lost more blood than he thought he did? BAD AT SUMMARY'S _ PLEASE READ.

Authors Note: Its like 12 monkeys except the plot lines aren't similar at all and it's 13 instead of 12 squids instead of monkeys. Im going through my drafts and publishing anything good, I dont have time to think of a better title.

When you moved to new york, you assumed the place would be……well new york. Rats on the street, strange people asking you even stranger questions, the normal everyday weirdness that came along with living in a big city. New york was “quirky”, that’s what everyone kept telling you.

This definitely was not fucking quirky.

You let a string of profanities as you ducked behind the bar counter, the garbage can hurdling through the window of the restaurant barely missing your head. You crawled over to the corner of the counter as fast as you could, curling up into a fetal position and trying to steady your breathing. Hopefully the hard wood would shield you from the fight going on outside, but you doubted it. Heroes and villains brawling on the street was something you’d never get used to. You supposed it was just the way things were now, in the 90s people had portable cd players, now they had iphones. 10 Years ago people had cops, now you had people made of sand and skinny kids in spandex injected with spider DNA. You weren't the type to care about superhero politics, people were fallible and it felt weird to idolize or demonize them based on a handful of chaotic events where no one actually physically there could really fully understand what was going on, flying cars and screaming usually made it hard to pay close attention to things. You just wish they weren't allowed to destroy property. This sucked. Another piece of scrap metal flew over your head and you yelped.

“GIVE IT UP OCTO DOCTOR”

Aaaaah. So that’s who it was. You’d seen spiderman when the fight first began, but you werent sure who he was scuffing with. Otto Octavius, the guy with four metal arms attached to his spine or something. Pretty intimidating. You’d seen videos of him, robbing banks, ripping tank sized holes through government buildings, he’d use his arms for support and just hang there like a ragdoll, smiling and looking at the crowd through his sunglasses. You wondered if he ever walked around anymore. You felt the earth shake and rumble, for metal tentacles gripped the ground and a pair of black boots floated along the top of the restaurant window.

“What doc, you running away? They should start calling you doc bawk bawk baaawk in the papers!”

Jesus, this kid had to work shop his quips.

“If you -” He coughed loudly.

“If you know whats best for you you’ll stay out of my way, spider.”

You cringed into yourself at the sound of his voice. That cough sounds nasty, is he sick?

With that the tentacles scampered away, as did the black boots.

As you sat on the floor and shook you realized the commotion outside was over. No more loud noises. Slowly, you got up off the floor and poked your head out.

Nothing. Just an empty, fucked up street outside.

The lithe figure in the gaudy spandex jumped after the doctor and you crumpled to the floor.

A few tears spilled down your face and you laughed. Loud noises, banging, abrupt movements, it all terrified you. You were jumpy, you didn't know where it came from - luckily most people found it endearing. That or they tried to make you dance purposefully, slamming books closed, yadda yadda. You’d gotten a lot of that in grade school.

After a few minutes you got up and brushed yourself off. Time to clean up. Yaaaaaaay.

You were pissed. If you left the restaurant like this your boss would be angry angry, you could call him but you’d rather not deal with another bout of yelling and loud angry noise tonight, you might actually have a breakdown if anyone else spoke to you or touched you for the rest of the week. After you cleaned the debris off the floor you’d figure out an excuse as to why you didnt want to talk to him unless it was over text. Old people and cell phone etiquette.

You got a rag and wiped all the glass and concrete off of the counter top onto the floor, stacking the barstools ontop of the bar to get them off the floor. Now for the fun part - sweeping. You actually quite enjoyed cleaning most of the time, you found it relaxing to put on your big clunky headphones and dance around the restaurant while you got it sparkling. That’s one of the reasons you’d taken the closing shift - less people, more interesting conversation, more alone time. The bigger broom was kept in the big back storage room, you walked towards the rear of the floor and dug the keys out of your pocket - about to open the door.

That’s when you heard it.

“Ah, ah, good god.” Someone was behind the door. They were in pain.

Immediately you rushed for the first aid kit and the bat your boss kept on the wall (Your boss gave every female employee working alone mandatory “self defense” lessons with the thing, they usually ended with the guy going on tangents about his favorite ball team.)

It was probably someone that had turned into collateral during the fight, hiding in the storage room because it was the only door in the back alley that was open.

…..The only door open.

Your stomach fell. It wasn't open, you remembered locking it right after the delivery guys left. That door was made of metal and hardwood, at least an inch thick, and you knew from experience that it was nearly impossible to break down. Once you’d gotten locked in that storage room for 15 minutes - it was in the dead of winter and you thought you were going to die. You clipped the first aid kit around your lanyard and got ready to swing the bat, whatever was back there was strong as shit and you really didnt want to see what it was. Somewhere in the back of your mind you wondered if your heart was supposed to beat this hard, maybe you were having an attack? Swallowing your fear you quietly unlocked the door and swung it open.

“DONT TRY TO HURT ME, I WANT TO HELP YOU SO JUST DON-”

You began to yell out your demands when you realized who it was.

Doctor Octavius.

His blood was all over the floor and he was gripping his shoulder, trying to apply pressure you guessed. His tentacles were cooing and chirping, almost like they were concerned for him. Crying for help.

The baseball bat clattered to the floor.

“Oh Jesus, ok. -”

You kneeled down next to him and the arms hissed at you. The doctor seemed to be fading in and out of consciousness, he just looked at you and blinked, not saying anything. You stood your ground, the arms continued their hissing.

You raised the medical bag in the air.

“I thought you were an intruder, someone trying to rob the storage room. I'm sorry if I scared you, I just want to help. I'm not a professional, but I've been to a few emergency first aid classes. I wont hurt you, I promise, but if you dont let me help he’ll continue to lose blood and he might die. “

You looked the metal arms in their red eyes as you spoke, they seemed to almost understand what you were saying. Maybe they were sentient? Like little robots? One of them cocked their head to the side.

“Please.”

As much as you didnt want to deal with this, you couldn't watch this man die. You didnt know why he robbed banks, stole chemicals and metal, but you assumed he had a good reason for it. He had been a doctor once, well respected, a genius, whatever he was doing had to be right (in his mind at least). No one was completely one thing.

The tentacles seemed to confer amongst themselves, then to your amazement they cleared away from Octavius. One of them nodded towards him and cooed. They were giving you permission.

You paused for a moment and then scrambled closer to the man.

“Otto? Dr. Octavius? Dont fall asleep doctor, you have to stay awake for me okay?” His slumped over form slowly turned to look at you.

“You dont have to talk, just stay awake. Im going to take your coat off to see if I can get a better look at the injury.”

One by one you lifted his limp arms through his jacket and shrugged the leather off of him. Jesus fuck. There was a piece of glass stuck into the top of his arm, it was massive. Nearly half the size of a mug and halfway stuck in. You opened the medical bag and grabbed a sizeable pair of plier grabby things. You did mention you weren't a professional. You sanitized the pliers and looked at him.

“I dont know if you can hear me, but this is going to hurt. Im really sorry.” You turned your gaze to the metal arms moving and wriggling around behind his back.

“Understand that im not doing this because I want to hurt him, when I pull it out I need you to make sure he doesnt kill me, I need you not to kill me, can you do that for me please?” The tentacles chittered and one wiggled up and down, nodding at you in agreement.

You took a deep breath, squeezed the doctors other shoulder lightly, and yanked on the glass with the pliers. It came out smoothly.

Suddenly the doctors eyes turned from half lidded and sleepy to wide and glassy. He moaned in pain and reached for his shoulder, you grabbed his dirty hand before he could touch the wound and guided it to the ground, holding onto it for a moment while you pressed a clean cloth to the cut to stop the bleeding.

“Shhhh, you’ll be okay. It hurts right now, but it will get better. Just pull through for me, I need to stop some of the bleeding, sanitize the wound, and then give you stitches. It wont take long, you’re going to be okay Octavius. Alright?” To your surprise he actually responded. He hissed a quiet “thank you” and squeezed your hand.

You gave a solemn nod.

“I'm sure anyone else in my position would try to do the same.” He flinched when you sanitized the wound, but for the most part he was still. Even while you were giving him sutures he stayed still and looked at the room, or your face. After the offending object had been pulled out of his arm it seemed like the pain was mostly downhill. When you were completely done you realized you had no clue what to do with him. He was a wanted criminal, obviously, that's half the reason you chose the home operation approach, where were you supposed to take the big dude now? To his villain lair where he couldn't reach anyone if he needed help? Did he even have a place to live?

He was mostly conscious at this point, but he still stayed silent.

“So, what now?”

He turned to you, confused.

“What now?”

“Yeah, what now? I assume if you knew how to take care of semi big injuries like that the tentacles, arms, im sorry, they’d know too. They’re smart. I cant leave you here, your tussling with the spider kid kind of totally fucked up the resteraunt and now I have to call my boss - he’d kill you if he found you here -” The doctor chuckled.

“Would he now?” You cracked a small smile.

“He’d give it a good college try. So, that being said there are a few options. I get you a hotel room for a few nights and sneak you in, I take you back to your house - lair - dungeon - whatever and check in on that arm wound once every few days, or……you stay at my place I guess.”

His smirk enduring, he tried to shrug his jacket on.

“NO- “ You put your hand on the leather.

“I dont wanna know what the last time you had that thing cleaned was. If that gets on the wound ,even while it’s dressed, there’s a serious chance you could get a very very gnarly infection.”

He rolled his eyes, but to your relief he put the soiled piece of leather down.

“I was, before my…. Social fall from grace, one of the best scientists in the world. You dont think I know enough to treat an arm wound?”

“Im not saying that, im saying

A: I’ve known a few scientists in my time, when I think of them I dont think ‘personal hygiene, self care, awareness of their needs.’ I know a guy, he’s in college majoring in quantum physics and I once saw him drink cold chocolate ensure for a month straight because he ‘didnt have time for ramen.

B: It would be easier with an extra pair of eyes, you cant see the back part of your own shoulder too well.

C: It would make me feel better. I already have an anxiety thing, if my brain knows there’s a guy somewhere that I stitched up, who may be dead, alive, or dying, ill freak the hell out.”

He sneered.

“I dont need the help of a college student.” “Im not in college. Im a free lance artist. I just go to shows a lot, there’s a really good Oingo Boingo cover band that plays around here, that's how quantum and I met.”

“Even worse. Your practically asking me to babysit you. What makes you think I wont just leave, you cant stop me.” You stared into his deep green eyes and cracked a smile.

“If you wanted to leave you’d already be gone.”

He stayed silent.

“If you dont need my help, that’s fine, ill just see you on your way and go home. I just thought it would be nice if you had someone that could help you when you couldnt help yourself. You’re a grown man, im not forcing you to do anything.”

He looked at you. He was clearly thinking about something, but there were no clues about his answer to your question on his face. He was stoic, his greyish brown hair was fluffy and his skin looked soft despite the wrinkles and marks that peppered it. His glasses were crooked on his nose and…..and he had no……shirt. How you failed to realize this earlier you were not entirely sure - but oh wow. He was a soft man, and his stomach was covered by a metal plate that looked attached to his skin, for the arms you guessed. You wondered if it hurt him, you’d have to inquire more about the arms later. As you looked at his face you realized he was sort of beautiful. Hopefully he did keep in contact, you wanted to ask if you could paint him. A voice derailed your train of thought.

“If I need you, lll find you….”

You watched as he reached out to you and ran his gloved fingers through your long hair, brushing it over your shoulder exposing your name tag.

“Thank you, y/n.”

Telling from the look in his eyes he was being completely genuine. He began to get up when you stopped him.

“Wait”

He looked down at you, smirking, and he pulled a cigar and a lighter out of his pocket.

“What?”

The air smelled familiar. He smoked clove, the same as you. Yours were herbal cigarettes, though. Non addictive. As attractive as you thought smoking once in a while was, other people begged to differ. You’d saw your own leg off before you doomed yourself to a life of unwanted, unwarranted medical advice and shaming from strangers on the street.

You looked at his arms.

“What should I call them? I’ve been referring to them as tentacles in my head, but that’s just because the papers gave you that nickname. I dont want to offend them.”

He stopped. A look of genuine surprise crossed his face, then he put the mask back on and continued to smirk at you. He processed what you said, and then he laughed.

“Smart, smart girl. Good job, it takes most people a while to realize they’re somewhat sentient. Actuators, that’s what they prefer. Though they dont mind arms either, just not tentacles. They really should ask before they print that sort of thing in the news, i’ve never met a - for lack of a better term - supervillain that likes their nickname. Except the green goblin, but…. You know-”

“He’s just kind of weird, man.”

“Yeah, that.”

The actuators chittered, trying to get the doctors attention. He turned to them briefly, the same look that proud fathers get when they talk to their children crossed his face, then he turned back to you.

“They like you.”

You blinked, and he was gone.

He doesn't hover.

#otto octavius/reader #otto octavius #the amazing spider man #spider man no way home #spiderverse #green goblin #otto octavius imagine #fanfic #fem reader #otto octavius x reader #doctor otto octavius #doctor octopus #peter parker #marvel mcu

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its-kall-the-clown · 3 years

Note

Hbhbhbhbhnbhb i'v been screaming about your silktea ship for 500 year's and I need more. #49 I can't stop thinking about you. Please and thank you.

*trips and falls back into answering prompts* yeah so while I'm working through writer's burnout for some of my longer fics I figure I finish some LONG overdue prompts .

prompt list

Dark Turn

Rating:PG

49 “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

We see Sandy and Huntsman keep in touch after he heals and he returns to his queen. Keeping their relationship on the down-low is hard as it is but especially hard when you are technically dating the enemy.

Continuation of some other silk tea but could probably be read without context.

PART ONE here and PART TWO and PART THREE

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

Sandy was his secret, His black mark on his soul and red ink on his ledger.

And then like Schrodinger's cat he was also his life, his reason to live, and the only good thing about himself.

Both exist at the same time in an uncertain state. He and Sandy kept in touch after he was officially healed and back with his queen; his return was received without any reaction from her.

Other than a side comment..

"Oh? You're not dead? Shame. My, You have gotten fat. Hope you haven't found a food source that you didn't share with your queen"

Other than that nothing had changed. He was out back to work with little fanfare. He thinks Syntax was upset when he returned so he made sure to rub it in his face by throwing himself into his service like he never left.

Yep nothing had changed.

Well….one thing changed.

His human burner phone buzzes in his pocket, alerting him of a text. He makes sure to take it out and cup it gently, keeping it out of prying eyes.

Big blue 💙

Is displayed and he can't help the smirk that plays on his face.

"A human phone? What need do you have for that?" Syntax asks and Huntsman snaps it shut quickly.

"For Intel on the monkey kid." He lies easily shoving it in his pocket.

"I have contacts on the surface."

"Seems unlikely. Humans don't like our kind" Syntax scowls

"Said the human who helped us and joined our kind." Huntsman bites back pushing past him out of the lab to get some privacy.

Once out of earshot and down a tunnel away from any of his clan members. When he's certain he's alone he takes out the burner phone and checks his messages. Looks like it was time for their normal lunch chat.

Sandy always texted him to see if he was free and then Huntsman would call him when he was free, and more importantly safe to do so.

He dials and even though they have done this for a week now his stomach flops at every background noise worried someone was just behind him listening in.

The phone clicks as Sandy picks up.

"Hey there spider cake." Sandy's smooth voice pours over him like coffee. Sandy always had a new pet name for him, it was cute and he hated that it never failed to make him blush. He wishes he had just as good pet names to give back but he could never seem to get them past his lips.

"Hi. Missed you." He pulls the phone to his ear and closes his eyes pretending they were next to him. He hears Sandy chuckle through the receiver.

"I missed you too. Mo misses you too by the way." They respond and Huntsman smiles while rolling his four eyes.

"No way the flea bag misses me. Mo hated me the most out of all your cats." Huntsman leans against the wall of the tunnel and then slides down, he thinks he looks like a fourteen year old human girl with how he acts around Sandy.

"No he really does! He keeps sitting in your spot on the sofa and wandering around yowling for you."

Huntsman lets out a little snort and closes his eyes pretending Sandy was right next to him instead of far away in his boat.

“I can’t stop thinking about you.” the words fall past Huntsman's hips before he can even stop them. He hears how the demon's breath hitches on the other side and he thinks maybe he's messed up and shouldn't have admitted something so honest.

“I can’t stop thinking about you also…" Sandy replies and it just makes Huntsman's heart explode in his chest.

"When can I see you again?" Sandy asks sounding slightly heartbroken and it makes Huntsman whimper slight

"Soon, I just need to make sure no one here suspects anything..." The spider demon admits trailing off and gripping the phone slightly tighter. The last thing he needed was to accidentally have Syntax follow him and then report back to the queen of his sin.

"Alright….just let me know when."

"I will."

"I love you."

Huntsman's heart stutters and stops in his chest and his whole life narrows down to three words he's not strong enough or brave enough to say back. He knows deep down Sandy would never hold it against him if he needed the time to say it back, but the overwhelming guild drained out that logic quickly.

"I have to go." He hung up and pushed the phone to his chest.

This was bad. Because one day he not only did he have to say it back but because he knows we WILL say it back. And it would fall easily from his lips.

And the problem with that is it wasn't allowed. You loved the queen unconditionally and that was it. You didn't fall in love with another and devote yourself to them.

He stands up and pockets the phone, worried about what he's going to do.

And then sharp pain erupts through his legs and forearms.

He's pinned to the wall, quite literally. leg enhancers shoved through his limbs, splintering flesh and bone.

"Well…" a cool voice draws out and Huntsman's breath hitches when he sees WHO had attacked him..

Syntax.

"Won't MY queen find this quite interesting?" The voice curls out from fanged teeth with an edge of a hiss. A shiver runs up Huntsman's spine from the absolutely Feral look from Syntax. Huntsman squirms underneath his glare, his heart pulling wildly in his chest.

Syntax chuckles, deep and threatening like the edge of a blade, And Huntsman struggles against the titanium trap to no avail.

"Once I report this to the queen I will become her new favorite."

The sentiment that this was about impressing the queen seems ridiculous in Huntsman's head, but that might be because his loyalty was waning.

He opens his mouth, a protest on his lip. But he's silenced by a pinprick to his neck. The pain is swift and vision blurring is even quicker.

He feels sick, stomach-churning, and he topless forward. The flip phone drops from his hand and is crushed under the weight of Syntax's foot.

The last thought in his head is how everything took a dark turn, and he hopes Sandy would forgive him

To be continued….

#silk tea #silktea shipping #prompt ask #prompt request #look at me actually coming back to this XDD #Sandy #Huntsman #lego monkie kid #monkie kid #writting #no beta we die like clowns #ignore any mistakes they live here now

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zombryz · 4 years

Text

★ needy ★ a Frieza story

This is based on a request I got from an Anon - “ Do you think you can do a Frieza X Reader where Frieza feels more comfortable about being around the reader so much that he gets a bit clingy towards the reader?“

This will be a multi-part series. Oh how I do love Lord Frieza ♡

TW - mentions of anxiety, kidnapping

“Yo!” You hear a familiar voice from behind you. You spin on your heel to find none other than the tall and hunky saiyan himself, Goku.

“Hi Goku! How are you?” You smiled sweetly at him. He’s been your friend for quite some time now and you’ve gotten used to having him around. His face always lights up when he sees you, as you have a way with people, in this case saiyans. Both him and Vegeta had a soft spot for you and they never really understood why. They eventually just gave in and would do whatever you asked of them, being completely wrapped around your finger.

“I’m great! You ready to do this?” He smirked, making a hmph noise before cracking his knuckles and furrowing his eyebrows downward showing that he meant business. You had invited him over today because you were moving into capsule Corp. He was in charge of moving all your big, heavy furniture. Bulma requested you move in a few months ago but after the whole ‘Beerus almost destroying the world’ thing you decided it might be a good idea to go ahead and finally move in. That way you would always be kept in the loop. You were Bulma’s best friend and you were always babysitting the boys anyways so why not just move in?

“Where do you want this?” Goku questioned holding your whole couch under one arm.

“Um, you can just put it in the loft! Thanks, Goku!” You replied with a kind smile causing his cheeks to turn rosy. You knew that he would do anything for you so you decided to return the favor by always being sweet to him. Everyone around here always called him an idiot and you didn’t feel that he was deserving of that.

He had moved everything into your apartment so quickly without even breaking a sweat. Goku walked back down the stairs dusting off his hands as if it was the easiest task the saiyan has ever had to do. You were so thankful to have him in your life.

“Gosh, thanks Goku. What would I do without you?” You reached up to ruffle his hair causing him to chuckle while he scratched the back of his neck.

“Don’t mention it! I’ll see you at dinner then?” He waved goodbye and took off using instant transmission. You were so excited to have a new place within Capsule Corp. Now if you needed Bulma, you could just walk down the hall instead of having to call her up. You sat on your couch and decided to get a nap in before dinner that evening.

Later that evening, everyone gathered for dinner on the rooftop of Capsule Corp. It was honestly quite cute to have everyone sit together like a big family. You sat with Lord Beerus and Whis to your right and Trunks and Goten to your left. Lord Beerus also took a liking to you, which you figured it couldn’t hurt to have a destroyer on your side. He took the time to actually learn your name which didn’t seem to be a regular occurrence with him and mortals. After dinner you were playing hide and seek with Trunks and Goten, they always outsmarted you by flying or fusing together. You told them that if you were going to play, flying or fusing was against the rules. They weren't too excited about this but they would go along with it because they were always happy to just be playing with you. You were their favorite.

After a tiresome game of hide and seek and finding the boys stuck in a tree you decided to head back to get some sleep. You yawned walking back inside Capsule Corp, that's when you ran into Bulma roaming the halls. She looked a teensy bit nervous and you felt the need to ask her what was wrong.

“Everything ok Bulms?” You approached her slowly placing a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to calm her down a bit without spooking her.

“Oh! Hey, Y/N. Y-Yeah, I’ll be okay.” Her words came off a bit on edge and you couldn’t help but think she was trying to withhold information.

“You sure? You don’t seem okay, you seem a bit anxious..”

“O-okay fine, you got me.” She shakily put her hands up in surrender and you finally let go of her shoulder to cross your arms together. You raised your brow curious to what she was going to say next. “Both Goku and Vegeta left. They went to train with Whis on Beerus' planet..” she paused. You felt as though there was something else she was leaving out. Your brow remained raised, unsure of where this was going. “….we have no way of staying in contact with them, I-I feel a little… unprotected I guess.” she shrugged as if saying it aloud sounded silly. Your eyes widened. A skip in your heart, earth’s greatest protectors - gone? What does this mean? Is there even a threat to earth? Is there going to be a threat? Your head spun a bit when you realized Bulma was still staring at you, she clearly needed comfort from her friend and not a freak out session.

“Come here Bulms, it’s going to be okay” you grabbed one of her arms and pulled her into a tight embrace. “We still have Piccolo and Gohan with us. Oh! And the boys. We’ll be fine if anything happens we’ll just call up Tien and 18.” You unconfidently replied, breaking off the hug you held her shoulders in place so that she could see your trying sincere smile. Her anxiety seemed to knock down a few clicks as you helped calm her down.

“You’re right, It’s going to be okay.” She inhaled and exhaled loudly calming her nerves, “Thanks Y/N. Well, I guess I’ll try to get some sleep now. If you need anything please don’t hesitate to come get me, after all I’m only down the hall now!” She winked as she removed your hands from her shoulders and gave you a swift smile and wave before turning back down the hall towards her place. Finally, you can go back to your new apartment and relax. It had been a long day.

You unlocked the door to your apartment and your living room was pitch black, the only light was emitting from your loft porch. Humming to yourself you walk around your dark room looking for the light switch, it was your first night in your new place and you cursed yourself for not knowing the layout of the room before it had gotten dark. You shuffled around reaching both arms out to feel around the walls for the light switch. At this point you were becoming annoyed, “Ugh” you grunted out loud. You pause for a moment to take a breather and that's when you see them. A pair of what looked like glowing red eyes in the far corner of your living room, they were locked on you and looked like they were coming from behind a lamp that Goku had placed there earlier in the day. You hesitate to scream, figuring maybe it was just an outlet or maybe the boys playing a prank on you. They started to move as if whomever they belonged to began standing up at their full height. That's when you started shaking and you could feel your palms becoming clammy with fear. Whatever it was was charging a ball of energy, the color matching their terrifying eyes. Now would be a good time to scream you thought to yourself, but you were frozen like a deer in headlights.

Shit, shit, shit.

Finally, you let out a gut wrenching scream hoping Goku or Vegeta would barge in and save you from whoever let themselves in your apartment. The being disappears from in front of you, in a frenzy you panic and look around not sure where it went.

“Ah, ah, ah puny earthling.” The unknown creature was now behind you and clapped its large scaly hand over your mouth forcing no more noise out of you. “We don’t want the big bad monkey’s to know that I am here.” It tsked. You were stuck. Trying to calm your breathing you gave in, there was no way you could fight it off. Okay, what now? Still shaking you bring your arms down to your sides not realizing you grasped the hand that was placed tightly over your mouth. “Try that again and I will not hesitate to eliminate you right where you stand, under any normal circumstances you would already be dead at my hands, but unfortunately for the both of us,” a pause, almost as if it was annoyed to say the next part, “I need you to stay alive… for now.”

An understanding, you nodded your head in acceptance and it freed your mouth. All of a sudden the lights came on, blinding you. You covered your eyes trying to get the burn to go away when you finally opened them and saw it, well him? For a lizard man, he was oddly beautiful. He stood taller than you and had ivory skin with amethyst like crystal domes on his head, shoulders, and chest. His figure was rather slender but muscular. Flicking behind him was a long, ivory tail to match. It appeared to be made of pure muscle. He stood with one foot in front of the other showing off his three toed limbs. Wow. You had seen alien creatures before but never one quite like this.

“Okay, what do you need me to do?” you cleared your throat and pulled at your shirt, fixing your appearance unconsciously.

“Rather compliant aren’t we?” he questioned while letting his head hang low, twisting his mouth to form a menacing and twisted smirk. “I will spare you the mechanics of my grand plan,” He raised his head to look you in the eyes while he spoke, “I have been watching you for quite some time, human.” This caused you to raise your brow in curiosity. Why was he watching you? “The monkeys left, and you see.. That will just not do, will it?” he started playing with his nails as if this conversation was boring him.

You decided it was best for you not speak unless he asked you to and so he continued on.

“For now, you will be my hostage. My pawn, if you will. I need those infuriating baboons to come back to earth, I will not continue chasing them around the galaxy just to get my revenge.” He clutched his hand into a fist, anger seething through his teeth.

It finally clicked, standing only a few feet away was the ruthless and power hungry emperor, Lord Frieza. You swallowed your fear, not sure how you got here or why but you weren’t going to fight back in any way risking him to deem you no longer worthy to be in his presence. Goku and Vegeta have told you war stories about him. How did he come back? A single tear began rolling down your cheek causing you to sniffle quietly. Frieza must’ve noticed because he reached out and grabbed your face almost crushing your jaw with the action.

“Oh, do not grow worried little one. I will not hurt you…” a beat. “Today.” He chuckled evilly releasing your face. Great, you remembered Bulma telling you that there would be no contact with Goku or Vegeta. How long would you be Frieza’s prisoner? A panic sweeping over you, your head spinning and just like that your world went dark. You were knocked unconscious, Frieza had forced you to sleep.

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

“Mom! Mom, wake up!”

Bulma wiped the sleep away from her eyes. She sat up, yawning not sure if what was happening was a dream or not. Finally, fully awake, her eyes focus on Trunks who is hovering over her in a panic.

“It’s Y/N! I heard her scream, I went to check on her and her door was cracked open and there was no sign of her!” The worry in his voice caused Bulma to jump out of bed.

“Trunks, I need you to go get Piccolo and the others. I am afraid something bad is happening.” Bulma tried her best to hide the worry in her voice.

Trunks left and Bulma started pacing her dark room, she had an itch of who might be involved. “Frieza.” she said to herself sternly, slamming her fist into her other hand. She thought to herself, how the hell am I going to get a hold of Goku and Vegeta?

#frieza #lord frieza #dragon ball #dbz #dbs #dbs vegeta #dbs goku #bulma #whis #beerus #fan fiction #frieza imagine #bryannawrites #needy #friezaneedyfic

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