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makeyoumine69 · 2 months

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Memory Reboot

PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x gn!Reader

SUMMARY: You work at P&P, and one day you come into Bateman's office and witness his breakdown. Your attempts to comfort him only increase his obsession with you, and without realizing it, you push this man to his limits. The outburst that finds you both in a club called the Tunnel will change your lives forever and irrevocably.

CONTAINS: Smut, angst, obsessive behavior, desperate-touch-starved Patrick, masturbating, oral sex (reader receiving), aggressive foreplay, dirty talk, body worship, teasing, biting, drug usage, pet names.

WORDS: 3k

SONG REC: VØJ, Narvent - Memory Reboot

A/N: This is for my dear @iron-flavored-lipgloss! It was such a pleasure for me to write this for you! Enjoy!

LINKS: [MASTERLIST] 🪓 [EDIT]

gif by @tvandfilm

Patrick Bateman. What kind of a mess was this man? Chaotic, impulsive, pathetic? Or all of the above?

Smirking, you went to his office to deliver some documents you needed him to sign, but when you got there, you noticed that Jean — his lovely blonde assistant — was absent and the door to his office was suspiciously half open. It was strange, to say the least, but you just shrugged your shoulders and stood there for a while when you heard a loud thud coming through the door — the sound almost made you jump in surprise. 'What the hell?' You wondered as you approached the door, turning around to see if Jean was coming, but there was no sign of her. With measured steps you got closer to the hole in the open door and just peeked in out of curiosity, but the scene you saw was not what you expected — Bateman, all flushed and covered in sweat, was storming around his office, his hands desperately fumbling with his tie as if it was choking him.

Your reaction was quick, and you didn't even notice as you opened the door and stepped inside. "Bateman? Are you okay?"

The man stopped shaking the moment he heard your voice and leaned down on his desk. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I came to get your signature on some of my docs when I heard you crying,” you grinned, watching his face go pale. "What's wrong, Bateman? Did you miss your facial?" The way he balled his hands made you laugh. "But really, did something happen?"

"Yes," Patrick replied, looking at you and running his hand through his disheveled hair. "I mean...no...nothing happened…" You saw his lips tremble a little each time he spoke. "Gimme the docs."

Frowning in confusion, you pulled out a napkin and handed it to him instead, meeting his scornful gaze. "You're sweating…” You placed the white piece of cloth on his desk, only now noticing a small jar that you were sure was full of pills. "Maybe I should ask Jean to bring you some coffee? You look really sick..."

"No!" Bateman suddenly blurted out, pointing his finger at you. "I asked Jean to take the day off..."

"Hey, hey, relax," you raised your hands defensively. "Relax, I was just trying to help."

Slowly, you placed the folder of documents on his wooden desk, which he grabbed almost immediately, and your hands touched for a brief moment, and Bateman didn't flinch, and neither did you.

"Take a seat." Patrick muttered incoherently.

"What?"

"Sit," he repeated irritably. "And wait."

His tumultuous behavior actually frightened you, but you did as he said and sat down in the chair opposite him. ‘My God, he really is mental, Tim was right.’

"What are these pills? Some vitamins?" You tried to keep the conversation alive, not even knowing why, as you watched his long, thin fingers floating across the pages.

Your question made him stop and look up at you. "That's none of your business, (y/n). I asked you to sit and wait, not ask me stupid questions."

‘Why does he look so cute when he's so angry?’ The thought brought a smile to your face, but then you zipped up your mouth theatrically and Bateman's office went silent for a while. And you used it to admire his perfect jawline, even though his brown hair was messy now, it looked so inviting to touch anyway.

"Is that all?" Bateman asked suddenly, arching his eyebrows and interrupting your train of thought.

"Uh, what?"

A prominent line appeared on Patrick's forehead — a testament to his annoyance. "Are you deaf or something?"

"Lemme see them," you pointed at the documents. "I want to make sure you put your cute sign on every page." Your playful tone made the line between Patrick's eyebrows even more noticeable. "I don't want to come back here."

Bateman didn't even try to jab back, his face still pale and sweaty, his eyes nothing but dark voids — oh, how fucking empty they were. Sighing heavily, Patrick raised his gaze when he heard the chair creak as you got up and walked around his desk. The sudden cut in the distance between the two of you was something Patrick didn't seem to be ready for, as his hands nervously gripped the armrests, but you pretended not to notice.

"We all feel down sometimes," you murmured over his ear, literally sensing the tension radiating from his body. "And that's okay." Placing your hand on his broad shoulder, you leaned down to look at the documents, surreptitiously inhaling the scent of his perfume mixed with his sweat. ‘Fuck, what am I doing?’

"I didn't know you had a part-time job as a therapist," he grumbled, examining your palm, wondering if he was going to kill you here and now, or keep you in here forever. "Listen, I have a reservation at Barcadia..."

"Mmm, Barcadia? Really?"

Bateman nodded and finally removed your hand. "Yes, I'm having lunch with Coutrney."

"I wonder what Luis thinks of these lunches with his fiancé." You picked up the folder and stepped back from his armchair. "You don't feel guilty about sleeping with Coutrney behind his back, do you?"

Gritting his perfectly white teeth, the brown-haired man abruptly got up from his desk and stormed toward you, surely intending to yell at you or say something rude, but the moment he stopped directly across from you and your eyes met, Bateman's expression suddenly became lost and confused. "Just stop," he finally managed to mutter. "Stop poking around in my fucking head…" As you noticed his pupils widening, things were no longer funny to you. "Understand?"

‘Well, maybe turning it into a joke is not a bad plan,’ you hummed and nodded. "Sure, Bateman," you sneered a little nervously. "I'm just reading this book Timothy gave me," you slowly turned and walked to the door. "The book about Human Psychology." That was surely a joke, but judging by the serious look Patrick gave you, he didn't seem to get it.

"Tim gave you... a book?" He repeated, frowning in confusion and disbelief.

When you opened the door, you paused for a second, wanting to say something smart at the end. "Oh yeah. Why don't you ask him about it? Maybe he can recommend some books about... human relationships or something." And with that, you smiled in satisfaction at seeing Bateman's face quiver with anger before you left his office, leaving him with a raging tempest in his chest.

Later that day, Patrick couldn't sleep because his mind was so full of different thoughts, but the only thing they had in common was that they were all connected to you. You, you, you. The sound of running water echoed off the marble walls of his lavish bathroom as Bateman stood in the shower, enjoying the way the strong streams of cold water hit his back. Huffing, Patrick desperately scrubbed his skin as if it would help him get rid of the thoughts of you that haunted him the day he first met you — you were so cheeky, so sweet, everyone loved you and wanted to hang out with you. How fucking cute. Patrick groaned as he felt a throb at the base of his hard cock, God, he felt like it was hard all the time and no sex could help him with that because all those people, they weren't you.

"Argh, fuck," he groaned as he finally allowed himself to touch his twitching dick and give it a few strokes.

"F-fuck..." Bateman pumped his length rhythmically, recoiling at the memories of today, the way you put your hand on his shoulder, the warmth of your breath on the back of his neck. And what would it feel like if you had placed your hand on his chest, or run it over his abdomen and then down?

"Uh, a-ahhh," the man moaned louder, shaking uncontrollably from the orgasm building at the base of his spine. "(Y/n), your hands feel so good on me, oh-shit…" Patrick had to lean against the shower wall as his legs buckled from the intense waves of ecstasy as he cummed with your name on his trembling lips, the water still running down his sculpted body, washing his cum off, but he was still so hard.

"Reading books on psychology," Bateman chuckled, tilting his head. "What an idiot." His nervous giggle bounced across the shower, but soon the laughter turned to a low wail. "Pathetic…”

Time flowed like sand through your fingers, and you couldn't even remember how many days had passed since your visit to Bateman's office, but since then something had changed between the two of you, but you both couldn't understand what exactly had changed, or maybe you didn't want to try to understand. To be fair, it was so fucking annoying that when you found out that Tim, David, Craig and Patrick were going to the Tunnel, you saw it as your chance to dot the T's, no matter how the evening would end.

When you arrived at the club, it was so crowded that it took you a while to find the group of yuppies sitting on the plush couches next to the dance floor, jamming to the music and drinking their cocktails.

As you approached, Craig was the first to spot you. "Woah, woah, look who it is!" His cheeky remark caused everyone to look at you, including Bateman, whose teeth were visibly clenched around his cigar at that moment.

"Hey, guys! Enjoying the music I see?" You smiled, fixing your hair briefly from the sudden rush of panic. ‘Damn it, stay calm! Why am I so nervous?’

Timothy winked at you and raised his glass. "Did you come alone or..." he stopped abruptly when he noticed someone behind your back. "Hey, is that Paul Allen?"

‘Shit, shit, shit. That was so much easier in my head than it is in reality.’ You chewed on your cheek, and while the men were guessing whether they really saw Paul Allen or not, a sudden idea came to your mind, but you hated it before you even started to bring it to life. "Do you have a gram?" You asked without thinking, hoping they would say no.

"I do," Bateman's voice came out of nowhere and you almost screamed in your head, but you had to keep your composure. "But you will owe me." As he said this, you came closer to where he was sitting with a playful smile on your face and took a seat next to him. "Wait, we are not going to do coke here."

"Hey, why not?" David chuckled and took out his business card holder. "What's wrong with it?

"Oh God, look at that cheeky bastard," Craig pressed a palm to his face. "Van Patten decided to be a bad boy today."

The men laughed and high-fived each other before Bateman whispered in your ear, making you almost jump. "Follow me." Those two simple words made you obey like you were under a spell.

As the two of you made your way to the bathroom where people in the Tunnel usually did coke, your heart pounded to the heavy beat of the music, or even faster. Patrick went first, his elegant silhouette like a shining star in the midnight sky — so eye-catching and mesmerizing that it wasn't surprising that a lot of people turned around to look at him, but you didn't care as soon you would be alone with him. ‘Just you and me, Bateman.’

The bathroom was surprisingly empty today. The last time you were there, you had to wait almost half an hour to get into the free stall, but now luck seemed to be on your side. As you stepped into one, Patrick pulled out his business card holder and rolled the $100 bill; you did the same, watching as Bateman made lines of coke with his platinum AmEx card.

"I have to say, you look much better." You commented briefly.

The man was about to lean over to snort the white powder, but your words made him freeze. "Huh," he chuckled abruptly and brushed away a stray lock of hair. "I was just reading some books about... relationships," Patrick grimaced, drawing out the last word with a cocky grin. "It changed my mind." Before you could say anything, Patrick was snorting the coke, holding the rolled-up bill to his nostril while holding another down with his thumb.

"Very funny," you mumbled, tapping the rolled note against the inside of your palm. "Where was your wit when I walked into your office a week ago?"

Bateman coughed quietly and threw his head back for a moment to clean his nose. "What does this have to do with anything?"

Rolling your eyes, you moved closer to his business card holder to inhale the white line of powder that had been left there, your mood was already off, and at some point you even began to regret coming to Tunnel tonight. Though it wasn't your first time doing coke, you felt so dizzy as the drug began to intoxicate your system that you almost fell to the floor if you hadn't bumped into Bateman's chest, leaving a white stain on the lapel of his Valentino suit.

"Hey! What the fuck!" Patrick blurted out, ready to push you off, but the way you grabbed his shoulders stirred something strange inside him, something he was fighting all the time. "Have you ever done coke?"

You coughed several times, blinked nervously, and only then did you let him go. "Sorry..." you gasped and leaned against the wall of the stall behind your back. "It's been a while."

"You stained my jacket."

"God! I'm sorry, okay?"

"No," Bateman replied, brushing off. "Not okay."

"What do you mean?" You asked confusedly, batting your eyelashes and breathing heavily.

Patrick dropped his head for a second before looking at you again, your faces dangerously close. "I'm not okay."

You licked your lips nervously. "Why?"

Instead of saying anything, the man pulled you against his massive frame, giving you no time to react as his hot mouth covered yours; it was difficult to call it a kiss, it was more like the act of claiming — his strong arms trapping you between the wall and his muscular body while yours hovered motionlessly like whips. When Bateman released you, he tugged at your lower lip and licked it with a wet, obscene sound. "Because...because of this."

Panting, you stood in shock for a moment before nodding and touching your wet lips. "Yes," you put both hands on his chest, exploring it slowly but boldly, causing him to close his eyes for a second. "I don't think I'm okay either." After whispering it in his ear, you slid your tongue down his bare neck, right over the mole, and when you heard him grunting, you lowered your hand to his belt, playing teasingly with the buckle.

"Lower," Bateman husked, and when you didn't listen, he grabbed your hand and lowered it himself — the outline of his fully erected cock eliciting a muffled moan to break out of your cramped throat. "Ahhh-fuck."

"God, you're so needy," you murmured against his neck, busy undoing his belt. "So touchy."

It only took a few seconds for you to undo his pants and let his taut dick pop out of his underwear. ‘Mmhhm, his cock is so perfect, just as I expected,’ you smiled to yourself, and in the next moment you were stroking his throbbing length, smearing his slick pre-cum around his swollen tip without any shame or fear of getting caught.

"(Y/n)," Patrick hissed as he pressed you against the wall with his weight, his hands sneaking down your back to grope your ass. "Be quiet," the man ordered when he heard your soft moans. "Keep quiet and undo this." Bateman pointed to your bottom and just the thought of what he was about to do to you almost made you cum.

"Why?" You gave him a foxy grin and tightened your grip on his dick, forcing Patrick to hold his breath.

"Just...just do what I say..."

"Okay, honey."

"Don't call me that!" He uttered and squeezed your ass painfully, your bodies grinding against each other, making you hot and sweaty.

"Patrick..." You attempted to kiss him, but he turned away.

In one swift motion, the man reached your neck and aggressively nipped at the throbbing artery. "Shut up! Just shut up and undo this fucking..."

You didn't let him finish his tantrum as you caught his lips with yours, increasing the tempo of the jacking, and you could feel he was so damn close. But since he was so insistent, you undid the lower part of your garment, and everything that happened next was like one of your recent dreams. Bateman, flushed and panting, crouched down, his cock slipping out of your grasp, but the next second his fierce mouth found its way between your legs as he began to suck on your sensitive flesh with sheer greed and passion, not forgetting to pump his dick and growl softly against your skin.

"Ohh, Pat-Patrick," you gasped, tugging at his brown hair, dishevelling it, but neither of you cared. "I'm gonna cum if you don't stop..."

"Mmm-fuck, you taste so sweet," Patrick pressed his face closer to your core, his free hand nailing you to the wall to hold you in place. "You're shaking like a fucking whore."

Chucking, you yanked at his hair a little harder. "And you're devouring me like a starved man, are you starved, Bateman? How long have you been... so fucking s-starved?" You hiccupped as he redoubled his efforts, lapping at your crotch and jerking himself off. "F-fuck, I'm... I'm gonna..."

The loud footsteps made you both stop in your tracks, and when you heard people coming into the bathroom, you stalled completely, only to quickly fix your clothes and then pretend nothing had happened as you left the stall. Later, as you were washing your hands, Patrick stood behind you and you met his eyes in the mirror. "Are you leaving or..." You asked briefly as he handed you your twisted bill.

"Yeah," Bateman straightened his jacket and wiped his mouth with a paper towel before opening the door. "You better forget about it. Believe me."

‘And now I feel like I need a memory reboot.’

Chapter 2 is here! 💗✌

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

#american psycho #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x you #slasher smut #patrick bateman smut #patrick bateman headcanon #christian bale smut #christian bale x reader #patrick bateman reader #christian bale #patrick bateman imagines #patrick bateman x male reader #gn reader

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theminecraftbee · 5 months

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"What do you think happens after we die?"

Cleo glances up from where she'd been sorting through all their weaponry for the day to come. She looks at Etho, who looks just as confused as her, and then she looks to Grian.

"Uh, you're sort of asking the wrong people," Etho says slowly.

"I didn't know you were a philosopher, Grian," agrees Cleo.

"No, I mean--listen, this is important," Grian says. "What do you think happens after we die?"

Cleo stares at Grian. He has an extremely intent expression on his face. Twisted. Almost concerned. They... don't like it, actually. The question about being a philosopher had been sarcastic, sure, but true. Grian doesn't normally dwell on questions like this.

"Alright, then," they say. "If you have to know, I don't think there's anything."

"Wait, really?" says Etho.

"I mean, yeah. There's probably--or, well, whatever there is, it's not worth worrying about. Why do you think I'm undead and not just dead? Or, well, normally undead, I guess? I'm not undead right now, whatever happened that made me all alive and stuff happened, but like... The point is that I still have things to do. Then, when I'm done doing my things, I think there's nothing, at least not until the next one of these stupid games they raise me from the dead for."

Etho blinks. "Huh. You know, I always thought that if anyone could give us an answer, it'd be you, so--nothing?"

"Yeah, that's what I said."

Grian coughs. Cleo looks at him again. He's pale. Very, very pale. Like he's seen a ghost, or is very sick. She frowns, but before she can ask, he's saying: "You really think there's nothing?"

"I didn't think you'd both be so upset by it," Cleo says.

"I'm not really upset," Etho says slowly. "I don't know. I sort of hoped there was something, but it's not worth relying on, right? There's not a second chance out there for us. Not except for the next game. I think I just hoped that maybe, some people got something... nicer?"

"Don't you think we'd remember if there was?" Cleo says.

"I mean--you're the undead one. I thought that if anyone would know--"

"You really think there's nothing," Grian says, and he sounds so horrified that Cleo and Etho stop arguing immediately.

"Grian?" Cleo says.

"You think there's nothing. Gods, you think there's nothing," Grian says. "And Timmy said--Timmy said the thing they get is to Watch."

Cleo frowns. "Jimmy? When'd he say that to you?"

"An hour ago," Grian says.

"What?" Cleo says.

"I was--no wonder you wouldn't have guessed. No wonder he was also so--you think there's nothing. Why do you think there's nothing?" Grian says, horrified and pale-faced and trembling.

"Uh, buddy, I hate to break it to you, but Jimmy's been dead for days. He couldn't have been talking to you."

"He's spectating!" Grian says, throwing his hands up.

"He's a ghost?" Etho asks.

"I mean, yeah, but that's not even what I mean. I mean--what do you think comes between the games?"

"I told you, right?" Cleo says, and Etho shrugs.

Grian sits down on the ground, hard. "Oh," he says.

"If it helps I also didn't know there were ghosts until you just told me," Cleo says hesitantly. "That's--kind of strange, isn't it? That there are ghosts? Guess it checks out, given all of our unfinished business, but you'd think I'd have known that. Would remember something proper of it, right?"

"Yeah, I really thought you would have," Grian whispers.

"Was, uh--being contacted from beyond the grave fun?" Etho asks.

"Etho," Cleo says.

"What!" Etho says.

"I have made a grave mistake," Grian says.

"...Grian?" Cleo asks, but he doesn't elaborate, and refuses to. He sits there, pale on the ground, until Etho and Cleo sit next to him and start arguing over his head about who they'd haunt as ghosts. To tell the truth, Cleo's heart isn't really in it. They probably wouldn't do much haunting, is the thing. If they were a ghost, they'd probably just try to reunite with these two again. Yeah, reuniting with family--that seems like the kind of thing Cleo would do as a ghost.

They wonder if Jimmy was trying to do that too, and that's why Grian's so upset.

They also wonder if it's something else, but for the life of them, they cannot begin to guess what.

#secret life smp #secret life spoilers #grian #zombiecleo #ethoslab #a bee fic #...just gonna leave this one as it is actually.#no additional notes. take whatever you will from it.

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stevieschrodinger · 3 months

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Steve eats, but only because Robin puts food in front of him. Only because she reminds him it's for the pup.

Like he needs reminding. Steve often rests his hand protectively over his rounded tummy. It's reflexive, to protect the only part of Eddie he has left. He feels like he hasn't slept in months, even though he knows he sleeps often, in broken bits and pieces.

He hasn't spoken for a long time, he knows that. Everyone watches him, and everyone used to tell him the same thing, 'they're just dreams Steve, Eddie is gone.'

Steve knows though, they aren't dreams. Eddie is alive, and he's trapped in the Upside Down because Steve didn't try hard enough, didn't push hard enough, didn't say the right things to get the others to believe him.

It upset Dustin the most at first, but Dustin has also been the most adamant because he saw Eddie die, can't even entertain the idea that Eddie might still be alive, because that means he left Eddie behind. That's a lot of guilt to ask a kid to carry.

Steve knows they're talking about him again, like them whispering in the kitchen makes it any better. Steve's starving himself. Steve isn't sleeping. Steve isn't showering. Steve's mate sick even if Eddie never mated him. It's the pup. It's the trauma. It's the nightmares.

They aren't nightmares though, not when Eddie holds him close, laid on a grassy meadow under a sunny blue sky.

El is here, kneeling in front of Steve, 'do you really think Eddie is alive?'

Steve clears his throats, feels full of cobwebs and sand, 'I know he is.'

Steve's said it a thousand different ways. A million. He's cried it and screamed it and shouted it and whispered it and said it as normal and level headed as he could make it sound, 'I am absolutely certain that Eddie is alive,' no one ever believes him.

She nods, 'we will check-'

'El.' It's Hopper, in the doorway, he said 'El' the same way he would say 'No'. 'We talked about this-'

'No, you talked about this. I am tired of this, for Steve, I will check. We will check, just this once.'

And Steve feels too broken to let himself hope, but he heaves himself up off the couch anyway.

El opened a gate in the pool. There's not been water in the pool for quite some time now, and it just seemed apt. A place where there is already a weakness in the world. Perfect for El.

In the end, just to stop the fighting, everyone has gone back to the Upside Down.

Steve squints at the sunny blue sky, not at all surprised to see it. Everyone else is making suitably shocked noises. The grass is green, the trees lush. From the trees, a demodog watches them. It looks different, like it fits here, healthy and well fed now, it shakes and stretches and then lopes off further into the woods.

Everything is overgrown, like the Upside Down is reclaiming everything that One created here.

Nearby, laundry flaps on a washing line, metal band shirts and torn jeans, 'Eddie,' Steve breathes for the first time in over six months, and heads into the house.

There's a bowl of odd looking fruit on the kitchen counter. In the lounge, books. So many books, all stacked and arranged into strange little towers like they are giants in a city, and the books are skyscrapers.

Upstairs, Eddie has clearly nested in Steve's room; there are guitar bits and tools on the desk, two guitars in parts.

The bed is mounded with soft things, Steve scents a pillow, it smells like Eddie...and not.

'Where the fuck is he,' Hopper grumbles.

Steve wants to snap. Wants to scream at them all. They fucking believe him now don't they? They could have had Eddie home months ago if-

Dustin has books from the living room, in the front of each is stamped 'Hawkins Public Library'. So that's where they go.

Steve doesn't know what to do when he spots Eddie. He's crouched on a table, bare toes gripping the edge. He's pale, even more so than before, skin a pale enough alabaster that Steve can see the shadow of blue veins underneath. He's flipping through a book, back and forth, back and forth, before finally stopping and hopping down from the table, 'Eddie?'

Eddie doesn't answer, eyes trained on Steve. His hair has grown, even longer, thick dark curls that Steve wants to bury his hands in.

There's a ticking noise, a low, growling rumble as Eddie stalks closer. Things happen very very quickly, Hopper raises his shotgun, El screams 'no,' Eddie's face peels apart like the petals of a flower filled with teeth as he roars and charges at them.

Hoppers gun is jerked up by an unseen hand, his shot causing plaster to rain down from the ceiling, and then Eddie is floating in the air, roaring as his face blends back to normal and then peels apart again, furious.

El's nose is bleeding, she wipes it away.

Steve moves closer. Eddie looks strange; taller. Leaner. Just, more, somehow.

Steve reaches for him, and Eddie desperately tries to get to him in return, clawing at the air, 'put him down, El.'

'Do not do that-' Hopper starts, but doesn't finish, because Eddie lands neatly on his feet, catlike in his grace, where El drops him.

He lunges for Steve, and Steve let's himself be pulled close and gathered up, Eddie clicking and chittering quietly in Steve's ear, scenting his neck, a strange sucking sensation on his skin as Eddie's face peels apart into one big mouth.

Steve relaxes. He has Eddie back.

#eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie #omega steve harrington #alpha eddie munson #monster eddie munson #eddie muson lives #steddie ficlet #fic idea #ao3 author #the party #mpreg #mpreg belly

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moonbeammist · 7 days

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The Peasant's Secret (Part 1)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Dune characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

PAIRINGS: Feyd Rautha x Fem!Fighter!Reader

AUTHORS NOTE: I drew heavy inspiration from the Dune Soundtrack, especially the Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen Suite by Hans Zimmer (avail on youtube atm)- truly sets the mood and tone for the story if you wanna have a listen. I appreciate this community of writers/readers! Any feedback and thoughts are most welcome! This is going to be a multi-chapter fic.

WARNINGS: (Mostly for 2nd Chapter): (Adults only 18+) profanity, extreme violence, gore, sadism, masochism, dubious consent, erotic undertones, heavy petting, reader is a fighter who get's extremly hurt, bigotry against the poor, very immersive, intimacy, touching, feyd-rautha is his sick self, public humiliation

SYNOPSIS: Hailing from the Planet Caladan as a rice cultivator who somehow ended up at the Harkonnen Arena, You know two things to be true.. 1. You are peasant scum and 2. You are going to try something that's never been done on the battlefield.

WORD COUNT: 2.2k words

You were in a colorless oasis. It wasn't really an oasis in the scenery sense; it was an oasis in the sense that it felt like a bottomless void, a strange, deafening dream. It was an oasis because it didn't feel like reality. A desolate vision to where no judging eyes would befall you as you threw your whole self, your body, into its ultimate test. That’s how they all made their mark here, isn’t it?

You reflect on Giedi Prime's obscure, bone-dry alternate reality to your home planet of Caladan - you were of peasant descent in the lush, grassy, biodiverse settlements. You and your mother had strengths in labour as rice planters, trading their services to the wealthy nobles in exchange for military protection. A life of labour and sweat in the rice fields, the economy depended on their work, as such, they had little free time.

Stepping foot into the outdoors, the crunch of your cheaply-made, scraggly brown boots is heard as you line up with the rest of the prisoners. The earth smelled of crust, rot, and blood. You somewhat know where you're supposed to end up as Harkonnen soldiers round you up, but at the same time, you haven’t got a clue where you’ll be settling before battle. Wide, dark tunnels arch over the sand like a protective roof against the beating black sun. You've been given the finest privilege to represent your low-status family members in a brutal and bloody ceremony where this pale, ghostly Harkonnen House cuts you down, down into the dirt. A death deemed worthy.

A death is worthy when you die with passion because you’re trying - kicking and screaming. It's a beautiful way to go because you feel everything.

The height of your human complexities is shown at the forefront - pushing yourself, testing yourself.. You who initially thought fighting was for those who have a reason to fight, like for political gain and power, defending your home and planets among the stars. However, you have never felt so alive, representing the absolute bottom of the barrel. What joy it would be to see an enemy fall from not hand-to-hand combat, not brute force, but peasant trickery.

This is worth something.

That’s what you tell yourself. What else can you cling to? You were living for the cultivation of rice before you came here.

Horns erupt in a deep, haunting bass. The ground is shaking. Shaking with such strength that your feet stumble forward, knees scraping the grainy, white sand. Your hands bite into the sand. A guttural song emits from the speakers suddenly, the force of it hitting your chest like a bang. Your body stutters.

Your fellow no-name fighters eyes snap at your movements. Hushed chuckles erupt over the heavy bass. You feel slightly embarrassed as you quickly stumble back up and rub the grainy sand away from your knees and palms. Your eyes narrow.

This is all of your first times, all of your fellow fighters' first essential phases into proving yourself worthy to Harkonnens. Granted, you were vermin first, something to gawk at, something like cattle. As far as you heard from your briefing on the way here, this whole spectacle was based on a test round. If you pass your initial testing round, then - maybe, just maybe, you can live in comfort. There was not much more elaboration than that. Either get cut down, sliced down, gutted down - or prosper. So why do you feel like you're the only one on edge? You’re in your head too much.

Because I might fucking die.

You swallow that thought down, burying it deep in your stomach, where it should stay.

Underneath the arena, there is a place where the Harkonnen soldiers stop - a small, enclosed burrow tucked away from sight, away from the audience members that fill the seats of the large dome-like sphere of the arena. Through the dark, enclosed area you can make out the bleached atmosphere stretched and rounded out, seeing several egg-like craniums darting up and down in the stands. Their eyes were like inky, beady pools of onyx - almost insect-like. They were thrashing in excitement, the low murmur of chatter and whooping heard.

You look around to your peers. There is nothing really notable about any of you. Dressed in meek wool, burlap, or loin cloth. Prepped with various weapon satchels latched onto waists or knees. You have no advanced shields or armour, that is true. As suicidal as that may seem against these elite brutes, It’s what you represent that really matters. The peasant trickery you have up your sleeve.

You were an only child born to common people. In the small moments, you would take to the hills with your mother and run and play. Your mother's long, flowing hair would crack like a whip against the wind behind her, in a game of “cat and mouse," as she would call it. You would try to grasp at the ends of her hair - your mother's high, sing-songy laughter echoing in the distance as you chased her.

You did not know your father - just that he was a passing tradesman who fell in love with your mother’s quirks and tenacity for adventure; in the odd breaks she could have them between planting rice grain. They spent 6 months together, you heard, and it was passionate. But he could not stay on this planet.

Your mother did not know if he was alive. But despite him leaving, she spoke fondly of him. “He defied appearances. They thought of him as a simple, dull man in the trades, a grunt. But his intellect was his greatest secret.”

You supposed that maybe you were that small reminder of him to her, as her description of your father shadowed your mother’s slow moulding of your personality over the years. A weak, feeble rice labourer by appearances, always dressed in brown, murky colours to disappear. She did not want anyone to notice you at first glance; let that be your first safety. If they must stumble on you or pester your forgettable existence, you must keep up the act at first glance. You were scared, you were begging for your life like a common peasant. If they continue to prod and seek to damage or harm you, they would pry open the bottle of secrets that came spilling out of you in this fight-or-flight scenario.

You had a lot to learn and a lot to process as Caladan civilians. The threat of Caladan’s as well as other planets' potential hostile nature was something you were keenly aware of, a foot on your back of sorts, as you couldn’t do anything formidle to stop an enemy.

The peasants, not permitted to use weapons or obtain shields or anything of the sort, could only offer you certain wisdom that was passed among the peoples. One they passed to your mother’s watchful eye and then onto you. They call it the peasant’s secret.

The art of dodging.

“Remember the game of cat and mouse?” You remember your mother’s voice barely over a whisper as she lay beside you one night in woolly sleeping bags on the soft greenery beneath you. The weather was hot enough to enjoy a night outside. The flow of the river’s stream is heard against her.

You haven’t used the peasant’s secret in awhile. You primarily used it against your mother and your fellow people, as they would take turns throwing you into mock battles. They didn’t have any weapons, but they did collide, push, and throw themselves into your body at full speed, so you had to react quickly.

They did push you to the limit. Bless them. Until you were an exhausted heap of limbs on the ground and had the wind knocked out of you.

You knew that wasn’t as valuable as practicing it against someone who genuinely wanted to kill you. You didn’t know if the peasant’s secret had successfully saved someone’s life against a brutal attack or if it was just used as a quick get-away.

So yes, you could fall into the trap of thinking you knew what you were doing when, in reality, it was based on instinct. Of course, the arena was a circle. A never-ending loop. Eventually, even though your stamina was now crafted to be well above average, you would eventually get tired. The peasant community of Caladan had a careful, pinpoint focus on the art of dodging rather than hand-to-hand combat or brute force, which made for a very interesting opponent, if you could even call it that. Most of the time, if you could, you were told to outrun them first. So your speed heavily improved. If they were just as fast, then you could begin your dance.

Now, you could finally put it to the test. To see how you fare, to see if it could actually prevent you from getting sliced and diced by the Harkonnens in the arena—albeit for a while. The main thing to keep in mind, as your mother had warned, was to keep your opponent on their toes, snapping not only their mental state but their body. Then, when the time is right, you steal their weapon and use it against them. Today you were permitted a small dagger, strapped and holstered on the outside of your thigh. Although you weren’t concerned about it, you told yourself you would use it as a last resort when they weren’t suspecting you to. You didn’t know how to dance with a weapon; you only knew how to bob and weave without one.

Count Fenring, the Siridar-Absentia of your homeworld Caladan, while the Atreides occupy the planet Arrakis, had dealings with the Harkonnens prior to your descent here. You were never meant to come here. But Count Fenring had called upon the rice labourers one day for a strange proposal. Gathering in the high-esteemed buildings and feeling out of place, your people had looked upon Count Fenring’s narrow, proud face. You knew him to be conniving and manipulative in nature, a renowned assassin, and the Emperor Shaddam’s right-hand man. He was neutral toward the labourers; as long as they kept up on the plantation of their planet’s rice, he had no issues. He would often make dealings with the noblemen and women of Caladan; it was very rare that the rice labourers were added to any conversation.

“House Harkonnen of Giedi Prime is seeking entertainment, to those willing-" Count Fenring’s voice boomed, sitting atop his makeshift throne.

His voice is cut off by your thoughts at the Planet’s name. Baron Vladimir Harkonnen of Giedi Prime, called your Count “The ambassador to the smugglers” in spice production.

He continues. “I know you do not get to leave your trusted duties among the fields very often, but consider this a gift of sorts - whoever is able, and willing to be “battle entertainment” to the Na-barron of House Harkonnen, Feyd-Rautha, will be permitted to win your chance at freedom to travel to a new planet, a new experience.. You don’t ever have to return.”

An audible chorus of gasps are heard amongst your peoples. Hushed angry whispers fill the room. You gape at the vagrant display of lack of remorse for human life. You knew little, but House Harkonnen enjoyed pleasures in gore and sadism, is what you did know. What’s in it for your Count? This has to do with spice dealings.

“Freedom to die?” a male voice questioned loudly. “You dangle freedom in the air as if House Harkonnen has any, and to dangle us in front of the Harkonnen brutes like meat!”

The crowd got louder and louder in frustration and opposition. The Count’s voice bellows as his army hits their swords to the ground in a clang to signify the rice labourers to quiet their naysayers. “Enough. To those who are not interested, you may leave. You are not forced to stay. To those that are, please remain.”

A number of your people shuffled out in a hurry, their bodies a large mass squeezing through the royal entryway. You blink. This is downright morbid. You had never considered such a thing before, as you only knew your planet to be worthy of laying down your roots until the end of time.

You feel your mother reach for your hands. They are warm, and so is her eyes as she peers into the core of your being.

Your planet is beautiful - access to bodies of lakes, rocky mountains, majestic trees and budding flowers, delicious rice...

“You should go.” she mutters. “Live for us.”

Her words a grim truth. Brutal honesty. And that was enough for you.

A handful of the peasants stay alongside you. Your mother places her lips upon your cheek in a chaste kiss. Your tear ducts well with water as her hand leaves your grasp. Somehow, you know it’s too late to turn back now. You don’t know what made you follow Count Fenring onto the ship and not look back. A chaotic chance for something other than field work? A plunge into absurdity?

You could try absurdity for a while, you decided.

206 notes · View notes

strniohoeee · 6 months

Text

Parasite

Pairing: Matt Sturniolo X Female Reader♥️

Synopsis: Somethings wrong with Matt, and it’s scaring Y/N. When she figures out what’s wrong with him.Things take place that alter her life forever🩸

Warnings⚠️: THIS IS SMUTTTT. Vampire Matt, and uhhh some other vampire people can’t spoil anything though🖤. Just some vampire fucking, but nothing crazy🦇

Song for the imagine: Change(In the House of Flies)-Deftones

⚠️This is an 18+ story, so minors do not interact, or do??⚠️

Now you feel so alive

I’ve watched you change

It’s like you never had wings

Something was off with Matt lately he was hanging around with a sketchy crowd, and suddenly he wasn’t himself anymore. Chris and Nick had hung out with this crew too, but they didn’t act how Matt was acting.

He was honestly frightening. All I remember was Chris and Nick had gone away with these guys, and came back, and then Matt went away with them, but when he came back it just wasn't really right.

I would hang out with them, but then they would go through these weird phases of not really talking to me, or being seen. I tried to ignore it because maybe I was trying to make myself believe something was there when it truly wasn’t.

When I didn’t see them they were with those weird guys they were friends with. I honestly thought they were either doing or selling drugs, or maybe both. Whatever it was, I chose to stay out of the way of their life decisions; it wasn't really my business.

I only started to get truly concerned when Matt’s appearance changed. I mean all their appearances changed, but Matt….his was the most noticeable. Everyone noticed it, but never said anything to him about it….they were afraid?

He went from having soft cheeks, and warm blue eyes and heart warming smile to pale, with sunken cheekbones and icy sunken in dead eyes….the dead eyes scared me the most. They were so frightening often times I couldn’t look at him for too long

His personality changed as well; he went from bubbly and bright and talkative to quiet, mean and mysterious. The surrounding girls in our lives found it hot and mysterious. I found it out right, strange and weird….this wasn’t Matt.

I was really scared he was messing around with drugs or something because he completely changed, and it wasn’t for the best.

I hadn’t seen the triplets in a week as they ghosted me and went MIA to go be with those guys. I really wished they’d just stop honestly. I didn’t want to lose my friends over some weird people

I was currently sleeping, and I was having vivid dreams of Matt screaming and pleading for help, but I couldn’t see him in my dreams everything was just black

Suddenly Matt’s face appeared in my dreams with red eyes and a scary grin “WAKE UP” he yelled, and suddenly I jumped out of my sleep

“What the fuck” I said rubbing my eyes, and turning my lamp on that’s on my nightstand

As my eyes were adjusting to the light I looked down at my clock 3AM….chilling, unholy hour. I felt a presence in my room, but I chose to shake it off

“I know you feel me” I heard someone say, and my head snapped in the direction of the person. It was Matt sitting at my window sill

“Matt? How’d you get in here?” I asked rubbing my eyes again to make sure I was awake

“You should really lock your windows” he said deeply

“Matt, I'm on the second floor, how’d you get up here?” I asked getting frightened

“I told you, you should lock the windows” he said again standing up from the window sill

“You’re scaring me okay, I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately, but you’re not the same person I used to know” I said sitting up fully

“It took me a while to figure out what I am too” he said still sitting in the darkness, only the moonlight casting light against him

“What do you mean what you are?” I asked him

“You don’t know?” He asked tilting his head

“Whatever sick joke this is please stop it” I said getting annoyed

“This isn’t a joke…” he said to me

“Matt I’m scared, and if you say one more creepy thing I’m running out the door” I said to him

“Come on don’t be like that, I just want to talk to you” he said in a whisper

“Fuck this” I said and got up running to my door, but before I could open it Matt just appears behind me, and shuts the door

“Matt let me out” I said with my back still to him

“I can’t let that happen” he said sending chills down my spine

“I’ll hurt you” I said

“You can not hurt me” he said chuckling

I turned around to answer him, and when I did I wish I hadn’t. His eyes were no longer blue, but pitch black

“MATT WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU” I said sinking under his arms and running back to my bed

“How do you not know?” He said looking over at me

“Because this is the real world, and I’m so fucking scared right now” I said shaking

“I’m not going to hurt you….” He said walking over to me

“You’ve been acting weird lately, you look different, you disappear and now your eyes are black” I said shaking my head at him

“Exactly…don’t you know what I am?” He said smirking at me

“This isn’t real” I said looking at him

“It is real, say it you know what I am” he said to me

“You’re not a vampire” I said scoffing at him

“I am….and it’s been two weeks since I’ve lasted tasted blood, and yours smells sweet” he said licking his lips

“This is bullshit this is not real” I said pinching myself to try and snap out of it

“We are vampires, and we want you to join us” he said sticking his hand out

“Join who?” I asked him

“Chris, Nick and I….it would be a shame if you didn’t” he said

“You’re not a fucking vampire, vampires are myths” I said pushing his hand away

“Not true” he said shaking his head

“Show me then” I said

He came over and sat next to me looking at me with his dark eyes, opening his mouth and letting his fangs come out

My eyes widened and my mouth got dry

“Real enough for you baby?” He asks tilting his head

“I….I don’t know how to feel” I said looking away

“You feel scared and….aroused?” He said raising his brow at me

“Get out of my head” I said trying to push the feeling away

“It’s hard your thoughts are screaming at me” he said

“What do you want from me?” I asked

“I want to turn you, and maybe fuck you too” he said brushing my hair out of my face

“I don’t know Matt” I said shaking my head

“Oh come on, you can always be with Chris and Nick and I, and you’ll be immortal…sounds stupid but I promise you’ll love it” he said

“And if I say no?” I asked

“I can hold out, but not for much longer” he said looking over my body

“You really want me to fuck you” he blurted out

“GET OUT OF MY HEAD” I said rolling my eyes at him

“I can’t….its literally screaming at me” he said

He pushed my hair over my shoulders, and leaned in kissing my neck

“Come on” he said ghosting his fangs over my neck

“Oh god” I sighed out

“No god here, just me” he said licking my neck

“OK ALRIGHT!” I said snapping out of it

“I’ll let you turn me, but we should fuck first” I said looking at him

“I like the way you think” he said looking at me darkly

He pulled me in by my neck immediately smashing our lips together in a heated make out session, teeth clashing and tongues fighting for dominance

Matt stood up removing his shirt and unbuckling his belt before coming back down and crashing his lips to mine

I had pulled away to remove my shirt, and scooting back onto my bed laying there in just my underwear

“Mmm so beautiful” he moaned out licking his lips as his eyes got darker

He slid his jeans off and came over to me on the bed crashing our lips together once again before kissing down my neck and to the valley of my breasts, allowing his fangs to skim over my skin

“Fuck Matt” I moaned out

“I know baby” he said against my skin causing me to squirm

He licked up the valley of my breasts till he got to my right breast taking the nipple into his mouth, and swirling his tongue around it

“Matt” I moaned out in a whisper

He went over to my left breast and did the same while rubbing his hands up my sides

He slowly started to kiss my my stomach down to my underwear before laying a kiss to my clothed pussy

“Fuck” I moaned out pulling his hair

This caused him to look up at me “ow” he said as his fangs descended

“Sorry baby” I said easing up on the pulling

“Be careful causing me pain…my fangs naturally come out that way” he said licking over his fangs with his tongue

“My bad” I said biting my lip

He removed my underwear, and grazed the inside of my thighs with his fangs

“So sweet” he said licking my thighs

“Matt please I need you” I said squirming beneath him

He leaned down immediately attaching his mouth to my cunt, licking and sucking at my clit

“shitttt” I moaned out bucking my hips forward

He pulled back allowing his fangs to graze over my cunt

“Matt….” I said getting scared

“Don’t worry baby I would never hurt you” he said looking up at me

He came back up to make out with me

“I need you now” he said pulling away

“Fuck me matt, please” I mewled out

He slid his boxers off, sliding his hand against my cunt to use my arousal as he jerked himself off

“So good to me” he said moaning and throwing his head back

He slowly brought his dick to my entrance sliding in slowly

“Fuckkk” we both moaned out at the sensation

Matt allowed me to adjust to his size before thrusting in out of me. Not too fast and not too slow

“Shit you feel so good” he panted into my ear

“Fuck baby” I said gripping onto his back scratching down

“Mmmm” he said allowing his fangs to come out from the pain

He kept pounding into me, all that could be heard was our heavy breathing and our skin smacking

I started to clench down on him feeling all too good

“Keep doing that baby I’m going to cum” he said as he thrusted into me harder

“Mmm Matt” I moaned out biting my lip slightly drawing blood

Matt’s head perked up, and his eyes got really dark, immediately licking my bottom lip

“Don’t tease me” he said moaning and breathing in through his nose

“I didn’t mean to” I said looking at him

Matt started to thrust into me harder, and he snaked his right hand down to my clit rubbing as he thrusted faster

“Shit I’m going to cum, keep doing that” I said bucking my hips again

He kept thrusting as he rubbed my clit harder and faster

“Shit shit shit” I moaned out letting my jaw fall slack

“Come on baby cum for me” he said letting his jaw fall too as he thrusted hard

“I’m cumming fuckkkk” I moaned out clenching down on Matt dick as I came. My back coming off the bed as my legs began to shake. Holding eye contact with Matt as my mouth fell slack, and I came

He helped me ride out my high before pulling out and stroking his own dick

“I’m gonna cum” he said stroking his dick faster

“Cum for me Matt” I said to him

And within two more strokes he came all over my lower stomach. Moaning my name, and holding eye contact as his eyes grew even darker

We both came down from our highs, and Matt cleaned me off. And then we got dressed. He laid down next to me

“I’m ready Matt” I said looking over at him

“You sure?” He asked looking at me

“Yes Matt I’m sure” I said to him giving him a smile

“I’m going to give you my blood first, and then I’m going to bite you. When I suck your blood you will start to die, but my blood will take over, and turn you. It won’t feel good, but slowly you’ll start to turn within a few hours” he said

“Whatever you have to do, do it” I said to him

He nodded his head, and sliced his two fingers with his fangs, bringing his fingers to my mouth allowing the blood to fall to my lips, and on my tongue

He then sunk his head down to my neck, and bit me

“OW” I kind of yelled out

Matt kept drinking my blood, and my vision was getting blurry as I felt myself slipping away. It all went dark, and then suddenly I woke up

“WHAT HAPPENED” I said shooting up

“You died, and then came back and then fell asleep” Matt said looking at me. His blue eyes coming back

“What time is it?” I asked him

“It’s 10am” he said smiling at me

“I slept for that long” I said shocked

“Well you were dead for a good portion of it” he said laughing

“I don’t want to hear that” I said and then suddenly grabbing my head

“FUCK” I yelled out

“This is the fun part, I’ll sit back and watch you” he said leaning against my wall

My head started to hurt so bad, and I felt sick. My vision going in and out as I saw all my memories flash through my mind

“Oh GOD” I yelled out gripping my head

I jumped out of the bed

“MAKE IT STOP” I said falling to my knees

“It’s almost over” Matt said

Suddenly I felt my fangs coming in, and my eyes twitching. I got up and ran to my bathroom looking at myself in the mirror. My fangs were coming down, and my eyes were black as I was changing

Suddenly it all stopped, and my fangs went away my eyes turned yellow, and suddenly back to my natural eye color

I walked out of the bathroom trying to catch my breath

“How do you feel?” He asked

“Hungry” I said with a blank stare

“We have some stuff to take care of, let’s get ready” he said smirking at me

The End

Aiii bitches how do we feel about vampire Matt. Personally I think it’s hot, but I got my own issues LMFOAOAOA. Hope yall enjoyed this 🖤🖤

-J💅🏽

#sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplet smut #matthew sturniolo smut #smut #Spotify

198 notes · View notes

calypsocolada · 10 months

Text

IT’S TIME TO GO | s. gojo

(click here for part two :3 )

synopsis: the strongest sorcerer in the world is always there to swoop in like a hero and your sick of it.

authors note: holy crap this was a long one. this is my second fanfic I’ve ever written and I started at 10 p.m. and finished around 6 a.m. I think I maybe also make a part two to this one so let me know if you guys would like that :)

cw: lots of blood, near death, hospital setting, cussing, angst, slightly suggestive, a bit of fluff

wc: 4.1k

________________________________________

You had been asleep for quite awhile. Though technically you were unconscious. The last thing you remembered was blood, blood on your hands, and clothes and mouth. You felt the sickening sensation of losing it, of being drained of power and ability to stand up straight. You clamped your hand to your stomach, feeling the warmth of lost blood coat your fingers.

Fuck.

You were gonna die. It was a sobering moment. The enemy cackled before you, its razor sharp eyes flicking from your paling face to the blood seeping between your finger tips. It smiled a wicked knowing smile, energy radiating through it. One more hit and you’d be falling fast into nothing. You straightened at that, willing to die until you felt a steady hand on your shoulder.

“That’s enough, go rest.” Gojo said beside you, so tall you had to crane your head to meet his eyes that were hidden behind black glasses. Just at his words you felt exhaustion plague your body. But you were stubborn and Gojo made it clear many times that you were weak. You were ready to die proving him wrong. You shrugged off his hand.

“My second wind is coming,” You said spitefully but when you faced the enemy again you pitched forwards, legs fully giving out. Gojo was there to catch you with swiftness as though he knew you were about to go down. He pulled you back to safety as though you weighed nothing and sat you rather softly against a stone wall. You looked up at him, fuming. Just another reason for him to call you weak. “Ass-hole,” You coughed, blood spilling over your lips. Gojo seemed serious when he spoke, his hand coming up, long fingers pulling your hair from your eyes. It was surprisingly tender from the man that teased you constantly.

“Don’t speak or move. This’ll take a sec,” He said but added a wink. And that was the last thing you remembered until now.

Waking to bright hospital lights and rhythmic beeping. You were hooked up to a monitor with what felt like tens of little tubes all snaking around your arms. You blinked, taking in a shaky breath. It didn’t hurt to breathe like it had before. Your body didn’t feel as though you were dying. Maybe you were dead already?

You looked around and that’s when you noticed him. Gojo, sat at your bedside, head thrown back snoring, long limbs splayed about. You stared at him as the events of your fight played out again. You were losing, he swooped in. Time old tale. Anger filled you once again. All the work you’d done to prove yourself as a sorcerer and idiot Gojo with godlike powers always swoops in and saves you. It burned you up real good from the inside out. You sat up, you must’ve been out for a while because the ungodly pain you felt before you passed out was now a dull ache.

You yanked out the tubes from your arms as the machine beeped a flatlining noise. Gojo sprang up from his sleep, knocking a few things over.

“Wha! Huh! Jesus-” Gojo fumbled, you’d never seen him so disheveled. His eyes locked on you before darting to the machine then back at you. “Y-You’re awake…” He breathes out, a strange fondness in his voice. His crystal blue eyes striking. Your face soured as you narrowed your eyes at him.

“Yeah, I’m awake, and alive, so that’s terrific.” You growled, shoving the covers from your warm legs. Gojo watched you and cleared his throat.

“Uh yeah, that is a good thing…” He trailed off, curiously. You shimmied to the side of the bed and threw your legs over, going to stand but just like before your legs gave out. Too much time spent in bed it seemed. Gojo caught you, his large hands on your waist, fingers slipping accidentally under the fabric of your tank top. His hands were surprisingly warm. The closeness alarmed you so before he could say anything you pushed at his chest. He looked at you confused as you fell back onto the bed.

“You piss me off,” You sigh, avoiding his eyes. Gojo stepped back, you felt his eyes on you but you refused to meet them. If he wanted to play knight he could go help someone else, you were done.

“You’re mad that I helped you?” He posed as a question, as though you had no right to be angry. And truly maybe you didn’t, you were breathing sitting in the early morning light because of him. But you also didn’t care about rationalizing right now.

“You always help me.” You hiss.

“That’s a bad thing?”

Your eyes shot up to him, he looked amused. Anger boiled in your stomach. You’re sure you could melt steel with how hot it burned.

“You love playing the hero, don’t you?” You accuse. Gojo just looks at you, with that stupid sideways grin. He steps back and slides back into his chair. Clearly amused at your anger. It made it that much worse.

“It’s an easy thing to play.” He says cockily.

“I’m sure it is for the strongest.” You chided. He nodded his head, his smile growing even more pronounced. “Well I’m glad you got your playtime, but I’m done. I’m sure you’ve been waiting for me to say that.” His smile stopped growing, he looked at you, cocking his head just slightly like a dog.

“Hmm?”

“You told me I was the weakest and time and time again you’ve gone out of your way to prove your point.”

“Y/n-”

“Don’t interrupt me.” You snapped, his lips shut. You composed yourself, taking in a staggering breath. “You win.” You said finally, a bitterly defeated tone caressing your voice. “I’m obviously just as you said.” You swallowed, fierce eyes dulling as your eyes drifted to the floor. You’d been thinking about this for a while. How much it hurt that now it finally felt right.

“You’re quitting?” Gojo asked into the silence between you both. He was mere feet from you, manspreading like he didn’t have a care in the world. You wanted to be stubborn some more but to be completely honest, you were tired. You had been for quite a while. You didn’t want to think of it as quitting, some things just felt better being walked away from and you knew this had to be one of them. Your entire family had been begging you to quit for years, terrified you’d come home in a body bag. You started to see their side of it this past year. Why continue doing something just to spite a man that didn’t have a care in the world for you. Your lack of an answer was an answer enough for Gojo. He breathed out in relief, a small laugh escaping from his lips. “Never thought this day would come.” Your eyes shot up. He looked relieved, almost happy at your declaration. You had no clue why he could be so kind to others and so cruel to you.

“You know what?” You started angrily. “Fuck you.” You growled, staggering to your feet, wobbling. Gojo reached out just in case you fell again but you pushed past his hands towards the clean clothes on the desk near the bathroom. You stripped off your tank top and shorts, exposed to the cool hospital air in just underwear and a bra. You heard Gojo make a low noise and you slightly turned, he had shielded his eyes, cheeks red in embarrassment, jaw set tightly. Rolling your eyes you pulled a shirt over your head and shimmied into the pants.

“Are you decent?” Gojo asked, his voice low. You didn’t answer him, you just yanked your shoes from the corner and sat back on the bed to put them on. Gojo peeked out from behind his hand then pulled it away when he saw you were dressed. Gojo sighed, swallowing thickly. “You should really take it easy, Y/n. I mean-- you almost died out there. I thought you were dead when I-,” He stopped talking. You looked at him, he was serious again. Gojo was never very serious, it was a strange sight. He cleared his throat like he was composing himself, crystal blue eyes sliding to yours. “Look, just take it easy, don’t go stomping around getting yourself hurt again.” You stared at him and suddenly you were laughing, it was a soft laugh, intimidating to your own ears. You just felt so out of control with your feelings around him, of anger and exhaustion and embarrassment. So many people admired the man in front of you and all you wanted to do was get one good hit on him.

“That sounded like you really cared, bravo.” You jested sharply.

“I do care.” Gojo said and that made you laugh even harder. A sort of belly laugh that had you aching all over.

“Fuck! That’s funny.” You said in between gasps.

“Y/n.” Gojo started but you just shook your head, holding up your hand to halt his words.

“Just leave, Gojo. Seriously, why’re you even still here?” You asked amused. You watched the man’s throat bob as though you wouldn’t like the answer.

“Y/n, come on, you really don’t know why?”

“No, no please enlighten me oh strong one.” You provoked as you slipped on your shoes. You heard Gojo sigh exasperatedly, you looked up just as he ran a hand through his white shaggy hair, the pieces falling into perfect place. It was annoying to say the least. Gojo was the perfect specimen, everything about him was handsome. It was infuriating to say the least. Maddening that you had found him charming when you first met him. How quickly feelings of wanting to kiss him turned to wanting to kill him. How stupid you were back then…

“Of course I care for you. I go out of my way to make sure you make it back from your fights.”

“Because you think I’m weak. That I need help.”

“Everybody needs help sometimes.”

“Not you.” You snap and he exhales a soft laugh.

“Not me.” He says gently. “Maybe one day I’ll meet my match.” Gojo waves off as though that’s something absurd and annoyingly enough you think not one single soul could ever think to touch him.

“You undermine me. You try to prove time and time again how weak I am.”

“You’re not weak.”

“You’re a hypocrite!” You growl accusingly. Gojo sighs again as if this whole conversation is annoying to him. “You babysit me more than the damn kids! You’re at everyone of my goddamn fights-”

“Making sure you don’t get yourself killed.” Gojo adds flippantly.

“But wouldn’t that be easier for you?”

“Hmm?” Gojo hums.

“If it’s such a goddamn chore why don’t you just let me die!” You burst, Gojo finally looks at you, your breathing hard, still healing and already pushing yourself, further proving what he’d just said. “You hate me. I know you do so why not just-”

“I’m not gonna sit back and let you die.” He waved off.

“Why not!” You pushed off the bed, it creaked with the sudden movement. For once you were looking down at Gojo and him up at you. The blood rushed around your body, you were heated, swaying slightly.

“I already told you why you didn’t listen.” Gojo says slowly, his eyes watching you carefully. For a moment you two stared at each other as you breathed heavily. He told you a lie and hoped you would believe it. That man cares about nothing but himself, if he thought for a moment you’d believe otherwise he was a mad man. So you nodded your head and turned away from him grabbing your stuff. “Where are you going?” He asked.

“I already told you but you didn’t listen.” You threw back at him. You were going home, that’s where all quitters end up after a while and to be honest you craved nothing more than home right now. The warm pull of it. You heard Gojo spring up from his chair.

“Wait, Y/n,” You felt his slender fingers catch your arm and you yanked away from him in an instant. At your reaction Gojo raised his hands to show he wasn’t going to touch you anymore. You turned, shooting daggers with your glare. He was towering over you again, so much bigger than you in many many ways. It would be intimidating if you weren’t so damn angry all the time.

“I’m quitting and leaving for good, Gojo, you don’t have to pretend anymore.” You jeered and he rolled his eyes. Rolled his eyes at you! You steamed all over. “What the fuck is so amusing to you about this!” You seethed, angry tears coming to your eyes. “I’m quitting because of you!” You poked him hard in the chest, he didn’t flinch. “Everyone raves about the great sorcerer Satoru Gojo but you--,” You stumbled over your words, suddenly embarrassed by the onslaught of tears rolling down your cheeks. You turned away from him and hastily wiped them away. He was the absolute last person you wanted to see you cry. You kept your back to him as you spoke. “I was so excited to meet you for the first time. So excited to be a sorcerer alongside you but-- now I can’t stand the thought. Can’t believe I ever thought-”

“Y/n, turn around.” Gojo’s voice was level behind you. You bit your lip. You weren’t turning around. Your emotions were still on display for him to see, you needed this cover until you wrangled them back in.

“Shut up,” You said over your shoulder. It felt like a childish thing to say but you didn’t trust yourself in saying more than two words right now as more tears streamed down your face.

“Turn around or I’m turning you around.” Gojo warned but his words didn’t have a hard edge like you assumed they would. It almost, almost, sounded like a plea. You let out a shaky breath, wiped your cheeks dry and slowly, against your better judgment, turned around. He wasn’t amused this time. No stupid smirk or condescending words. You stared at him as his eyes met yours, he took in your red eyes and blushed cheeks, some tears had fallen on your gray shirt in small drops.

Slowly and hesitantly Gojo reached for you. You froze as his hands slid against your cheeks, one hand tucking a loose strand of hair. The pad of his thumb gently wiped a rogue tear away and you couldn’t force yourself to move. Your senses were overwhelmed, His hands on your face, his eyes looking at you almost… benevolently? It was a strange, strange, sight to behold and it stopped your thoughts and clouded your mind as he touched you. You felt your heart like a bird with one wing banging around in your ribcage and you hoped you weren’t still breathing so heavily. His eyes darted between yours before dipping low to your lips, his eyes lingered there for a long moment. Your stomach flipped at that. It was like your ability to think rationally and logically had paused to make way for this moment.

“Please,” Gojo started in a pleading sort of voice. “Please don’t kill me for this.” He whispers, breath hitting your lips a second before his own lips. Is it right for the strongest man to act like this? To kiss you in a way that has your knees buckling? His right hand sliding down to your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to him. As though even a centimeter of space between you two was too far. You gasped into his mouth when his fingers gently dug into the skin of your waist, sliding under the hem of your tee shirt. Warm hands like before. God this was… insane. Unbelievable. Deranged. Ridiculous. You wouldn’t believe this would happen in a millenia. If anyone had said to you that Satoru Gojo would say please before pressing his lips to your own, you would’ve spat in their face and called them mad. But they weren’t mad. Gojo tugged you closer and pressed you back into the door that led to the hallway, he reached down and you heard the click of the lock. His entire body taut against yours. Enveloping everything around you until all you could feel was him and the hard press of the wooden door to your back. His lips, surprisingly soft, chased after yours. Slowly your hands moved from your sides, seemingly of their own accord. They came up to slide around the back of his neck and into his hair, tugging softly. He groaned into your mouth and it rocked you to your core, your breath catching in your throat. He’s kissing you once and twice and over and over. His hands gripping you, pulling you. You realize, infuriatingly, you’ve wanted this. He pulls away for a moment and you both are staring, completely out of breath, pupils blown wide, lips red raw.

Instinct kicked in as you raised your hand and viciously swung it to meet his cheek but of course he caught it. He didn’t look surprised or angry, he looked hungry, like a starving man that had just gotten a taste of something he wanted to devour. You wanted a small saving grace before the laughter kicked in as though him kissing you was some big elaborate joke. You hoped the slap would combat just how much you were affected by the kiss. As though you could truly hide behind the violence of it. But it was futile. You wanted this and he fucking knew it. But you knew something even more valuable. He kissed you first. He pleaded before kissing you. He wanted this just as much if not more than you.

At that thought he’s reaching for you again. He’s kissing you harder and deeper and pulling you towards the bed with a fervent need you’ve never experienced before in your life. It’s the kind of kiss that takes your breath away, leaves you a panting mess as he presses you down against the rough hospital mattress, body caging your own. There was a sort of explosive urgency to it all. Like he couldn’t stop if he goddamn tried. And god dammit you didn’t want him to stop. You didn't want his hands anywhere else but on you, his lips on you, his body on you. It was all consuming like the fire in your stomach. He was kissing you gently and you just wanted more, all the anger of the day and past few months bubbling over. With a quick movement that you're sure he could’ve predicted you flipped over on top, pressing him back into the pillows. He makes a low sound in his throat and you know he likes it for some reason. He leans up so that you're practically straddling his lap and you feel a smirk against your lips. You know he’s about to speak.

“Don’t-- don’t ruin the moment.” You mutter breathless against his lips, your voice almost hoarse. Both of Gojo’s hands dropped to your waist, fingers gripping as he moved your hips against his. You made a sound that wasn’t at all decent as lights bloomed and burned within you. You pressed closer to him, moving on your own accord and finding a thrill when a strangled sort of whimper escaped Gojo’s lips. Jesus… You thought as you kissed him hard enough to break him open.

Suddenly there’s a knock at the door.

“Ms. L/n?” A nurse's voice rings out, another few knocks.

“Fucking hell.” Gojo groans beneath you and suddenly the heat of the moment is up in the air. You take a few clumsy moves back away from Gojo and for a moment he looks betrayed, as though you’d just stabbed him in his back. You swallow, turning away from him and walking towards the door, flicking the lock and opening the door. The nurse smiles at you, she tells you that it’s best not to lock the doors just in case of an emergency and you smile, apologizing to her. When she leaves you leave the door cracked and turn back, Gojo is sitting with his legs over the side of the bed. It’s awkward suddenly and you're not so sure what to do with your hands that had been all over the man you really thought you hated. It was all very confusing. Gojo clears his throat.

“I think it’s good that you're quitting.” He says and just like that things aren’t so confusing to you anymore.

“Are you fucking-”

“I can’t worry about you all the time, it’s affecting everything I do, Y/n. I mean… seriously you drive me crazy the way you just run into danger.” Gojo looks over at you, his eyes intense. He meant every word of what he said. Your words stagger in your throat, torn between anger and confusion. “I really thought I was gonna lose you this time, I mean… there was so much blood and you were out for days, it was a fucking nightmare. How could you put me through all that? Huh?”

“I didn’t…” You really didn’t know what to say. This was all news to you. Gojo caring and all but you supposed since he showed up all the time… Maybe he always had?

“You know the worst of it? You are strong, you're very strong and maybe if you worked at it for a couple years you could rival me… But I don’t want that. I don’t want you anywhere near the shit I have to face. Not at all.”

“So you want me to give up?”

“No…” Gojo swallows, running a hand through his hair. He looked so torn with what he wanted to say and what he should say. Slowly things were coming into perspective. Gojo stands, he sighs and walks across the room. “I want you to be safe. That’s all I have ever wanted for you.” Emotion plagued you, you felt it in your chest, a warmth spreading.

“So… all this time you chased and annoyed the shit outta me because you have a crush?” You jested, Gojo’s eyes shot to yours. You smile, it's small but it’s there. Gojo unashamedly nods his head. “That’s so… embarrassing. Just wait til I tell Nanami, he'll tease you relentlessly.” You joke as Gojo cracks a smile, shaking his head.

“You wouldn’t dare.” Gojo breaths out, moving closer to you. Your breath catches. The implication of the moment is heavy. Your head swam, to stay a sorcerer or leave it behind now that you knew you had potential. You still missed your family and if you were being honest with yourself going home just felt like the right thing. You felt you knew when it was time to go.

“I think I’ll head home.” You say into the small space between you two. He swallows dryly, Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. He was so handsome and it used to make you so mad, but not so much right now. Gojo nodded softly. This side of him was something you wished to know more about but there wouldn’t be much time with the distance between you both.

“God, you look like we’ll never see each other again.” Gojo says suddenly, his hand reaching and tucking some hair behind your ear.

“Not as much as usual.” You say in an amused tone.

“I’ll come visit as long as I’m welcome.” He says and you blush at his closeness, his eyes darting to your lips and you cursed the force that had kept you two apart for so long. You felt weirdly like you’d made a new friend and maybe he could be more than that someday.

“I don’t know if my parents would like you.”

“Parents love me, Y/n.” Gojo boasts as you roll your eyes.

“I seriously doubt that.”

“Well I’ll just have to prove you wrong.” He says matter of factly. You blush even deeper at the confidence. He smirks at you like he knows he’s made you hot.

“I guess I’ll take you up on that bet.” You say and his smirk grows even wider.

————————————————————————————————————————

hi!! thanks for reading!! if you’d like a part two let me know :)

also if you like sanemi from demon slayer this is my first fan fic I wrote. check it out if you want :)

https://www.tumblr.com/calypsocolada/721687019276894208/practical-s-shinazugawa

#jujutsu gojo #gojo satoru x you #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #gojo fanfic #gojo angst #satoru gojo

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bluegalaxygirl · 6 months

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Dead Rising (Zosan X Reader) Alternative ending

Please Read Dead Rising first before reading this thank you

Zoro X Sanji X Reader, Poly relationship, established relationship,

Plot: After seeing both his lovers die and one of them come back to try and kill him. Zoro wakes up back on the sunny only to find you and Sanji still alive.

Warning: Death, Blood, Injuries, Suicide, bad language and trauma.

The sky was dark as Zoro sat there on the shop floor his blood soaked blade on his lap, he couldn't bring himself to move in anyway, but he knew yours and Sanji's bodys where next to him, it felt so unreal, he couldn't cope only one thing flooded his mind as he raised the blood soaked sward above him, Shusui the beautiful black blade that caused so much death and destruction he begged and pleaded in his head for this to have never happened to bring you two back before bringing the blade down.

"Zoro, Zoro get up, were going" Your voice yells out as a hard kick hits his leg. Zoro's eyes shoot open as he gasps out of shock, where was he? is this the after life? It was warm but the breeze was cold as he sat up looking around to find that he's on the grassy deck of the Sunny "Zoro, we're ready to leave come on" Your voice makes him jump a little but look your way, you look fine, no bites or blood, no sweaty yet pale skin but you were wearing the same clothes and that bag, the bag you tried to fill up with food before "Y/N" Zoro yells out getting off the floor and hugging you tight, your real, your alive "Zoro, hay Hun what's wrong?" you ask but your words fall on def ears as the swordsman looks over your shoulder at the town, the town you were all just in "What the fuck is going on?" Zoro whispers as you push him off you "I was about to ask you that, you ok? You look hell" You comment noticing his sweaty and shaky stature. "Your alive, thats all that matters" Zoro smiles placing his lips on yours, there soft and smooth and a little warm not like how he remembered before you passed. You lean in letting him have this moment to calm him down but when he pulls away he's still nervous and shaky.

Sanji walks back onto the Sunny, he was waiting for you to wake Zoro up but it was taking too long "Hay, come on already" The cook yells with an annoyed tone, he was sick of hearing Luffy complain about wanting food and just wanted this trip over and done with but was caught off guard when Zoro runs at him and pulls the cook into a hug "Zo-ro" Sanji pats the man on the back hardly able to breath form the overly tight hug which soon loosens but the swordsman doesn't let go instead the pulls the cook away form the bridge leading down to the village "Ok your acting really strange what is going on?" You ask walking over to the two "We're not going into town, where leaving and never looking back" Zoro's voice is demanding which throws you both off guard "We need food" Sanji try's to push the man off him but to no avail "NO" The swordsman yells getting Chopper and Usopp's attention while their working on something along with Robin who was sitting reading a book. "We-" Sanji yells back only for Zoro to pull you both closer to him "I'm not losing you two again. We can service for a few more days, Luffy's gonna have to suck it up" You and Sanji gasp a little at his words looking up the the distraught swordsman.

You place your hand on his cheek rubbing your thumb under his eye to wipe away a stray tear "Hun, it just a dream. Everything's ok now" you try to keep your voice calm but his look told you it wasn't ok "No it wasn't, i don't know what it was but i felt everything, you two got bit by some undead things and then you got sick and - and then you died and come back trying to kill us. i-i" His grip on you tightens as he talks looking down at you like your were a ghost not alive in any way "I had to... i felt your blood on my hands the pressure from my sword and your limp body falling into my arms" Zoro turns to Sanji a look of fear in the cooks eyes, you both had no idea if this was real or not but the way he was talking about it made you both think maybe it did happen "You wanted me to kill you but i couldn't, i couldn't do it but when you died in my arms i-i had to, i didn't want you coming back like that. i couldn't watch you turn into one of those things and then i-i couldn't go on i just co-" You cut him off by hugging him feeling his tears wet your shirt as you press your face into his shoulder while Sanji places his forehead against the swordsman's "It's ok, its over now, were all alive" The cook reassures getting Zoro to stop panting so hard.

Chopper and Usopp walk over soon followed by Robin "How about we make some tea to calm down, lets make sure no one leaves for now ok" Robin instructs Chopper and Usopp who head off to pull up the ramp and tells the others to stay on the ship while she heads off to the kitchen to make some tea. "Thanks Robin" Zoro whispers holding you both close. You run your hand through his hair kiss his neck before pulling back to look at him, the tears have stopped, and he looks much calmer but you can sense something is off, the feeling gets worse when you wrap your arm around his waist touching the hilt of his swords. You know a little about his three swords mainly from what Zoro's told you but are they supposed to feel like that "Zo, your swords off" you comment making him look down at his waist, he was too emotional before to senses it but now that he's calmed down he can feel the strange aura coming off Shusui as if it was calling out to him. "Come on lets get inside and figure this ok" Sanji pulls of Zoro's arm getting the man to walk with him to the Kitchen, Zoro takes your hand not willing to let either of you go yet but you don't mind and follow along.

It took Zoro almost an hour to explain everything that happened and the detail shocked you, he knew the name of the village even though there was no sigh for it even close to the sunny and described the shop and Supermarket in detail. It scared you a lot especially with Shusui on the dinning room table still giving off that strange heavy feeling, Sanji said he could feel it too while Robin, Chopper and Usopp couldn't as they sat across from the three of you listening to everything. Robin suddenly got out of her chair making you all turn to her "I'm sure i've seen the towns name before, I'll check the liberty" As she leaves you turn your attention back to Zoro who seems a lot calmer but still won't let you or Sanji out of his sight "You ok?" You ask running your hand over his cheek while he's clutching the cup in his hand "Hu? oh! yea, i'm fine baby" Zoro sighs putting the cup down and placing a hand around you pulling you into him while his other hand is holding Sanji's "Hay Chopper have you heard of anything like this?" Sanji asks wondering if Zoro hit his head or something, anything would be better than him actually living it "Not that i can think of, i've heard of that thing people say but its nothing like this" Chopper sighs sitting back in his chair "You mean deja vu?" Usopp asks getting a nod from the doctor "As for the symptoms you described these are a few viral disease that match it but none of them can bring people back from the dead" Chopper shivers a little scared to think back to the last time they saw a dead man walking on Thriller bark.

Sanji leans over to Zoro and lays his head on the mans shoulder as the kitchen door opens and Robin walks back in with a very old book "I knew i had heard the name before, it's a very old town that was used for experiments" The black haired woman sits back down opening the book and showing a small map of the village, the supermarket and shop were on there. You all look closer the feeling of sickness over taking you but you manage to not show it too much, the thought that it really happened is strong in your head "The last experimental had to do with bringing dead soldiers back to life, but they couldn't risk using it on real solders, so they tested it again on this village, the people who lived there were criminals who would have a home, job and comfy life if they agreed to be a part of the trials. Although the book said it worked but things got out of hand fast. The dead became hungry but only for living things, the virus could be passes on through a bite and it spread fast." Robin looks up with a small smile seeming to enjoy talking about it in some way "What you described about the supermarket was correct, The solders locked up the dead inside the back intending to find a cure but that never happened, they just abandoned the place" Zoro's grip on you and Sanji got tighter, he knew what happened was real, but he hopes he was wrong, it really did happen but how?

Sanji hugs the Swordsman tight, he may not remember what happened, but he believed Zoro and for once he thought to hell with the food, they can last a few days on what ever he can scrounge up. You on the other hand couldn't take your eyes off Shusui, the aura it was giving out felt a lot lighter and faded in and out in the rhythm of a heart beat. "Shusui came from that Zombie swordsman right?" You ask catching Zoro off guard who turns to you pulling you closer to him and away form the swords laying on the table "Yea." The swordsman states now noticing the change in aura from the sword, it calls out to him trying to tell him something "What does that have to do with anything?" Usopp asks raising an eyebrow "I don't know, it just feels like, maybe its connection to the undead has something to do with it" You shrug "I feel it too, its weird" Sanji sighs looking over the sword "Some swords bond with their wielder and can influence them so its not a stretch to say that Shusui had something to do with all this" Zoro chimes in making you feel less crazy for thinking it "I remember you talking about something like that, maybe it was some kind of vision" Chopper smiles standing on his seat at the doctors words the sword's aura becomes intense before disappearing as if telling you thats the answer.

Zoro laughs before grabbing the sword and putting it back on his side "I think you hit the nail on the head Chopper, now can we please leave this place" Zoro leans back as Usopp stands and nods "I'll go tell Nami, Luffy isn't going to be too happy though" The sniper rubs the back of his neck before leaving soon followed by Robin who offered a helping hand "Are you ok?" Chopper asks noticing Zoro's blank stare "Yea Chopper i'm good, Why don't you go and help them" Chopper nodded seeing that the swordsman wanted to be alone with you two so headed out the kitchen door. "I'm sorry" Zoro sighs as you and Sanji look at him "I know you two didn't see it but, i couldn't do anything to help." Sanji turns to the swordsman and places a hand on the mans leg "You did what you could, you couldn't stop any of it from happening at the time but you stopped us from going" Zoro looks at the cook with a sad look "You begged me to kill you but i couldn't. I let you suffer before dying, it was selfish" Sanji shakes his head and leans in placing a kiss on the swordsman's lips "I know its still fresh, but we're here, we're alive and thats all thanks to you" The cook smiles pulling away seeing a small smile form on Zoro's face. "Thank you Zoro, your amazing and its all over now" you lean over and place a kiss on the swordsman's cheek.

Zoro turns to you and places his lips on yours giving you a short kiss before the sunny starts moving. The swordsman breaths a sigh of relief, their leaving this island and never coming back, you two are with him and it'll stay that was for as long as he can help it. "Come here" Zoro pulls on your waist band making you get up, pulling you over to his lap where he pulls you in and holds you close while his other arm holds Sanji "I love you both" The green haired man relaxes at the feeling of you two with him your heads on his shoulders and your steady breaths on his neck "I love you too Hunk and you dear" You smile kissing Zoro's neck then looking to Sanji interlocking your fingers with his. "I love you both too... my lovers" Sanji relaxes into the swordsman and holds your hand taking in the feeling of love and care. The nightmare is over and if it weren't for Shusui's connection with the dead then he wouldn't be here with you two, he doesn't know how to thank the sword, but he'll have to find a way. As for right now you and Sanji are the most important thing, and he's not letting you two out of his sight anytime soon.

#one piece #polly relationship #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #sanji x reader #sanji x zoro #zosan #zoro x sanji #zosan x reader #one piece zosan #zosan fanfic #zoro roronoa #one piece zoro #black leg sanji #vinsmoke sanji #one piece sanji #halloween #zoro x sanji x reader

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petitprincess1 · 3 months

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"The representation in hh is bad" I'm sorry all those scaleys and furries didn't represent you well enough 😔

I find it strange when people judge the demonic characters cause like.....okay?? Yeah, Alastor is pale....but I also don't think he was fucking deer when he was alive. I could be wrong tho x3c Also, they completely ignore good POC rep like Sera, Velvette (esp her hair in the Finale), Clara, and possibly many more.

Like, maybe you shouldn't be judging characters that have PURPLE SKIN AND ANIMAL TRAITS! You can dislike it all you want. Idc. But calling them bad rep when that isn't even what these Sinners looked like when alive.....come on now x3

If anything, I'm glad skin color and all that doesn't matter. Because, lbh, once you're in Hell or Heaven...does it really matter anymore? I mean, if you're in Hell, all of you fucked up and if you're in Heaven, then that would be hypocritical.

I understand wanting more cultural depth to the characters. But, again, once in your Hell...I don't think it matters. You can't tell what anyone is, especially when there are Sinners who have turned into furniture x3c

Yes, I understand the need for rep (can't say positive rep with this show tbh lol). But why are you making a character all about their skin color? There's more to anyone than their skin color or even their culture. They are a person. Treat them as such and get to know their culture by learning more about them as a person.

Idk if that made sense xP I kinda just rambled at the end. I'm also very sick, so 🙃 Idk it's a fucking cartoon about some demons redeeming themselves. I don't think skin color entirely matters to the plot here

#hazbin hotel #ask answered #ok 2 rb

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velidewrites · 2 months

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Don’t Look Back

Five hundred years ago, the humans fought hard for their freedom in the Great War and won. Now, their former masters seek retribution in a rebellion that grows stronger year by year. When Elain Archeron finds out marrying Greysen Nolan might be the only solution to keep her family safe from the ancient, cruel Fae, she doesn't hesitate to fulfil her duty. What Elain doesn't know, though, is that the man with the fiery hair and russet eyes is not her fiancé, but his killer—and when she finally finds out, well…it will be far too late to turn back.

Chapter 3/15 || Read on AO3 || Go to Chapter 1

Lucien did not realise he had fallen asleep in Greysen Nolan’s jacket. It was the stiff, navy fabric that had stirred him awake, digging mercilessly into his underarms. Greysen’s build had not been frail by any means, Lucien was reasonable enough to admit—but he was also vain enough to decide that, whatever physical training the lordling had undergone in his youth, it could hardly compare to the decades Lucien had devoted to hunting in the forest.

It felt good to be back, strangely. He even missed the wet, cold ground that was currently serving as his bed, despite the undoubtedly luxurious chambers he could have had at the Archeron Manor in New Prythian. After witnessing the grandiose of the engagement ceremony, Lucien suspected the Merchant was a man who valued appearances above all else, which surely must have included appropriate accommodations for his son-in-law never to be.

Oh, well.

He would mourn the plush mattresses and feathery pillows later. There was something about being back in Old Prythian that filled Lucien with relief. A faint trace of magic still lingered here—untainted magic, so unlike the Merchant’s precious artifacts, all bearing a familiar, human stench. Here, in the forest he’d grown up in, Lucien could smell the Old Magic in the mossy earth, however wet it was. With the spring nearing its full bloom, the remaining signs of winter had almost melted away.

When he was younger, Eris would often tell him of the power that had once kept the seasons unchanged. In this part of the island, magic had stood still—the forests of Braemar had always grown in shades of auburn and gold, the waves warming the shores of Adriata had never reflected so much as a cloud above, and the lakes of the North had been nothing but pale, blue ice. Parts of New Prythian, Eris had told him, used to be nothing but rolling green hills, ruffled by a gentle, spring breeze. Today, they had become towns, industries—homes the humans had stolen from the Fae and made into their own, just like everything else.

The High Lords keeping that magic alive were long gone, though. Autumns in Braemar had become rainy and bleak, even the occasional sunlight somewhat pale as it peered through the trees. As if the very sun itself had fallen ill to the human sickness.

There was no sun shining above Lucien, though, as he made his way through the camp. The path snaked down to where he knew his brother would be—right by the stream’s muddy shore, the gentle whoosh of the running water muffling the voices ahead.

Thankfully, the sturdy bark of an oak tree provided Lucien with enough shelter to eavesdrop. Eris may have been family and—Lucien thought with some bite—his direct superior, but that didn’t mean the prick ever felt inclined to make Lucien privy to his plans and schemes.

And if there was one enemy the Vanserras had never quite managed to conquer, it was curiosity.

“…understand,” a familiar, male voice reached him, barely audible despite Lucien’s Fae hearing, as if its owner had deliberately hidden it in the crinkles of the water. Lucien’s attention strained. “I should have been made aware of the plan, and you know it.”

Lucien rolled his eyes—though the knowledge that even Azriel was not always entitled to Eris’s designs did, admittedly, provide him with some consolation. He leaned in a few inches to study the male, finding his tattooed arms crossed in expectation—and a pair of those menacing, bat-like wings tucked in almost as tight as his lips.

“And you know how important it was that the details of the plan remained discreet,” Eris responded, head angling slightly as he searched Azriel’s gaze.

“By the Cauldron, Eris.” Azriel shifted on his feet, those wings rustling heavily behind him. “I had no idea you would actually kidnap the girl.” Those strange, smoky shadows slithered around his feet—as though in agreement.

From the shelter of his tree, Lucien could practically hear his brother roll his amber eyes. “She’s fine, is she not?” Eris shrugged, his tone hardly inviting an answer as he surveyed the darkness slowly climbing Azriel’s broad frame. Then, “Why do you care so much?” he questioned.

Azriel sighed deeply. “I just…” A pause—as though he was weighing the risk those next words could carry. “I don’t like it when you don’t tell me things,” he finally said.

That makes two of us, Lucien thought bitterly.

He glimpsed a hint of a smile on Eris’s freckled face. “Well,” his brother countered, “I’m not exactly in the business of sharing my secrets with pretty shadowsingers.”

Lucien stifled a groan.

The shadows behind Azriel’s arms curled, the corner of his mouth following suit. “Pretty, huh?”

Eris opened his mouth—no doubt to tease his spymaster even further—but then Azriel halted, the smile dying on his lips before it ever truly began as he turned to the darkness whispering to his ear.

Great.

“We have company,” he told Eris, his expression sour.

His cover well and truly blown, Lucien stepped out of his hiding. “Took you long enough,” he said in a manner of greeting, reaching the pair in four long strides and turning towards Eris. “You may wish to reconsider your choice of a spymaster, brother. I can’t say I’m very impressed,” he added, not gracing Azriel with another look.

Eris crossed his arms, the bronze of his jacket catching some of that pale sunlight. “How fortunate for me that I make decisions here, not you,” he said, his tone carrying enough of a bite that Lucien braced himself for the earful he was no doubt about to receive later.

Eris turned to Azriel. “I’ll speak with you back at base,” he said, the words apparently enough of a dismissal.

Azriel’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “Make sure that you do,” was his only reply, and he moved to walk away.

A few of his shadows lingered in place for a moment—as if hesitating. Only when Eris cast them a look Lucien couldn’t quite discern did they skitter back, happily following the quiet steps of their master.

Lucien arched an eyebrow at the strange scene. “Trouble in paradise?”

Eris’s attention cut to him. “You do not question me in front of my subordinates.” His brother’s face may as well have been set in stone. “Understand?”

“I do,” Lucien agreed. “That doesn’t change the fact that I don’t trust him.”

Eris straightened. “Azriel has been with us for six months now, and has proven invaluable to our efforts.”

“Six months is nothing,” Lucien countered. “What was he doing for the five centuries before?”

Eris ran a hand through his hair, the auburn glistening with the movement like liquid metal—Lucien couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen it long and draped over his back. Eris had cut it shortly after Azriel’s arrival, he supposed, realising the past six months had indeed somehow managed to have stretched into near eternity. “I thought he was dead, Lucien,” Eris said, his voice tight. “The War took so many. His entire family is gone—they have been for a while. You want to know what he’s been doing since then?” he asked, and when Lucien offered no answer, he added, “The same thing as us. Trying to survive.”

“Strange that he’s chosen to survive with us, of all people,” Lucien grumbled, more to himself now than Eris.

His brother watched him closely. “There aren’t many of us left. I doubt he’s had a selection of choices,” he added. “Besides, he is of use to me.”

“I’ll bet he is.”

“Watch it,” Eris warned, a bright-red flame flickering in his eyes. “Or I’ll think you’re suggesting something.”

Lucien couldn’t keep the smirk off his face. “Oh, I am,” he assured him. “I’m suggesting you’ve never been very good at keeping a sound judgement around your, ah…what did you call him?” He made a show of considering, letting his long claws drum on his crossed arms. “Oh, yes. Subordinates,” he finished with a smile he could only hope portrayed his smugness appropriately..

Eris’s gaze narrowed. “Excuse me if I don’t take your concerns to heart, little brother,” he said slowly, dragging out those last two words as if they were no more than an insult. “Your judgement has hardly been exemplary in recent days.”

“My judgement has been nothing short of impeccable,” Lucien huffed.

“I’m sure,” Eris crooned, a shit-eating grin sprawling on his own face. “Strange how Elain Archeron passed out on her father’s floor from one simple kiss on the hand,” he mused. “Unless, of course,” he added, “it wasn’t her hand you kissed.”

Bastard. “Are you questioning me, Eris?”

“Your ability to follow orders?” Eris asked. “Always.”

“I did follow orders,” Lucien pressed. “Nuan must have been wrong about the dosage,” he added, praying to the Mother and all her small mercies Eris hadn’t caught the hesitation in his voice.

Strangely, though, the Mother had never seen too merciful wherever Lucien was concerned. Most of the time, he could handle it: the anger, the frustration, the fighting. But there was just something about the disappointment in Eris’s face that made Lucien’s insides shrink with guilt as his brother told him, “Nuan has not been wrong once in the four hundred years I’ve known her.” A truth if Lucien had ever heard one—a rarity Eris was offering him. “She’s saved your life on more than one occasion,” he continued. “You’d do better showing her work some respect.”

Blaming it on Nuan had been wrong, and Lucien was no less of a bastard than Eris for it. But Lucien had worked too hard for this assignment, had spent too many decades fighting to be seen by Eris as more than a liability and a painful reminder of the family they’d left behind that he grabbed on to whatever lies he could to not be tossed aside again.

Perhaps that was precisely why even the Mother herself had abandoned him.

He wasn’t sure what to say—wasn’t sure if there was anything to say, in truth. He simply watched the stream ahead, unable to drag his gaze back to Eris’s as if its weight was too much for him to carry.

Eris relieved him of the burden. “Is she awake?” he asked, whatever emotion creeping in his tone earlier now replaced entirely by the voice Lucien had come to know far better. A Commander’s voice—a leader’s.

“Not as far as I’m aware,” Lucien simply replied, his voice as hollow as the echo the river carried into the forest.

“And the camp?” Eris pressed. “We should get moving within the hour.”

“Not nearly packed.” The small legion they’d taken to New Prythian with them had still been mid-breakfast when Lucien exited his tent.

Eris sighed. “Excellent,” he said, and from the corner of his eye, Lucien made out two fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. “Go help Nuan in her tent,” Eris instructed, Lucien’s shoulders straightening at the command. It was easier this way—to fall into the roles they’d been acting for as long as Lucien could remember. He finally turned to Eris, then, offering a short nod of acknowledgement.

I’ll get everybody else on their feet,” Eris added, half-looking over his shoulder as if his Fae eyesight could still somehow see the camp ahead. “I will notify you when she is awake.”

“Oh, good,” Lucien grumbled. Seeing her was exactly what he needed to make his morning even more miserable.

Still, he could’ve sworn a shadow of a smile passed through Eris’s face. “Lighten up, little brother,” he told him, reaching towards Lucien’s shoulder to fix some phantom crinkle in Greysen Nolan’s jacket. “I’m sure your fiancée will be delighted to speak with you.”

***

Elain dreamt of eyes so blue they must have been crafted from raw, hardened ice—frozen somewhere deep beneath a lake, perhaps never to come alive again.

She tried to reach for them, as if to make sure they truly were beyond saving, and yet every attempt at caressing their owner’s face only seemed to push her farther and farther away. Elain opened her mouth to call out his name, to cry out in desperation, but found her throat frozen, too, something like frost slowly creeping its way up the cords of her voice.

“Greysen,” she rasped, the word more a gargle than the syllables making up his name.

He heard, though, if the shift in those eyes was any indication. The ice cracked—snapped in half, ready to shatter into a thousand pieces—and revealed the true colours pouring out of the man’s piercing gaze. A liquid flame, a symphony of reds, golds and oranges, burning so bright Elain had to squint lest it blinded her entirely. She could practically feel it on her skin, feel the promise of its warm embrace as it moved in closer, closer…

The fire crackled—and Elain sat upright, the sound violently ripping her from sleep.

“I’m afraid Greysen is not here, Lady Archeron,” a smooth, male voice reached her. “A true disappointment, I’m sure.”

Elain blinked—then blinked again as she realised she had woken up from one nightmare to another.

She was in a tent, of some sorts. The canvas was roughened with what had to have been weeks, if not months of travel, yellowed by grass at the edges and stained with old, dried-out mud. In some places, Elain’s sleep-dusted sight managed to spot specks of a rusted shade of red, the unmistakable proof that blood had been spilled within the tent’s constraints on more than one occasion. Elain’s blood was likely to be next, if the owner of her newfound lodging was any indication.

The man half-leaning on the wooden pillar was smirking down on her, his mouth curled in a way that could only mean Elain was in more trouble than she had anticipated. It wasn’t his expression she deemed as her immediate concern, though—no, it was the actual, living fire blazing from his freckled, open palm, casting dancing shadows over the canvas beside them.

It was then that she noticed his long, arched ears, the hint of long, sharpened canines peering from that smirk of his. The fire was not burning him at all—it seemed to yield to his command, in fact, like a pet would submit to its master. In that moment, Elain also realised he was standing rather dangerously close to the flammable structure, even as he himself appeared entirely unbothered about the fact.

Elain swallowed something heavy in her throat. “You—” she tried, then cleared her throat. “You’re Fae.”

The faerie’s smile widened. High Fae, Elain understood, inspecting his every movement, every flick of fingers as the flames in his hand chased each other happily. “A cunning observation,” he noted, then looked to that magical fire of his. “And they say humans are short on wit these days,” he muttered, as though he was addressing those flames directly.

She must have been going insane. There was no other explanation—she was just at the ball back home, her own engagement celebration, kissing Greysen Nolan like her whole life depended on him. On her fiancé.

Right now, it seemed that her life was entirely in someone else’s hands.

She swallowed again. Hard. “Are you planning to kill me?”

“Planning,” the High Fae mused, his gaze still transfixed on his hand. “Plans, Lady Archeron, are very much like this fire.” The flames danced again in confirmation. “Unpredictable. Ever-changing. Easy to slip out of control…” The fire blazed, and Elain’s body moved back an inch of its own volition, and the man found her eyes at that. “If wielded by the wrong hand,” he finished, that secretive smile making its way back onto his lips.

“You’re the man in charge, I take it,” Elain simply said.

His eyes, like liquid amber in light of his magic, narrowed on her slightly. “Male,” he corrected, apparently offended by her words. “I am hardly the animal you mistake me for,” he added, that former aloofness returning to his tone. “But yes. I am.”

Excellent. “What did you do to Greysen?” she asked.

The man hummed, bouncing off the pillar at last. His flames skittered with the movement, then vanished entirely as he crossed his lean, muscled arms. As if they never existed in the first place. “I didn’t do anything to your pretty little fiancé,” he said, and, even though he hadn’t so much as moved a step closed toward her, Elain found herself pulling back.

“But you gave the order.”

He waved a hand. “Semantics.”

“Is he…” She couldn’t bear the question—not when the answer seemed so obvious. “Is he dead, then?” she managed.

“Oh, yes,” the man answered as though it was the weather she’d just asked him about, not the death of another man. “I am told he was rather easy to kill.” He met her gaze. “It was a swift and merciful death, if it brings you any comfort.”

It was as if all the air was knocked out of her lungs, a fire of her own replacing it completely—simmering, threatening to boil over. “Comfort?” Elain asked, the anger now rising through her throat. “You ruined my future!”

Not once did she ever imagine she would yell at a faerie and live to tell the tale. Perhaps she wouldn’t.

But all the man—male—did was scoff, looking at her in a way that made her wish she had canines of her own, if only to rip his throat out. “And what a bright future it was,” he said. “Married off and shipped to the far side of the world to be nothing but a weak lordling’s broodmare.” Something darkened in those eyes as he added, “I’ve seen it happen before. Trust me, such stories do not end well.”

“I would rather die than trust you,” Elain spat.

He studied his nails, short and perfectly trimmed. “That can be arranged.”

“You know nothing about Greysen Nolan.”

Something like amusement crept into his face. “Don’t I?” he asked. “I know more about your fiancé than you can imagine, Lady Archeron. I’d care to explain had you not just so loudly declared your distrust of me,” he added, his eyes returning to picking some invisible grain of dirt off his immaculate hands.

Elain found herself seething. “How dare—”

“Not another step.”

It wasn’t the bastard’s voice that had warned her, though—and perhaps it was what made her stop dead in her tracks.

Elain hadn’t even realised she’d rose from her bed at some point in her anger until a figure appeared before her, so large and imposing it nearly blocked everything else from view. She had never seen a man so—

Wings. He had wings.

Elain was going to die today.

“I am handling the situation, Azriel,” the fiery male said from behind him, his voice dropping to a lazy drawl.

If she was going to die, she might as well have gotten the last word. “I am not some object for you to handle,” Elain spat.

The male chuckled. “She’s feisty,” he said, auburn hair glistening with the shake of his head. “I must admit I’m growing quite fond of your company, Lady Archeron.”

“She’s his daughter,” the winged male—Azriel—rumbled, his voice like thunder in a midnight storm. “For all we know, she could be hiding ash weapons beneath her skirts,” he added, a disgusted grimace twisting his otherwise beautiful face.

Elain sucked in a breath. “You—”

“She isn’t,” the other male said, stepping closer towards them, Azriel’s wings rustling back as if to make space. “We had her searched,” he explained to his companion.

“You what?” Elain whirled to him, heat flaring red in her chest, her face. “You dared to—”

“I thought we’ve established I am not the monster you think me for,” the male told her, something like distaste filling his features. “I did not come near your tent until a few moments ago.”

“But someone did.” Someone had been in here while Elain had been sleeping,

He sighed deeply, Azriel’s gaze finally leaving Elain’s to dart towards the sound. “You’ll meet her soon. Have you not realised you’re not wearing the ballgown from the night before?”

“I—”

“Humans,” he sighed again, then turned to Azriel. “Did you have something to report, or are you just here to disturb me?”

Azriel’s wings shifted heavily behind him. “My job is to protect you, Eris.” That must have been the leader’s name. Elain catalogued it in the corners of her mind—in case the Queens of old somehow kept her in their favour, she would report it to the Governor once she escaped.

“Your job is to be my spy,” Eris told him, something in his stare telling Elain he didn’t exactly appreciate Azriel betraying his name, either. Still, he turned to Elain, smiling as though they were no more than two old friends catching up. “Illyrians can be so overprotective.”

Elain stilled. “Illyrians?”

I can already imagine his eyes light up as I hand him the pair of wings your sister had sent in from Hybern, her father’s letter said.

Azriel moved quicker than time itself.

In one moment, he stood right before her, the edge of his right wing nearing Eris’s shoulder, the perfect picture of his leader’s protector. The next, she felt a dark breeze whoosh past her, and a heavy, menacing presence appearing behind her—and a strange, cold pressure on her neck.

Azriel’s voice was colder than ice as the sharp edge of his knife grazed Elain’s throat. “Tell me what you know.”

It looked like she wasn’t getting out of here alive after all. “N-nothing,” she uttered, suddenly very aware of her heart thudding through every vein in her body. “Please.”

The knife did not move.

“Azriel,” Eris’s voice reached her, but even less than two feet away from her, he still seemed too far. As though Azriel had pulled her underwater, and, whatever Eris’s command was, it could not swim deep enough to reach them in time. “Azriel.”

But then the fire crackled again, the same snapping sound that had pulled her from her sleep, and everything ended as soon as it began.

Elain gasped, a long, raspy breath pouring into her chest, her lungs, her neck suddenly free of the cold steel and its owner. She blinked the blurriness away, like a fog lifting itself off her gaze, and Azriel appeared before her again, wings tucked in tight as he sheathed his blade somewhere deep into the leathers on his back.

For a male who played with fire, Eris’s stare was nothing but pure darkness as he looked at Azriel. “I think it’s time for you to go,” he said, no trace of that former theatrical laziness lingering in his tone.

A muscle jutted in Azriel’s powerful jaw. “Fine,” he grumbled at last, then dared another glance at Elain. “But I want to interrogate her later.”

“We’ll see,” Eris said, the words sounding too much like an agreement.

Panic rose through her again. “No,” Elain protested. “No, you will not—”

“See,” Eris turned to her, auburn brows knitting in a frown. “Now you’ve frightened our guest.”

“She has no reason to be afraid,” Azriel said. “Yet,” he added, meeting her gaze directly.

Elain felt her stomach tighten.

Perhaps, if she retched her guts out in front of their feet, they would let her go. What could a pair of Fae killers want with her, anyway? She was the Merchant’s daughter, but without him as a prisoner by her side, Elain was nothing. Had nothing. Anything they might have wanted from her father was left behind in the Manor—days away from wherever they’d hidden her, according to Eris, at least. So why was Elain here?

“She’s not afraid, shadowsinger,” someone said from behind Azriel’s wings—someone so familiar Elain nearly stopped breathing again. “No, I think our little fawn is angry.”

She knew that voice—deep and honeyed, the same way his hands felt on her waist when he’d pulled her closer into his arms, the same way his lips tasted as she searched them with her own. It was impossible—it had to be—but Elain peered over Azriel’s shoulder all the same.

Eris had told her he was dead. Killed, quickly and without hesitation.

And yet here he stood, in the same navy-blue jacket that offset his long, auburn waves the night before, the golden gleam in his eyes that reminded her of sunlight as they met her own. Beautiful.

Alive.

“Greysen?” Elain breathed.

Greysen smiled, then—and Elain’s breath caught in her throat.

She wasn’t sure she would ever breathe again as a pair of canines, so similar to Eris’s yet even sharper, somehow, flashed at her from the smile. As a hand, broad and strong as it led her through last night’s dance, rose to run long talons through his hair, to tuck a loose strand of it behind an unmistakably arched ear. As the male she thought was a man looked at her in a way that told her everything she knew about him was a lie.

“Not exactly, Princess,” he purred.

“There you are,” Eris drawled like the world hasn’t just collapsed around them. “Lady Archeron,” he turned to her at that, “allow me to introduce to you my younger brother. Meet Lucien Vanserra, Seventh Son of the Autumn Court, Lieutenant of the Golden Leaf and former courtier and emissary.”

Elain could’ve sworn a mockery of a smile bloomed on Eris’s lips as he added, “And, evidently, your betrothed.”

#elucien #pro elucien #elain x lucien #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #elucien fic #elucien fanfiction #acotar #my writing

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anklesoraus · 5 months

Note

Hello, hope you are having a good day/night

I was wondering if I could request a BAU Team x Male reader

Where they get a strange case involving around an abandoned asylum as is someone is experimenting on the victims that have shown up dead.

What if unsub captures reader and does similar experiments on him only this time the unsub is taunting the BAU with fact he has one of the team by sending pic/videos of what he's doing.

(I was kinda thinking the Unsub is experimenting with old school psychiatric methods?)

The missing agent

A/n: Mmm my first request well actually second but the first one went poof and I hope this is to your liking at least? Sorry it took so long for me to reply to this, I’ve been busy getting ready for an upcoming exam and college has been punching me in the gut. Also I’m trying out new things with tumblr so my layouts will change a lot to see which I would like but besides that I hope you like this half assed story I wrote with little sleep and like 3 monsters, love ya and happy early thanksgiving <3

Warnings: BAU x male reader, mentions of kidnapping, not proofread, half assed

The Behavioral Analysis Unit (BAU) of the FBI was called to investigate a series of murders that had taken place in an abandoned asylum. The victims had shown up dead, and the killer had left no clues behind. The BAU was stumped, and they couldn't figure out who the killer was or what his motive was.

“Why did they give us this sicko to find” Penelope mumbled under her breath while trying to do some research.

As they were investigating the case, one of their own, Y/n, was kidnapped by the unsub. The unsub then was going to do similar experiments on Y/n as he had done on his previous victims.

“Let me go you sick bastard!” Y/n yelled, moving around as he was tied up to the bed and his eyes covered with a blindfold.

In the distance he heard a laugh. A sinister laugh it was low and grogy but it sounded so loud like he was everywhere, in every corner.

Y/n didn’t want to show weakness, no he’s too old for that. But for the first time in years he is feeling fear. He’s been in the BAU for around 6 years, all the ups and downs yet he’s never felt fear until now, when it’s him as the victim.

“What do you want from me?!” He shouted, with all the fear trying not to show.

The unsub could only laugh more, “you’re scared..I like that.” He had said in his groggy voice.

Y/n grimaced in disgust from the comment, so this man is a sadist he thought to himself. Clearly it makes since with all the crimes he’s done that’s involved causing people pain. All Y/n could do was lay there, thinking if his team will be able to save him.

Four weeks. Y/n has been gone for four weeks. The BAU is scared for him and hopes he’s fine. The once joy and laughter that filled the office from Y/n’s jokes is now gone. All that is there is a gloomy and sad aura in the air. They wont give up, Y/n is family he will be saved and they wont give up.

The unsub liked to experiment with old school psychiatric methods, and he was using them on Y/n. The BAU was horrified when they received pictures and videos of the things that the unsub was doing to Y/n.

“He’s sick!” Yelled out Spencer. The BAU was angry at the unsub but glad to know Y/n is still alive.

The BAU knew that they had to act fast if they wanted to save Y/n’s life. They worked tirelessly to track down the unsub and rescue Y/n. They wouldn’t rest until they saved their friend, their member, their family.

Y/n is still tied on that god awful bed. He lost count of the experiments but he hated them. He didn’t know what was put in him or what it would do but he is scared. Today was the day he lost it.

“Hello Darling, I have something new for you and all you have to do is drink it.” The unsub said, walking towards Y/n as he heard the footsteps coming closer.

“No..please stop this.” Y/n said in a weak voice, it was almost like he was someone else. His color now all pale, his lips dry, and his body aching to where he wish he was shot instead.

The unsub can only laugh as he grabbed a hold of Y/n to force his mouth opened as he poured in the orange green liquid. Y/n squirmed as tears finally fell from his eyes behind the blindfold.

Burning. The liquid felt like it was burning his insides and like his head was close to exploding. Once all the liquid was finally gone the unsub released Y/n from his grasp and stepped back a bit to see the results.

The feeling made Y/n scream so loud and cry so hard that he just wanted to end it. All this pain he feels is on a whole different level and he hates it. He hates the feeling of being a lab rat, knowing he could die anytime now.

After a long and grueling investigation, the BAU finally caught the unsub. Y/n heard gunshots as he jolts from a sleep he fell into. He wanted to speak or scream for help but his body was too weak for him to do anything. He just sat there feeling weak and useless for once in his life.

He hears the door being kicked opened and heard a voice that he can’t believe he would say he missed but he did.

“I found him agent Reid” he heard Derek say as the footsteps got closer. Y/n doesn’t know why but he tried to break out, scared that they would hurt him.

“He really fucked him up..” Derek muttered under his breath as he went to take off the blindfold and the rope that was holding Y/n.

Y/n kept his eyes closed scared, he was shaking trying to process everything. Y/n the once fearless and brave agent is scared and has fear bottled up. He couldn’t do nothing but tightly grab onto Derek and cry. He cried and cried with the strength he had left until he felt his eyes grow heavy.

The case was one of the most challenging that the BAU had ever faced, but they were able to overcome it with their expertise and determination. They were glad to finally have Y/n back but they hope he can go back to being his happy and funny self. One can only hope.

#criminal minds #x male reader #experiments #anklesoraus #idk how tags work #tags are hard

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saintsofwarding · 8 months

Text

BURIAL

A dutiful daughter is a useful creature indeed. When Elena Lupu falls under Mother Miranda's notice at a disastrous tithing festival, she proves too valuable for the prophetess to kill. Lady Donna Beneviento has been keeping secrets from Miranda, secrets she can't abide, and Elena is the perfect cuckoo to send straight into Beneviento's nest. Spy on her, report her findings back to Miranda, and Elena- and her ailing father- get to live.

But Lady Beneviento's secrets, and her powers, prove more nightmarish than Elena could ever have dreamed. Even as she falls deeper and deeper into Donna's web, she can't help but wonder- who is she really, under the veil?

Chapter 1

Lady Donna Beneviento no longer remembered her life from before. Before Mother, before Claudia, before the gift.

(Before! Donna, you idiot, there is no before, that's the crazy talking, if there was a before that means I wouldn't have been there and that's not even worth thinking about! Stop being stupid and remember us, just us, I'm with you now and that's what matters most of all)

She'd taken that life in both hands and smothered it, like a mouse prised from a trap, its broken leg dangling, its eyes aglisten with pain, its fur wet with blood. Jewels in the candlelight, a handful of rubies against her corpse-white skin.

(A mercy killing, Donna.)

But if she did remember- if she tried, hard, and looked deep, she could- well, a mouse could never be un-smothered, it remained dead, but- a dark place could be rummaged around in. If she searched and searched through the dust and through the mold, she could almost see it again. This was winter, like then, and she was young, a child, her thin shoulders shivering under her fringed woollen shawl as a woman- her mother- urged her, gently, to the edge of the parapet.

The waterfall thundered, spray filling the air with haze, and the wind numbed young Donna's face to wood, but as her mother's hand smoothed over the neat braids of her hair and she told her to look, sweet girl, look down there, the darkness of the valley bloomed with light. It filled the night air, painted the haze with shades of fire-gold and vivid orange, and Donna could nearly taste it. The barley-sugar and the fried dough, the sweetness of mucenici and the rich, salty grease of roasted pork, so much of it it sizzled and spat in the flames as it dripped from the carcass's ribs. White hogs, legendary for their prized fat-marbled meat, were slaughtered for the birth of the cold, the coming of the dark months and the worm moons and the wolf nights. These were bonfires, dance-fires, and they lit up the frozen mountain valley like a reflection of the stars. Donna imagined the whirl of silk ribbons through the flames, the bells jangling, the music and the laughter and the songs.

And the people! Saints, the people, peasant farmers and craftsmen and hunters with their silver-chased guns, merchants hawking wares from caravan and saddle-bag and pack, telling tales of the strange, wondrous beasts they'd seen in the deep forest, the monster wolves, the stags with antlers that branched like a witch's tree and seemed to shift and move on their heads as if alive. Girls Donna's age, faces ruddy in the firelight as they stuffed themselves sick with sweets, whispering about books and embroidery and how much they hated gutting fish for the ciorba. Donna imagined herself, a pale little girl creeping in at the edge of the circle to display her own embroidery, a handkerchief she'd spent the last week perfecting, its design of crow feathers and holly so perfect, so fine, the individual stitches could not be detected, not even by touch.

They would love her. They would love her! If she showed them she could do things, make things, nice things, they would love her.

"Why can't we..." she started, and her mother cut her off with a shake of her head. In the crook of her arm, baby Claudia snuffled, sleeping in her fur hood, ignorant to the cold and the celebrations below.

"Every year," her mother told her, with a click of her tongue. Lady Beneviento looked as she always did, dressed in embroidered blouse and woollen shawl and softly-chiming ornaments that honored the Saints and Mother Miranda alike. She was thin and wan and gaunt around the edges, a great beauty gone to the edge of the grave, her black hair coiled at the nape of her neck like the knot of a hangman's noose-

(You wish she'd just hanged herself like some kind of normal person, didn't you? Instead of what she and Papa did for realsies. The way they looked at the bottom of the falls-! Ooooh, makes me shiver, doesn't it, Donna! The crows found them long before you did, didn't they? And the rocks found them first, and the water, lapping up at them so soft and gentle, you thought they were big dolls at first, big dolls all broken, because how could those faces be Mommy and Daddy, how could the rocks have treated them so badly, smashed apart like porcelain dropped from such a terrible height-)

"Every year you ask me," Lady Beneviento chided her. "Do I have to answer you again?"

Donna said nothing. She turned slowly back toward the valley below, watching the firelight through the mist. The force of the falls vibrated under her slippers, and she could almost feel the house behind her, a looming weight pressing on the surface of her mind like a stone against water.

Don't let it through, Donna.

But she'd been born here, up in the tower room that stared disconsolate over the mountainside as if waiting for something. Her father had taken her afterbirth in Berengario's great silver chalice, in the way House Beneviento had for so many sister centuries, only this time, for her and for Claudia, later, it was not delivered to the monster wolves- holy creatures- at the edge of the woods. It was taken down, down, down the long winding path, over the bridges and through the lych-yard and down and down the mountain to the glow of candles and the click of gilded talons, to a smile with teeth and the taste of mold and incense on the back of the tongue.

To Mother Miranda, who, if Donna's father was to be believed, had taken it from the chalice in his upraised hands as he'd knelt at her feet, had slid her claws deep into its pulpy mass, and had smiled as she sank her teeth into the bloody flesh and tore a chunk out.

Affinity, she'd whispered, and even telling it years later Donna's father smiled like the sun was on his face. Donna had nagged at him to tell her the story as she perched, legs swinging, on a chair by his workbench while he carved his pretty dolls and clever puppets.

House Beneviento had ever been full of silver tongues and quick fingers, ever since the great Berengario had brought his famed silver automata to life within sight of this mountain place, animated by their glowing crystal hearts. It was said ghosts lived within the crystal, that they were what gave the automata life, were what had made them write and preen and dance, all in eerie, perfect silence save for the faint click-click of their mechanical innards. Now, centuries later, his descendant's creations dangled on strings from the rafters around them, paint drying, glue setting, gilt fresh as snowfall, newborn things like Donna had once been.

"What made that so special?" she'd groused. "She ate it? So what?"

"So," Lord Beneviento had said, mocking her insistent tone, "It means you could be special, too, poppet. You could be her child. Her special child."

She'd grabbed at her father's coattails, and when she spoke it was in a high, keening whine, pathetic with anxiety. "But I'm already your child. No one else's. Don't say I'm anyone else's, please, please, please-"

"Donna," her father said, low in his throat.

But her grip tightened, sweaty on the fabric. "Can't you just show me how to carve the hands, how to paint the faces again, please?"

(Oooh, Donna, but that made you excited, didn't it? Not just a princess but the prettiest princess! Miranda's pretty princess. Special, special, cakes and tea, a dress for every day of the year. Those golden talons stroking your hair. Everyone in town not being scared of you and your dead face anymore. They'd bow before you! Shower you with devotion! So much love you could choke on it! But you were too scared, weren't you, and that's what ended up doing this to you, twisting you and maiming you, little mouse in a trap with a broken leg. Maybe if you'd been braver, been bolder, the gift would have given you abilities good enough for Mother. It's all right, I get it. I do. I'm no portrait myself, ha ha ha! I know how it feels. We're a team, you and I. A matched set. You're too scared and too broken so just do as I say, and we'll be just fine)

"I just want to go see," little Donna whispered to her mother.

"What was that?"

"The...the festivals. It's holy, that's what the gardener says. A holy night and it's lucky to dance," she said all in a rush. She huddled deeper into her shawl; the cold had tightened, bitter against her teeth. She barely felt her toes. "Maybe...maybe we could be lucky, I mean me and you and Papa and Claudia, we could all be-"

"No," her mother snarled. Donna shut up with a flinch. "You don't leave. You can't. Never!"

"Just one time couldn't hurt," Donna muttered.

Her mother's hand snapped to her face and pinched it, pinched her cheek so hard between her thin fingers the pain felt like a needle through her, hot and throbbing and so sudden she gasped. Her eyes snapped wide as her mother yanked her close, as she bent to Donna's level, as she stared into Donna's face with eyes so huge her colorless irises were ringed in white. She radiated panic, bitter and awful; Claudia stirred in her arms and began to fuss, but Lady Beneviento ignored her.

"You can never go down to the village," she told Donna. "You set foot past the gates alone, you even think of crossing the bridge, and I'll break your legs myself. I'll take a hammer to you like Lord Heisenberg and break them so badly you shall never walk again. Do you understand?"

She gave Donna a shake, nails biting deep into her flesh. "Do you understand me?"

Tears streamed from Donna's eyes; she tasted blood, tasted the acid of fear. "I-"

"Do you?"

"Y...yes-"

"Good." She released Donna and began to rock the baby in her arms, little Claudia grumbling and twisting her small newborn face. Their mother settled, serene, a pale figure in the night, like nothing had happened, but the light had not left her eyes, bright with mania, with a terror that touched madness.

Donna's heart raced. Her face ached, hot and pulsing in time with her heartbeat. She couldn't move, not even when the cold reached her knees, not even when bursts and pinwheels of color lit the night, the smell of saltpeter reaching them through the gloom as the fireworks spiraled higher and higher toward the moon.

(And you stayed that way a long time)

Donna, Donna, Donna, quiet as a mouse. Little Dolly Donna, creep about the house!

I should have run-

(But if you had I would never have been born! And you'd miss me, wouldn't you?)

I can't miss what was never there.

(But I am here, Donna)

The dark closed in. Claudia was a child, bright and sunny, laughing in the garden amidst yellow flowers. She raced ahead, pigtail whipping over her shoulder.

Come find me!

Donna covered her eyes, then peeked, and Claudia was there, face bright with mirth. She took after their father in that way.

Don't look, Donna!

She covered her eyes again, and the darkness grew closer until it was all around, until she smelled the damp and stone and unbroken cold of a place far belowground, that had never, never seen the sun.

And when she took her hands away, Claudia was gone.

She sat on a spindly chair on an uneven flagstone floor, chair legs rasping against grit each time she shifted her weight. The house above crushed down against her, another sense honed by time.

A pale figure glowed before her in the darkness, lace and silk petticoats and porcelain grin, perched on the stone lip of an old, old well.

(I am here, and you are here, and we are never,

never,

never

going away.)

#re8 #re8 fanfiction #resident evil village #donna beneviento #elena lupu #angie beneviento #mother miranda #re8 oc #re8 fic #karl heisenberg #resident evil #chapter 1 #cw child death #cw body horror #cw gore #gothic horror #gothic romance #wlw #claudia beneviento

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alexsoenomel · 1 year

Text

Bloody Creature Poster Girl (Dean Winchester x Reader smut)

Summary: You are a special kind of demon and one day you ran into The Winchesters, not knowing you would end up in the sheets of the older brother Dean

Pairing: Dean x Succubus!Reader

Warnings: just mentions of murder, abuse, pedophiles, rapists and murderers (not too graphic) AND then at the end sexy times with Dean and by sexy times I mean oral (female receiving)

Word count: 5441

Note: Lost Girl is one of my comfort shows, so I decided to combine the elements from the show and write this (it’s an old one) Also the tittle is a name of the song by one of my favorite bands In This Moment . Listen to the song HERE Like/ reblog or both if you like it :)

YOUR POV

Ever since I killed my boyfriend 5 years ago I’ve been on the road; occasionally skipping town, crashing in rusty motel rooms and eating junk food. I was wanted for a murder I didn’t mean to commit. That sounds silly but it was true. I was 17 and in love, he was my first. We decided to go and watch the stars one night but we all know what that meant. I ended up losing my virginity to him and finally killing him. I didn’t know how I did it though. While I was on top of him I suddenly had a strange urge, I got hungry....I ignored it until it was gone...and he was dead. I will remember his face forever, pale as snow with a huge creepy smile on his face. I ran back home as fast as I could, I was terrified I didn’t know what to do or say but when cops came to my house and my mum let them in I knew what I needed to do...run. I got some clean clothes in a bag and all of my saved up money I had at the moment, my car keys and disappeared through the window of my room; not leaving a message for my mum, without a goodbye. It was killing me to know she was probably worried sick but I couldn’t go back, I will bring her only trouble. After that it took me a couple of days to find out how my boyfriend actually died, when the hunger came back. Apparently for whatever reason I craved sexual energy, I was hungry for it. That was when I realized I wasn’t exactly 100% human; hell I wasn’t human at all. Someone found me while I was hiding, a woman, she was exactly like me. Her name was Jane and she was my mother. I didn’t believe her at first at all, I didn’t believe anyone at that time but when she told me I have a birth mark near my bellybutton and how I was allergic to strawberries...oh I fucking believed her. She said she heard about Kyle in the papers and that’s how she managed to track me. Then she told me a story how falling in love with a wrong guy brought her demise. The guy, my dad was like us, but much stronger and violent. One day he reached his breaking point when my mum was feeding on a guy who was a registered sex offender. He got so jealous and tried to kill her and me. Apparently, it was his way of keeping us “close” to his heart forever. My mother barely made it out alive. She decided it was too dangerous for me to be in her care, because he was after her and wasn’t going to stop, so she left me on the porch of a woman I have known as mother since birth.

“What happened to dad?”

She told me she managed to cover her tracks for a while... “He thinks I’m in Miami on vacation.”

She finally told me what I have wanted to know since I killed Kyle - what I am.

“A succubus.” She said with a smile.

“A what?”

“A succubus, a demon that feeds on sexual energy of humans...and other beings.”

That hit me like a damn baseball bat. Me? A demon? IMPOSSIBLE. I have always thought that was stuff of fairytales, demons, angels and all...I was wrong?

“Why aren’t we in hell then?”

She smiled before answering the question. She had the most gorgeous smile I’ve ever seen. “We are not that kind of demons, darling. We roam free. Once we hit puberty our powers emerge, before that we’re just like humans. Real demons have their powers and abilities since birth.”

It finally made sense, everything. I finally knew who I was. But at the same time I had a lot of questions. How do I control my hunger? How do I not kill everyone in my path when I’m hungry? Kyle wasn’t the only one; I have left quite a blood trail before meeting my real mum. I couldn’t help it. It was like a primal urge to me; men or women...I didn’t care, when I was hungry I couldn’t stop myself. That was where mum came and saved the day. For the next two years I’ve been learning about my abilities and everything that came with being a succubus. She had rules. She was organized, meticulous and fucking amazing to say at least.

Rule number 1: DO NOT KILL INNOCENT PEOPLE.

“Your dad and I would feed on serial killers, rapists and pedophiles, you know, before he went crazy.”

She told me to hunt bad people for food. In every town in this damn country there ware bad people, you just had to find them.

Rule number 2: If you want to get food, use your seductive touch whenever it’s necessary.

I knew I was capable of doing that, that’s how I managed to survive while I was on the run; robbing stores with elegance and not paying for motel rooms. How? I just had to touch someone and seductively tell them what I want and boom. They would go under some sort of a trance. They were “in love” with me until the touch wears off.

Rule number 3: Never let the police know you exist, never leave a trail or something they could use to track you.

Rule number 4: If you get hurt in any way, feed, but don’t go all the way if you don’t want to kill the guy or the girl…unless it’s someone bad of course.

“And if you want to feed on a serial killer or a rapist by all means necessary do it, but...know they are usually creepy and freaking ugly.”

“Seriously?” I asked a little surprised. I did not know about the healing part. If I get hurt or sick I would usually just do whatever a normal human does…silly.

“What? That’s how we heal (Y/N).”

Rule number 5: Beware of the hunters.

“There are people who go out of their way and kill creatures like you and I. BE CAREFUL! Especially if you come across Sam and Dean Winchester, run.”

“But they are only humans, mum. What they can possibly do?”

“Trust me on Sam and Dean, (Y/N). They have done things you can’t even imagine. They are extremely dangerous.”

And then she proceeded to tell me how they killed Death itself, made ACTUAL ANGELS fall from the sky and killed demons like it was child’s splay, so I got the memo.

Those 5 rules helped her get by while running and hiding all these years. She then showed me how to control my hunger.

“You have to remember you’re not an animal, the hunger doesn’t control you; you control the hunger. So if you don’t want to kill the person that’s underneath or on top of you, start slow.”

It was easier said than done but with a little practice I managed to do it plus mum gave me some sort of syrup her friend doctor made to control the hunger. It worked. I also found out that if I wanted to feed I could just kiss the person which was a lot more practical if you ask me.

Everything seemed to be in the right place. I was happy travelling around the country with my mum, seeing places I have always wanted to see, doing what I wanted...until he found us. My dad found us. We didn’t know how, but he did and he ruined everything. He ruined my one chance in happiness. He was stronger than both of us. He came armed with a knife and I didn’t see it. He stabbed her right in the stomach, killing her slowly. Before she took her last breath she told me to run. I didn’t want to leave her, she made me. When I was holding her she touched my hand and made me do it. I don’t know how she did it, but she showed me how much she cared and loved me. This was pure motherly love. Through tears and anger I told her I loved her...and ran before he got a chance to hurt me. I’ve never seen that man ever again.

****

This brings us to now. Currently I’m in Lebanon, Kansas searching for my next meal. So far I have fed on one pedophile and two rapists in Kansas and Peter Scully was next on the menu. He was a serial killer that no one knew about. The police knew someone was out there killing innocent women for shits and giggles but they didn’t know who was doing it. Luckily I was faster than police and managed to identify the bad guy. I only managed to do that because he, in fact was a freaking policeman and I got lucky. When I charmed him with my touch hoping to tell me all about the case, he spilled the truth. He told me he needed to drink the girl’s blood because it makes his skin look healthier.... For a human, this dude was disgusting.

The plan was when he finished work at around 7pm to follow him to his house and suck him dry. That was exactly what I did. He wasn’t married didn’t have any children so this was an easy meal. I broke in with ease into his house and went to his living room. The bastard was packing to go on a hunt. I snuck behind his back and touched his shoulder.

“Hi, handsome.” I said as he turned around to face me. “Long time no see?”

“Hi! What-what are you doing here love?” He asked while looking at me like I was a goddess with a huge smile on his face. I loved the fact I could make anyone fall in love with me if I wanted to.

“Oh you know just stopped by to see you.” My hands were slowly going lower and lower towards him junk as he bit his lip not knowing what’s coming next. He probably thought I was going to sleep with him...oh, honey. “I remembered something.”

“And what’s that?” He asked. God his face made me want to vomit. He was in his 30’s and he looked like he still lived in his mum’s basement. Dirty brown hair, big glasses and teeth so yellow and crocked you would think it was corn. But he was a bad guy and I was hungry...

“I forgot to give a goodbye kiss back at the police station.” I said and kissed him. My tongue DID NOT enter his mouth as I started feeding. I could feel the energy as he was slowly losing his breath and I was getting stronger. When a Succubus feeds their eyes go blue as the energy enters their body in a form of a blue smoke. That blue smoke provided us with energy and strength, plus we heal to a degree. Overall it felt so good.

“Hey!” I suddenly heard a raspy deep voice of a man behind me.

I stopped draining the almost dead man as he collapsed on the floor. When I turned around I saw two GOURGOUS looking men with guns pointing at me. I put my hands up as my heart started beating faster. If I said I wasn’t scared for my life I would be lying. They weren’t wearing uniforms so they definitely weren’t cops. I had a feeling they were hunters.

“I can explain!” I said with hands still up. “Please don’t kill me.”

“Give us one good reason why we shouldn’t kill you?” The shorter one spoke. “We have been trying to track you for weeks now. You’re very good at covering your tracks sweetheart.”

“But why? I’m doing the right thing here.”

“As I remember killing innocent people isn’t exactly a right thing to do.” The tall one spoke.

“But he is not innocent.” I finally put my hands down. I was still scared for my life but decided to try talking some sense into these guys. I had no idea who they were but they sure were intimidating. “He is a serial killer. He killed two girls and drank their blood because he said it’s good for his skin and he was planning to kill a 16 year old girl tonight.”

“And how do you know that?”

“Because, I did my research and I don’t feed on innocent people.” I said annoyed. The shorter guy was really pushing my buttons.

“Feed? So this blue smoke is your food? ” He spoke again this time confused.

“Okay, let’s go like this; check his bag over here; If you find ropes, duct tape, knives, a bloody empty bottle and a girls picture with her address on the back will you please put the guns down and listen?”

“Sam go check, I’m gonna keep an eye on her.”

“Sam? As in Sam Winchester? You must be Dean then?” My voice was shaky as my face went white as if I have just seen a ghost. Now I knew I had to be careful with my words if I want to make it out alive.

“In the flesh sweet checks.” He said.

WELL SHIT!

While Sam was rummaging through the bag I was trying not to have a panic attack right there and then. My mum told me about these guys...she warned me to be careful and I forgot to check if anyone was following me like I would usually do. How stupid of me...

“She’s right Dean.” Sam finally said.

Dean finally put his gun down as Sam checked if the son of a bitch was breathing. “He’s still alive.”

“If I don’t give him back his Chi he’s going to die though. And I’m not planning to. That son of a bitch doesn’t deserve to live.”

“What are you exactly? I have never seen anything like this before.” Sam asked.

“A succubus.”

“A succu-what now?” Dean asked confused.

“A succubus, Dean. “

“She’s a demon.” Sam added. “I thought Succubi only appear in dreams to seduce men.”

“Not really. That stuff is from fairytales. We don’t belong in hell nor do we hunt people’s dreams. We live a free life, the only thing we need to do to survive is feed.”

“Will anyone please tell me what exactly is a succu-demon?” Dean raised his voice a bit.

“I feed off sexual energy of people and other creatures to survive. That’s how I heal and keep myself heathy…through sex…more so.”

“So you bang people for food?”

“Not exactly. Just kissing is enough.” I laughed at his conclusion.

Dean seemed impressed for whatever reason. I think I have dodged a bullet this time. “Look, I know you’re hunters but I promise you I don’t kill innocent people. I go out of my way and feed on rapists, pedophiles and serial killers. I would never hurt a fly but I need to feed. Monsters can be humans as well.”

“Dean, I believe her.” Sam said. “I mean this kind of people deserve a death sentence and she’s giving them just that.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

OH THANK GOD.

I was relived, my mum never told me the notorious Winchesters had the brains to understand, she would always tell me how I was above all humans and how they were too stupid to understand. She was definitely wrong about that.

“Thank you for not killing me, I guess.” I said. “Can I finish my meal then?”

“Yeah…I guess.” Sam said scrunching his forehead. This was all new to him.

I got down on my knees and picked the guy’s head up. He was probably in a coma at this point. I kissed him and took the last bit of energy he had until he stopped breathing.

DEAN’S POV

As I was watching her feed I couldn’t help but stare and admire her beauty. She had a perfect figure and that ass in those jeans fuck man…There was just something about this girl, I couldn’t put my finger on it what it was, I just knew I wanted to get to know her. I hated demons but damn this one was a killer. I just hope I don’t end up like my little brother hooked on demon blood or some other crap.

“I’m (Y/N) by the way.” She said and stood up. She was glowing, she looked rejuvenated and even more beautiful.

“So what now (Y/N)?” I asked her.

“Now, I skip town and disappear.”

I felt like she just punched me in the face. It was more of a reality check. She was a freaking demon, then why was I feeling like this?

“Don’t you have a home?” Sam asked her.

“Not really, I’ve been on a road for a very long time, for safety reasons.”

“Before you go, do you wanna grab a beer?” I finally asked her.

“Sure. But I think I need something stronger than beer.”

“Like whiskey?”

“You read my mind Dean.” She smiled. She had the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen. I was so confused. Maybe she just had that effect on everyone. I mean I wasn’t blind, she was beautiful but knowing what she was I thought I would have my guard up at all times, that I’m gonna hate her but…I didn’t? She was different.

We left the body there, but all the evidence of him being a serial killer was next to him. May he rot in hell with Crowley by his side torturing him all day every day.

We went to the bar we always go after we finish a case. Sam had a beer and me and (Y/N) had a whole bottle a whiskey. We talked about everything that night and me and Sam really got to know her. From her childhood to now…everything. She even told us when she found out she was a succubus- when she killed her boyfriend. The look on her face broke my heart a little. She really loved the guy, I can see it in her eyes as cheesy as that sounds but it was the truth- eyes never lie.

“Why no one told you what you are?” My brother asked her.

“My adoptive mother had no idea. She found me on her porch.”

She really went through a lot of crap and when she found her biological mother everything went to hell. And her father…man he was a dick. We had a lot in common.

“How do you control it though?” I asked her taking a sip of my whiskey.

“What?”

“The hunger.”

“My mother thought me.”

“She was…?”

“Yeah like my dad.”

After a good amount of alcohol the conversation went to a whole different route.

“So...have you ever banged a girl?” I asked her feeling the kick of whiskey in my brain.

“DEAN!” Sam shouted. He was kind of still sober.

“What?”

“It’s okay Sam. And yes, we don’t discriminate.”

“Nice.”

“Yeah when you can orgasm.” She then added. Now I was intrigued.

“What do you mean?” Then I added whispering. I was dead drunk by this point. “You can’t orgasm?”

“Real classy Dean.” Sam told me but I ignored him.

“I can but then I would kill the poor soul.”

“But you do feed on...”

“Yeah Dean but I don’t sleep with serial killers...I don’t have that fetish, plus most of them are creepy looking.“

I laughed at that statement, damn this chick was something else. We stayed at that bar till 3am. When she said she needed to go before cops start the investigation I got a little big sober.

“Why don’t you come with us?” I couldn’t just let her leave. Who knows when I will see her again.

“Whaaa-?” She mumbled.

“(Y/N) I don’t think you’re able to drive. You’re dead drunk.” AND THANK YOU SAMMY!!!!

“Fine, fine. I really need my beauty sleep.”

And that ladies and gentlemen was just a start of something...interesting.

YOUR POV

I woke up with a biggest hangover in a room I didn’t recognize. My head was pulsing and I could still taste alcohol in my mouth. I looked under the covers and saw I was still dressed, the last thing I remembered was Dean asking me if I ever slept with a girl, everything else is pretty much a blur.Knowing myself and my high libido, sleeping with Sam or Dean…or both would not have been much of a surprise. I went to the bathroom to get myself together and thank god whoever house this was they had mouthwash because damn, how much have I had last night? I put my hair in a messy pony tail, washed my face and left the room trying to figure where I was…The hallway was aerie and cold. This whole place looked like a bunker people would to hide during a war. As I was starting to freak out a little I heard Dean’s voice. So this was their place? I followed the echo until I found myself in the library and the Winchesters were there reading books. The library was every bookworm’s dream to say at least.

“Well, look who’s finally up!” Dean said raising his voice a little.

“Shhhh, don’t yell, my head is killing me.” I said and sat down.

“Let me get you an aspirin.” Sam said and went to get the magic pill.

“Where am I?” I asked. “Do you guys live here?”

“Yep, sweet home Alabama; even though we’re not in Alabama.”

“It’s a great song though.” I smiled. I haven’t noticed until now just how beautiful his eyes were. Damn, his whole face was beautiful. Green eyes, freckles, perfect smile…god I was feeling hungry again.

“Here you go.” I heard Sam’s voice pulling me back to reality, giving me a glass of water and aspirin. Bless his soul.

“Thank you.” I chugged the whole glass in a matter of seconds swallowing the pill. “What are you reading?”

“Oh you know about demon stuff…succubusy things.” Dean said.

“ Really?”

“Don’t worry we weren’t trying to find a way to kill you. It’s just we have never even heard about your kind.” Sam told me. He was like a little child so enthusiastic and curious, I found it quite adorable.

“And what do those books say?”

“You’re pretty badass.” Dean said. I couldn’t help but smile.

“Yeah, from boosted strength, speed and beauty to transferring someone’s chi…” Sam added.

“Yeah well, it comes with a price.”

“I don’t get it though, is this your weasel or…”

“Oh no Sam, we are not that type of demons. This is me, if you stab me I can die if I don’t feed; it’s pretty simple.”

We spent that day in the bunker, relaxing and basically doing nothing. It was Sunday and the bothers decided it was time for a break. While we were having lunch I couldn’t help but think about my different kind of hunger. How can I be hungry if I’ve fed yesterday? It has never happened to me before. I had a beautiful burger in front of me but I was hungry for something entirely different. I was hungry for Dean. I would as subtle as possible look at him and boy the view was magnificent. I have always had a thing for men’s arms and fingers, and how the veins would show slightly. And if a guy has long fingers I had to have them in my mouth or in me. The main problem was though, I couldn’t. I couldn’t sleep with him without hurting him in any way; I didn’t want to kill him. Hell, if I did Sam will haunt me till the day I die (and the day I die would be when he kills me). That’s the price of being a succubus- if you like someone, don’t tell them, instead walk away and burry those feelings.

“Guys, I’m forever grateful for you not killing me and for taking care of my drunken ass. For the first time in a very long time I don’t feel like a monster.”

“You’re not (Y/N).” Sam told me.

“Definitely one of the good guys.” Dean added while stuffing his mouth with dessert- pecan pie.

“My mum would always tell me it doesn’t matter what you are. It only matters what you do. Her number one rule was: never kill innocent people. Without her help I would probably end up killing who knows how many innocent people.”

“Well let’s make a toast.” Dean said and raised his bottle of beer. Sam and I did the same. “For mama succubus!”

“FOR MAMA SUCCUBUS!” And so we took a sip of our beers. One thing mum didn’t know about these guys was they had golden hearts and behind those serious (and may I add beautiful) faces were two very kind and carrying men.

“I hate to break this happy moment but I will be leaving tonight.”

“Why?” Sam asked me.

“I have to; the police probably think they are hunting a serial killer. I have to skip town before something bad happens.”

DEAN’S POV

When I heard those words come from her mouth it was like someone punched me in the face...again.

“But why do you think something will happen?” I asked her as I chugged the whole bottle within seconds.

“It always does. Plus I can’t risk it.”

“Risk what?”

She looked annoyed, angry almost. She took a deep breath and shifted in her seat before responding. “My hunger will come back and there are no bad people to feed on at the moment in this town.”

She then excused herself and went to her room to pack. I couldn’t help but stare at her perfectly shaped ass.

“Dude!” I heard my brother say.

“Yeah?”

“The way you were looking at her and now checking out her ass. You’re more than obvious man.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Sam.” I lied. God, he knows me so well, I hated it sometimes.

“Whatever you’re thinking just remember, she can kill you.”

I mean he was right, but I didn’t care. She hasn’t even touched me and I was so infatuated with her.

“If she does, I’m gonna die a happy man.” I said and left the room.

“She was staring first; I’m just doing the rest of the job. Plus if I die, I will go out with a bang.” I thought to myself before knocking.

YOUR POV

When I opened the door my heart stopped working. My hunger went through the roof as I tried my best to keep my composure. “Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something?” Dean asked after shutting the door.

“Shoot.”

“Are you hungry? And by hungry I mean are your succubus sensors tingling?”

Where was he going with this?

“If you put it like that yeah, king of.”

“Why don’t you feed on me?”

I didn’t really know how to answer his question at first because I was in shock. It was like he was wishing a death sentence. Was he aware I was checking him out?

“Dean, what has gotten into you?”

“You.”

“But-“

“Look all I’m sayin’ is if you’re hungry I’m here. You don’t have to skip town just for food.”

“I don’t think you understood me properly. I CAN KILL YOU DE-!”

I couldn’t even finish my sentence; the idiot grabbed my face and cut me off with a kiss. Describing the kiss would be like describing the scent you smell every time you “borrow” your boyfriends hoodie; impossible, but all the synonyms for beautiful and freaking hot could do. He kissed my lips gently before his tongue went in my mouth. I wrapped my hands around his neck to pull him closer as my hunger went full swing and I started to feed. I could feel his energy, so lustful and strong entering my body as I started to feel stronger but even hornier. I was going for it slow, thank god for mum, I could control the urges. I shoved Dean onto the bed and sat on his lap, my forehead against his.

“You’re crazy Winchester.”

“Hey it’s not my fault you’re obvious when you stare.”

Oh…

“Shit.” A wave of embarrassment went through my whole body but left right after Dean pressed his lips onto mine again.

“Yeah, I noticed.” He smirked.

“How do you feel?”

He didn’t look like people would usually when I would touch them. He was biting his lower lip not keeping his gaze off me, slowly driving me mad.

“Freaking amazing.” He whispered and went for my neck. He left kisses upon kisses as my hips naturally started to grind against his already hard and may I say BIG dick. He was gentle, yet a little bit rough. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the pleasure I was feeling before it hit me…

“Dean?!”

“Yeah?” He responded between kisses.

“We can’t fuck stupid. I’m gonna kill you.” I have realized just how much sex with me was deadly when I had a one night stand few weeks ago. I needed healing I had pneumonia and well he was hot. He took me home after few drinks and well…we slept together. Not wanting to kill him I stopped right as I was about to cum, but that wasn’t enough. He was unconscious and his heart beat was slow. I took him to hospital where he spent the next 2 weeks; he barely made it out alive.

“I know.” Dean said. “I just want to do this.” His strong hands cupped my ass as he lifted me up and threw me onto the bed. He took my jeans off as my mind went into a fog. God he was really doing this.

DEAN’S POV

If I couldn’t have her whole, I could at least give her something she probably never had without fear, a freaking orgasm. I didn’t want to waste any time and make her wait. I started slow, kissing her inner thighs around her panties, heating her whole body up. Her whole body was covered in shivers as I kissed her though her black panties.

“You know I can’t feed on you like that Dean?” She managed to say.

“Sweetheart, I’m multifunctional. I can be more than just dinner.” I told her and she laughed. God, that smile!

“Good to know.”

She was so mesmerizing it was unreal.

I took her panties off and soon she was too busy moaning my name to say anything else. I was licking and biting every inch of her when in a split second she grabbed my hair and was pulling hard. I took me by surprise but I loved it.

“Fuck, more. Ugh use your fingers…Please.” She begged me.

I was as obedient as a dog my two fingers went in her while my tongue was licking her sensitive clit now. I knew she was close. Her grip on my hair got stronger as her thighs were squeezing my head a little.

“FUCK I’M CLOSE!” She screamed. I started pumping faster and harder, adding the third finger before she completely lost it.

“DEAN!!!!” She screamed one more time before coming all over my fingers and mouth. She tasted so fucking good, so sweet and just…fuck man. I couldn’t even describe it. I climbed on top of her to kiss her and boy she was a mess…a beautiful mess. Before I could think of something to say she grabbed my face and kissed me hard.

“Thank you.” She told me. “I’ve never had an orgasm like this holy shit.”

“The pleasure is all mine, (Y/N).”

“In my whole life as a freaking demon of sex I have never came across a man or a woman who can do what you just did.”

“Were they all bad?”

“After Kyle…yeah.”

“So I guess I’m the chosen one.” I joked.

“Yeah, but you know I still have to leave this place.”

Damn reality check again. She must have noticed the face of disappointment and sadness I made right after she told me that because she kissed me again and explained why. She can never be in a normal relationship; she can never fall in love or be monogamous due to her nature because she will eventually lose control which I understood.

“Hey I can’t stop you, but I sure can give you my number and tell you to call me whenever you’re in town and up for little fun…without sex of course.”

“Not before I return the favor. “ She said and kissed me again.

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ratyts · 11 months

Text

(not knowing) is bliss (miguel o’hara x gn!reader)

masterlist

this could be about anyone but i wrote it with miguel in mind (literally does not say miguel once in the text). don’t love the way this reads (i hate it) but i haven’t written anything in a while so forgive me

warnings: very light implied spoilers for atsv, i’m a loser and i should stick to prose

word count: 661

something was wrong with your husband. the doctors said it was not uncommon to see changes in behavior with gunshot victims, especially when your husband was lucky to have survived considering where he was shot. they said he lost a lot of blood, that he was very lucky to be alive. but it was a traumatic experience, and these experiences could change people. of course, the doctor had specified, in some medical jargon, but all you heard was that your husband was alive. breathing. he was lucky, that meant he would be okay.

since he’s returned home, you’ve been defining what the doctor meant by ‘okay’. what it meant for him to be alive, and lucky. his physical recovery was swift– something no one expected– he was running and playing with your daughter only a week and a half after he was discharged.

the first glance you saw of his bare chest after the shooting was in passing, he was rushing to get in the shower while you happened to be in the bedroom. you were doing something insignificant, folding clothes, or maybe flipping through a book, when he rushed in. your eyes flitted up to his form for only a second, but a second was enough. his skin, his body, they looked fine. there was a small pale spot on his back, where the wound was. there was no bruising, the wound only whispering traces of its existence. you had been too consumed with the miracle of his recovery to notice the way his arms looked bigger, stronger. the definition in his back you had never seen before. something was different about your husband.

he had woken up in the hospital, only moments after you arrived. it was a blur in your memories, the nurse rushing out to alert the doctor, you begging them to let you in the room, the stilling of your heart when you heard him speak from behind the curtain. “let them in,” he said, the familiar baritone of his voice nearly sending you to your knees.

three words from him were enough for you to run into the room, pushing away the curtain. his brown hair was rustled, and his gaze was dark even in the fluorescent hospital light. you stood at the foot of his bed, eyes wide. at the time, you attributed your hesitation to shock. not suspicion, it couldn’t have been. you faltered the moment he gave you a soft smile, anyway. maybe there had been something wrong with you.

he was undeniably your husband. he wore your wedding band. he called you the sweet names he always did. he liked the same food, wore the same clothes, combed his hair in the strange pattern he always did. but you were doubting him, sick to your stomach with guilt, you were still doubting him. it came in waves, at first. the first night back from the hospital, he held you tighter than he ever had before. that was expected, you clung onto him just as painfully. when you felt his hot breath on your ear, whispering how much he loved you, how lucky he was to have you, how he would never let you go, you said nothing, only holding him tighter. his voice was heavy, intensity dripping off every syllable. that was expected, you had almost lost him. he had almost lost you.

the seed of fear sprouted in your mind. when his possessive grip didn’t soften, when the darkness in his eyes only deepened, when frown lines around his lips only seemed more prominent. when he held you like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to this earth. he had always been a wonderful father and doting husband, but he was only more committed, only more loving. it should’ve been a good thing. you wanted it to be a good thing. the pit in your stomach grew. you said nothing, and if he noticed, he said nothing either.

#miguel o'hara #miguel atsv #atsv #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman #spiderman 2099

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mitsuki-komori · 2 months

Text

Your Soothing Heart (And Cats!)

WHAAAT? I’m alive? Yeaaaaaah

“Luck! Luck!” Magna yelled as he walked through the woods, visibly irritated. ‘Gah… Where the hell has the brat gone now?’

This was supposed to be a quick mission… Find a stupid cat and you’re done. It was as simple as that. But no. Luck just had to go run off on his own. Magna swears, Luck will never change. Magna thought about how far he was from the village the cat comes from, could a cat really wander this far? They checked everywhere else…

Magna only had the patience to look for one animal.

With each step, Magna became more frustrated than he was before. Luck really knew how to get on his nerves sometimes… “Luck! This isn’t funny, come out. You’re pissing me off.

That’s when Magna heard a quiet ‘meow’. He snapped his head over to the sound and saw a little white cat with golden eyes. A cat they (AS A TEAM) we’re supposed to find. At least this was a plus.

Magna stepped forward to pick it up, that’s when it started to go the opposite way. “Oh, you little—“

As they went through the forest, Magna couldn’t help but get the feeling that the cat wasn’t necessarily trying to get away from him… Since it kept waiting once it was far enough away from Magna… That or it’s just that mean.

That’s when it hit him. This mana. It was strange, and it had bad vibes all over it. Following the cat more, the mana got stronger.

The little cat went into a cave. That was suspicious in itself, but a mission is a mission. When Magna got in, he was hit with a wave of warmth and purple light came from around the corner. And the more he went in, the more of this purple gunky, charcoal looking stuff there was.

Then his heart dropped. Reaching the end of the small cave, he saw where the cat was leading him. On the ground, completely passed out, was Luck. Magna ran over in an instant. “Luck! Luck, hey! Are you alright?”

Magna began to feel nauseous. He put one arm under Luck’s knees, the other on his back as he picked Luck up (the cat on Luck’s stomach). Magna could tell this had something to do with this gross mana. So he got out of there with Luck as fast as possible. “Goddamn it, Luck… You’re so reckless… You’ll get yourself killed one of these days.” Magna muttered with discomfort in his tone.

Once Magna believed they were far enough, he laid Luck’s unconscious body against a tree and tried to shake him awake. He looked pale and filthy… ‘What did the brat get himself into?’

Luck started stirring awake, his vision was blurry… There was a strange sinking feeling in his chest as he looked around.

“Luck? Are you okay? You look pretty out of it…” Magna places a hand on Luck’s cheek to turn his head towards him. The feeling was strange. It’s like Luck was freezing and burning at the same time, there was definitely something wrong.

As soon as Luck realized he was awake, his breath hitched and it began to pick up. He slapped Magna’s hand away and scoot back.

“Don’t touch me!”

Magna looked shock as his face covered itself with worry and confusion. “Woah! Luck, it’s me… You’re okay…”

Luck groaned in pain as he looked around frantically, clearly very panicked and confused. He began to shake and his heart wouldn’t stop pounding in his chest. “It hurts! Make it stop!” Luck clenched his head, tearing up.

Magna could feel his anxiety go through the roof. He’s never seen Luck like this, and it scared the shit of him. He hated seeing someone he cared about so much in pain. The worst part was that he didn’t know how to help. “Luck, hey… What‘s wrong?”

It was like Luck was in a different world, seeing things that weren’t there. “I’m sorry… It’s my fault…” Luck muttered in his nonsensical gibberish. He reached his hand out to nothing… or something…

Magna was getting real sick of whatever game this was. However, he was much more concerned than he was annoyed. Magna pulled Luck into a tight embrace and whispered softly. “Hey, it’s alright… I’m here… just calm down…”

Luck’s voice got quieter as he took time to listen to Magna’s heartbeat. The pounding was calm. Luck rested his head and became silent.

“Jeez… You scared me… What’s wrong?” Magna pat Luck on the back in a comforting manner. When Luck lifted his head, Magna couldn’t help but notice how dizzy and delirious he looked. “You look terrible… Can you see me? Hey.” Magna waved his hand in front of Luck’s face. Luck was only to move his head in confusion. ‘Clearly not…’ Magna thinks to himself. On the bright side, at least Luck had calmed down…

Magna takes a deep breath and picks Luck up. They get onto Magna’s crazy cyclone and head back to the Black Bulls Hideout.

The moment Magna enters with Luck in his arms, most eyes turn to them. Vanessa gets up and walks over with a worried look. “Luck?! Is he alright?”

Magna shrugs. “I don’t know. I found him lying in a weird cave and then he started freaking out and crap…” Magna says with an annoyed tone, but in reality he’s the person most worried about his dear friend.

Vanessa sighs. “I’ll call a doctor over, take him to his room for some rest.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Magna nods as he continues on.

“Hm, I see… It seems your friend here has mana poisoning.” Doctor Owen states after finishing his examination.

Magna tilts his head. “Mana poisoning? The hell does that mean?”

“In some areas, mana builds up and becomes toxic. The more mana one has, the more they’ll be affected. Meaning if a royal was in Luck’s place, they’d be in much worse shape. I suspect you were only able to get Luck out so easily was because of your lack of mana.” He explained. Magna groaned in irritation. Every time! It’s always about mana every time. Though, in the case it was a good thing… Magna supposes it’s not so bad if it’s the best way to save Luck.

Magna takes a deep breath. “So what exactly is wrong with him?”

“There’s a lot of symptoms. The mana tends to use one’s memories as a method to scramble the brain. Sometimes it causes hallucinations, mood swings, and emotional distress. It should go away within a few days, so be sure he gets lots of rest and that his temperature doesn’t get too hot or cold. Another thing I should add, victims of mana poisoning shouldn’t be left alone under any circumstances.” After the explanation was given, Magna took a few moments to process.

“Oh, ok… I’ll guess I can take care of him. It’s not like I want to or anything… It’s the manly thing to do!” Magna glances at Luck who was fast asleep. After Doctor Owen took his leave, he sat beside him.

“Seriously, man? Getting yourself mana poisoning? I’ll never let you live this down.”

That’s when Magna heard a meow and he saw none other than a little golden-eyed cat lay on Luck’s stomach. That’s right… Magna completely forgot about him.

“Magnaaaaaaa…!”

Magna clenched his teeth as he walked over to Luck for the 3rd time in the last 10 minutes. “Whaaaaat?”

Luck giggled and waved. “Hi!”

“Seriously?! That’s all? Hi! Next time there better be an actual reason…” Magna knew taking care of Luck of all people would be a pain, nevermind a Luck that’s delirious like this!

“Magna, I’m hungry.” Luck says with a bored expression. The cat meowed, it was probably hungry too.

“Great, do you want a reward?” Magna jokes. However, it seemed Luck didn’t get the joke because he looked sad now. “It was a joke. I’ll get you something… What do you want?”

Luck rolled over, ignoring Magna. Magna scoffed and walked over to the side Luck turned to.

“Hey! You can’t just ask me to get you something and not tell me what it is!”

“Huh…? Do you know where she is?” Luck asked out of the blue.

Magna’s expression turned to confusion as he sighed. “You know what? I’ll pick for you.” Magna walked out and downstairs to bother Charmy.

“Charmy! Make something for Luck to eat.” Magna demands.

Vanessa tilts her head as she sees Magna. “Magna! What are you doing? Did you leave Luck alone?”

Magna froze for a moment and coughed. “Oh yeah… It’s only for a moment though.”

“Get back up there! Charmy will bring it up for you.”

Magna rolled his eyes and turned around. “Fine! But you’re not my mom!”

Upon entering Luck’s room, Magna noticed something wrong. Something is missing…

Magna looked around. “Luck? Where’d you go?” It didn’t take long for him to figure out Luck had left the room. He walked through the halls, trying to find out where he could’ve gone. Magna spots a furry white tail from around the corner. And surprise, it’s the cat. Magna followed it around and saw it go upstairs.

‘Guess I can check upstairs more…’ As soon as Magna reached the stairs, something— someone crashed into him. They both hit the floor, causing a thud. “Ow! What the… Luck? The hell are you doing?”

Luck got up and looked around, confused. Magna tried to turn Luck’s attention towards him, slightly concerned.

“Luck, hey… It’s me. What are you doing?”

Luck made eye contact with Magna and answered simply like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I’m looking for my mom.”

Magna took a moment to process. “Your… mom?”

“Do you know where she went…?”

Magna’s heart ached seeing Luck so confused and vulnerable. Magna didn’t know much about Luck’s mom, but he knew enough to know he didn’t like her. Magna couldn’t possibly tell Luck the truth with him in such a state. “Um… Your mom… she just went to the shop to… get some medicine because you’re sick. If you aren’t in bed, she’ll worry…”

Luck tilted his head. “She’ll worry about me?”

Magna nodded in confirmation. “That’s right, so come on… back to bed…”

Luck agrees and goes with Magna to his room once again. Once he’s safely in bed again, Magna checks his temperature. “Jeez, you’re like a stove.” Magna grabbed Luck’s empty glass and filled it up while also getting a wet cloth. “This outta help you cool off.”

“Magna… why do you deal with me?”

Magna raises an eyebrow, what kind of question was he trying to ask? “What do you mean?”

“I’m always ruining your things and making you mad… don’t you ever want me to go away?”

Magna felt mad again, Luck really knew how to get under his skin. “What the hell are you talking about? Who told you I wanted you to go away? Who else would I spar with? And my things? Who cares…? I’ll just get new things, and it’s not like other people would deal with me as well as you. Plus, we’re best friends, I’m used to you by now.” Magna admits he got a bit worked up, but it was Luck’s fault!

Luck stared at him for a moment and started to whine.

“What the…?” Magna scratches his head. What did he do? “Luck, why are you crying?” Magna sat down beside Luck. Luck leaned against Magna, Magna’s face heated up.

“You’re a loser.”

Steam came out of Magna’ ears. “Wh— Hey!” Luck started to laugh at Magna. “Psh, whatever… I don’t care.”

The cat crawled into Luck’s arms. Magna had to admit, Luck cuddling with a furry kitty was pretty adorable.

The next few days were a real pain for Magna. From Luck making fun of him like usual to whining like a baby. Luck is too hot! Luck is too cold! The cat is hungry! Magna swears, he’s never gonna let Luck go near toxic mana again if it means having to not deal with this.

“How are you still sick? The doctor said you should be fine after a few days…”

“Hey, Magna.” Luck sat up, letting his gaze fall onto Magna. Magna looked up at Luck.

“What now?”

Luck scooted closer to Magna. “How do you feel about me?”

Magna froze in place. “Huh?”

Luck smirked and repeated the question. “How do you feel about me? You’ve been taking care of me for the last few days, it’s like you like me or something…”

Was Luck making fun of him?!

“What are you saying?! Me like you? Psh…” Though when Magna thought about it… Luck had a point. “I mean… You’re not bad or anything… uh…”

“Is your face red?”

“No!” Magna shouted. Luck just smiled and started laughing at him. That’s when Magna became silent for a minute. “Hey! You’re not sick anymore! You’re faking it!”

Luck acted all confused. “What? I don’t know what you’re talking about~!”

“Luck, seriously… Why would you ask me that?”

“I thought I could make you say it.” Luck explained vaguely.

“Say what?!” It was Magna’s turn to act clueless. The cat meowed, Magna never thought he’d see a cat more unimpressed than that one.

Luck shrugged his shoulders and ran out the door. Magna immediately chased after him. “Hey! Where are you going!?”

“Catch me if you can!”

Magna gladly accepts the challenge and charges after the little devil.

Running outside, Magna has completely lost Luck. Magna glanced around on high alert… If he knew Luck then he knew… From behind!

Magna stepped out of the way and Luck came at him. “Ha! I—“

Magna was caught off guard when Luck grabbed his face and kissed him. When Luck stopped, Magna stood there for a whole 2 minutes. “Magna? Are you alive?”

“That was… cheating.”

Luck’s smile rises back up on his face as he cheers. “I win!”

A meow interrupted them as they both looked over at the little white cat. Luck picks it up and turns back to Magna.

“Hey, Magna! Let’s go return him together. It can be our first date!”

“You want our first date to be finishing up a boring mission?” Magna questioned him.

Luck nodded happily.

“Sounds good.”

#Black Clover #fanfiction #Luck Voltia #Magna Swing #Magluck #Lugna #Magna x Luck #Luck x Magna #sickfic #poisoning #mana poisoning #Fluff

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