#My grave has been laid out already for me
Note
Do you still make Batman x reader? If yes, could I request a "reader figures out Bruce Wayne is Batman"?
Thank you!
❝honeymoon❞
parts: next
plot: 'til death do you part.
pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader.
cw: arranged marriage, friends to enemies to (fake) lovers, implied history between reader and bruce.
words: 760.
a/n: a little something quick that I thought of!
Recognizing that you had agreed to this, you had been prepared to accept anything. An affair, a drug addiction, secret ties to the mafia overlords like high society always suspected. That was your job as Bruce's spouse: contractually obligated to be okay with it and never let anyone find out about it. Whatever it was.
Even now, as your brain short circuits and the floor feels like you're about to sink right into it, you're looking for ways to be okay with this, and he's looking at you like he wants to kill you.
It's a fleeting look. One second there, the next vanished. Neither of you say anything but there is a world of things being felt, you're certain. One of you has to budge. "This... isn’t what I was expecting."
But Bruce doesn't laugh (and you'd never expect him to, not in your presence). He stands there, heaving slow breaths to calm himself down, the cowl still conspicuously trembling between both of his hands. He could've tossed it or let it go but it's almost like you've frozen him solid.
"Where did you get that?" Is all he demands, eyes trained on the key glimmering in your hand now. "The doormen have orders to-"
"To not let me in? I know. I had the key made myself. Your doormen are easy to persuade with the right amount of money."
Bruce's lip twitches and he scoffs. "I won't tell anyone," you assure him, about 75% convinced of it yourself, "It does me no good to have extra eyes on me, and I'm sure you've got contingency plans in place were I or anyone else to expose you. You were always very good about that. Plans."
"Of course you won't. Your mother wouldn't approve of the disruption in cash flow."
Your eyes narrow. "I am not interested in what my mother wants."
"Why not? She's a part of this marriage, too. Isn't she?"
"Can we talk about the suit?" Bruce stiffens when you bring back attention to the compromised position you'd found him in. "I have questions, and I suppose if you want me to be good at lying about your... hobby, you'll have to prep me."
"I think the less you know, the better. Personally."
"The 'my husband's just busy with work' spiel is getting old, and people are already starting to talk about us living apart. Now, when I married you," you watch him flinch as you take a step forward, "I promised that I would be with you in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, 'til death do us part. Your business is my business. Your secret," within arm's length of his cowl, you wrench it from his grasp and he relents rather easily, "is my secret. I will take it with me to the grave so long as you keep up your end of the bargain."
Up close, you take in the black paint smeared over his eyes, a fitting backdrop for his stunning eyes so cool. The fire in the hearth flickers off of them, reflecting back at you as you stand but inches apart.
Just as you stole his cowl, Bruce steals your key. He holds it up in the palm of his glove, "You want to move in."
You hum, "It would help with appearances. And my mother would be pleased."
"I thought you weren't interested in what your mother wants."
"I'm not, but she's interested in you, and given tonight's revelation... I think you'd like someone keeping her nose out of your business."
You punctuate your point with a touch to his chest, palm laid flat over his heart and the several layers of iron-clad padding in front of it. His hair falls into his eyes as he looks down at it, then back at you. There's discomfort there but... something else. Resignation, you'd wager. Defeat. You almost sigh in relief when it dawns on you that you've—rather miraculously—won this battle going in completely blind.
Later, it will dawn on you (or plummet on you) just what you've witnessed tonight. Just what you've agreed to. Just who you've married.
Bruce peels your hand away, placing the key in your palm before releasing it like a burning stone. "There are guest rooms on the second floor." He pauses when you're not fast enough to school your expression, his mouth turning down into a scowl, "This changes nothing else." And he stalks away.
Nothing else. This changes nothing else, but if anyone were to ask, the honeymoon was going great.
taglist: @yikes-buddy @alexxavicry @theclassicvinyldragon @marina-and-the-memes @angxlictexrs @moonlightreader649 @geekyfer @thescarletfang @navs-bhat @yehet-moi-ohorat @bluestuesday
#bruce wayne x reader#bruce wayne scenarios#bruce wayne drabble#bruce wayne fic#bruce wayne#batman x reader#batman scenarios#batman drabble#batman fic#the batman#battinson x reader#battinson#dc#mjwrites
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The Harkers have got me fucked up. Not just from how much they're going through. Not just from how well they know each other.
But in how much is not being said. How much that appears to have been missed.
Mina has just made their friends swear to euthanize her. In front of Jonathan, who she knows cannot/will not make said promise aloud, though she tries to fish it out. A funeral service, yes, but no more than that. She takes the wins she can, relying on the others for the sacrificial slaughter while she pries what she thinks is some mote of acceptance of the Worst Case Scenario in Potentia from Jonathan. Perhaps she's read the vampiric vow of his journal by now. Perhaps not. Perhaps she already suspects either way and wants desperately not to see him damn himself, damn both of them, to avoid raising a killing hand to her.
She is going into the dark. What kind, she does not know yet. But she knows--thinks she knows--she has taken some measure to save her soul and Jonathan's. God's will be done. (Piety trembles in her heart, a fear trying frantically to still look like faith.)
Jonathan, meanwhile, is in Hell.
As it was in the castle, there are some miseries too deep to dwell on for him to stomach writing them down. Hence his tapping Jack to record it all. But the silence from him here, bar the dodge of the promise that goes against his private vow, bar the reading of the burial service, sinks deeper than any horror he suffered from the Count in person. What can he be thinking now?
I made this all possible. I opened the door to England for him. Showed him how to spread his poison. Failed to strike a killing blow when I had the chance. Slept frozen and useless beside her as he drank and made her drink. Lost him by inches in Piccadilly. Now I am here, listening to her claim so sunnily that any man of old would murder his woman to save her from the enemy's touch, as if asking for a trifle. All the while I sit contemplating a hellish betrayal, holding my heart over her wishes, over sanity, humanity, Heaven and Hell. Contemplating worse.
(The kukri is very sharp by now. In time it will have so fine an edge that no one would feel its cut before their head toppled off. Be they in a coffin or a friend with their back turned. Sickly, he finds the thought cold and placid in his mind. Is he not already damned for what he's allowed? Is he not already slated for the Count's collection? He knows whose blood it was on the monster's lips on that final dawn in Transylvania. And when he dies...)
I imagine he has to stop himself from making a mirrored request to the others right there. Has to stop himself from handing Mina the Bible and asking her to read it out for him. If she is lost, he is lost. It is not merely undeath that he would follow her into--whatever she is, wherever she goes, so must he be, so must he go.
Read it for me now, darling. You laid it all out so eloquently. I am already lost but for the wait for the grave. Come everyone, while we're here. Two funerals. Two sets of oaths. I can perhaps save you half the work, if I fall neatly enough on the kukri. Pry it from my heart and take my head when the time comes.
But he bites his tongue. Does not touch his pen. Does not risk heaping another weight on his love who is already crushed beneath existential terrors that are being thrust on her by the actions of others. She does not know what he is planning, even if she suspects it by half.
What she knows: Jonathan cannot raise a hand to her. (He would have me as a monster than not exist at all.)
What he prays she never will: Jonathan will be anything she is. (Mortal. Monster. Dead.)
One last secret to keep.
All the way to the grave.
#I'm fine I'm great I'm having a lovely time#mina harker#jonathan harker#holiest love#dracula#re: dracula#dracula daily
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Can we have Andrew and Reader transforming into half demon?
You can do it with Ashley together with Reader (separately) if you want.
Reader would have been with the Graves family since episode 1, as she was an exchange student but ended up being abandoned along with her Graves siblings.
She would be a cold, relaxed, indifferent person, a little sociopathic, a little temperamental but kind when they meet.
Reader would have been injured in the Hitman confrontation when she went to save Andrew (let's be honest, this kid would never be able to shoot the Hitman the first time with him being all nervous).
So to treat her injuries correctly they decided to use the demon to heal her, the demon doesn't like the idea of healing someone but he decides to heal her but still angry with this 'disrespect' the demon turns her into a half demon (similar to Jennifer Body the film).
That if she wants to stay alive she has to eat human flesh or drink blood.
If I had a nickel for every time I was requested to write a reader who’s an exchange student staying with the Graves Family- I’d have 4 nickels. Which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird that it’s happened 4 times already
Andrew Graves x Half Demon!Reader
Andrew’s head was pounding
His eyes were wide with terror as he stared down at you in his arms
The events kept playing in his head, over and over like a broken record
He had found the hitman in Ashley’s spontaneously stupid game of hide-and-seek
Although, what was she expecting?
It was an amateur with a gun against a skilled killer with a knife
Of course he wasn’t going to do well!
So, you did the only thing you could think of to save him
Save the boy who you’ve lived alongside since high school
Who’s been nothing but kind and patient to you..
Push him away as the hitman lunged
So, here you lay..
Barely breathing in his arms
While the hitman laid dead nearby
Andrew, in a blind rage finally fired the gun. Draining it dry of any bullets in there in hopes of killing him
And, he achieved his goal
The hitman was dead
And it didn’t look like long til you’d be you…
“Well- you’ve successfully wasted all of our ammo.” Ashley grumbled, picking up her discarded gun. She wiped off any grass blades or dirt that stuck to the pristine silver of it.
If Andrew wasn’t still in shock, he would yell at her. Yell at her for having the audacity to worry more about her gun’s ammo than their dead friend! Yell at her for foolishly trusting him to kill the hitman and then running off! If you hadn’t jumped in, he would be dead…
He should be dead.
Andrew furrowed his brow, tears forming much to his dismay. As he shut his eyes, they fell in twin streams. His hands shook, gripping on to your body as it slowly lost its warmth. He quietly sobbed, trying his best to not make them too loud or pathetic. If he had been better with the gun…if he didn’t hesitate…you would still be…
“Andy!” He felt something cold tap the back of his head, breaking him from his mellow dramatic moment. Ashley stared down at him with frustration, “Come on! Let’s ditch the bodies, someone was bound to hear your bitch crying by now..”
“Are you serious?!” Andrew stood up, still holding you in his arms. He thrusted his arms forward, pushing Ashley back with your dead weight, “Look at her! She’s dying!” He was emotional. Erratic. But he didn’t care.
“I can see that!” His sister pushed his arms back, and Andrew held you close to his chest, “Now put her down before anyone comes by!”
“…no.”
He wasn’t yelling anymore, just staring down at you. Ashley’s eyes widened, before her face became a scowl.
“No?”
“No!”
Ashley, pinched the bridge of her nose, “Okay- yeah- ssuuurreeee! Let’s just carry a dead body around! Want me to stick my hand up her ass and sit her on my lap like a puppet so you can pretend you’re talking with her?” She roughly poked Andrew’s forehead, “Are you out of your fucking mind?!”
“Well I’m not leaving her!” Andrew snapped back, making Ashley flinch ever so slightly. He didn’t seem to care though as he turned his attention back down to you.
Both were quiet for a while, probably longer than they should have because people would be coming by soon to see the commotion. Ashley could see the thoughts running behind her brother’s eyes, clearly thinking of something to fix this…to fix you.
She didn’t understand what the fuss was about though. You were just dead weight before, and now you are literally. Plus, she never liked the looks her brother gave you. You were better off dead in her eyes, and if anyone was going to kick the bucket, it would’ve been you…
But Andrew didn’t want to leave you behind. Sentimental bastard. What was he expecting? You to just- snap out of being dead? It wasn’t that easy!
….or….was it?
Ashley’s hand drifted over the front pocket of her shorts, the imprint of the demon trinket visible. Andrew saw her subconscious motions out of the corner of his eye and perked up. Where hope formed on his face, Ashley scowled.
“No!”
“Give it here!”
Andrew set your body down, lunging for his sister for the trinket. The pair fell to the ground, wrestling one another for the trinket.
“Let! Go!”
“No! It’s mine!”
In the end, Ashley didn’t win. Andrew, for as gangly as he is, was still stronger than her and managed to get the trinket away. He cupped it in his hands, standing up and observing it quizzically. There was an ominous aura to this dream catch esc thing, but he didn’t care.
“The demon..”
“Andrew, no!”
“Let’s take Y/N to the cultists lair—“
“Andrew!”
“Summon the demon—“
“You asshole- are you even listening?!”
“And get her back!”
Andrew grinned from ear to ear, his arms held out at the genius of his plan.
So- this is what it felt like to be Andrew, Ashley lamented. She got why he was such a stick in the mud all the time now.
Before she could object, Andrew was already picking up your body.
“Come on! Let’s go! Everyone should be gone by now!”
Despite Ashley’s insistence that it wouldn’t work and they should cut their losses, Andrew persisted
Eventually the two snuck you into the cultists’ meeting room
Shockingly, everything was still set up from when Andrew had previously visited.
It made for a quick and easy ritual
Ashley’s demon friend was less than happy to be bothered though….
“tAr SoUl….wHaT iS tHiS?”
The dark, red eyed blob stared angrily up at Ashley- who gestured to your dead corpse like a game show assistant would show off a car.
“A body?…”
“I rEqUiRe FrEsH sOuLs..” the demon skittered around the body, prodding it with its tendrils, “tHiS iS aLrEaDy DeAd!”
“I know but-“ Ashley groaned, pointing to Andrew with her thumb, “My dumbass brother draws the line at necrophilia and wants her back.”
“I’m sorry- WHAT?!”
Andrew objected, completely disregarding the fact that they were in the presence of a demon, “Do you REALLY think the only reason I want to bring her back is so I can have sex with her?!”
“Well?” Ashley looked at him blankly, “Isn’t it?”
“…..” Andrew adverted his eyes to the ground, “It’s…partly true…”
“I fucking knew it.” Ashley sighed, completely exasperated by her brother’s idiocy, “I can’t believe you’re using MY demon connections so you can get your dick wet without feeling like a bad person! News flash Annnddyyyyy~” she gave him that shit eating grin she knew he despised, “You’ve done much worse.”
“Shut your whore mouth!”
“Make me pussy!”
“EnOuGh!”
The siblings stopped their bickering, Andrew pausing as he had grabbed the collar of Ashley’s shirt. They stared at the demon, looking more like their parent just scolded them than a demon yelling at them to stop their bickering.
The demon floated very close to Andrew’s face, causing him to release his sister and step back, “yOu WiSh To UsE mY pOwErS tO rEvIvE tHe MoRtAl?”
Andrew nodded.
“tHeN wHaT iS iT yOu OfFeR?..”
Andrew’s face contorted as he tried to think, “Uhhhh…”
Ashley stood behind the demon, smugly smiling at her cornered brother, “Haha! Bet ya didn’t think this far, didya?”
“Shut up woman!—“
Andrew immediately regretted raising his voice, as the demon’s red eyes glowed menacingly- almost staring holes into his retinas. He gulped, wishing he could tell Ashley to call off her guard demon- but that would only make things worse for him. Here he was, with no souls to offer a demon- and the demon already didn’t like him for his foolish request and yelling at his ‘tar soul’.
“wElL?…” the demon broke the silence that wafted through the air.
Andrew’s eyes widened, “O-Okay! Ummm..” he searched his brain for anything, any idea on how to revive you when he blurted out the first thing he landed on, “Souls! I can get you two souls for bringing back Y/N’s!”
“aNd WhErE aRe ThEsE sOuLs?”
“Well, I don’t have them now-“ The demon growled and Andrew tensed, “But! But! I can get them to you very soon! Yeah! How’s that sound?”
The red eyed blob stared at Andrew for a few moments, clearly considering his deal before it turned around and made its way to your corpse, “VeRy WeLl…BuT yOuR fAiLuRe FoR pAyMeNt UpFrOnT wIlL cOmE wItH cOnSeQuEnCeS..”
With those words, the room went pitch black. By the time the fluorescent lights returned, the demon was gone. Andrew lunged for your body, kneeling down beside you.
“Y/N?…” he shook you a little, “Y/N?”
His face faltered for a moment, fear coursing through him before he felt your body move. Your breathing was slow…but you were breathing! He cupped your face in his hands, waiting anxiously for you to open your eyes.
And you did.
And then you spoke.
“..A-….Andrew?”
And like that- you were back!
Sore, with some blood gone
But back nonetheless!
You felt….strange though
Upon coming down from his high of overwhelming joy, Andrew noticed just how cold you were
You didn’t feel chilly at all
But you felt cold to the touch
Along with that, you couldn’t get the taste of blood out of your mouth
It was hard to decipher which was the result of having been a corpse for half an hour…
…or what was from being brought back by a demon
But, Andrew had a debt to pay
So that can be worked out later
Returning to the motel parking lot, the hitman’s car was still there
And no one was around yet
So you took that and set off
You slept most of the ride
It was a rough night of…ya know
Dying
So you deserved to sleep
Though your dreams were…strange
Images of red
Blood spewing as you bit into the neck of a screaming person
You didn’t get a good look at them until their body was a mangled mess of torn limbs with bits of flesh taken out of them
Your face stained with blood
The delicious sensation filling your mouth
At first you chalked this up to a guilt dream
You feeling bad for eating that cultist a while back
But…no
This wasn’t a guilt dream
You never feasted on that man like an animal
You never went back for seconds, depraved of the taste
And in those dreams you never felt what you were feeling in that moment
…desire for more
Your concerning dream was interrupted by a sudden sensation of pain as a projectile was thrown at your head.
“Ow!” You sat up, your hand shooting to the assaulted spot on your head, “What the?..”
“I told you to wake her!” Andrew hissed.
“I did!” Ashley objected, “My shoe woke her up!”
“You little..”
Andrew’s grumbling trailed off, turning to look at you from the driver’s seat. You gave him a reassuring nod to let him know you were okay. He sighed in slight relief. How that the- initial pain in your head was gone, you looked out the window to see just where you three were. The backseat passenger window showed you a parking with cars lining the spots as far as you could see.
“Where…are we?” You asked, turning back to look at the siblings, “And what are we doing here?”
“Cheapskate here says it’s free parking.” Ashley replied bluntly, not even giving Andrew’s annoyed look a glance.
You looked between them, “Don’t we- need to pay that demon back? How’s free parking going to get us two souls?”
“Go on Annnndddd—“ Ashley paused as Andrew gave her a look, “…drew. Andrew. Tell Y/N your brilliant plan!”
Andrew sighed, resting his hands on the wheel as he tried to explain the plan, “Alright, so…we need two souls for that demon. We- are also running low on money. So…we’re going to kill two birds with one stone.”
You nodded, though his and Ashley’s drastically different expressions told you there was more. So- you prodded.
“And those birds arreee?”
“…our parents.”
The rational thing was to claim that they couldn’t do such a thing! Their parents took you in after all!
…although you’d be lying
Mrs Graves really only agreed because she’d get a cut of the exchange student program funds
Other than provide you a roof, she ignored you like she did her other children
Same goes for her husband, who didn’t do much of anything beside give you awkward hellos before he went to work
So you weren’t really against robbing and killing them
The events played as normal, pretending the fire that “killed everyone” was sensational news coverage and you all were fine!
You’re “politely” told to go to bed early, bunking with Ashley in the basement while Andrew took the couch.
Though, being honest…
You didn’t trust yourself around Ashley alone
Ever since you’ve been alive you’d had this…animalistic urge to tear into someone like a carnivorous animal
To hold them to the ground and watch the light leave their fear filled eyes as you tore out their throat
And Ashley was defenseless
Sleeping just inches from you in the spare bed
Her gun was empty, you knew this
So she wouldn’t shoot you
So you did the both of you a favor, and got out of there
Your eyes lingered on the basement stairs, the bed and Ashley’s sleeping form still very in much in your view. You had to tear your eyes away to avoid running back down there and giving in to the voice in your head telling- no, demanding you devour her.
Your relationship with her was complicated enough, and you knew with enough convincing you would. She was always cold with you, trying to tear a wedge between you and Andrew as you both got closer. But she also was the closest thing you had to a sister or any actual familial connection. You don’t think you could bear that guilt.
You drew your eyes to the couch, Andrew fast asleep on it. You could trust yourself around him, you know you could. The voice had nothing against Andrew. So you crossed over to the couch, kneeling down beside it.
Andrew’s unconscious state was fragile, stirring almost immediately as he felt a presence join him. His eyes opened with some strain, his voice littered with tiredness.
“Y/N?…” he sat up, rubbing his eyes, “Did Ashley kick you out?..”
“No.” You responded. You debated telling him why you were here if Ashley hadn’t kicked you out, but what could you tell him? ‘Hey I wanted to eat your sister’? You couldn’t do that. So instead you asked, “Can I sleep with you tonight?”
A small blush painted Andrew’s cheeks, as he nodded slightly. He pulled the covers aside, scooting closer to the back of the couch so you’d have room. You climbed onto the couch with him, your arms wrapping around his torso. You felt him shiver from the closeness, almost forgetting how cold you were. You didn’t care though. You craved the closeness more than you craved tearing into Andrew’s flesh and eating his heart in front of him.
You furrowed your brow, pushing those thoughts down as Andrew slowly covered you two up.
“You…alright?” Andrew tentatively asked. Obviously you weren’t alright, by this time last night you were dead.
You racked your mind about what to say, nuzzling into his sweater for comfort as you spoke, “I’m- fine….just ever since I….”
“Died?”
“Yeah, that….I’ve had….urges.”
“Like- what?”
“…like devouring someone like an animal.”
He went quiet after that. You can’t exactly say what you expected reaction wise. Disgust? Fear? Silence felt appropriate to be fair. You weren’t anticipating his next words when he processed the information…
“…three birds with one stone then.”
The plan went as the siblings had- semi planned.
Scaring the parents with an unloaded gun into the basement
Removing the limit from Mrs Graves credit card so they’d have some cash
Handing their souls to the demon
And Andrew leaving you to enjoy your meal
You felt like an animal. A hungry, ravenous animal.
Your breath was shaky, eyes wide with horror at what you’d done. You and the basement were bloodied mess, and your host parents were mangled beyond recognition.
It didn’t help that you were on your hands and knees, chin drenched with blood as what you had done replayed in your mind. The sounds of the basement stairs creaking broke you out of your trance. You cowered momentarily before realizing it was Andrew.
“Wow- you..” he paused, covering his mouth as he gagged from the smell of blood, “Really did a number on them..”
Hot tears welled in your eyes as you stared up at him. You trembled, falling further to the ground than you already were. Your forehead met the basement floor as you sobbed.
“I’m sorry!” You wailed, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—“
It was all you could say. What else could you? You shook and sobbed like the wounded animal you were as Andrew slowly approached you. He fell to his knees in front of you, and pulled you into a hug. His parents’ blood stained his sweater, but he didn’t care. He’ll wash it later.
You trembled in his arms as he rubbed gentle circles into your back, soft shushes filling your ears as he comforted you. You buried your face into his shoulder, shaking and crying from what you’d done. This was different than when you ate the cultist back at the apartment, then you didn’t feel so….dehumanized.
He was prepared like a dish. Not bitten into like a wolf delivering the killing blow to a deer. He was eaten for survival. They were eaten to satiate this desire you had.
Though to Andrew, this downside was worth it, so long as he could hold you again.
#yeah this is long enough I’m not making an Ashley version#unless there’s enough pushback for one#the coffin of andy and leyley#andrew graves#andrew graves x reader#x reader
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Okay, I'm making mummies the new monster du jour
We all know the story: daring adventurer and nerdy historian discover hidden treasure in a tomb, and just need to survive the undead and their curses long enough to douse themselves in holy water or whatever to sally off into the sunset with their bags of gold and live happily ever after.
What about the mummy's side?
You're dead. You've been dead for millennia, had your organs removed and rites read, been embalmed and dressed and laid to rest amid vast and well-appointed rooms chock-full of wealth. You strode into the afterlife like the king that you are, and have been reigning ever since. The river flows with milk and honey, eternal virgins attend your every physical desire, and your generosity knows no bounds as you shower endless wealth upon your adoring people.
And then...it stops. The river dries up, sour milk rotting in rivulets across the sticky bedrock. The maidens have vanished one by one, carried off by callous, disrespectful hands. The gold that once towered in piles around your palace disappeared much more quickly, not a single coin or ingot left. And your people turn on you. Not in anger, but in fear, hands clawing you, gaping mouths screaming soundlessly, bodies flattening and fading like living murals.
Anubis snatches you out of the waking nightmare, to something much worse: judgement. What? You have been judged already! Your heart weighed against a feather, the wisdom and love you so carefully curated in life keeping it light enough to guarantee your safe passage into an eternal paradise.
Except not so eternal, it seems. Robbers, he tells you. You cannot believe it. Even the bravest, most brazen, most despicably faithless dogs would not disturb your rest. Raid your tomb, yes, take your finery, yes, strip your body of its ornaments and peel the gold off the sarcophagus, perhaps, but not you. Your body in its wrappings, your organs in their jars, should be left alone. They could dump your empty bones on the floor of the pyramid and walk away with every material possession your people saw fit to entomb you with, but nothing of consequence would be taken from you in the afterlife.
They have not just taken your possessions, says Anubis. They have taken you.
Taken the sarcophagus? Surely they would remove your body to lighten the load--
They have taken you, he says.
Removed me to some lesser grave, to set up some new king in a glorious pyramid he himself could not afford to build? Tacky, and rude, but it has been done before--
They have taken you, he stresses again.
...have I fallen so far out of favor with my people, with Egypt herself, that they would strip me of my title and my rest?
Your god crouches, and looks you gently in the eyes, and says again, They have taken you.
And then he adds: You have ten days to return.
And you awake on a boat, a horrific thing of metal and smoke, surrounded by treasures packed in wooden crates and straw, admired by an endless parade of foreigners who ooh and ahh over your dead body and do not, cannot understand what they are costing you, making you their macabre trophy of the dullest hunt you can imagine.
You will teach them what a real hunt is.
(The rest of the movie is a timed horror-thriller as the hero, trapped in his own desiccated corpse, shambles around London trying to find his heart and return to Egypt, while attacked on all sides by monster hunters and grave robbers who don't understand that they're the bad guys. It is an epic struggle to stay the course and not fall into a vengeful frenzy, to keep his heart pure enough to pass the feather again, to FIND his heart in the first place.)
#the mummy#new mummy#You Woke the Mummy: An Imperialist Horror#maybe the real friends were the monsters we made along the way#Anubis does not have a jackal head he just wears one to parties#the virgins are totally into it the king is very cute and flirty okay#they stayed chaste their whole lives to score some royal D in the afterlife let them have this
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❝Bunny❞
(Phillip Graves x Reader)
Summary: You're the infamous barracks bunny and Phillip Graves has just had a rough day. What happens next?
Word count: 1k (THIS IS ONLY PART 1! There will be more)
Warnings? : smut 🧍 sorry its my first one (if you have any constructive criticism I'd love to hear it, just DM me!)
Taglist : @sarahs-secrets2 🫶🫶 (comment if you'd like to be added to my taglist!)
"I-- I hate to call you in like this, Doll. I really do.." Graves muttered as you shut his office door behind you, clicking the lock.
He was laid back in his chair, rubbing a finger to his temple as his brows furrowed deeper and deeper.
"It's okay, I'm used to it.", you were the 'barracks bunny' and it wasn't a secret anymore, at least to your commander it wasn't.
You'd been waiting for this since your reputation began to soar throughout the headquarters.
You may be good at your job, but you were even better at helping your colleagues relieve themselves.
So when the Commander sent for you, you already knew what you were up for.
He sighed to himself, running a hand through his hair. Patting his thigh with a gloved hand, you inched forward.
As you carefully took a seat on his lap, comments were waiting to slip out of your mouth at any second.
"You know, Commander, I think I know how to cheer you up.", you smiled sweetly, laying your head against his chest as he watched you lazily.
He didn't respond for a moment, taking off his gloves and setting them on the desk to let his hands wander.
"You sure about that, honey?", he chuckled, wrapping an arm around your waist. His fingertips trailed up and down your waist slowly, stroking your tits at one point.
The soft little flicks and
"I'm positive."
As you unbuckled his belt, you cooed into his ear, "How about..", you unzipped his fly slowly, dragging your fingers down and watching his eyes flit from you back down to your hand, "You tell me what's been bothering you, hm?"
"Well-- well.. Shepherd constantly nags at me for.. For being behind..", he tried to continue his sentence, maybe even muster a couple more words out - but he couldn't the minute you began to stroke his dick through his briefs.
"Has he been giving you a hard time?", you continued to whisper into his ear, yet much more breathier as he grasped under your shirt, almost breaking the clasp for your bra as he clawed it off. Nonetheless, you slid down his briefs and circled your thumb around his tip, covering your finger with the slow precum that was dribbling out of his erection.
"He-- he never.. Never listens..", his breathing quickened as you felt his chest tremble beneath you from the loud, shallow breaths he was now taking. Now having to tear your hand away from his dick to pull your shirt off, Graves had left you completely exposed in front of him.
He instinctively pressed a thumb to your nipple, groping the rest of your sensitive skin with his cold hands. Your back arched at the tingle of his calloused fingertips tracing circles into your nipple.
"Ah-- it's okay, honey, I'm listening- fuck!", you suppressed a moan at the sudden hot sensation of Graves sucking on your collarbone. This only made you arch into him more, your hand slowing it's pace as you lost yourself in his touch.
He didn't respond; the only thing you could hear was the wet, sloppy sounds as he left a trail of raw, tingling red hickeys on your skin.
You couldn't lose yourself now, you'd only just started.
Now adjusting yourself in his grasp, you had pulled down your panties and straddled him in his chair. The friction from his dick onto your clit was making you light headed from how good it felt. You didn't even realise you'd started to rock against him until the chair began to creak.
Graves groaned against you, licking and even nibbling parts of your skin.
All you could do was moan and glide up and down his dick, which was pushed up against his stomach and now dripping in your slick.
"Y- you know.. I feel like- like I've been horrible lately...", he sucked in a breath, pushing his hips out slightly to try and close the gap between the two of you.
"I don't think so, baby... I-- I think you're doing such a good job..", wrapping your arms around his neck and shoulders helped you as you raised yourself to meet the tip of his dick.
He immediately looked down, biting his lip at the sight.
"Do.. Do you have any protection?"
"I'm on the pill, it'll be okay."
Without warning, you sat down and let out a gasp at the sudden stretch pushing it's way through your cunt.
"Jesus chris-"
"Hey now..", he huffed, his chest moving rapidly now, "Don't use the lord's name in vain."
"Fuck, this is too much-- Don't move!", another moan was forced out of you as he shifted in his seat. Every little movement, every small rub and squeeze was pushing you closer to a climax.
You could feel the sweat beading on your forehead as you gripped onto Graves' shirt, burying yourself deep into his shoulder. It may have muffled the sound of your helpless moans, but now you could hear his surprisingly focused murmurs in your ear.
"Just... Just a little more, baby... You're so good..", he mustered between shallow breaths. One of his hands was on your back, rubbing circles in between your shoulder blades.
It was becoming too much.
Suddenly, Graves' voice was cut off with a gasp. His release was drawn out, dripping out of you the second you pulled out.
You still hadn't come, but it was fine. Maybe you could just go back to your bunk and-
"We're not done, honey.", he rasped, holding onto your wrist as you began to stand up.
"W.. What..?", you weren't even able to gain your balance from the ruthless pounding which had weakened your legs already. The feeling standing out above it all was your cunt still clenching around nothing, the beating of your heart was still ringing in your ears.
Now, both of his hands moved up to your torso, gently laying you back onto his desk.
Papers slid away as you felt your shoulders dig into various items displayed on the desk. Graves hastily swiped them out of your way, standing up and looking down at you now.
"Comfortable?"
It wasn't. Now that you weren't encased in his warm arms and uniform, the cold air was settling in your skin in an uncomfortable manner. Goosebumps were rising on your arms and legs, but worst of all your nipples perked up, sore and exposed under the harsh lighting of his office.
"I'm fine, don't worry.", you whispered, trying to look anywhere but at Graves. He was examining your pussy so intently, eyeing the cum that had been smeared down your thighs as they pressed together nervously.
"I can't just leave you like this, baby..", he mumbled, stroking a hand up your thigh.
#phillip graves#cod mw2#fanfiction#cod mwii#cod mw2 fanfic#phillip graves x reader#call of duty#call of duty smut
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So Much (For) Blitz —An exclusive reveal of the star of Fall Out Boy’s latest album cover
Fall Out Boy’s latest effort So Much (For) Stardust) has been critically acclaimed and lauded by fans as some of their best work to date. The album artwork, prominently featuring a doberman, has left some puzzled and looking for additional context as to the dog’s identity and how the artwork came to be. The Bad Habits Collection is proud to bring you the exclusive reveal of the dog featured on the cover of their eighth studio album alongside the full story of how they were discovered.
—
When Fall Out Boy officially announced their eighth studio album on January 18th, 2023 and unveiled the album artwork for So Much (For) Stardust, there were a lot of opinions to be had. Some of the fans immediately felt connected and claimed it as their own, some compared it to Fiona Apple’s 2020 release Fetch the Bolt Cutters, and some downright found it revolting. Overall, most agreed that it was polarizing to say the least. Donned in an all black background, the front cover features both the name of the band and the album itself in the work of Omar Mroz (hereinafter referred to by his online moniker Mr.Oz). The text is covered in glitter and written out in the same style featured earlier in the rollout of FOB8’s album cycle with A Claymation Fall Out Boy Celebration, dropped as a surprise present from the band on Christmas one month earlier. The headlining attraction of this sideshow was in fact just a simple square box, containing a swirling artistic depiction of a doberman barking in the presence of a froth of bubbles.
From the moment I first laid eyes on the iconography of Fall Out Boy’s new era, I had just two questions in mind: Who is the dog? & Why choose the dog? A few obvious possibilities were immediately ruled out. Solely based on what’s been posted to social media, this dog did not belong to Pete, Joe, or Andy. Patrick has remained dormant online for years at this point, but still the odds felt slim. I did my best to brush it off, but ultimately I kept coming back to the thought of WHY? If you’re familiar with my previous work on the history of Take This To Your Grave’s album cover, you already know this type of sentiment means a lot to me. After a while of waiting for the band to bring up the topic in an interview or statement, I had essentially given up hope on any type of official explanation. It was at this moment, just 3 days before the release of the record, that I accepted the reality of the situation. This wasn’t a hot topic within the fandom. And no one was going to provide me with the answers I was looking for. If I wanted to know more, it was solely up to me. So… I got to work.
—
To take a step back, the artwork for So Much (For) Stardust first hit the internet on January 11th, seven days before the official reveal. Posted alongside the name of the first single Love From The Other Side, our barking pup friend was featured on the home feed of FILTER | NEWs on VK, a Russian social media site that I’ve been told is comparable to Facebook. The artwork was watermarked with a subtle, transparent white logo for FILTER in the background. Despite this post being up for five days (a millennia on the worldwide web), it wasn’t until the 16th that the fandom at large made this discovery, with many claiming it was an outright fake.
However, the *stars* started to align proving this leak to have a dose or two of authenticity. Mr.Oz’s claymation video from earlier in the rollout followed the story of a similar looking doberman, who just so happened to pose in the final frame in a style strongly resembling the leaked cover.
Beyond that, a post from lyricist and bassist Pete Wentz’s Instagram dating back just two days earlier was quickly dug up. On the 4th slide of the carousel, there it was: a selfie of Pete with a Santa hat on and propped up on the shelf behind him... the physical painting of the doberman seen on the leaked cover.
All but confirmed at this point, one last clue presented itself online. The freshly created Twitter account “@muchstardust” popped up out of nowhere, making itself known by following myself and a few other notable hardcore fans in this space. @muchstardust made just one single tweet before being suspended (for reasons unknown).
The post featured three images, the watermarked cover, Pete’s selfie, and notably, a compressed form of the actual photo taken of man’s best friend —the same one the leaked cover features an oil painting rendition of.
—
As we all know now, this leak was indeed real and confirmed as the album artwork just a few days later by Fall Out Boy themselves. But that’s when the trail went cold. Later promotional photos featuring the band and taken by their long time collaborator Pamela Littky included another doberman, but clearly not the same one once examined a bit closer. On March 21st, the Chicago rock group posted “What do you think the dog’s name is? 🫧”, but never followed up with the answer. It’s as if they were taunting me specifically with how vocal I had been about wanting to solve this mystery. Just before the album’s official release, I was tipped off by someone with an early copy of the CD that the liner notes of So Much (For) Stardust credit Safia Latif for the cover painting and Jen Patterson for the photograph the cover painting was based on.
With new pieces of the puzzle in play, my search for the dog in question was reignited. However, my leads proved of little to no help. I could not get in touch with Safia and could not properly identify Jen Patterson online for the life of me. Taking the hunt back to the drawing board, I reverse image searched the photo @muchstardust had originally provided, which even at this point, months later, was our only source of the actual photograph. Littered with results of the album artwork naturally, I did come across one potential connection. Once again, I found myself on the public timeline of someone’s VK.com profile. “dextromethorpan 3” had included the same photograph in a gallery of different doberman puppies posted on December 21st, 2020. This was…something. Sure, this photo likely did not originate from the VK profile I had unearthed, but at least now I knew it had been around the web for a few years. Scratching my head, I wondered how Fall Out Boy had originally come across this image. Was it something that came up on one of their feeds? Or perhaps just a keyword search? Taking it to different forms of social media, I found a potential match on the /r/doberman subreddit posted 10 months ago. Titled “Cool pic of us playing with bubbles”, the dobie in question featured strikingly similar features and color patterns, and was of course, playing with bubbles.
So I did what any other sane fan would do… and sent a private message to the Redditor the night before the album dropped with Jen’s photograph. “/u/drc55555” responded Saturday morning agreeing that the dog did look a lot like their own, but that they didn’t recognize the photograph. I woke up in a cold sweat seeing the glimpse of the Reddit notification on my iPhone and replied informing them of the cover of Fall Out Boy’s brand new release and asking if the user was the Jen Patterson credited in the album’s booklet. A day later, they replied once again noting that they weren’t Jen, but that this has sparked a memory of another DM they had received in the fall of last year from an Elektra Records personnel, Fueled By Ramen’s distributor who Fall Out Boy had publicly rejoined the roster of just this January. Indeed, 200 days ago from this very conversation, a marketing representative from the label had reached out to the Redditor through the same platform letting them know that an artist they work with had come across the very same photo I myself found and that the artist had fallen in love with it, hoping to use it as part of the artwork for an upcoming project. /u/drc55555 had conceded that they regretted not responding at the thought of how their dog could have become famous.
This is when I knew, I was HOT on the trail. Either a member of FOB discovered this photo of their dog while scrolling Reddit or had specifically sought out the same search terms as me, which meant the actual photograph used on the cover could have potentially been found through the very same method. My search accelerated and within a few hours I had run a variety of similar terms by Twitter, TikTok, Facebook, really any social media site I could get my hands on. Nothing had come up, but I hadn’t called it a day quite yet as one of the more obvious sites remained: Instagram. Heading to the explore page I have barely used in my own time on the platform, I typed in the same keywords that brought me to the pup’s uncanny match on Reddit: “doberman bubbles”. And there it was, exactly 60 rows down, right in the center, the original image of the dog I had been looking for all along along with an alternate photo of the same dog in the next slide in the same setting captioned “BUBBLES!!!!!”, posted —you guessed it, in 2020.
—
With this case officially closed, I’m beyond stoked to introduce Blitz the Doberman to other fans of Fall Out Boy. At the time of publication, Blitz has 12.8k followers on his public Instagram account, which lead me to question how this match hadn’t already been made. Blitz’s bio reveals he was born on February 27th, 2019 and lives in Las Vegas with his human, one Jen Patterson.
In a beautiful twist of fate, within the hour of finishing the final draft of this piece, Blitz’s humans responded to my inquiry from earlier in the week. I spoke with Jen at length who was happy to share her story exclusively with The Bad Habits Collection. Similarly to the Redditor from earlier, a marketing rep from Elektra Records had reached out to her through Instagram on September 20th, 2022 inquiring about using a picture of her pup for one of their artists’ work, a message she initially regarded as spam. Eventually, she came to an agreement with Elektra, however, this story ended there for her. Up until Jen read the direct message I sent to Blitz’s account, she had not the slightest idea that he was featured on the cover of the new album of one of the biggest modern rock bands left in the world. I was shocked to hear this, but Jen on the other hand was incredibly excited to learn of the breaking news. I shared a photo with her of her name printed in the liner notes of So Much (For) Stardust, a cool moment for us both. Jen told me “I never considered myself a photographer, but that’s amazing!” When I asked about how Blitz already had such a huge following on Instagram, she told me all about how she’s networked with others in a doberman group and has kept a steady stream of posts coming on the daily. In discussion of what she’d like for others to take away from this article, Jen simply hoped others would get to know Blitz’s name —my entire goal of this investigation all along. Half-joking, she expressed that she’d also love to have gotten her hands on some merchandise with his face on it. Infinitely grateful for her responding to my DM and taking the time to talk with me, I’ve personally sent Jen physical copies of So Much (For) Stardust in both vinyl and CD format. I’ll be sure to update this write-up with a photo of FOB’s newest mascot posing with his album cover when they arrive!
Closing out our conversation, Jen let me know that she “felt like if you hadn’t reached out, we would not have known.” To be honest, there were times in this journey that I thought it might be for the best if I gave up the search for this pup as to not invade anyone’s privacy. I figured if Blitz hadn’t already made himself known publicly, maybe there was a specific reason behind not doing so. I would have never guessed that reason was because his family were simply unaware of his new-found fame. I feel honored to have been the one to share this discovery with Blitz’s owners and again want to thank them for their contributions to this piece.
Jen has also graciously shared the original photograph of Blitz the cover was based on in its full resolution, uncropped:
—
After scouring the internet to to uncover this story, it all leads me to just one final question: Why Blitz? What’s the connection? Moreover, what’s the intended meaning here? Jen let me know that she herself was unaware of how and why the photograph was found and selected, but we can naturally draw our own conclusions. Discussing this topic with other longtime fans of the band, all have come to the same conclusion that Fall Out Boy’s latest effort features some of Pete’s bleakest lyrics in a long time paired somehow ever so perfectly with some of Patrick’s most uplifting and dance-worthy melodies to date. As my partner pointed out, the album artwork depicts a breed known for their usage as guard dogs with a tough exterior, but shown playing lightheartedly with what’s usually associated as a child’s toy. In the words of fellow Fall Out Boy historian and Bad Habits Collection collaborator Tommy McPhail, the cover displays “the epitome of boundless joy and simplified bliss amongst chaos”, a phrase that perfectly sums up the entire feeling artistically and masterfully expressed in So Much (For) Stardust in my own eyes.
Fall Out Boy’s newest full-length studio record So Much (For) Stardust, produced by the legendary Neal Avron, is one of their strongest statement pieces in years and is now available everywhere music is streamed or sold.
You can follow Blitz’s adventures on Instagram: @blitzdoberman
—
“The kind of pain you feel to get good in the end. Inscribed like stone and faded by the rain: ‘Give up what you love before it does you in.’”
Written by Alex Toor for The Bad Habits Collection
#Fall Out Boy#FOB#FOB8#So Much (For) Stardust#So Much For Stardust#SMFS#2023#Pete Wentz#Patrick Stump#Joe Trohman#Andy Hurley#Blitz#Blitz Doberman#Blitz The Doberman#Doberman#Fueled By Ramen#Alex Toor#Live On Toor#LiveOnToor
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Demi Demon || Alastor x Reader, A2 part 5
Synopsis: It’s been over a year since we were brought under Alastor’s watchful eye. We’ve unlocked our Demonic powers, discovered our own talents, and began building the Safe Haven with Charlie and co. Alastor seems increasingly interested in the power we hold as one and intends to use it properly.
Previous part
Part 5: protect and defend
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Alastor, sweetheart, you did the exact opposite of what I told you to do." Rosie planted her hands on her hips. Alastor was staring out the window with his hands clasped behind his back.
"She stepped out of line. I've been overlooking her abrasive behavior for too long."
"That's the whole point of a soulmate. Respect has to go both ways. You can't just tell her you're in charge. Where's the respect for her?"
"Providing everything she needs. Giving her the most freedom I could possibly allow."
"Ya know, for such a gentleman, you're really bad at this."
"I didn't pick her," each word was sticky like glue, "I got stuck with her." He stared at his own reflection, no longer interested in the busy streets of Hell.
"You're digging your own grave, my friend." Her tone dropped to a more somber one. "As your soulmate, she's the only one who can speak to you differently than others. And if you respect and care for her, she'll probably pay it back ten fold."
He looked down at the window ledge. His teeth were hidden behind his lips this time and his eyebrows were furrowed. He let out a short sigh through his nose.
"Is there something you're not telling me, Alastor?" She stood from her chair and slowly went over to him, stopping an arms length away and watching his reflection in the window.
For awhile he was silent. Rosie wondered if he was looking for the words or deciding not to answer. Though she kept quiet and waited for him to decide.
"I suppose..." His voice was low and the radio filter gone. "I don't feel ready."
"Ready for what?" she asked softly.
"For...I don't want her in my mind."
"That's what your soulmate is for. The one and only person to ever be allowed there."
"I don't know if she would even be able to handle it all." He turned to look at Rosie.
"This is a process my friend," she laid a light touch on his arm, "and it'll take some time. Don't rush this."
"I do not want to care about her." He sounded like a petty toddler.
"I think it's about time you find someone to care for. And hey," she leaned her head down so he'd make eye contact, "we've already seen how quick she learns. You two can handle it. Together."
"I don't know if I'm ready," he said again.
"You may never feel ready, sweetheart. And that's okay."
****
I sat on the roof of a building with Reagan beside me. Althea had told me that she was having a lot of mental trouble, and Vivian had noticed the teenagers outcasting her and her friend. So I brought Regan with me to the next execution rescue. We came early enough so that the two of us could chat and she could focus on something other than the haven.
The sun was setting and the main street was gradually growing less crowded. I was using an illusion to keep us hidden from any onlookers, keeping us warm from the late fall wind, and staying in my Human form. It was the most magic I had used simultaneously. She and I had been talking for an hour already.
"I feel so useless." She leaned her head on my shoulder. I tried to stay as still as possible. "At least in the rings I was good at something."
"You're fourteen," I replied, "And it hasn't even been a year since you were free. You don't have to be good at anything right now."
"But the others at least have magic or a Demon form. I'm just a useless...magicless...human."
I put an arm around her shoulders and she leaned further against me. I felt warmth spread through my chest at how comfortable she felt with me. "I think you ought to talk to Ms. Vivian more. She doesn't usually show her Demon form and I know for a fact she hardly uses magic. You don't need any of that stuff to be useful or have worth."
She wrapped her arm around my torso to squeeze me in a hug. She leaned her head further into my chest and I felt like she was trying to merge with me. I tightened my grip in response and gently rubbed my hand over her arm. I could remember my mother doing this from visiting my memories.
"I'm so glad you're here," she said. A heavy aura fell over us and I could guess she was close to or already crying. Did she actually care about me like that? Was I having a good influence on her?
My thoughts were interrupted by a quiet conversation. I strained to hear the snippets that sounded geared towards me and Reagan.
"She's on a different continent...do deals this far...come here to see for yourself...teleport her? She's not alone..."
Reagan felt me tense. She sat up and asked me what was wrong. I motioned for her to be quiet as my magic sense stretched out further. I was bracing for something to happen soon. This person was trying to get to me. From where, though? I couldn't pinpoint them.
The roof gave way. Reagan and I fell backwards and landed hard on our backs. We both rolled on your stomachs and jumped up. My Demon side came through as a man stood in front of us with a phone to his ear.
"Yeah, see you soon." He ended the call and slid his phone in his back pocket. "It's nice to finally meet the famous Snake Demon. Though you look more like a dragon if I say so myself."
"What do you want?" I demanded. I side stepped so Reagan was against my hip. I had my wings extended behind me and my claws in front of both of us. My lips were pulled back in a snarl.
"Oh I want nothing to do with you. It's someone else that wants you. I'm just the deliverer." He was wearing black dress pants and a blue vest. His brown hair was slicked back and a wide, charming smile glinted in the red light.
We were in Hell. I didn't know where exactly but this wasn't a good place to be with Reagan. I could feel magic flowing through my veins much easier here, almost as if there had been a blockage of some kind that I hadn't noticed before.
At the very least I knew we were outside. We were in some kind of courtyard surrounded by vastly tall buildings. There were lines of clothes spiderwebbing overhead.
"Have you really been kidnapping ring fighters?" the man asked. "That's quite an impressive feat."
"What's it to you?" My eyes were looking all over for an escape. There was an easy alley behind him or the spiderweb of clothes above. Though I could run through the buildings to make it confusing for both of us.
"Who is he?" Reagan asked quietly.
The man heard and put a hand proudly on his chest. "Finn Hartley, at your service." He gave a short bow before snapping back up. "So tell me, are you really the Radio Demon's soulmate?"
I was trying to get a read on this man. He was obviously a Demon and has enough power to teleport from the surface to Hell. I needed him to do something other than talk so I could figure out how strong and skilled he was with magic.
"I think we'll be leaving." I stood up and moved Reagan to my other side so I was between them.
"Am I asking too many questions? I'm sorry, I just heard a lot about you. If I had known you'd be in town I would've tried to schedule coffee with you."
"I don't drink that stuff." I took a few steps towards him, eager to push him out of the way and run. His calmness was unnerving. At least Alastor was calm and terrifying. I had something to work with when it came to him, unlike this man.
"But you haven't met my boss. Well, 'a boss'. At least for now until he pays me for bringing you here." He put both hands on his hips and I felt him drawing up energy to use magic.
"Who is it?"
"That would take away the impact of his arrival would it not?"
I couldn't figure out whose smile I preferred. His white, clean, smooth smile or Alastor's yellow, sharp, and jagged one. This man sounded like he used his wits but I wondered how skilled he was with magic.
"I don't intend to meet him."
"You already have," a voice came from above.
I covered Reagan with a wing as my head snapped up. The figure jumped down from a pipe by a window and landed between me and the man. I instantly recognized the tail, clothes, and hat of Striker.
My hands were immediately sweating and my legs felt cold. I backed Reagan and I into the wall. He casted a glance over his shoulder before handing Finn a clasp of metal credits.
"Good doing business with you sir." Finn tipped his head.
"Give Blackwater my regards," Striker said. Finn promptly teleported himself away, leaving the three of us alone.
"Run," I whispered to Reagan. "Find the big white palace and run there. Tell him I sent you." I casted a tall wall of fire between us and Striker before shoving her into the closest doorway. I closed it behind her and turned to face my old master.
He came lunging through the fire, the flames avoiding him at all costs. I ducked so his claws sent sparks along the wall. I went on all fours and ran down the alley. My eyes widened as I saw him slipping into the doorway after Reagan.
I flew across the clearing and up the stairs inside. I casted wind like crazy so his body was thrown off balance left and right. I landed on his tail and he whirled with sharp claws extended. He caught my face and the force slammed my shoulder against the wall. I casted fire towards him as I was momentarily blinded.
The pain was pulsing through my face and into my neck. I pressed on the wound to lighten it and fight back. But Striker was running up the stairs again. I morphed into my Dragon form and took the stairs in two strides.
I slammed a claw down on his back. He stabbed my palm with something sharp and lunged at my face again. I went back to my Demon form and watched him fly over me and all the way back down the stairs.
I glanced over my shoulder to see Reagan nowhere in sight. I hoped the palace wasn't far and she could get there alright. Would Demons try to mess with her? She obviously looked human but not all Demons stayed in their true forms here.
Please just run.
Striker casted wind from behind and sent me sliding down the stairs. I stopped halfway and brought two stairs up to the ceiling. I ran back up and whisked around the corner. The ceiling cracked open and debris fell on top of me.
Concrete took my shoulder to the floor. I used wind to shove it all off me, a white lasso falling over my face and snapping tight around my neck. I was bent over backwards as he pulled it hard. He kicked open the nearest door and dragged me through. I grabbed the white rope to resist from my knees.
He opened the window and jumped through. My stomach dropped as the rope stayed tight. I went with the pull and jumped through the window before his force took my head clean off my shoulder. I hit one of the wires and it threw off my landing. I felt a horrendous snap in my knee as I landed awkwardly, screaming from the pain and digging my claws into the pavement.
I put a hand near my knee, too afraid to feel what had happened to it. Striker stalked over and shoved my shoulder with his boot so I was flat on my back. He let out a deep chuckle. "I told you, you may be a champion fighter but you'll never best me."
Tears clouded my eyes as I continued to cry into the concrete. My face and knee were in so much pain. I could dull it but there was only so much I could do with this much pain.
He knelt down and pulled the lasso up so my head came an inch off the ground. "And your dark prince ain't here to save ya either."
I threw my claw up and caught his chin. He reared back up and I used all my strength to dig my claws into his knee. He grabbed my wrist but I casted a huge gust of wind to send him flying back. He hit the wall and I brought the hard stone of the floor up so it covered him like armor.
Rolling over, I casted a huge gust of fog over the courtyard. I used magic to pull myself to the side and into another doorway. I dragged myself up the stairs, still keeping the fog heavy around Striker. I crawled through the hallways as I listened to him scream and curse my name. I got rid of the fog and put an illusion over myself to stay camouflaged against the walls. He ran right past me.
My entire bad leg was tingling and all other limbs were burning from overexertion. I made my way down the stairs and back to the courtyard. Tears were steaming down my face as I half hobbled half crawled down the alley. I heard Striker yell that he was going to find Reagan.
Help. Need help.
I pushed myself to my two feet once I was at the street. I was barely able to take a step before I collapsed on the sidewalk.
"Are you okay?" someone asked. My illusion was gone. "What happened?" They had long black hair surrounding an owl-like face and dressed in basic brown and dark green colors. "Do you need help?"
I didn't want to risk it but Reagan was in trouble. I got up on my elbows and good knee. "Cannibal town. Where?"
"Right down the street. What's wrong with your leg?"
"Help me there." I extended an arm and they immediately took it. They pulled me to my feet and let me lean half my weight on their narrow figure. I hobbled down the street with them until we reached the entrance to Rosie's territory.
"Rosie's Emporium," I said next. They asked the closest cannibal and they directed them the right way. I was dragged all the way until we got to the front door of her store. The door flew open in a frenzy and she helped me through the door. I instantly felt safe as she and her cannibals carried me to the back room.
I gripped the chair arms as pain bolted through my spine. Rosie tried to talk to me but I couldn't think clearly. "Reagan...Human girl...Lucifer's palace. Please."
Rosie sent out a few people in search of her. She came back to me and examined the injury. I continued to cry and yelp at the pain that even the slightest of movement caused.
She put a hand on my forehead, the pain gradually melting away until it became much more bearable. I let out a sigh and leaned back into the chair. She didn't take her hand from my sweaty face.
"You'll need an actual healer, but I can make it easier for you," she explained. I was finally going to be grateful for our tough Healer, Althea. I hoped the cannibals could find Reagan. I was worried another Demon might've gotten to her first.
I waited impatiently for what felt like an hour. I would never forgive myself if her cannibals came back empty handed. I couldn't lose her because I couldn't handle one Demon. I had fought my entire life, so why could I never beat Striker?
My heart dropped in my stomach when her men and women came back with no Reagan. I covered my face with both hands as I let out a cry. She was gone all because of me. She had just told me how grateful she was for me and within the hour I had sent her to her death.
Rosie was instantly at my side. She put a hand on my back and tried to keep my claws from piercing my own head. She tried to reason that she had made it to Lucifer's palace but I didn't believe in good consequences.
"Rosie do you know where-" Alastor took three steps into the room before realizing I was there. "Never mind. What happened?"
"Reagan's gone," I cried. "She's dead because of me."
He cocked his head to the side. "She's back at the Haven."
"What?" My head snapped up.
He moved to stand in front of me, hands resting on his cane. "Lucifer brought her back. He said you had told her to run to him."
"So she's safe?" I clarified, earning a simple nod from him. I leaned back in the chair covering my face again. Now the tears were relief.
"Care to tell me happened?" he asked.
"Her knee is broken. She needs a Healer first," Rosie said.
"Good thing we have one," he reassured her. He moved to me and snaked an arm behind my back. I wanted to protest but I knew I couldn't walk. I was still angry about our last conversation.
I put an arm over his shoulder as he hoisted me out of the chair. I yelped and held on tighter as the pain made its way to my brain. He had his arm under my legs but used his hand to keep my bad leg from bending too much.
"Thank you Rosie." He nodded to the Overlord. She held the door for us and he teleported through the scorched symbol on the ground. He carried me past the house and into the Haven. I hoped he wasn't going to get mad when he found I had gotten blood on his clothes. My face was still bleeding and I had been leaning it on his shoulder.
Althea worked quick as soon as she saw me. Alastor carefully laid me on the 'medical' bed she always had in the common space. My back arched from the pain and I punctured holes in the sheets from gripping them with my claws.
"The hell did you do to your knee?" Althea asked, not looking for a response.
Alastor put a hand on my forehead to help ease the pain. Althea cut the fabric of my pants so she could work. Even with his magic, the pain of healing still made my body contort. She was moving my bones around before actually beginning the healing process. That part hurt worse than moving my bones.
Alastor's hand never left my forehead as he quieted my yells with magic. I was in and out of consciousness, each awakening hoping that was the last time. How was healing taking so long? I felt naesous and tried to roll over to get sick. Althea was quick and pulled a bucket over just in time.
I fell unconscious again after that. This time, when I came to, she was walking away from my normally colored knee. I let out a sigh of relief. It was quickly taken away from me as she went to my face.
Alastor removed his hand and it felt like he was taking part of my soul with him. A shiver ran through my body and I suddenly felt very cold.
She took a damp rag and soaked up the blood on my face. It had dropped down my cheeks, past my chin, down my neck, and soaked the top of my shirt. She wiped my face and neck clean before healing another broken bone. This one wasn't as bad but it still made me wince and cry from the sharp pain. Why was healing so painful?
When she finished, she took a step back and sighed. She announced me healed and wanted to keep me in the bed with a new pair of clothes overnight. I desperately wanted new clothes and a thick sheet to stop me from shivering so much.
"What happened?" Alastor asked, coming back into view.
"Striker found me," I said through a gasp. I was trying to catch my breath. "Someone else did. They...he paid them."
"He's becoming a nuisance."
I wasn't sure how to take that comment. I closed my eyes and let out a heavy sigh. Althea opened the door to let Reagan come sprinting in. She wrapped her arms around me and leaned her weight on my chest. I returned the hug as tears fell down my cheeks.
"You're okay." I put a hand on the back of her head. She was real and in front of me. She was safe.
"I'm so sorry!"
"No. You did exactly what I needed you to do. I'm so glad you're safe." My other hand was rubbing her back. Alastor's presence around my shields turned noticeably warm, replacing the usual cold chill I felt from him. He turned on his heels and walked to the door.
"Alastor," I called. It still felt strange to use his name. He stopped and turned his head to acknowledge me. "I need...I want to learn how to fight with magic. No more discovering other things, I just...I need to be better at it."
I needed to learn how to use magic offensively. I barely managed to get away from Striker. This made it three times I had escaped him. His next move might be more dangerous and deadly. I needed to be able to protect my people from more than a single threat.
"I can work with that." He disappeared into his shadows.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Author's Note:
Gosh I missed writing these interactions with Alastor. More are coming, I promise!
Welcome OC Finn! There’s a couple mentions of some other OCs but we’ll get to them soon :)
#alastor the radio demon#alastor x reader#hazbin alastor#hazbin hotel#soulmate au#soulmates#hazbin husk#reqs open#hazbin hotel husk#demi demon
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let the light in
jacaerys velaryon x reader
summary: he is everything you need and everything you can't have.
warnings: cheating, infidelity, angst, hurt/comfort, grief.
a/n: trying something new<3
°°°
The winter has always been harsh to you in Winterfell. Tightening the fur cloak around you, Your eyes meet with. your husband's momentarily. Cregan eyes you like a hunter aiming towards a deer. You look away almost immediately.
Your husband was not a cruel man, but he was stern, and he was as cold as the bitter freezing weather. But then again, you figured losing three wives before you would do that to a man.
Exhaling a violent loud breath, you move to exit the solemn feast of the funeral, halted in your steps when you feel his hand againts your shoulder. You snap your face towards him in confusion and take notice of the hesitation in his expression.
"Are you alright?" He speaks for the first time that day. His deep voice still sends shivers down your spine but you no longer tremble hearing it now, at least.
"My brother is dead." You deadpanned, immediately regretting it. His face had guilt written all over it, though for what you couldn't tell.
You cut him off before he could apologize, beating him to it. "I apologize husband, it seems I am still in a rather unstable mood."
He shook his head, dismissing your regret, hand still holding you by your shoulder. "I understand grief, never apologize to me for yours."
When his touch finally leaves you, and his eyes turn towards the floor, you take it as a sign he's letting you retire to your chambers, and so you do.
The sound of low thumping sound of drums and grave music fades away as you enter your room. Breathing a sigh of relief, you took off your coat, swinging it over the chair by the door. Never have the sight of your bed seemed more heavenly than as of now.
You feel your heart sink immediately, the warmth your room provided, disappearing in a swift second with the realization of reality. A sob broke through you, a broken and wretched sound.
you grasped on the material of your dress, right above your chest, as if you could squeeze your heart shut from the pain, but it's still there, loud in it's silence.
You felt him then, arms pulling you into his embrace as you let you body fall weak.
You knew he would come, just as he's always had the past few months he had been here, just like he had when you two were mere children in Kingslanding, where duty has never been pressed so hard on yourselves.
Your mouth was hung open, a scream that never quite escaped you, yet he had heard it.
He'll always will.
You pulled your head out of his chest, shaking hands pulling his face to look at you, the sight of his pity filling you like a knife buried deep in your chest, twisting.
He holds your face in the palms of his hands, like fresh painting, careful not to smudge.
But you do not want him careful. You wanted him to break you, to tear you up like the fragmented girl you already are. And you wanted him to piece you back together again, mold you into all the things you couldn't have been before. A better sister, a good wife, a girl without the rage of a thousand mothers buried inside waiting to burst.
So you kissed him, and Jacaerys, the ever soft prince, kisses you back. His hand moving to the bank of your head, eyes closed, gentle and kind, so kind you wanted to fall apart.
"I want you to fuck me." Low, you murmured againts his lips. You feel his chest heave as if he's been running.
Your foreheads lean againts eachother before his eyes opened, staring straight into your already opened ones. "You're grieving." Jace concluded.
"I am in pain." You corrected. "I'm in so much pain, like a candle whose fire only you could put out. Only you could melt this ice on my land like the spread of summer's return." Your desperation was not subtle, and he wished he could ever resist you, he wish he did the first moment he laid eyes on you.
"I will not take advantage of you." He wanted to demand, to be stern, but it came out in a whisper, his eyes pleading, begging you, to have mercy.
"Take advantage of me Jacaerys, take all of me until there's no more left for myself, All these parts of me are too much to bare."
He's shaking his head now, yet his arms holding you closer, tighter. "Your husband will have my head. He'll kill me."
His eyes was unblinking, unrelentingly tryinh to read you. "And it's not the first time I've thought of it, thought of this, if your heart was ever worth my head."
It was silent between the two of you for a minute, clinging to eachother like you'll drown of you let go. "Is it?" You ask, meekly.
He kisses you again. "You're worth a thousand heads, a thousand men."
#house of the dragon#jacaerys velaryon x reader#jacaerys velaryon#hotd x reader#jace velaryon x reader#game of thrones#house of the dragon x reader#jace targaryen x reader#hotd#jacaerys targaryen#aemond targaryen#cregan stark#cregan stark x reader
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MDNI‼️
pov: idia doesn't want you to baby him any more
warnings: not-really-porn without plot, rather suggestive then smut, sub idia, dom reader, reader has a dick that can't be seen as strap, teasing blushy idia >>>>
wc:
reader: gn (2nd person "you")
you two didn't even make it to your bedroom as you were sloppily kissing each other, hands traversing various body parts. he managed to pull you onto the sofa in the middle of the living room and you just let him take charge of your positioning. you were now laying beneath him, feeling him straddle your hips and grinding onto your erection.
"you're being bold today, darling", you managed to say between heated kisses. hearing that, idia picked up the pace, pushing his weight onto your dick and sliding it into the correct position, where it almost felt like you're already penetrating his greedy hole.
even though his actions tried to convince you that he's merely teasing and egging you on, wanting to make you lose control, his hair reveals his true intention. pink flames shoot up from his scalp, indicating that he's flustered right now. seeing that, you let your hand travel down his back down to his tight ass, which you give a little pinch and in turn hear his rewarding moans.
"my darling's being so needy right now.. let me give you what you want", as you said that, his eyes go wide and you see his signature grin forming on his face, his sharp teeth reflecting the moody lights in the living room.
you sat the two of you up on the sofa and grabbed his chin to kiss him more. suddenly, you hear a displeased grunt and you opened your eyes. he pushes you a bit further away from him, his facial expression a less than pleased one.
"look y/n, i love you, but can you pleease stop the endless foreplay? i'm trying to get laid here and having to wait for something that i've been going crazy thinking about is more than unfair, don'tcha think?" he looked very serious as he stated what's wrong and gazed at you expectantly. "..how long has this been bothering you?", you asked idia, completely unaware of his feelings.
"when we started having sex, like, a month ago. it's nothing grave but it has come to my attention that you simply don't want to go rough on me. i get that you're trying to make love to me, but we don't have to be this careful and affectionate aaall the time. sometimes, i just want you to fuck me stupid, no exceptions. justyoupoundingmeintotomorrow. liveoutallofyourkinkyfantasieswithme. i'dlovetobeusedbyyou- ", idia stated, growing more quiet and flustered towards the end of his speech and his hair turning even more pink than it already was.
"all of my fantasies you say?~", you wiggled your eyebrows at him as idia bashfully looked away, embarrassed my his own words but still nodding shyly. "are you sure you can handle it, sweetheart? if you want me to start you're gonna have to beg me to stop, you know. are you certain you want me to go rough on you, darling?" gulping, idia nodded once more, seeming to look straight into your soul and dying of curiosity of what you would do next.
"alright then.. don't say i didn't warn you", you abruptly picked him up, grabbing onto his thighs. surprised by your actions, idia wraps his arms around your neck and his legs around your waist. you managed to make him let out a little yelp. confidently, you carried him to your bedroom since for what you had in mind the sofa wouldn't have had enough space to accommodate both you and idia...
fin.
i'm so normal about this man aaah
#sub twst#twisted wonderland#twst smut#twst x reader#idia shroud#twst idia#twisted wonderland idia#idia x reader#sub idia
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SIN
CHAPTER 1
꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦
Notes:
This story is first-person narration, since I couldn't decide on an x reader or x oc. This gives free imagination on who will be in the main character's shoes. The main character will be a nameless character, meaning no one will address the main as anything specific. The only detail will be that the main is perceived as a male.
STORY INTEL:
A new boy, Marcus, has just transferred to Cheshire High. Everyone is warned to stay away from him, as he looks as if he just crawled out of a grave. However, our main character seems to be somewhat drawn to him. Judy displays her negative feelings towards Marcus, wanting the main character to stay away from him. Although she seems unreasonable, there has to be more to the story, right? Just what are they hiding? What secrets lie in wait for him to uncover?
CHARACTERS ARE NOT MINORS
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
♡
꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦
I wish that
Across your back
Was a zipper
And that I
Could just crawl in
Forever a part of you.
I'm suddenly shaken awake. I look to my side to find my girlfriend, Judy Presley, giggling to herself.
“Sleeping already? Class barely started!”
I quietly laughed, raising my head to look at her.
“I've been busy with football practice, I'm worried about the upcoming tournament. I've only just found out that Oliver broke his-”
“Hey, no worries!” Judy rubbed my back. “You can come over to my house today, so you can catch up on some sleep.” She winked.
I laid my head back onto my crossed arms on the table. I wasn't in the mood for that today… Anyway, I ready myself to fall back into slumber, fully expecting to be hugged by sleep.
However, that idea was cut short when the teacher clapped his hands.
“Quiet down everyone, today we have a new student.” This piqued my interest. “Marcus, come on in.”
A tall, slender boy with long (and I mean hip-long) black hair came in. His hair covered half his face, with only the septum piercing and mouth left out in the open. I could tell he was a gothic-alt based on his clothes.
Judy cringed next to me. “What's with this guy? He's so ... depressed, looking. She chuckled, causing” the teacher to look our way.
“Alright, Marcus, go sit at the desk table next to Judy. Judy, raise your hand, please.”
Marcus sat at the nearby desk; there was something about him, I couldn't pinpoint. I realized I was staring too long when Judy elbowed me.
“Ow!” I whisper-yelled.
“SH! You two!” The teacher side-eyed us both before going back to teaching.
“What's with the staring?” She asked, suspiciously.
“Nothing just found him-”
“Weird, satanic, faggy-”
“JUDY! You can't say that!-”
“I've had it with you both! Since you both cannot stop being lovey-dovey with each other…” The teacher scanned around the room, “Judy switch with Marcus.”
“But sir, I-” Judy argued, still blushing from the lovey-dovey accusation.
“No buts Judy, if you're going to be disrespectful in my class you're going to be punished. This isn't kindergarten anymore.” He said, turning back to the blackboard.
I whispered a silent apology to her, but I'm not sure if she heard it.
She sighed before grabbing her stuff and standing up. She passed Marcus, silently glaring at him before sitting down. I'm sure she won't let me hear the end of it at lunch…
I looked back at Marcus, who was now organizing his binder and pencil case, occasionally looking up at the lesson. Now I could get a better look at him. His clothes consisted of only black and grey shades with ripped baggy jeans, platform boots, and a t-shirt with some rock band, I presume. He wore all kinds of chains, necklaces, earrings, and rings.
He was the complete polar opposite of Judy. She always put her light brown hair in a ponytail with a white bow, wore perfect matching season clothes, and had well-made makeup. I would be lying if I said she wasn't something but, Marcus, he was also something… Wait, why am I comparing them??
I rubbed my temples and groaned.
I looked back at Marcus, only to be met with him facing me!
“You have very pretty eyes.” He said, giving me an affiliative smile.
Gasp His voice?? Holy shit, it's … almost unrealistic…
“T-thank you…”
I internally slapped myself, was I seriously stuttering?? God, I'm so embarrassed.
I heard him lightly chuckle beside me.
What's going on with me? I must be coming down with something!
ﾟ+: *✧･ﾟ:﹤ 🔔🔔🔔﹥: ･ﾟ✧*:+ﾟ
“Judy this, Judy that, shut your goddamn mouth!” I shut my locker, half listening to Judy's rant. “I hate that fucking teacher! Who does he think he is, separating us like that!?” I nod, just letting her get it all out of her system.
“Hey guys, wait up!” A small voice behind us made Judy shut up.
We both turned towards a familiar girl. Vanessa Kareem, Judy's BFF (as she calls it). Vanessa and her have always been friends. She was pretty much the spitting image of Judy except for her black silky hair that was in a grunge haircut, her blue eyes, and her much paler skin.
“Hey V, how's it going?” Judy smiled, forgetting all about her rant.
“Nothing much, however, you'll never guess what happened! I've just received another A! In science too!” She waved her test around, looking at me for words of praise.
“Oh, uh, congrats Vanessa, although I'm not all that surprised… you're pretty smart. I can't remember the last time you've gotten a B.” I rub the back of my neck.
“Me neither…” Judy said, a bit sourly.
Vanessa laughed, “Oh, stop it! Both of you! He-he. Anyway, how are you guys?”
“I'm glad you asked, we're doing pretty miserable,” And there she goes again… “I got switched seats with the new vampire wannabe.”
Vanessa blinked. “You two aren't sitting together anymore?”
“No! Can you believe it!? We always sit together! Ugh! I'm so pissed off! Fuck that new kid.” Judy screamed.
“Hey, don't say that! He's not all bad.” I intervened.
“And what makes you say that?” Judy cocked an eyebrow.
“He… He said my eyes looked nice.” I pinched the palm of my hand.
“Your eyes indeed do look nice,” Vanessa said, causing Judy to side-eye her.
“Yeah, well, I say that all the time! As a matter of fact, I think your hair looks immaculate today!”
“Thank you, Judy, and erm, Vanessa.” I give them both a wary smile before continue walking to the cafeteria.
There, MY best friend, Omar Thomerson, sat devouring his lunch. Omar, he's been with me since the universe was created. We're convinced we were best friends in our past lives. I've always thought of him as the geek in our friendship. He's always been obsessed with any fantasy fiction he can grab on. Greek mythology, science-fiction, astrology, you name it. He has dark brown hair with a shag haircut, freckles, and brown eyes. His typical wear is a worn-out hoodie and cargo pants.
“Hey, Hey, there's my best friend!” Omar patted the seat next to him.
I sat down with Judy and Vanessa trailing after me. I gave him a high five before opening my lunch box.
We all chatted and ate, Omar occasionally bringing up the big party he is planning on having at his house this weekend.
“Our whole grade is going to be invited! You guys better all be coming, especially you” Omar said, smirking at me.
“The whole grade? Don't you think that's too much? I mean, I know you own a big house but…” She sighed, “Not only that, but I might have plans this weekend.” Judy said, taking another bite of her salad.
“I'm for sure coming, I would never miss your parties!” I slap his back jokingly.
“I'll be going too!” Vanessa beamed.
“Well… maybe I'll have time to swing by,” Judy said.
“Great! I'll be holding you all to that then.” Omar smiled.
We continued our conversation until something caught my eye, a familiar half-face going out the back cafeteria door. The only thing behind there are dumpsters and roaches…
“Hang on, guys, I'll be back.” I squeezed out of my seat.
“Want me to come with you?” Judy sat up.
“No, no, I won't be long anyway,” I said before running out after Marcus.
I opened the back door and closed it behind me. I looked around and as expected there were only dumpsters.
I advanced towards one of them and looked behind it, but nothing-
“What are you doing?”
꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦
Want to read ahead?
Click here!
#horror#x male y/n#x male reader#x transmasc reader#wattpad#chapter 1#romantic yandere#yandere#yandere male#yandere original character#yandere oc#gay#fantasy#plot twists#analogue horror#scp#tadc#x female reader#x transfem reader#half of these tags have nothing to do with the story#SIN#yandere male x male reader#male x male#i’m back#ao3 tags#original story#orignal writing#original content#original idea#fnaf
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after being reminded of how much narilamb dominates the cotl space, I remembered this little lambket/shroomwool idea and decided to write it out. Admittedly it's a little light on Lamb/Heket interaction as its TOWW POV, but I feel some people will just be happy this exists at all. enjoy.
The One Who Waits laughed heartily as the lamb emerged before them, having just slaughtered Kallamar. Leshy had already fallen and the path to Heket has been open for some time. “Kallamar was always a coward. This land is a better place now his pathetic, sniveling carcass is nothing more than a mound of rotting flesh.” Narinder grinned with malicious delight. Another traitorous sibling fallen. Another step towards freedom. This lamb was all they were prophesized to be. “Now. Finish what you started in Anura. I do not blame you for seeking Kallamar after he showed his cowardly nature, but Heket still lives. Strike while they remain vulnerable.” He could see the lamb shift their weight. They were trying to hide it, but they were clearly uncomfortable with what their lord had commanded. Narinder thought back to the lamb’s last encounter with his sister in Anura. The lamb had hesitated when Heket left. They stood there, as if afraid, before they continued. “Do you fear her?” The lamb was startled, clearly woken from thought. “Do you fear Heket?” The lamb shook their head, the bell they wore jingling quietly. “No, my lord. I do not.”
Narinder regarded their vessel for a moment. “…why did you hesitate?” The lamb looked confused, so Narinder clarified. “Whenever you face my sister, you hesitate before continuing your crusade. I thought it fear, at first, but you claim otherwise. So why delay? Why go to Anchordeep when she laid defenseless? Speak.” The lamb hesitated, purposefully avoiding his gaze. “I just wanted to get some crystals. The lighthou-”
“L A M B.” Narinder cut them off, “do you take me for a fool? Even now, you clearly do not wish to face the yellow crown. I demand the truth. Or else.” The lamb cowered slightly at the threat. They wringed their hooves and mumbled an answer. “Speak up!” Narinder growled. The lamb repeated, but still too quiet to be distinct. “LAMB!”
“I SAID I THINK YOUR SISTER’S HOT, ALL RIGHT?!?” The lamb’s confession echoed through the quiet gateway as the three cats present stared at the vessel in communal disbelief. “You…what?” The lamb crossed their arms and looked away as their face turned red as carmillas. “…your sister's attractive…so I feel a bit bad about killing her.”
It took all of Narinder’s strength not to lose his composure. “…but letting her watch the others fall is much better? You are crueler than I gave you credit for.” The lamb slunk at his words. “Either way, you must slay her to free me.”
The lamb looked between death’s attendants, mulling something over, before addressing their god once again. “My lord…when I free you, I assume I will return to mortality, yes?” Narinder could not suppress a growl of irritation, which was shortly echoed by Aym. “Why is this important? You have angered me enough.” The lamb took two steps forward, their uncertainty disappearing. “I would like to request a reward. For all I have done in your name. I would think such is fitting, yes.” Narinder could guess what they wanted. What charm has his sister put over his vessel? …No. Heket knew nothing of charm, magically or otherwise. This delusion was purely of the vessel’s mind. “If you think I will spare Heket her due punishment for your sake, lamb, you are gravely mistaken. Even if I were to grant her mercy, she would not be with you any sooner than she would bow to ME. Enough delusions. Go.” And with that, the lamb relented, returning to their cult. As they left, Narinder sighed, wishing to relax and forget about the lamb’s horrid delusion.
“To think the prophesized lamb would be such an unworthy vessel.” Aym broke the short-lived silence. Narinder hissed at him, causing them to shrink away. They knew they were not given permission to speak. Baal also flinched, having been cut off from speaking their mind as well. “It matters not,” their master assured themselves, “as even if the lamb offered such, Heket would never accept it.”
“I can’t believe Heket actually accepted.” Narinder spoke to himself as Heket walked the aisle of the temple, the music drowning out his words. His siblings, now mortal, stood beside Narinder. Leshy mirrored his disbelief, thinking the lamb must have made some sort of bribe or threat. Kallamar, ever the soft fool, was more concerned with the beauty of the event and couple as they pointlessly tried to wipe the happy tears from their eyes. Shamura, of course, was simply happy for their sister and stood quietly with them in the front row.
Despite both betraying him and cutting all of them down twice over, the lamb had somehow made peace with his siblings and won over his sister’s heart. If it was not happening in front of Narinder, they wouldn’t believe it. Heket’s smile faded for a moment as they looked at their disapproving brother, which made his cold heart sink, but she continued to smile brightly as she took her place at the lamb’s side. Narinder watched the ceremony but didn’t care for the words. Looking at his sister, he tried to remember the last time he saw such a genuine smile on their face.
Unknowingly, Narinder smiled slightly. At least his sister looked better in a wedding suit than the lamb.
#cult of the lamb#cotl#cotl narinder#cotl lamb#cotl heket#lambket#shroomwool#lamb x heket#also the idea was just the one line of “i said your sister is hot alright?!?”#I thought it was funny and wrote a whole story for just that line
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Til Death Do Us Part (A Dalvlo/Corn Yaoi fanfic)
As part vampire, Dalv naturally has a lifespan much longer than any average monster or human. As he celebrates his 96th anniversary with Starlo, he reflects on the long life they had together.
(Also available on Archive of Our Own)
Dalv laid down a picnic blanket, and started placing down supplies. He brought a basket of freshly grilled corn cobs, a bottle of Adult Soda, and some golden flowers in a vase full of water.
After settling down and placing a cob on his plate, he began talking.
"So uh, it's been a while, hasn't it?" He stared at his cob, struggling to think of what to say next. "96 years we've been married. I still remember that day like it was yesterday. Me stepping out, seeing you in that suit, the smile beaming on your face... holding your hands as we spoke our vows..."
---
Dalv wiped his palms on his dress. He almost didn't even wear the dress, but Starlo was able to convince him last minute. He was nervous, but excited. Today was the big day.
He stepped out and looked across the long wedding hall. Starlo was standing on the other side, in that incredibly handsome suit, a smile beaming across his face. Next to him stood Clover, his person of honor.
Dalv walked calmly across the hall (it took all the strength in him to not immediately sprint into Starlo's arms) and took his place on the altar.
At once, the officiant began speaking. "I, EL BAILADOR, HAVE TASKED MYSELF WITH OFFICIATING THIS MARRIAGE."
Starlo shot Dalv a look. Dalv shot him a look back of 'Hey buddy, this was your idea'.
"We are gathered here today to witness the marriage of the Sheriff of this town, Starlo North Star, and his husband Dalv of the Dark Ruins." El Bailador posed dramatically between every phrase. Dalv was going to correct him, as he had been living in Snowdin for some time at that point, but he decided he wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible.
"Two great members of the community, joined together in holy matrimony. Joined by PASSION, passion for each other, for the arts, for cowboy movies and organ music alike. Truly a match made in heaven. You may now speak your vows."
Starlo held his hands in Dalv's, and spoke first. "When I met you, I thought I already knew who I was. I was North Star, the sheriff, the lone wolf, among the willows, who don't need nobody to keep his bed warm. But... you filled a hole in my heart this ol' cowboy didn't even know he had. Thank you."
Dalv spoke next. "My starlight... When you met me, I was at my lowest. Alone, friendless, filled with regret over past mistakes... you helped me see past that. You pulled me out of the hole I was in, and helped me find myself again. That is to say, I'm lucky to have you. I will love you forever, until death do us part."
Until death do us part.
Til death do us part
...
---
Dalv grabbed out a handkerchief and dabbed it over his eyes. "Sorry... I told myself I wasn't going to..." He took some deep breaths to ground himself, before he resumed talking. "That was the happiest day of my life. And since then, my life's only gotten better. Sure, we had our rocky moments, our arguments, the multiple run-ins with the law I had to get you out of... but I like to think you changed me for the better. And I hope I was able to help you out too, while you were still around."
Dalv placed the vase of golden flowers at the foot of the grave.
Starlo "North Star"
2084 - 2179
The best Sheriff this side of the Underground.
Dalv stared at the cob in his hand, silently, in reflection.
"I finally cleaned up that room you kept your cowboy memorabilia in. I decided to give most of it to charity. I cried. I cried a lot. But... it felt like a weight was lifted off my shoulder. I turned that room into a room for my organ practice. I didn't want to get rusty, and I like to imagine you're still there with me, listening along..."
Dalv dug around in the picnic basket. "I kept these. I felt that you would kill me if I ever gave them away, and I don't think I could ever convince myself to anyways."
Dalv placed a rusty, beat-up six-piece revolver at the foot of the grave. He grabbed a worn cowboy hat and placed it on top.
He paused for a few moments.
"People keep telling me to stop coming here," he eventually spoke. "And in fairness, it has been a while. But... I start to feel bad if I don't keep you company. I think I worry that... I'll move on. That I'll forget about you. That you'll become just another 'blip' to me. I don't want that to happen."
Another pause.
"I started seeing someone recently. She seems nice. We both share a passion for childrens entertainment! Though her taste in children's media is more Amphibiland whereas mine is more Dr. Moose. She plays the violin too. Her playing is lovely..." Dalv cut himself off. He was blushing. "Sorry, I was rambling again... It's nice to have found someone else I like."
"I remember on the day that... the day that I lost you." Dalv placed the cob down on his plate. "As I was standing next to your bed, holding your hand, you told me with your last breaths that... people move on. And that it's scary, and it hurts, but it's important to grow as people. I think often about those words."
"You were the last friend that I had left. After Ed, after Moray, after Mooch and Ace, and Martlet, and... Clover... I went against your word. I vowed myself to never get attached again. I couldn't afford to forget you. I couldn't afford to replace your memory with another friend, who I will have to lose all over again. Not in this long life I live."
"But recently I've been thinking about what Martlet said, on the day we sent Clover off. She mentioned how the short 'blips' in life can leave the biggest impacts. I suppose in the scale of my own life, you were a 'blip' too. I will continue to live for... as long as I do. And even though I won't be able to spend the rest of it with you, I'll still have the impact you left on me. So, thank you."
Dalv's phone began buzzing.
"Oh, I should probably get going soon, I don't wanna be late for our meetup..." Dalv got up and began packing the picnic supplies back into the basket.
Before leaving, Dalv turned around to look at the grave one last time. "See you around, space cowboy." He shot a finger gun before finally turning to leave.
#undertale yellow#undertale#corn yaoi#fanfic#art#uty dalv#uty starlo#fanart#shoutouts to corn nation
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A Galling Yoke, Part 14
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for the “Take care of them for me, will you?”, “You have no idea what you mean to me”, and Having feelings for someone you hurt squares on my July Break Bingo card
See this post for main info, including a masterlist and synopsis. See this post for warnings.
Word Count: 2.8k
Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x f!Reader
Rating: Teen
A couple of hours after Sherlock and William left, one of them returned. It wasn’t until Sherlock walked through the door alone that the reality fully sank in for you: your little brother had overturned his life for you. He had done so of his own volition, and it was entirely possible that he would end up a happier man with the freedom of being a low-status commoner, but you knew you were not successful in reassuring yourself when Sherlock became alarmed and gathered you into his arms.
“Do not cry, petal. Please—I hate to see your tears.”
“Oh, heavens,” you sniffled into his chest. “I have been crying a lot, have I not?”
Leading you to the settee, he said, “Not any more than is warranted given the series of upheavals your life has been recently.”
That got a wet laugh out of you. “Are you actually validating expressions of emotion, Sherlock?”
“Only yours.” He froze halfway through lowering himself to sit beside you. “That is, I care only about your emoti— No, I mean being emotional is only reasonable when it is y— Oh, for pity’s sake.”
You clapped a hand over your mouth to stay the giggles at his sudden ineloquence. The man could monologue on the spot about dastardly deeds and murderous mysteries, but he got tongue-tied trying to comfort a friend! He seemed to recognise the incongruity himself, as he dragged a palm down his face and practically flopped down beside you.
“I am already bungling the one request he made of me,” he groaned.
You sobered quickly at that. “What do you mean? William? What did he say to you?”
“Naught surprising. Asked me about my…” He waved off the rest of the sentence like it was a nuisance of a housefly.
“Your what?” You gawped. “Your intentio—?”
“And then he told me to watch over you in his absence. His single, final request. As I said, naught surprising.”
The scene materialised in your imagination: William emulating Sherlock’s graveness as best he could so that he could deliver his message sternly, “Take care of her for me, will you?” With a fortifying inhale, you let the imagery dissolve.
“What…did you answer?” you questioned, inexplicably nervous to know.
He arched an eyebrow. “Internally, I was rather offended that he thought he had to ask. As though I am going to let you go after only just getting you back.”
Your eyes dropping, you fidgeted with your sleeves, suddenly—and untimeously—remembering that you were in Sherlock’s clothes.
“Ah.” Blast! Really!
“Externally, I reassured him that you can take care of yourself, as evidenced by the past decade and a half—and, frankly, even before that.”
You raised your gaze to smile up at him, pleased by his approbation.
It was his turn to fidget for a moment. “Of course,” he started, flustered, “that means not that I shall stand by. It is clear to me now that I know not always what is best for you—but I do always want what is best for you. No, indeed,” he went on, coolheaded and self-assured now, “I have learnt my lesson and shall never abandon you again.”
Smile widening, you scooted closer to him and tentatively laid your hand on top of the one of his that lay on the settee between you. The back of his hand was rough, cracked by the dry winter air, but all the stronger and warmer feeling for it. “I believe it, sir, and I welcome your presence in my life.”
He, with great care, turned his hand over and threaded his fingers through yours.
Entranced, you smiled down at the sight for quite some time. Your hand fit perfectly in his. This felt just as snug as, though headily more intimate than, being tucked into his side on the street, your arm hooked around his elbow. When you looked up, you found Sherlock’s stare fixed on you.
“Is aught the matter?”
He frowned. “Yes. Or, well, no, not if you would…” The frown deepened to a scowl. “Would you like to know why you are ‘petal’ to me?”
You blinked a few times. The forbidding visage did not match the personal direction this conversation had swerved, until you recognised the discomfort lining Sherlock’s form.
“I have wanted to know since you came up with that little nickname, if you recall,” you replied, keeping your tone light to hopefully lift some of his discomposure. “I only stopped pestering you for an explanation after years of your continual refusing.”
His eyes darted to and from yours. “Well, I continually refused because it was…sentimental.”
“Ah.” Not again! Say something cleverer than that, for heaven’s sake! “Sherlock, the last thing I wish to do is embarrass you. You need not tell me. I had only been curious, and I am content to not know.”
“I wish you to know,” he said, his gaze finally settling on yours. “I always had. It was only my confounded hubris that kept my lips sealed—you know how it is at that age, thinking you can have it all, and I thought I could have you and keep you at a distance at the same time. But now, now, I would have you know that there is naught I guard more closely or hold higher up than you, even any semblance of being superior in my immunity to…well, to sentiment.”
In other words, the olive branch of olive branches, the goodwill gesture of goodwill gestures. The first step of many future steps. You smiled. “I would love to know, sir.”
He shifted closer, close enough that his and your knees touched. “We spent many hours out-of-doors, exploring, talking, getting into minor trouble.”
You smirked. He paused to shoot you a withering look.
“Yes, minor. It was never that bad.”
“Go on, Sherlock.”
“Right. Well. It did not take me long to notice the resemblance between you and the flowers we’d come across, their petals bright, budding…beautiful, of course.”
“Of course,” you said, sounding surprisingly controlled for how quickly you’d lost your breath.
“Yet the petal is a protector,” mused Sherlock. “It is crucial to the survival and prosperity of the flower—but also to its pleasantness. Its homeliness, in a way. The analogy was puerile, yes, but privately charming, and it stuck. When I saw you again, after all of these years apart, these thoughts came back to me, but more…more meaningfully, I suppose, than when I first had them.”
Unsteady, you nodded in understanding. You recalled Sherlock scandalising your butler and your father alike by addressing you with such familiarity; you recalled him trying to cover his tracks by playing it off as something he and Mycroft did. But no, the elder Holmes brother would sooner call you pest than petal. You had allowed Sherlock’s little white lie because you truly had believed it to be a thoughtless slip…and all along, it had been anything but thoughtless.
“The more the old nickname arose in my thoughts,” he said, “the more meaning it carried with it. Even though much has changed for us—and, indeed, between us—I still find you to be the most resplendent, most vivacious part of my life.”
“Truly?” you breathed.
“Well and truly.” He moved the hand of yours that he held into his lap. “That you are astounded surprises me not, for I shall be the first to confess that I am perplexed as to how such tender feelings can persist here.” Balling his other hand into a fist on his knee, he muttered, “It is the epitome of illogic, to care for one whom I have hurt.”
“I have hurt you as well, Sherlock,” you reminded him softly.
“Yes, and yet…” He lifted your hand to his lips and punctuated his words with kisses to your knuckles. “And yet, I would have you, petal. I—your brother simply wants not that you be without friends, but I, selfishly—I would have you as my lifelong puzzle, I would be the certainty throughout your uncertainties…”
In quick succession, memories flashed in your mind: All the times Sherlock had given you his right arm to maximise the support of your injured knee, had taken the time to explain his thought process to you instead of spouting his conclusions and expecting you to follow along, had given you space in his life and work despite his instincts to take it all up himself, had spoken up for you when something discomfited or somebody distressed you. All the ways he had encouraged your theories and supported your contributions to the case, had reached out with logical reasoning and impassioned promises alike to ease your mind whenever necessary, had been attuned to your moods at all and striven to keep you from losing yourself in your troubles or your thoughts, had somehow allowed you to reflect on your past without regret. Together, they formed a mural you had somehow not noticed being built in your heart until this instant—a mural that proved nothing was more certain than that you, without knowing, without having to know, had let Sherlock Holmes into your lifeblood.
“…if you would have me, my lady.”
A tiny breath escaped you. If, indeed. “You have no idea what you mean to me, Sherlock.” Pulling your hand away from his mouth, out of his grip, looping it instead around his neck along with your other arm, you dragged him down to you.
It was not like the kiss from this morning. Indeed, it was not like any kiss you’d ever experienced before: here, in this cranny of the world alone, the air was richer with Sherlock’s warm and enveloping musk, your lungs fuller with the bittersweet blend of old rifts and nascent reconciliation; now, uniquely in this pocket of time, your skin met Sherlock’s in a collision of years-old longing singing out and weeks-long control unravelling at the seams. These precious few minutes were inimitable.
Only the tightness in your gut grounded you as your heartbeat raced high and hard to match the melody of Sherlock’s. His hands roving from your hips to your shoulders were all that propped you up, his hungered breaths into your mouth were all that sustained you.
And soon, that was not enough. With a groan deep in his throat, Sherlock desperately hauled you closer by the nape. You were crushed against his firm front, but with the song in your breast all the louder and higher for it, you sank into the stinging sensation of not being able to catch your breath. Gasping, you raked your hands through his hair, soft curls giving way to your fingers’ ministrations, and tugged at the ends. He nipped at your lips in reply, and you couldn’t help but smile against his mouth at his playfulness.
Your smile widened even as he, pulling away, exhaled a soft laugh and brought you against his chest.
“Are you well?” you asked, still grinning. Your heart and lungs remained abuzz, thrumming with the exhilaration of this moment, of it being real, of you being in it. Deep down, you ached for all the moments you’d lost to resentment and self-grief, yet your blood sang with the triumphant understanding that you had never lost yourself, you had never been given up on.
“I am. Rather…perfect, actually.”
At that, you curled up tighter against him, hiding your smile in the crook of his neck, and he dropped a kiss into your hair.
“I was merely thinking,” he murmured, “having ‘no idea’ bothers me not, just this once.” He paused, and you could practically hear the nonplussed scrunch of his eyebrows. “Love. What it does to people.”
You stifled a ridiculous giddy giggle by kissing the hollow of his throat. Love. Dear heavens, could it really be…? He had declared his love just a fortnight ago, of course, but you hadn’t believed him then. Now. Now…
He started to card his fingers lightly through your hair, and you thought of the other declaration of love he’d made moments ago. He might not have said “My lady, I am in love with you” this time, but he had sounded just as passionate—or, indeed, more so—in his attempt to prove that he was not so leery of irrational sentiment anymore.
A blush bloomed under your collar; oh, yes, Sherlock certainly could be poetic when he wanted to be. Or maybe he didn’t even realise just how poetic he’d sounded, and wasn’t that all the more endearing to you. Regardless, you wouldn’t be thinking of his little nickname for you the same way ever again.
Petal.
Eudoria always loved flowers—maybe that had played a role in Sherlock’s subconscious fixation on them while you were out causing “minor” trouble. But now, you recalled an offhand remark she often made about petals: everyone with taste appreciated their splash of colour and aesthetic variety, but those people were liable to think of them as merely pretty and delicate; only those with scientific minds could see past that, could see their deeper worth in the leading roles they played in a flower’s lifetime, could appreciate them fully.
And who had a scientific mind if not Sherlock Holmes?
He who had not believed you were a killer even if it was logical, he who had nursed you back to health even if it was illogical, he who would choose you when it was totally nonsense—through total nonsense—was Sherlock Holmes. If there was another person out there who could be right for you, you did not want to find them; you did not want anyone else to be the certainty throughout your uncertainties; and you wanted nothing more than to be the lifelong puzzle of the man you loved.
You ducked your head and searched for Sherlock’s hand, playing nervously with those clever digits once you found it. “Sherlock,” you said. “There is something I wish to tell you.”
“There is something I wish to tell you as well.”
Your breath left you in one fell swoop.
“I had wanted to tell you as soon as I returned, but then you started crying, and we had that conversation and intense osculation session—”
Heat cascaded from your head to your neck. “Yes, Sherlock, I was there.”
“I only mean to say that there did not seem to be a good time.”
Biting your lip, you forced your head up to meet his gaze in spite of your self-consciousness. “Well,” you said, deciding to let Sherlock say the words before you did if he wanted the honour so strongly, “you may speak first, sir.”
He smiled down at you. “I thank you, my sweet.”
You smiled up at him, your heart beating a more and more sweeping staccato of anticipation.
“After escorting Pashbroke to Scotland Yard and ensuring the case was in good hands, I decided to stop by Voss House since Grosvenor Square is on the way here.”
Your smile started to fade.
“I had wanted to update your loyal Mr and Mrs Rogers about your condition, you see, and hoped to grab some clothes for you while I was at it.”
Oh, dear. This wasn’t going where you’d expected, was it?
“But plans changed. As my hansom approached your address, I saw a cabriolet parked outside that boasted your family crest. Naturally, I deduced that your father was there—”
“What?”
“—so I told the driver to not stop after all…my lady, where are you going?”
On your feet now, you pressed a palm to your forehead. “Gracious. How could I have forgotten?” You shook your head and focused on getting a move on. “Sherlock, where are the clothes I was wearing when I arrived here? I ought not to appear in men’s garments and appal Father any more than I already shall when he finds out about— Oh, Father knows not what has happened with William… Heaven help me, I shall have to explain it all… Well, a confrontation would have been inevitable, at any rate, given my promise…”
“What promise?” he questioned, hot on your heels as you raced to and fro to get ready to leave. “And why are you in such a rush? Ought you to be convalescing while—?”
“I have been convalescing all morning—in front of a very pleasant fire, no less. I can handle teatime with my father,” you declared. “Now, sir: my clothes?”
With a sigh, Sherlock led you to where your numerous layers had been left to dry, evidently giving credit to your claim that tea with Lord Coltidge was well within your capabilities. Now, if only you could do the same.
Thank you for reading, and thank you to @every-username-is-taken-damnit, @wa-ni, and @marveldcmistress for helping me face the daunting task of writing The Kiss Scene lol. Feedback is always welcome!
Taglist [comment below if you’d like to be added!]: @theyaremorethanjustfictional @wonderlandfandomkingdom
#sherlock holmes x reader#sherlock holmes x you#henry cavill sherlock x reader#enola holmes#a galling yoke#the dimensions of fandom
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For andy jacob, can you write where lauri is in jail for intentional cr crash and the death of jacob. andy remarried to florist reader who he fell in love with after the death of his son. Florist! reader is pregnant with his first child.
Thank you for the request! I really hope you like it! Let me know!
Second chances for love
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: After what happened to Andy, he never thought he'd be happy again. And then he met you...
𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Husband!Andy Barber x Wife!florist!Reader
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: mostly just fluff, mentioned dead son (Jacob), using 'daddy' but not in a sexual way
Keep in mind English is not my first language!
Don’t forget to like, comment and reblog!<3
Andy never expected to fall in love again. Not after all that happened to him-his son dying, his wife going into jail, the problems he had at work after all of this stress-he hadn't expected to meet such a sweet woman like you in all of this.
You two met in your flower shop.
Andy wanted to buy some flowers for his son's grave, so he decided to visit the new shop, which he heard really great stuff about. Apparently the flowers were all fresh and beautiful, also the owner was supposed to be very friendly.
And god were you friendly and cute.
As soon as he entered the shop you came with a big smile on your face. His heart jumped up to his throat. He felt butterflies in his whole body-and he didn't even know people could feel like that.
After that he bought flowers every day in your shop-sometimes even when he didn't planned on going to the cemetery. He just...wanted to see you. You made him happy, just talking to he. Sometimes you two flirted a bit, but Andy was still scared to really give you a chance-yet you waited till he was ready.
It took him a couple of weeks till he finally asked you out.
After that, it happened quickly. He was already in love when you two went on the date together. All this time he always had spend talking with you about your flowers, made him slowly fall for you. The way your eyes lit up, every time he asked about one of your favourite flowers.
After a few months into your relationship he asked you to marry him.
He never expected to marry a second time, but with you? You made him happy.
You helped him with his past, with his grieve. It broke your heart to see him so sad and broken, but you knew he needed time for his grieve. So you were there for him when he needed a shoulder to cry. You knew he'd always love his son. It wasn't easy to loose a child. A parent should never bury their kid, but Andy had to do it. He watched his only child die. It broke him and without you he had no idea where he would be right now.
A few months into your marriage Andy went with a few of his friends out. He came home back drunk and laid down with you. Gently he put his hand on your stomach, his head right next to it and looked up after a while at you. "I...we should make a baby", he mumbled, but fell asleep shortly after.
You two had never talked about children-you wanted them-but you had never expected for Andy to want having kids again.
The next morning you weren't sure if Andy remembered what he say-but he definitely did. After a few days he took you out on a date, asking once again if you wanted to have kids. Of course you said yes.
Before meeting Andy you thought you'd never have this. All of this; a husband, kids, a family...happiness...
You never met anyone who made you really happy. The only relationship you had been in weren't serious, were toxic or just exhausting. But with Andy?
He was your soulmate. You knew it as soon as he entered your shop and smiled at you. The sadness in his eyes made you want to hug him. Just hold him. But at the same time your heartbeat started racing like crazy.
"Andy, baby, stop it, I have to go to work-someone has to open the shop", you laughed, while Andy sat on the bed behind you and just held your round tummy. He was slightly frustrated, because you told him the baby started moving and kicking, but he always missed it. It was already a week ago when you felt the first kick-and he still hasn't seen or feel it. "Come on...just a second. She'll kick again. I know it", he mumbled in your neck.
You put your hands on his and gently squeezed them. "Andy, I know you want to feel it, but I really have to put some clothes on-and go to work", he let slowly let go of you and helped you get up.
It's not like you couldn't do it alone, but Andy really like helping you-literally with everything. He started helping you putting your socks on-which was cute, but sometimes annoying. Yet you understood why he did it.
He was scared. He had lost one child already, he didn't want for it to happen again.
So of course Andy prepared breakfast, while you went to the bathroom. While doing your make up you could feel some movement in your stomach. You sighed and looked down. „That's not very nice of you, princess. Why can't you move when daddy holds you, hm? You'd make him really happy with that", you mumbled, while holding your tummy. Once again you felt a kick against your hand.
"Well, at least you're showing how stubborn you are. Just like daddy", you shook your head slightly while rolling your eyes. She's definitely gonna be a daddy's girl.
And daddy'll be very happy about it.
This thought made you smile. It took a few months before you finally got pregnant-every negative pregnancy test made the two of you incredibly frustrated-but then, the positive one? God, you felt so, so happy...
And Andy? You've never seen him cry this much, especially not happy tears.
You walked back into the kitchen, where Andy sat at the table with his coffee-that was something you missed a lot. Coffee. Andy didn't want you to drink caffeine. Once again, you understood why, but it didn't mean you couldn't miss it.
"She kicked again", the slightly annoyed face Andy made was hilarious. Quietly you chuckled, while taking a bite of your avocado toast with eggs.
You loved Andys breakfasts. He always made something good-even toast was better when he did it. "It's so unfair. I want to feel the kicks-" "I could kick you", you grinned smugly, which made Andy grin too.
He leaned over the table to give you a kiss on your nose. "I appreciate that, but no", Andy laughed.
After a while you were done with breakfast and started putting your shoes on.
Then you felt it.
Such a hard kick, you gasped.
Andy rushed to you. "What's wrong? Are you okay? Is she okay?", he asked immediately. You could see the fear in his eyes as soon as came closer to you.
Slowly you shook your head, while pulling your shirt up. Uncontrollably you started laughing. "Oh god, Andy look!", of course Andy looked down at your tummy. A grin spread over his lips, while he fell on his knees. Slowly he shook his head.
"Oh princess-look at that. Hello, sweetheart", he started talking to you round belly, while looking at the very visible handprints from inside your belly. A little hand pushing against your skin. Andy chuckled, while giving your tummy-and his little girls hand-a kiss.
He put his forehead against your belly. A wet laugh escaped his throat when he felt your daughter move again. It made your heart clench. You couldn’t leave now. You just…no, not when Andy was in such a state. He seemed so happy. It wouldn’t be fair to go to work now.
“Andy, baby, go to the living room, I’ll be there in a minute-I’ll just call Spencer to open the shop for me”, you mumbled, while stroking Andys hair. Slowly he looked up at you. “You sure? I don’t want you to-“ “Andy, just go sit”, he nodded.
Andy give you quick, yet passionate kiss on the lips and went to the living room.
You called your employee to tell him you wouldn’t be at work today-he was very understanding, so you went to the living room and sat down next to Andy.
He immediately put his hands gently on your tummy and stroked the roundness. “You’ll kick for daddy again? Or are you gonna be stubborn?”, you mumbled while gently putting your hand your stomach.
After a few seconds you felt a kick again and Andy laughed happily. “She kicked! I felt it!”, you couldn’t stop grinning about his enthusiastic reaction.
You put your free hand against his cheek and stroked with your thumb over his cheek. A small smile showed on your face. You felt your heartbeat quicken. A warm spread in your whole body.
“I love you, Andy”, you mumbled softly.
Andy put one of his hands on yours, which you had on his cheek. He leaned over to you and gave you a tender kiss on the lips. Just like the first time he had Kissen you, you felt butterflies in your whole body.
“I love you, too. Both of you…you have no idea how happy you make me. I never…I never thought I would feel like that again. Thank you”, he whispered against your lips, before giving your belly a kiss too. A tear rolled down your cheek. You’ve never expected to be this happy either. Quickly you wiped away your tear, while you could feel some of Andys tears roll down to your belly.
That’s it! I really hope you liked it!
Feedback?<3
Don’t forget to like, comment and reblog!
[I’ll write every request you send me, it’ll just take a while:) at least I’ll try to write all of them!]
#steve rogers#mcu#chris evans#chris evans character x reader#chris evans characters#Steve#andy barber#andy barber x y/n#andy barber x reader#andy barber x you#andy barber x female reader#chris evans character fanfiction#fluff fanfic#steve rogers fanfiction#lloyd hansen#andy barber fanfiction#andy barber fic#andy barber fluff#andy barber smut#andy barber series
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Ghost helping a male reader through a panic attack please🙏🙏🙏🙏
i will certainly try my best anon, thank you for requesting!! sorry it took me so long to get to this, i’ve had a lot of unnecessary and downright bullshit delays that caused me to hold back on writing as much as i do. also i hope you don’t mind but i did kind of tweak it a little and decided to use my own personal symptoms of PTSD (even tho the one i’ve been diagnosed with is a bit different)
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Ghost x Male!Reader: A Ghost’s Aid
Trigger Warnings: angst with a happy ending, PTSD, panic attacks, hyperventilation, uneasy feelings, traumatic memories
Life in and of itself is forever cruel. Countless years in which this cruelty has been seen and those most affected by it suffer its effects forever. Experiencing them yourself as your task force worked alongside the 141 and Los Vaqueros and previously with Shadow Company against Al-Qatala, you had developed a difficult reaction for certain situations that caused you to react too quickly. You would find yourself eventually with a diagnosis of PTSD after Graves’ betrayal as well as being separated from Johnny and Simon. Hours of the 24 hour cycle constantly passed within the 365 days of the year and you spent most of them awake out of fear of reliving that night in your dreams. Rainy days especially made it worse, often forcing you to stay inside until the storm was over and done with as you dealt with an episode on your own.
However, this time you would find yourself to be dealing with one in the presence of somebody else: Simon “Ghost” Riley. Though he wasn’t exactly the emotional type, you knew he still cared about everyone around him. You had just been hiding in a corner, hands clutching your head as you laid there panicking. “Y/N? What’s going on?” Simon asks, coming out of the room you were letting him stay in and into the living room where you were hiding. “F-Fuck…Simon please help me…” you whimper softly, hyperventilating terribly as you’re finally getting over that clearing. Grasping the situation a bit properly now, Simon then comes next to you and carefully sits you up and checks you all over for any wounds. He sees the bullet wounds you had gotten all that time ago, and gently grazes them with his fingers.
“It’s a hell of a thing, isn’t it?” Simon mumbles softly. He had begun to carefully and gently rub your back in a way to help you calm down. You simply nod, unable to form words as you continue to hyperventilate while attempting relaxation. It would take you an entire hour to finally calm your entire body down and regulate your breathing. “I’m sorry you had to see that…I wasn’t expecting rain…” you whisper. “It’s no worry, don’t apologize for anything related to your disorder. Anything you need right now?” Simon asks. “Wanna share a cuppa?” you ask. He gives you a nod accompanied with a slow blink before standing up. Simon obviously gives you a helping hand as well, helping you walk a little until you feel like you can on your own.
“Thank you…” you mumble, going and washing your hands before grabbing teacups and your teapot to transfer the boiling water into once it’s done. “So what’s in the cabinet then?” Simon asks as he takes a seat at your table. “I only have Earl Grey.” you say, opening the cabinet and grabbing the small box of authentic Earl Grey tea leaves. “I reckon I’m quite alright with that.” Simon says. Smiling a little, you nod and lean against your counter as you wait for the water to boil. “How often does any of that happen? The thrashing and hallucinations.” Simon asks out of genuine concern. “It happens when it’s raining the most and in my sleep, but that’s only sometimes…” you say, crossing your arms against your chest and sighing. “I see. You’ve got a prescription?” Simon asked again.
You pipe up a little, “Reminds me, I’ve gotta take a pill.” you say. “Have you eaten though? I know some medications require you to eat before you take them.” Simon says. “Yeah. I had already eaten beforehand though so I’ll be fine.” you say, walking back over to your cabinet and taking out your pills. You take one and sip some water from a water bottle you had around before going back to where you had been previously standing. The atmosphere of the kitchen grew a little tense, causing you to become unnerved and intimidated by Simon’s presence and intense gaze. “You’ve been suffering alone, haven’t you?” Simon suddenly asks, cutting the thick atmosphere.
Unable to look him in the eye, you just stand there and keep your gaze away from his own. “Look, I’m not the best with words and never have been—you can ask us for help.” Simon says. Though his voice doesn’t sound too reassuring, you know it is. Hell, the man guided both you and Johnny towards him once Graves betrayed you. It’s okay to trust Simon. “What if my panic attack gets really bad? That stuff was just mild—it’s so much worse.” you say. “Then let me help. It’s not like I haven’t saved your ass countless times; what’s so different about this?” Simon asks. “I don’t want to burden you.” you say, finally meeting Simon’s eyes. “Don’t give me that. I know you’d do the same for me.” he says. You stay silent for a moment, contemplating what he just said.
“You’re right…it’s just…I feel like I don’t deserve it. I knew the shit I was getting into and for fuck’s sake I thought I was going to die that night.” you say. “I helped save your ass then as well. Let me do it when we aren’t in the field. No protests, that’s an order.” Simon says sternly. “But-“ you pipe up only to be interrupted by the hardened man, “But nothing, I’m going to help you. Am I understood?” he says. You remain quiet, sighing softly as the tea kettle begins to whistle as it has reached completion of boiling the water. “I asked you a question and I expect an answer, Corporal L/N.” Simon says. “You’re understood…” you say as you take the kettle off the heat. “Atta boy.” Simon says.
The man then stands up and carefully takes the kettle from you, pouring the water into your teapot with the leaves to allow for it to steep. “What makes you want to help me?” you ask genuinely. “Don’t quite like seeing a teammate continue to potentially hurt themselves like this. I know it’s not your fault and you can’t help it, but you can always ask. No harm.” Simon says. “I see. Well cheers, Simon—I can’t really express how grateful I am that you want to help.” you say, lightly punching his shoulder. “It’s really nothing to thank me for. I’m just being a decent person—for once.” Simon says, rolling his eyes a bit and scoffing. You can’t help but smile, giving him a nod. It felt nice to have someone to rely on, even a scary dog like Simon.
#cod#call of duty#cod mw2#call of duty modern warfare 2#cod mw22#call of duty modern warfare 2022#cod ghost#simon ghost riley#simon riley#ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#angst#angst with a happy ending#angst fic#male reader#cod task force 141#task force 141
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𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏
Pairing: Evelyn Harper (OC) x Elvis Presley
Word count: 2,4K
Chapter summary: Evelyn gets her next dreaded assignment; taking out the one and only Elvis Presley.
Chapter warnings: Talks of vampire victims and murder. Other than that, none.
A/N: I suck at summaries, but don't let that throw ya! It gets more fast paced and interesting in upcoming chapters, promise. ♡
Main m.list | Series m.list
➺ 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐋𝐘𝐍'𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐕 ;
Ever since I was a little girl, the world had always been full of monsters, ghouls and demonic creatures that went bump in the night. These were the kind of monsters that wouldn’t vanish into thin air as soon as I’d turn on my night light, these were the kind of monsters people would tell ghost stories about around the campfire to scare the living hell out of each other.
To the outside world, it was nothing but folklore, fairytales… but to me, they were part of my every day life.
It’s safe to say that I never had a normal childhood.
With my father being the Chairman of the Vampire Hunters Association of Las Vegas, I had been training to become the murder weapon I am today since the age of six. I don’t know anything else other than this─never set foot inside of a public school, never been to one of those college ragers that one would see in the movies. But even though my parents always shielded me from the outside world, it wasn’t like I was completely disconnected.
I live in a normal apartment in the city, hang out with my handful of friends now and then, and have to make those dreadful trips to the supermarket once a week like any other human being. The only difference between me and a normal twenty five year old was the floor to ceiling weapon covered walls that were hidden behind the clothing in my small walk-in wardrobe.
I am content with my life as much as one can be and even if I wasn’t, it’s not like I have much choice. My whole future has been laid out for me since I was brought into this world.
To follow in my fathers’ footsteps- that is my faith, my destiny.
Las Vegas was the perfect place for a vampire to settle down.
The city drew in a lot of tourists from both in and out of the country who were often very naive and looking for some kind of adventure to escape their dull lives back at home, making them easy and quick targets for anyone with a craving for blood. Any vampire that came to the city knew about the VHA Headquarters being located just on the edge of the city and the amount of hunters that could pop up around any corner, but one could simply say they did not care.
Vampires had always viewed themselves as the superior species, considering their kind to be on top of the food chain─they liked to be feared, both by human beings and other supernatural creatures that roamed the Earth. Las Vegas was pretty much a never ending buffet for them and they weren’t going to let anyone, especially not hunters, drive them away.
The vampires in the city were reckless and careless and while they usually did not care about being exposed, I did.
I cared about the unsuspecting humans they would so savagely suck dry and as a hunter, I felt it was my duty to protect the people.
And a damn good hunter I was. One of the best in the company due to the many years of being in this line of work and I felt, perhaps arrogantly so, I’d seen it all.
But when my father called me up into his office and gave me my next assignment, I couldn’t help but stare at him as if he had grown an extra head.
On my way to his office, I already figured it must’ve been someone of importance or an ancient one, but never in a million years had I expected this.
A politician with newfound blood cravings? Sure. Casino owners who already had one foot in their graves by mingling with the mafia? Wouldn’t be the first. But Elvis fucking Presley? Definitely not.
‘’F-father-‘’ I started as I looked up from the folder with information in my hand, but I was cut off before I could even get a proper word out by my father who held up his hand and got up from his seat behind his desk.
‘’Elvis Presley is one of the old ones, Evie. Not ancient, but old nonetheless. Approximately 200 years old, maybe even older, feeds on humans daily,’’ he informed me, using the nickname I despised, as he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, showing off some scars that decorated his skin.
Battle scars, as he called them.
Christian Harper was at one time the country’s best hunter. He’d kill any monster in sight and while there had been a few missteps in his career, he never failed. Many vampires are now rotting away in hell with the help of my father’s hand.
Nowadays, the older vampires knew not to mess with him and the young ones feared him like humans feared the creatures of the night. Ironic, really.
Christian Harper was a force to be reckoned with, but he was getting older, stopped going out in the field a long time ago, and right now I was wishing I was in his position. There weren’t many moments I wished such a thing, because I knew how much he had gone through in his life, but right now in this very second, I’d kill to be in his shoes.
I watched as he sat down on the edge of his desk in front of me, crossing his arms. ‘’He has recently started his residency at The International and he hasn’t been sitting still,’’ he sighed as he nodded to the folder in my hand.
I looked down at it again and turned the page.
The pictures of dead bodies covered in blood and bite marks didn’t phase me since I was trained not to and it hadn’t been the first time in my life I’ve seen bodies molested in such a manner, but it still made me angry. It didn’t matter who the predator was that had done such a cruel, inhumane thing.
Most of the people in the pictures were young girls, in their beginning or mid twenties, dressed in skimpy dresses. These were girls that had been brutally murdered outside of the hotel ever since Elvis’ arrival in Las Vegas, and I did not even want to think what he did to them behind closed doors.
Vampires were predators. They liked to toy with their prey before they struck and made the kill.
‘’He’s not alone. A person like Presley doesn’t wander around on his own, especially not in a city like this, so the chance that The International is swarmed with vampires right now is very big,’’ my father said as I closed the folder, sighing deeply as I sunk back in my seat, throwing my head back.
I wasn’t surprised Elvis Presley was a vampire, no one is ever who you truly think they are, nor was I doubting my skills when it came to taking him out, old or not, but I knew the world would probably stop turning when this man would die. He was world famous with a very protective fanbase that would go through fire for him.
They had no idea that he was a cold blooded murderer with questionable table manners─they saw him as the pioneer in the music industry, a good person, their King.
Once his fans and whatever supernatural ally he worked with would find out the VHA killed him, I was going to have to be a lot more careful in my daily life. An old, powerful vampire like him was never alone. They always had back up plans, other species that he probably formed alliances with because unfortunately for human kind, vampires weren’t the only monsters that crawled the face of the Earth.
I didn’t feel good about this assignment, and I was about to protest and even decline, until my father spoke up again.
‘’Get your team together, Evie. I know you’re capable of succeeding,’’ Christian smiled at me as I looked at him again with worried eyes, but I kept my mouth shut, unable to tell him that this was one of the few assignments I did not want to do.
‘’I want you to do this one with Eli and Ruby. Proof to me that you’re ready to move your way up,’’ he said as he nodded to his big leather chair on the other side of the desk. The spot that I’d be taking, the spot that I wasn’t so sure about anymore. I loved my father and the company. I had accepted what my life was like a long time ago, or at least I thought I did, but sometimes I couldn’t help but feel like there were parts of my life missing. Not only because I had been spending every minute of my every day training myself and new hunters or slaying vampires.
It was a weird feeling I couldn’t quite put my finger on─as if I was partly living a life that wasn’t mine.
Something was missing, I was sure of it, but no matter how long I’d think about it, I couldn’t wrap my head around it.
‘’Fine,’’ I eventually mumbled, getting up from my seat as I put the folder under my arm. ‘’When do I start?’’
‘’Tonight,’’
‘’Tonight?!’’ I exclaimed in disbelief as I widened my eyes at him.
My father smiled, nodding as he stood up straight. ‘’People’s lives are at stake here, sweetheart. Don’t take too long with this one,’’
I sighed deeply through my nose, nodding as I swung open the door, frowning as I heard two people shuffle backwards. Closing the door of my fathers’ office, I looked at Eli and Ruby, the two people I considered my closest friends in the company, standing there with innocent smiles as if they hadn’t eavesdropped the whole conversation.
‘’This is gonna be goooood!’’ Eli exclaimed in a sing-song voice as he rubbed his hands together, grinning from ear to ear. ‘’I’ve always wanted to meet Elvis Presley and staking him would look so good on my resume,’’
I chuckled softly as I rolled my eyes, patting the blonde male’s shoulder. I started walking down the hall, opening the folder again as they appeared on my side, looking over my shoulder.
‘’He’s quite beautiful for a vampire,’’ Ruby mumbled, ignoring the disgusting look Eli gave her.
The picture of the vampire that was hanging by a paperclip on the first page of the folder was of him walking backstage at the newly opened International Hotel, dressed in a chocolate brown suit. He wore the brightest smile I’d ever seen on a man, his blue eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. As if he was in on something no one around him was- and that was probably the truth.
He had a certain aura around him, one that almost made you believe he was nothing but a handsome man with a charming smile and a great voice. And it was also an aura that felt familiar in a sense that I couldn’t quite put my finger on.
Looking into those eyes even in a photograph made a shiver run down my spine, which I managed to hide from the two hunters next to me.
Elvis Presley didn’t look like a bloodsucker, but then again, they never did.
Vampires had the ability to walk among men, blending in crowds with their daylight rings and their great fashion sense. They looked like any other person on the street, hiding their demonic faces behind human masks.
And he was no different, he couldn’t be. Just like the others, he was nothing but a cruel demon hiding behind humanity.
‘’Aren’t they always?’’ I sighed as I shut the folder swiftly while walking into one of the weaponry rooms, flicking on the lights. I threw the folder down and tied my hair up, picking up a few pointy stakes from the holders in the wall.
‘’You’re not looking forward to this one, are you?’’ Ruby asked as she walked closer, leaving Eli behind by one of the tables to look through Elvis’ information.
I looked at my best friend and chuckled softly, throwing the stakes into a sports bag before I put my hands on my hips.
‘’I’m not, no. I’m not worried about him, but about the aftermath. This man is practically a God in people’s eyes,’’ I sighed as I shook my head a little, turning my head to stare absentmindedly at the weapons on the wall. ‘’What if this means the end of the VHA? We will probably become the hunted by the people we are trying to protect,’’
‘’Hey, ofcourse not, Eve,’’ Ruby said as she took a step closer to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. ‘’The humans will never find out the cause of his death, I’m sure his management is smarter than to risk exposing themselves or us. And whatever other monster he has standing up for him, we can take them on. I am absolutely positive about this and you know I’m always right,’’ she grinned as she bumped her hip against mine, making me bite my lip to hold back a smile.
I knew she was right─the company would survive this, but I had no idea if I would survive the company. My fathers’ words about having to proof myself were hanging above my head like a storm cloud for some reason, but I was still a hunter and a hotel full of people were at risk, so I was going to get this job done no matter what.
I hoped, at least.
‘’Besides, aren’t you the girl who killed an ancient one once? You got this,’’
I laughed softly at her words and the way she squeezed me in her embrace.
The ancient ones were hard to kill, seeing they had lived for quite literally thousands of years. I had succeeded in killing one of them when they tried to cause chaos in the city and while I had been out of work for two weeks after that because my body simply gave up on me and I wasn’t so lucky to heal rapidly like vampires did, the fucker was still dead so I was sure this was going to be a walk in the park.
‘’You’re right. I got this, we got this,’’ I said as I broke myself free out of Ruby’s grip, laughing as I walked back over to Eli to get him away from the folder and to the walls with weaponry to get ready.
Elvis Presley wasn’t an ancient vampire, but he would soon proof to be harder to kill than I anticipated.
#elvis#elvis presley#elvis x reader#elvis presley x reader#elvis smut#elvis presley smut#elvis x oc#elvis presley x oc#elvis fanfic#elvis presley fanfic#king of hearts#tamwrites#vampire!elvis
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