Oops Poly!ghostface-

oops poly!ghostface-💀

29. Children + 1. Morning

"C'moooon wake up!"

A chorus of groans rings out from you and your lovers and you throw an arm over your eyes as your youngest rips open the curtain of your bedroom window.

Looking over to your left, you see Billy reluctantly sit up, his eyes bleary and a hand coming up to scratch at his beard. On your right, Stu rolls over to put on his glasses and he laugh-grunts as the kid jokingly body slams into his father's stomach.

"You guys said we'd get to go downtown today! C'mon, we've waited all morning already." Your eyes slide to the doorway where the twins stand, annoyance blanketing their teen faces. Your daughter was the one who had spoken up, while your son just sighs at your slow pace.

"Yeah, yeah, we're up. We're up" Billy grumbles as he stretches, swinging his legs off the bed and continues his mutterings on his way to the bathroom. The pre-teen play fights with Stu, who grabs him and slams the boy onto the bed, blowing a raspberry into his stomach as he laughs and tries to kick him off. You shake your head and smile, how the hell did Stu still have so much energy at his age.

"'Kay kids, just head downstairs. Dad, Pops, and I are gonna brush our teeth. Marco should be here soon to make breakfast." You try and state this with as much authority as you can muster, but the grogginess of your voice makes it sound a lot less convincing.

Thankfully, your trio of kids are in a compliant mood, and they leave to head downstairs and await Marco, a personal chef Stu had employed to take care of the cooking. Giving Stu a quick kiss, the both of you head into the bathroom to join Billy in getting ready for the day.

"Remind me why we decided to have three of them." Billy spits into the sink, rubbing his still tired eyes . The older he got, the less of a morning person he became. It'd be amusing if he wasn't so bitchy about it.

"I dunno, because there're three of us? We each get one to take care of us when we're old as fuck." Stu jokes, coming up behind him to wrap his arms around his waist, pressing a kiss to his boyfriend's cheek.

"Man, I already feel old as fuck." you state as you lift your arms to stretch, back cracking, and you move to brush your own teeth.

"Hey, at least you're still as hot as the day we met." Billy states, a heated smirk finding its way onto his lips, and for a brief moment his face morphs into his younger one, smooth skin and pretty boy looks flashing in your vision. Stu nods in agreement with a wide grin, and his visage too transforms into the baby-faced, wide-eyed young man you also fell for. Glancing in the mirror at your middle-aged self, you wonder if they ever see glimpses of you at your most vibrant and youthful when you laugh. You hope that they do.

A light feeling bubbles in your chest, as the memories of all the years that had passed you three winded itself out in your head. The Good, The Bad, The Bloody. Your family, a small, undeserved piece of heaven you guys had built, was the culmination of them all. Somehow, against all odds of this sort of relationship with these sort of men working, the three of you had perservered. The heavy Italian-accented greeting of Marco rang out, and the simultaneous chatter and complaining of your children drifts into the room from downstairs.

Sure, you guys now have crows feet and smile lines and bad backs.

But you wouldn't trade it for the world.

Hallo! Truly loved the MonsterAU stories! Wonderful, amazing writing!

Would it be possible for you to write: what if human!reader was turned into a chimera?

Akin to this:

Feel free to ignore!

Chimæra

Pairing: Monster 141 x Chimera!reader

Cw: science experiment, human torture, human testing, gore?, blood, canon-typical violence, unethical human experiments, kidnapping, child abuse, malnutrition, child neglect, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 3.6k (A/N): credit to @bluegiragi’s monster 141 designs.

They were tipped off by an anonymous source that some shady and highly illegal things were being done in a small and remote town near the border of Belarus, their ongoings unknown to both the government and public of their country, but someone had given Laswell a file containing all the horrific tests conducted within the closed walls of the innocuous-looking compound —a laboratory dressed as a simple military base. The folder held snapshots of emails and files sent between scientists and researchers, small indications of what was being done to both humans and monsters, yet withholding important intel about certain things. It disclosed the location, the names and faces of every worker and leading figure in the compound, the number of security and their schedules, and what was done, but not what was truly happening, it left small clues, sublet words here and there with hidden meanings —never clear images, blurry ones as if the person was in a rush.

Despite not having clear indications of the illegal activities, Laswell had enough to have 141 sent to take it down, to bring the dehumanising lab to its ground and burn it down. She didn’t have trouble convincing them, it was telling enough to let them read the condensed files for them to read, to see themselves the monstrosity being done to children and monsters they took, kidnapped from around the world to be left at the deceitful hands of crazed scientists. There wasn’t much to be found outside it, the base wore the facade of a benevolent patron, bearing the crest of kindhearted investors wanting to rebuild rundown houses and reconstruct rough and broken roads and paved streets in the town they took to hide. It worked for the most part, they profited from this by acting without raising any suspicion from anyone, neither the authorities nor the people. 

“Christ,” Gaz swore, looking down at the words in the file he received, the teased truth and the dreadful treatments through a thick layer of secrets and subtle wording, the only clear intel was from the straightforward emails sent to and from researchers and the heads of the facility, unabashed and shameless bragging of their success and the narrative to which these subjects could be used. “Why did it take so long?”

A recurrent theme of these was about a certain subject, it was about C34, spoken with such pride and joy about their creation, the work of the new world and the future made within these walls. Most emails were the exchanges between them about C34’s training, the ongoing treatments and every successful mission and exercises, they spoke of C34 as if they were a dog, a rabid mutt they captured and took on the task of domesticating it. It was demeaning, degrading and cruel, to look at another being as something lower, something needing domestication —it went against every rule and law put in place to protect humanity, the many conventions sworn to protect the goodwill and security of the innocents.

“We’ve had our suspicions before,” Laswell sighed, the images of the screen switching with the small click of her control, laser pointing at the images of various weapons cache and illegally procured weapons. “There was a slip up in the shipping, it was dropped here-” she motioned to a circled area in the map, a closeup of a secluded road near the town, “and we were able to retrace it to the facility. We needed more intel about the facility before acting and we needed to know what we're facing here, if we should send a team or send you.”

“What now?” Price tilted his head back, smoke leaving the sides of his frown, a deep and unpleasant one. He couldn’t even look at the intel given with a straight face, the shadowed truth of cruelty and dehumanising acts done by humans. “Figured you send us after seeing this, Laswell?”

Laswell nodded, jumping to another slide, showing blurred images of subject C34, a blurry figure, tall and imposing in every way possible. They stood high, stature seemingly one belonging to a monster or hybrid: on four legs and the wide, familiar shape of wings, everything about C34 cried monster. Perhaps one they captured as a child, taken from their mother and kept in this cell. There were many pictures of this one, blurry and disfigured, but others had smaller shapes, the size of children with various characteristics. 

“Steamin’ bloody Jesus!” Soap spat, disgust dripping from his tone in waves, unending as were the other’s curses, each holding their level of horror and repugnance. His face was wound tight, brows dipped lowly and lips pursed, he balled his fists, anger rising within him with every image he saw, the deplorable conditions and the care given to the monsters —what could they even expect from this shady company engineering monster and human DNA to fit their preferred narrative, for money, for reputation, for strength. “We ‘ave tae do somethin’ about this, Price!”

Soap - Johnny - had always been the more emotional one, letting his good heart lead his decisions when the situation seemed to fit it. His wolf made him more susceptible to emotional attachment, a pack mentality driven deeply into his mind and heart, he was viciously loyal and wore his heart on his sleeve, uncaring of how he’d be hurt by a betrayal, he simply saw the best in the world, something many couldn’t after a while, but Soap could, Johnny was a good man at heart. That’s why he reacted the most out of everyone, voicing his distaste and hate, his need for revenge and the sanctity of the lives being stolen in the facility. 

Soap pushed Price to agree, seeing no reason not to lead the breach, to uncover everything done to innocent lives. His eyes connected to the man hidden in the darkness, his blue eyes gleaming with fierce justice, a contrast to the wraith who lay in silence, abhorrent and seething quietness. Ghost peered at him, head tilted up with white pupils darkened by black eyes, death layering off him with calmness. He gave Soap a curt nod, affirmation for him to continue to voice his mind, to help those in need. 

“Seems like it’s been decided, Kate,” Price gave her a lopsided smirk, amber eyes narrowed with what could be read as anger, teeth sinking into the girth of his cigar, ash falling. “When are we going?”

Her lips parted in a proud grin, eyes gleaming with something dark and wrathful. She leaned on the table, head held high and shoulder broad while she flicked off the projector:

“Wheels up at 1500 tomorrow.”

You stared down the man before you, watching him tremble under your cold gaze, steps hesitant to approach you despite being seated, body prone on the hard floor you called a bed. He was new, possibly recently employed and his boss - or his direct manager - played a dirty game with him. It was some kind of rite of passage for every new employee courageous enough to accept their recruitment, all bright-eyed geniuses wanting to build their place on earth with forthgoing discovery, desperate and narcissistic; yet they were so easily tricked into you cage, locked in by cackling and grinning guards and coworkers. 

He smelled young, fresh-faced and a bit nervous, most were when they first saw you. You remembered everyone who walked in, the smell of fear and anxiety, the disgusting scent oozing off their bodies, rotten and putrid like a rotting corpse. You would’ve gagged and choked if you weren’t used to it, having grown close to the smell of death, calling the reaper your friend. You weren’t bothered by him, only the cart he was wheeling over, a big and heavy cooler that smelled fresh. He was made to bring you food by his boss, a cruel joke played on every new scientist who was always so eager to meet you before cowering in terror once the lock clicked. 

Standing before your third cage, he unlocked the small hatch and, with effort and a loud grunt, pushed the cooler into the hole, big enough for a big cooler but small enough to fit your arm through it. You waited until he stumbled away, distancing him from you before reaching for the container, it was light, weighing little in your palm. They fed you raw meat, sometimes buying the fresh catch of a Belarus hunter, usually an elk or a wild boar, but if they were lucky, a bison or a bear, other times they would have conserved meat shipped from outside the town, bigger cities or outside the border. 

Today was an elk, the meat cold and free of rot, it smelled as good as a fresh kill did, bloody and heady. You ripped into it without care, tuning out the loud retch from the scientist as you gorged on your meal, claws tearing it in half and biting into the bloody meat. Blood rolled down your lip, painting your cheeks crimson and staining the cream-coloured rag they considered a shirt. It would be changed after your meal, as it always was. Despite the elk weighing around six hundred kilograms, you finished it quickly, with pointed teeth cutting and pulling flaps of meat and ligament, blood spraying and dirtying the metal ground near the hatch. 

It was filling, albeit cold. You cleaned your hands of blood, licking it off like a grooming cat, tongue laving over the sharp edge of your claw and under your blunt fingernails. You peered at him from under your lashes, eyes gleaming in the darkness. You watched - pleased with yourself - him shudder, face growing green with unnerve at your show. You knew he was desperate to leave, to get a breath of fresh air outside of your cell, you understood his fear and wanted him to suffer for helping your owner, the man watching over your training, but you wanted him gone before he emptied his stomach on your floor. So you pushed the cooler out, clawed arm breaching past the hatch to leave it farther from your cage. 

He left hastily, legs shaky and face pale. 

“I want a bison next time,” you growled, words rolling off your tongue huskily from its rare use. 

It looked as inconspicuous through the NVGs as it did in the pictures, a few grey buildings built lowly to hide an immense labyrinth dug into the ground, secret passages crossing unending halls with locked doors and tipped with surveillance cameras to watch over the whole facility. They studied the very walls that made this place a secret fortress, from the body to its heart, like mounting a brigade against a castle, Laswell’s team found the few hidden entrances that connected to the lesser-used passages, winding through many hallways and wide vents, big enough for humans but too tight for monsters the size of C34. Task Force 141 led the mission, infiltrating the base under the darkness of night where they could crawl and slink through shadows to catch what they hunted. They were joined by Marines, all experienced and skillful, wearing scars like a badge of honour. It would either be a quick in and out, or a long and strenuous infiltration. 

Price took Gaz and led half of the Marines through the west, breaching the lab from above. They pushed in steadily, relaying information and physical cues to Watcher - Laswell - with a body cam recording everything they saw, the facade they wore above ground, hiding their dark enterprise. Ghost, as usual, has Soap watch his six, following closely behind him with puppy-like loyalty and the other half of the Marines. Team Two’s - Delta - mission started through the underground passage they sniffed out, a long and unwinding hall that went straight through the heart of the facility. Ghost’s team went dark, needing the cover of silence to stay hidden in a highly protected area of the base to run this clandestine mission. They spoke only when needing to, to make calls, to reaffirm intel or to let both Bravo and Watcher know a change, the tech team in the temporary safe house a few miles away from the compound watched through the cams, from the subtle change in the air to a jarring lead to what was happening. 

While Price and Gaz worked on creating a distraction, taking a load off team Delta’s shoulders, they could work through the system faster and more efficiently with the fire taken off their backs and front. It was controlled chaos for both teams, creating a mass discordance within the enemy lines: panicked higher-ups at the sudden attack, while they had a small squad of personal soldiers, they were unprepared, taken by surprise by both teams attacking on two fronts; and confused mercenaries, their quiet and boring schedules made them lose the edge of suspicion, of wariness towards what awaited them and the sheltered job with little to no action apart from a few failed escape attempts by the subjects.

“Delta 0-1 moving in,” Ghost mumbled into the coms, his team following him closely, rifle held tightly with the muzzle pointed forward as they crossed the threshold of section C, heading towards the one holding the monster subjects. 

They left behind them groups of bodies, slumped over the walls or limp on the ground, blood painting the sterilised and glossy walls, turning the once white hall into a grotesque place, dead bodies covering the length of the corridor like the ones they walked through before, leaving the stench of death that even the Marines could sniff out. It wasn’t clean - they weren’t aiming for it to be clean - but they wouldn’t need it to be clean when the Laswell would send a clean-up team to deal with this, Ghost would steal a bite before they arrived, quenching his hunger for revenge with them. 

A few guards stayed to watch over the cells, doors unlocked by a keycard that most guards kept in their back pocket, Ghost would have to take one off a dead body. Under Ghost’s cover, Soap dashed to the other side of the hall, taking a few with him to corner the mercenaries, boxing them into a closed hallway until they all died. Despite a few of the Marines taking shots, bruising the skin under their plate, black and blue blossoming like a bloody flower under the thin layer of skin, they kept their heads high and minds clear, moving forward without a misstep or hesitation. Soap swiped a few cards from the bodies, throwing one to Ghost. 

“Delta 0-1 to Watcher, can you hear me?”

“Solid copy, Ghost,” Laswell voice rang out clearly, reaching his ears in seconds.

“We found the cells,” his eyes roved over them, white paint over thick, cement walls to hold whatever they locked into the cells, perhaps the children the saw or the big one, C34.

“Do you have the keycards?”

“Affirm,” Ghost growled slowly, hearing Laswell's confirmation to continue. “Going in.”

He tapped the pad, a loud beep ringing in their ears as the lock’s mechanism creaked to life, unlatching from its metal hold to let them in. Both he and Soap walked in, leaving the others to watch their backs while they surveyed the first room. It was dimly lit as it was bare of any decorations apart from a visible toilet, a small sink and a few metal beds. It looked like any usual cells they came across, made barren and empty of anything useful to prevent the prisoners from escaping or causing a ruckus, but the people they kept in these cells were children. Soap swore under his breath at the sight of children huddled together, seemingly no older than 12, he lowered his rifle. They were backed into a corner, three older kids holding a younger one in their arms, protecting her from them, from whoever meant to harm these children. 

They looked malnourished, left to slowly rot in these cement boxes until the scientist found something worthwhile in them, their cheeks sunken in, eyes droopy and swollen with bruises - they were beaten, it made something ugly rear its head inside Ghost dead heart - and lips dried. One was armless, having wings that they used to cover both of their cellmates, naked with only feathers covering their body, this one looked more like a harpy than it did human. The two others had arms, both having the lower half of a mammal, neither of them was sure which four-legged mammal it was, but one had a pair of wings, while the other’s back was bare of anything. 

“We’ve found the children.”

You could hear the chaos from your cell, the blaring alarm and the smell of death. The building shook from its foundation, vibration emanating from both the ground floor and the basement, just farther from your hall, the closed and sectioned-off area. They separated you from the defective ones, all your young mistakes they made after achieving success —you. They tried to recreate it, but it never came out how they wanted it. Maybe it was a mistake on their part or maybe it was the lack of a certain gene in their DNA, a subtle difference that you and the rest had. You didn’t want to know and you didn’t want them to succeed a second time, it was painful, the shift, the tests and the change, the storm of pain, terror and confusion weren’t worth this power. 

You could hear the booming sound of gunfire, a loud ricochet of the bullet when the nitrocellulose sparked and sent the bullet outwards, finding its destination in the warm flesh of human guards. You usually enjoyed this kind of chaos if you knew what started it, and laughed when something caused trouble for your captors, but you were cautious of this one. You neither knew who thought to disturb the peace nor did you know who was behind this, their scents strange and the sound of steps unknown. All you knew was that their steps were heavy, out of breath but pushing their way into - what you thought to be - section C. The place they kept the young and willful. 

You might be blinded by your cell, but the guards outside your confinement knew how to talk, their chatter and barking orders loud enough for you to hear through the thick walls. From them, you knew they were strangers, unknown players on your board of pawns. You didn’t know their goal, whether they were here to let you out or keep you in a cage of their making, but you knew they were a gamble on your fate. As the noise got closer, you sat down, crossed your paws and waited, cautiously awaiting to see what your verdict would be.

Strangely enough, there was a different section, separated from the other one by many gates and stricter security, but they were able to break through it. Security was concentrated in one hall as if the monster they locked at the end of this hallway was of big importance. It had higher security, stronger and thicker. Ghost wondered if it was to keep the monster in or keep people out, either way, this meant that they found the thing they first came here for: the trained and dangerous subject C34. 

Ghost was apprehensive about opening this metal door, built taller than any doors he’d seen, it was as wide as it was tall, metres over what would be considered normal for a human or monster, similar to the wide gates that protected British castles, tall and imposing, but the most worrying was it’s vast amount of security measures. He thought back to the blurrier giant he saw in the picture, their shape indescribable and otherworldly, almost alien-like. His eyes met Soap’s reassuring ones, standing steadfast and unyielding to do good in the world. So with a nod, Ghost worked through the locks and scans of the heavy, metal door made to keep this cement cage closed. This door clicked loudly, echoing down the hall with ominous intent, foreseeing something damming and destructive. 

Yet they hadn’t expected to see another cage within the cage, a box made of reinforced glass, large and robust and inside of it was another cage, a rough metal one with bars for walls, a sick joke of a bird’s gilded cage. It would’ve seemed almost exaggerated to have three layers - three different cages - to keep one subject safely locked up until he caught sight of the monster. Lying on the cold, metal ground with legs folded in, tail curled around them and staring at both him and Soap with cautious curiosity. It looked like a gryphon if it were more reptilian than a mammal, this monster had a human torso, a head wearing a stoic expression, dressed in rags. Where there would normally be legs was the body of a bird, an eagle perhaps from the golden-brown plumage and reptilian legs from the knee down, followed by a fully scaled back, hind legs and a strong tail. Each toe was tipped with a sharp claw, big and deadly if it got its hands on someone, it could easily rip into anyone without putting in much effort. The biggest thing about it was the folded wings, feathered and equipped with a talon. If it could fly, these wings would be powerful. 

He understood why they kept it locked, it was neither man, monster or hybrid. It was a beast of human creation, a creature made to be at the peak of its condition. It was smart, he could see it, the glint in its eyes and the pursed lips, mien kept monotone and calm —observant. 

What did Laswell sign them into? 

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @yeetusspagheetus @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @havoc973 @angelcakes-22 @cassiecasluciluce @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @ki-cant-spel @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @mul-pi @danielle143 @dont-mind-me-just-existing-sadly

May I request Wesker with s/o who’s a mind reader? It can be spicy if you want 😳

Thank you! ❤️

[snaps head around] hehe *precedes to try and sneak a breeding kink in again*

You’ve always been able to hear people’s thoughts, typically it was when you could just focus on someone’s head and all their emotions, thoughts and feelings would be clear to you. However there were some people who had such loud thoughts that you could hear them regardless, luckily these people were few and far between, saving you a headache. This…skill of yours made you a very good detective, to the point where the STARS team captain took notice of you. Your ability to read someone made you valuable to him, it was a risk for him, you knew that, as you could read someone like a book, but your skill was too valuable to pass up.

Over the years you two developed a friendship, it wasn’t awkward or seemed to be based on manipulation like the others but you still were cautious. He had many thoughts about killing the others and you could never be too careful.

But the weirdest day though, was when you were getting thoughts that definitely were not your own.

“God, why do they look so good in that uniform?”

That was a familiar voice, you thought as your eyes looked around, resting your hand on your cheek to look less suspicious.

“Fuck, I want to kiss them so bad.”

Your head went up to look over at Wesker’s office, his shades were open which was rare but you two were the only ones in the office at the moment. Oh, so that’s where the thoughts were coming from? That’s…interesting… Your eyes found his quickly, his shades were pushed into his hair, he quickly looked away from you when you stared at him.

“Dammit, I need to stop staring, they’re so pretty.”

Maybe your suspicions didn’t mean anything, maybe he did actually like you?

“I just want to fuck them hard enough to break the bed.”

WOAH- okay what the fuck- your head turned in his direction once more, his head was down, probably looking at some papers.

“They have such a pretty mouth, I’d love to fuck it.”

Sir, you are the boss, you cannot be thinking like this about your subordinate-

“Maybe they’d give me a little heir if I asked? Hmm…nice and round…”

SIR- SIR- THIS IS THE RACCOON CITY POLICE DEPARTMENT. Quickly standing up you headed your way out the door, feeling his eyes following you as you walked briskly.

“God I want to smack their thighs.”

So maybe your captain liked you more than you thought.

I've found myself in a hole of sagau recently so here's my idea thrown into the mix.

An imposter au where the Reader is immediately able to fight back because they have their Honkai Impact 3rd characters, who could recognise them at first glance, with them.

Finding yourself trapped in the sagau imposter au would be a troubling situation for anyone. Well, anyone but you, that is.

See, the thing is, you were not only an avid player of Genshin Impact; but one of Honkai Impact 3rd too. In fact, you started playing Honkai way before Genshin came out. You were already at the max level for Honkai, unlike Genshin. What, with your captain level resting at level 88 as opposed to your adventure rank 57.

You spent more time on Honkai than you ever did on Genshin. Even your unbuilt Honkai characters could reach the damage levels your Xiao reached because of Honkai's insane damage scaling.

So even if in this world, your genshin characters forgot who you were, you knew for sure your girls had your back. They definitely remembered their captain that they would personally greet on the bridge every time you logged in.

So no, you weren't worried about the sagau imposter au.

In fact, to say you weren't worried would be a total understatement.

"Kanchō!" Kiana's, the Herrscher of Flamescion, determined hues landed on your form as she thrusted the arm of a familiar bard roughly in front of her. "Would you like us to eliminate them for daring to lay a hand on you?"

"Tut tut tut~." Elysia, the Herrscher of Human Ego, playfully smiled - although the dangerous glint in her eyes gave away her true feelings instantly. "How could they not recognise the cute, unforgettable face of our kanchō? Of course, not as cute as me~."

In her hands was the mighty geo archon himself, Zhongli.

Mei, the Herrscher of Thunder, threw her almost identical look-alike to the ground not long after. "This... 'archon' takes on my physical appearance but she is far weaker to me by comparison. Both in physical and mental fortitude."

As your Valkyries glared down at the inferior characters, said characters held their head down in shame. Not from the bitter taste of defeat, no, but rather from the feeling of disappointment in themselves for not recognising you as immediately as your other-world acolytes.

"We are deeply sorry, great creator." Zhongli's deep voice resonated through the area. "Had we known the other was a fake, we would have-."

"Ah ah ah~." Elysia raised her hand, wagging her index finger from side to side with each word she had said. "No excuses. If you can't recognise our kanchō, you aren't good enough to worship our kanchō; let alone speak to them."

Venti was trembling, his lips jutted out as tears pricked the corner of his eyes, his thoughts a complete mess.

All of your followers were horrified, disgusted in themselves for worshipping a fake this whole time, questioning their previous action and regretting ever setting out for your head.

"To have raised a sword against Kanchō," Kiana piped up once more. "It's unforgivable."

Ah yes, what happened mere moments before, when you had just arrived at the first bit of civilisation you had seen since being isekai'd. At the time, you were alone, no Valkyries keeping you company.

You had just stepped foot into Inazuma when a bright flash of lightning briefly crossed your eyes, a purple sword ready to slice you in half appearing not long after.

You didn't even have the time to register fear - luckily enough, you didn't need to. The sword was halted before it could reach you, the familiar long locks of a Valkyrie you frequently played as blocking your vision from your attacker.

"Mei?" At your call, she tossed her head back. "Wha-? What are you doing in the Genshin Impact world?"

"Keeping you safe, kanchō." She answered before swiftly returning her gaze to the front of her, heaving against the other character's sword with such strength, they were knocked back several feet, losing balance and falling over completely. "You dare make an attempt at my kanchō's life?!"

As she leapt away to go fight the Raiden Shogun, an arrow shot through the air, aiming straight at your head.

You would have been none the wiser to it had it not been for-.

"Kiana?" The white locks held up in a high ponytail belonging to the main character of Honkai Impact 3rd appeared before you. "You too?"

"Shōsa would get mad at me if I ever let anything happen to you." She gave you a gentle smile as she held the great sword her teacher once wielded with a tight grip. "I also wouldn't be able to forgive myself if anything happened to you."

With that, she was off.

Okay, so that was two attacks in a row by two archons. Surely, the third one doesn't want to-.

"Calm down, kanchō~." A familiar playful voice reached your ears. "It's just me, you're quite jumpy right now, hm~?"

"Anyone would be after being attacked twice in a row, Elysia."

Her pink, crystal eyes shone with mirth as she gave you a little giggle. "Don't worry, the most beautiful girl ever, Elysia, will make sure not a harm lays on your head."

Your own eyes crinkled with amusement at her words. "Glad to hear that, oh-so-beautiful Elysia."

She looked ready to respond when, suddenly, her expression shifted and her eyes narrowed. She quickly tugged at your wrist, pulling you behind her before she took out her bow and shot it at an angle ahead of you.

"Sorry to cut this short, kanchō. Someone seems to want to be greedy and take my attention away from you! I'll be right back~!"

You pursed your lips as she, much like all your other Valkyries, left you in pursuit of your hitman.

Just what was going on here?

"The Bronya will get to the bottom of it." You jumped upon hearing the voice with a hint of a Russian accent to it.

"Ooh! Ooh! Me too! Me too!" Another, more childish, voice spoke up.

Two more of your Herrschers seemed to have joined you.

And that all led to this moment.

"Kanchō." The deadpan voice of Bronya, the Herrscher of Reason, drew all of your attentions to her. "We have located the imposter. The Bronya wants to ask kanchō about what would be a sufficient punishment for them."

After her statement, the Herrscher of Sentience came in, very roughly throwing what looked to be like a clone of you, at your feet. "Yatta! That was so easy!"

The imposter shook with fear, their eyes trailing up slowly to meet with your cold gaze.

"So you're the one parading around as me, huh? Hmm, let's see, what would be a sufficient punishment for you?"

Kanchō is the Japanese word used to refer to the captain of a warship.

Shōsa is like lieutenant commander or major in Japanese. Kiana is talking about Himeko when she says shōsa.

I made this cuz when Genshin turns against you, at least Honkai will have your back 😌

Hello!! Can I request about monster task force 141 + könig & horangi, if thats alright for you!

Where reader is a pyramid head instead and I like to see their reaction reader having a pyramid head c:

EXCUSE ME!? ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME WITH THIS ASK?!???!? Cuz if you are, sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but I am still breathing! I might be kneeling for this concept, but I am still breathing.

Pyramid Head!reader

Headcanon

Pairing: Monster 141 + König + Horangi x male?reader

Cw: blood, gore, canon-typical violence, gun violence, betrayal, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 2k

You looked like you came right out of a horror game, a tall, muscular figure hidden under black and dark brown fatigues, thick thighs supporting the big, rusted pyramid that hung from your head and stocky arms that could bend a man in half as easily as it was to rip paper in two. Despite being slow and stumbling around, you were an entity to bring on high-stakes missions, letting you break through their defences with a heavy hand and even heavier attacks, crashing through walls and stalking the walls for your next victim.

They were all shocked when Price talked them into accepting you,  gathering them into the debrief room with your file, or your lack of one. It wasn’t easy, having you permanently transferred to their Task Force when you were so sought out by other teams for help as a long-standing mercenary and an entity. So Price was overjoyed that  Laswell had managed to get you to themselves, waiting for you at the tarmac on the day you were to land. 

Mixed feelings were being shared between his team when they watched you amble down the slope, head hung lowly, the tip inches from the ground. You were intimidating in person, seeming much bigger than life, finally being able to see you rather than hear of you, the haunting reputation that followed you around like a shadow. You weren’t a Ghost, someone reputed for having no living record and past, or his intimidating presence; nor were you a scary mercenary from KorTac, dangerous and imposing. You weren’t an efficient and fast-moving unit like the 141, you were just a one-man army powerful enough to rip a man in two and wield that heavy Greatsword, and despite it being a bit old-fashioned, you used better than man could use a rifle. 

Price, as first mentioned, was glad his hard work came to fruition, having someone like you on his side when it mattered was amazing. He might’ve been slightly worried about his boys reacting negatively towards you, Ghost, especially with his volatile hate and distrust of strangers. Only to be reassured when he saw how, unlike the way you carried yourself on the field, you were a gentle soul, a silent one but caring nonetheless. He watched you take care of his boys, wandering behind Gaz or Rudy when they returned injured, a looming figure that cast a protective shadow over them. You were like a pillar, solid and dependable, going out of your way to get anyone that strayed behind, turning your head at a slight angle to stop a bullet from hitting the one you were protecting, and caring for them. He may not be able to hear you speak a word, to be able to hold a conversation and listen to you tell them how much you cared about him and the others, but he knew you loved - he knew you were able to love. 

Ghost was distrustful of you, one with a shadow as big as yours or someone he’d worked alongside before. He kept you at an arm’s length, never too close to him so he could protect himself from another betrayal, the hurt and the sadness that came along with being betrayed by someone he trusted, and never too far so that he could watch you, analyse every thought or act you made, to stop you from hurting them before you could. He’s seen you in the field and worked on the same side, he knew that every little detail about you on the reports was true, not illusions and delusions, but factual events that happened with you beside them. He won’t lie, you were an asset - he hated using that word on any hybrid, monster or entity, but it was the truth - that people vied for and they were just lucky that you had their back and they had your undying loyalty. Your occasional sparring with him, Price and König only reinforced your care for them, holding back until he barked at you to fully come at him, you’d hesitate, but never for long. You cared for him as he cared for the others, he could see it, and now, his care was extended to you as well.

Soap was like an excited puppy meeting a new friend, past the intimidating facade and the trailing shadow behind you, you were nice. You reminded him of Ghost and König, the tall, imposing and silent figure, but unlike them, you only replied in grunts and groans, your body language being the biggest way for them to understand you. You were patient with him, bearing with his overenthusiastic tail that kept tapping your thigh and arm whenever or his rambling, your large pyramid nodding slowly, humming when you agreed with him and grunting when you disagreed. You were fun to be around, when he, Rudy and Gaz went around, bringing you along with him to play a little game, you wouldn’t snitch and you wouldn’t say a word, only shaking your head when Price or Ghost asked if they were behind it (the Captain and Lieutenant went along, seeing as they could enjoy themselves after a hard and stressful mission). He could be as shamelessly chaotic as he wanted with you, he didn’t have to entertain the egos of others or maintain a certain level of dignity, he could be himself like he could with the others. He didn’t feel like a burden beside your lengthy shadow, he felt like he was protected, and safe, but most importantly, he felt loved.

Gaz was tentative, not overly enthusiastic as Soap nor as suspicious as Ghost, he was a good mix of them both, guarded but welcoming. He didn’t mind sitting next to you and being the one to start the conversation since you always replied in hums and groans, hands moving to form the words that you couldn’t form under the pyramid. He only truly became comfortable when you went to the trouble of going back for him, stomping through the group that surrounded him when he crashed down, watching you rip the enemy apart with your swinging Greatsword that was too heavy for anyone to lift was breathtaking. Despite witnessing a scene right out of a slasher movie, his teammate in a rusted, pyramid head soaked in blood and guts, you gave him a hand and took his hand with the gentlest squeeze he ever felt. Then the little stunt you helped cover when he, Soap and Rudy were caught doing a prank on one of their leading commanders. He could depend on you, practising sign language to better understand you and simply wanting to hold the hands that saved him.

Alejandro, as usual, was easy to get along with, his charismatic and warm mannerism was easier to open up to. He might’ve been betrayed and lied to many times, but he knew a liar when he saw one after the whole Shepherd fiasco, so he knew you meant well (not that he could see your face for any indications). Unlike others of his rank, he preferred the respect given through comradery over respect through rank, he kept close to the people he worked with in the long run, forming bonds to cherish like he did with the Los Vaqueros and the men of 141. Withholding the same idea, he worked his way through your file and approached you with someone who’d won his respect and admiration from the black Ops you participated in and the people you bled to save. It was a quality he liked about you. While still being professional, he held you, he encouraged you, he embraced you just the way you were, and you reciprocated it without a second thought. 

Rudy had his reservations about you, something strong, something big, something powerful, something caring, but never something deadly, dangerous or selfish. From what Alejandro told him, he couldn’t bring himself to be doubtful of your loyalty and devotion, and from what he’s seen on the field, you weren’t deserving of the reputation of a bloodthirsty monster that followed you as it did Ghost and König. You had something that made you stand out, maybe it was the contrast in your character when you looked so menacing: your softness, the gentle edge in your actions, the comforting quality in your muted response, and your active protection on and off the field. He appreciated the way you brought more to the Task Force, another pillar of stability, another ear to rant to, another person to hold, or another friend to laugh with. Even the little pranks he’d join in on, getting his commanding officers red with rage and breathless from laughing and leaving you to cover for them, your hands speaking the words you couldn’t mutter outside of simple sounds. He often ended up in the same predicament when he couldn’t stop himself, cheeks rosy and warm, heart beating fast, fingers fumbling with each other and words coming out in breathless puffs, he knew what he felt and he wasn’t so bothered by it.

Horangi wasn’t sure what to make of you, you weren’t quite human, nor were you a monster, you were a mix of both, a creation of human and monster grief and pain. Little was known about entities and Eldritch beings, and being a feline monster made him naturally curious, or slightly curious. He observed you, watching you from afar without actually interacting with you, slinking around you, golden eyes narrowing at you like a tiger in a hunt. He didn’t dare approach you until he got to know your small cues, the danger you could pose - if you could pose any from what he saw, too gentle for the creature you were - to him or the others. He only stepped forward to talk to you when König made him, feel skittish and slightly awkward for feeling like such a stranger towards someone who took multiple bullets for him when he was down. He held his head high and voice stable while he pushed through his awkwardness, listening to your soft hums and low grunts in reply to his words, he was surprised to see König so engaged in this conversation when he had an aversion towards new people. Honestly, he was just surprised that König talked so much about you. If there was anything good, he would be the first to hear about it from König. He came to know you through König and the time you spent together on missions, hostage rescue and noisy infiltrations. Your small ticks, your little quirks and your verbal handicap were all things he came to learn and like, nearly making it his duty to watch you from the side as you stumble through the halls with your back hunched over from the weight of your pyramid.

König didn’t try approaching you until he absolutely had to, or if he needed you. Be it to give you an order, to ask you something, or during Ops, it would only be a few words here and there, never something long-drawn as he had with the other men or Laswell. It was only after being sent on a quick and easy task that he let you in, letting you calm him down after his unpredictable shift and grounding him, taking back control of his erratic mind after a rough shift of mindset, from a primal and instinctual one to a rational and panicked one. Your rough calluses felt soft against his hard, scarred skin, the soothing circle of your thumb on his palm and the grip to keep him aware of his situation, to keep him grounded on his reality after the carnage he created. Despite not being able to talk, you spoke loudly through your verbal cues, your hand on your shoulder and another one in his hand, listening to him ramble away about his fears and anxieties. You would sit down with him and lend an ear to him when he came to you, even after his first interactions with you. He wondered if you had similar fears, those demoralising words that echoed in his mind on the worst days or the painful reminder of his mistakes. If you did, would you let him ease you down from your pain and care for you with his smaller hands?

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @yeetusspagheetus @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973

I absolutely loved the fic about reader owning a bar for villains!!! I can't stop reading it you did an amazing job!!!! if you ever feel like continuing it in any way I think it would be wonderful!! Or if you don't that's fine too!!! It's amazing either way!!

SIDE JOBVillainous x Evil Bar Owner! Reader

A/N: I really do enjoy this little idea! This is what happens after you find 5.0.5!

.

“Hm…no answer.” You said, setting the phone back onto the receiver. You tried your cell with similar results. 5.0.5 sat in the corner, warming up after who knows how long outside. He fell asleep rather quickly.

“A cell tower or two must have been taken down in all of that destruction or something.” You thought, “Either that or that technopath finally decided to do something with his life other than hit on girls in my bar.”

Either way, you were going to have to drop off 5.0.5 in person. You didn’t mind too much of course, Black Hat was the best of the best, and he didn’t live very far away. His support meant a lot to you, so it was the least you could do for him. Regardless of what he may say, you considered him your friend.

So when the blue bear woke up the two of you headed down the street together (there was no way that thing was going to fit in your car) towards Black Hat Manor.

A rather rough looking Dr. Flug answered the door and you wondered when the last time he slept was. But he perked right up when he saw 5.0.5 standing next to you.

“5.0.5! You’re home!!” He said, hugging the bear with joy, “I thought you were gone for good this time! Thank you so much y/n.”

“It’s not a problem, Flug.” You smiled, “I found him wandering around the alley…with quite the trail of destruction behind him I might add.”

“Oh, yeah.” Flug rubbed the back of his necks as a few sweat marks appeared on his bag, “We were just testing out a new invention. It ended up making 5.0.5 here into a much fluffier Godzilla, but when the effects wore off, we weren’t able to find him.”

“Ah,” You replied as the rain began to come down once again, “That sounds quite interesting. Would you mind if I stepped in for a little while? Just to dry off and warm up before I brave the walk back home.”

“You walked here?” Flug asked.

“Well…5.0.5 didn’t really fit into my car…”

“Ah, well sure, come in.” Flug said, stepping aside to let you and 5.0.5 into the front room of the mansion. You placed your coat and scarf on the coat rack and hung your umbrella nearby. As you did so, Black Hat entered the room on his way to do who knows what.

“Flug!” He barked and the young scientist bristled with fear.

“Y-Yes, Señor?” He asked and you shook your head inwardly at his fear. One day he’d learn. One day he’d have to.

“You didn’t tell me we had company.”

“Y/N was just dropping off 5.0.5.” Flug explained, “And what with the storm…”

Black Hat looked outside with a raised eyebrow and then nodded. He waved his hand dismissively at the doctor, “Very well, you may go now. I shall keep y/n company.”

Flug looked back at you and you smiled slightly with a shrug before he scurried off into the depths of the manor with 5.0.5. Black Hat gestured for you to follow him into a small sitting room. The space was more intimate than the front door, yet carried an intimidating air. The seats near the window were deep red with dark wooden claws supporting them. Black Hat asked you to sit in one, as he would presumably sit in the other. They angled in to allow for easy conversation.

“Can I get you anything?” He asked, nodding towards a liquor cabinet on the far side of the room, “Wine, Brandy, Scotch? I may not own a bar, y/n, but I do have quite the selection.”

“I don’t doubt it,” You smiled, “But I didn’t come over for a business affair. And besides…” You pulled a small flask filled with your favorite drink, alcoholic or otherwise, and tapped it with your finger.

“Suit yourself.” Black Hat said, a glass of wine suddenly appearing in his hand. A wine that you could tell had been…added to, if you catch my drift. You didn’t have to know his tastes to figure that one out.

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence, something Flug only dreamed of doing, for a few minutes. You looked out the window at the rain. Black Hat sipped on his wine. For a while you amused yourself with watching drops of water race one another down the glass, lightning occasionally lighting up your face.

“How’s the bar, y/n?” He bagan some polite conversation when it became apparent that the rain wasn’t going to let up.

“Business as usual.” You sighed contently, “Most of the thugs and common criminals realized a while ago that I was running a more…classy operation. There are the occasional nobody’s who stroll in from time to time, trying to be bigger than they really are, but for the most part it’s high end villains just looking to relax a bit.”

“I take it you’re enjoying yourself.” Black Hat said, taking another sip of wine, “I must say, I was quite impressed the last time I was there. Live music was a nice touch.”

“Thanks.” You smiled, “I try to pull in acts from time to time, since I’ve got that little space in the corner.”

“Well that kid on the piano certainly created a great atmosphere.”

“You mean, Tom? Yeah, he’s been busing tables for me for a few months. Come to find out he’s got hands like no one this side of Hatsvile. I pay him to play now.”

Black Hat hummed his approval and something inside of you warmed up. Any praise from him was high praise, and you knew it.

“What about you?” You asked, “You seem…tired, lately.”

“Demencia is a handful, the Bear can’t be helped, and Flug…”

Black Hat didn’t even have to finish for you to understand. The scientist clearly had guts…but he was still nervous, untrained, filled with fear.

“He’s been getting better.” You remarked, thinking back on his time in the bar. The first time you’d seen Flug he was afraid to speak to anyone, even to order a drink, and now he seemed more at ease. Nonetheless, your host scoffed.

“But he still has a long way to go.” Black Hat said. You could tell his feelings of worry had passed, but there were other things on his mind… you knew it.

You took another sip from your flask and looked out the window once again, “So… is there anything you need from me?”

He smiled at your perceptiveness. You truly were growing up.

“How would you feel,” Black Hat hummed and looked up to you from his wine, his smile and stare piercing you to the core, “About a little side job?”