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alastor-simp · 2 months

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Why? - Alastor X Powerful Fem Overlord Reader Part 1

❥Summary:The war with the Heaven was about to begin. The residents of the hotel plus the cannibal colony were ready. Alastor was at the ready, microphone stand in hand, as his eyes targeted his next prey, Adam.

❥Tags: Powerful overlord, Alastor vs Adam, Hazbin Hotel episode 8, spoilers, The Show Must Go On, Grim Reaper Demon, Death Demon, Adam is an a✪✪hole, Hell vs Heaven, Alastor fights adam. Reader is dark and mysterious, Hazbin Hotel Extermination.

❥Notes: This series is probably going to be 2 or 3 parts. I will decide later on. This is also going to my take on how episode 8 was, so don't be confused if some parts are different. Enjoy:)

*Character Background*

Y/N or Overlord name "Raven" is a grim reaper demon, and the only one that existed in Hell. She was human when she lived and worked in a morgue, until she was murdered heading back from work. Her body is shrouded in darkness, resembling a cloak. Her face resembles a skull, yet she still maintains her feminine appearance from when she was alive. She appears very dark and mysterious, but she is a kind soul and only acts when provoked. Her powers extend to necromancy, darkness manipulation, telekinesis, soul manipulation, and immortality. Similar to a grim reaper, her weapon is a large scythe. Her reasons for coming to the hotel were still unknown, but it appears she believes in redemption, as through her time in hell, she is aware some demons have arrived in hell for reasons that don't qualify as sins, so she remains at the hotel and provides support. Everyone at the hotel was unsure about her, but they soon consider her part of the hotel as time went by, including a certain deer demon.

(Found on Pinterest, credit to original artists)

**The Night before the extermination day- Alastors POV**

Alastor is walking, hands folded behind his back as he moves across the hotel's mezzanine. His crimson eyes gaze down on the other inhabitants of the hotel. Charlie and the others are all chatting amongst themselves, laughing and cheering for whats to come tomorrow. "Ah, the celebratory night before a courageous last stand. It's been a surprising thrill to witness these wayward souls find connection. Almost makes one sentimental, eh, Niffty?" Alastor smiles widely, before his eyes turn to Niffty, who is sitting next to him, smiling sweetly. "I really like them, Alastor. They let me put on roach puppet shows without booing!" Alastor chuckles at that answer, before leaning against the bar of the mezzanine. "Ah, an enjoyable collective to be around. I admit one could get accustomed." Alastor hated to admit it, but he enjoyed everyone's company in the hotel. True, he did clash with some of them, specifically Vaggie, but he slowly grew attached to them, though he prefers that to be kept a secret. A small object was then placed on his head, causing him to look up a bit. Niffty had placed a roach flower crown on his head, smiling while dubbing him "King Roach." Alastor leaned back, laughing at Niffty's antics. "Oh, to understand your twisted little mind! Both him and Niffty then started to maniacally laugh together, and then slowly calming down. Niffty then jumped off and zipped closer to the others, to join in the celebration, leaving Alastor alone.

**Your POV**

"Not going to join them, Alastor?" a soft voice spoke behind Alastor, causing him to turn around. You were standing behind him, clock shrouding your body, but leaving your face to be seen. Your skull like face was drew into a soft smile. "Sadly not, my dear! I fear my presence would dampen the mood!" He saw you give a small chuckle, before walking next to him, copying his position of him leaning against the bar. "You sure about that? You are part of this group, Alastor. Besides, you always try to be the life of the party for things like this." Alastor laughed outloud, before leaning against the bar as well. "Aww, trying to flatter me, my dear?" Alastor leaned a hand on his cheek, smirking at you. You just smiled back at him, stating you were just speaking the truth, before turning your head down to gaze at the others. Alastor copied you, the both of you standing next to each other in silence. Alastor then turned to look at you, eyes widen a bit to see you wearing a melancholic expression. "Something troubling you, my dear?" One of his hands, placed itself on your shoulder, giving you a sense of comfort. "Sigh...I'm just worried for tomorrow. Yes, the angels can be hurt and killed, but I'm still worried. Not only that, Adam possesses strong angelic power, and I know he is bound to be highly troublesome during the fight." Alastor threw his head back in laughter, "There is no need to fret, my dear. I will personally fight that poor excuse for an angel myself." Alastors powers surged for a bit, thinking of how exciting it would be to sink his claws and teeth into Adam. Turning your head, you gave a worried look. "Will you be okay?"

Alastor turned his head back towards you, raising an eyebrow. He noticed the gentle expression you wore, and he gave you a soft smile back. He had gotten close with you after a few weeks of you being in the hotel. He knew the power you possessed, but you never flaunted it or used it for personal gain. The more he spent with you, is when he got to see that behind that cloak and darkness was a soft kind soul. "I will be fine, my dear! I am the radio demon, as you know. No pathetic little angel is going to get the better of me, I assure you." He gave a kind smile, without his teeth showing. You still wore a worried expression before giving a smile back. You extended your hand out to Alastor, causing him to tilt his head at you in confusion. "Gimme your hand." Alastor hesitated a bit, and extended his hand out, appearing as if he was trying to give a handshake. You chuckled and grab his hand, interweaving your fingers together. This caused Alastor to tense a bit, seemingly not use to stuff like this. "I know how strong you are Alastor. But, if worse comes to worst, I will be there to help you. I promise." Alastor felt a tightness in his chest after you said that, he couldn't quite figure out why. He was going to say something again, but you had blended with your shadow and disappeared, leaving him alone.

**Day of the Extermination- Alastor POV**

The fight between Heaven and Hell was about to commence. Everyone was gathered around the entrance of the hotel, wearing battle gear and holding weapons. A portal soon opened up in the sky, with Exorcists flying out of them, including Adam and Lute. Charlie and the other released a war-cry and began to battle the Angels. Alastor was standing on the roof of the hotel, smiling wickedly. "Let the slaughter begin. AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Using his microphone, a large force field began to form around the hotel, providing protection for everyone, and preventing the angels from getting through. It was very effective in halting the angels advances as well as providing damage as the shield was able to sprout tentacles and kill some Exorcists. This, did not last long, as Adam as able to destroy the force field, allowing the hotel to be exposed once again.

Alastor glared at the Adam, as he saw him make his descent to the roof of the hotel and landing on it. "Adam! First man, next to die." Alastor continued to look on at Adam in front of him, looking unimpressed. Adam then asked who the fu✪✪ Alastor was. "Alastor. Pleasure to be meeting you, quite a pleasure. I'm about to end your fucking life." His microphone cane hit the ground, causing black tendrils to arise. Adam just snarked at Alastor: "Nice voice. Don't you know jazz is for PUSSIES!" Adam summons his guitar, and slashes away at the tentacles before approaching Alastor. Alastor stepped back, wagging his finger. "Ah ah ah!" Alastor was able to dodge Adams attacks, sending some of his tentacles at him. "You really think you can take me on? A mortal soul is no match for me, edge-lord." Adam yells back at Alastor. "You should know better than anyone what a soul can accomplish when they take charge of their own fate." Extending out his shadow, it formed a crack in the hotel roof, allowing one of Alastor's shadow monsters to punch him. Adam was now getting pissed off as he killed the shadow monster, with Alastor mocking his strength.

Adam kept swinging his guitar, with Alastor dodging them effectively. "You lack discipline, control, and worst-

His demon form had manifested, sending his shadow monsters to attack Adam and crawl all over him. Adam was sent flying upwards, as he stuttered on trying to insult Alastor back, making Alastor to laugh and swing him into the hotel sign with his tentacle "Ha ha ha! Poetry!" Adam was furious that he was getting bested by Alastor, swinging his guitar, causing a shockwave and yelling out, "I'm going to wipe that shit-eating grin off your face, CAUSE RADIO IS F✪✪✪ING DEAD!" Alastor looked around, surprised he was out of his demon form: "What just happened?" He then saw his microphone snapped in two, "Fuck!" Alastor then looked back up, then was sent flying back. Adam had managed to get closer, and swing his weapon at him, causing a large wound to form on Alastor's chest. Alastor was on his hands and knees, trying to get up, but failing to do so. Adam was much stronger then he realized. He needed to get out of there now, before Adam had the chance to hit him again. A heavy kick landed on his stomach, causing him to go flying back, and cough up some blood. Alastor leaned back, grasping on his chest to stop the wound, while staring at Adam with pure hatred in his eyes. "HAHAHA! Not so tough now, huh bit✪✪? Time to die!" Adam raised his guitar again ready to strike at Alastor again. Alastor was trying to manifest his powers to teleport, but he was far too weak! He shut his eyes, bracing for the impact. A loud CLANG was heard, causing Alastor to open his eyes, shocked to see you standing in front of him. Your large scythe was drawn, having swung against Adam's guitar, stopping the attack. "Get away from him!"

*TO BE CONTINUED IN PART 2**

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solitaryearthperson · 7 months

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Infatuation

Summary: What is it about you that has Homelander so infatuated?

(The reader is gender neutral. The ethnicity/race is preferably a person of color.)

Why you?

That was the million dollar question that kept going through Homelander's mind. There was nothing truly special about you. You were nothing like him and his teammates. You were - he couldn't help how hard his face cringed at the reminder - human. No Compound V or Temp V. Only regular red human blood coursing through your veins with no harmful or life-changing chemicals. Just human. Sure you were good-looking. Sure you were smart, and polite, but so were many of the other dumb, cocksucking fans he had to smile for and pretend to give a fuck about. So what made you different from them?

When did this even begin?

He couldn't really pinpoint the exact date that your beauty, poise, and civility had caught his attention. He thinks maybe a month or two ago. He could distinctly remember how pissed off he was at Ashley, not because she had did anything herself, but because she was the one delivering the bad news to him, and how that was the first day, you had spoke to him.

"What," he asked, his voice low and strict, while dripping with disbelief at what Ashley had said. He tried his hardest to keep facing the large windows of the Seven's meeting room, and keep a cool composure, his arms crossed behind his back.

"Um-um," she repeated, her mouth opening and closing, almost resembling a fish. Her green eyes widened in fear at what the Supe in front of her may do.

"Ashley," he said, his irritation at her hesitance to speak was making him even more angrier by the second. "Say that again."

"Well, I-you,...uh," she gulped and tried to speak again, her words coming out easier this time. "Your points has gone down significantly, by at least 60."

Hearing it repeated made his crystal blue eyes become engulfed in ruby red and he kept his gaze towards the windows, already sick of hearing and smelling the rank fear that was emanating from Ashley, and not wanting to make the smell worse. "How the fuck are my points down that much?"

The calmness of his voice made Ashley want to hurry and leave the room, but instead she nervously gulped down some of her fear again, and spoke, "People have not truly forgiven the Stormfront situation and the civilians that you accidentally lazered in half on the last mission made it worst. Their families and friends are all in mourning and sharing their grief online."

"Oh come on," he yelled, finally turning away from the window and seating himself in his usual seat at the large table, his face frowning in irritation. "Both of those things were fucking accidents! Stormfront is dead and those people have been dead for, what, weeks now. Almost a fucking month!"

Ignoring the harshness of his raised voice, Ashley continued, "Vought thought it could really help if you made an apology video or interview to get people back in your favor-"

"Abso-fucking-lutely not," he said, his tone stern and leaving no room for argument. "It was a fucking accident and they need to get over it already." The rage inside him was rising higher and higher and he knew that more redness was coming to his eyes the more he listened to Ashley and the bullshit that she was spouting. He was sick of having to apologize for who he is and how powerful he is.

"Mr. Edgar thinks that-"

At the very mention of his name, Homelander's fist quickly connected with the surface of the table, leaving a large crack in the glass. The sound of his fist hitting it made Ashley quickly quiet and she instantly took a deep breath in, waiting for his next words.

"Get the fuck out," he told her, closing his eyes, and laying his head back against the chair.

"Yes sir," Ashley quickly replied, rushing out.

At the time, she had quickly forgotten that you were with her, and had left you alone with the most dangerous Supe of them all.

"Mr. Homelander, sir," your voice, while small, had still interrupted the quietness that had taken over the room and was beginning to calm Homelander, and he quickly opened his eyes and looked to you, his red gaze freezing you in place.

"Who the fuck are you," he asked.

"I'm (Y/N)," you replied, nervously holding your folders and documents close to your chest. "I'm Ashley's assistant."

"And...?" Every part of his body language screamed that he was ready to murder anything right now.

"I was just gonna say that I'm sorry that you're under so much pressure," you told him, your voice still meek, but a little more confident as you see that you have kept his attention. "I'm pretty sure for a person like you, it can be hard to be like others and make mistakes."

"Exactly! Fuck! Thank you!" he suddenly exclaimed, making you slightly jump, but you quickly hid it, and returned the wide smile he threw to you, happy to see the redness from his eyes finally cool down to blue again. "No one gets how hard it is to be me. No one is ever truly grateful for what I do. Right?"

You silently nodded your head, happy to see the Supe no longer angry.

"I have to pretend to like and listen to these fucking idiots and apologize to them for helping them!" He let out an incredulous laugh at the thought of apologizing to the public again.

An idea came to you when he said that, and you quickly voiced it, "Maybe you can get their favor again without having to apologize for it."

He quickly furrowed his brows at your idea and quickly gestured for you to continue.

"Plenty of celebrities make apology videos and people always know that it's fake. Maybe you should donate money to the families of the victims instead. You won't have to make some embarrassing video or do an interview."

"A donation?"

"Yeah. Fans love when famous people donate something of theirs. Money, clothes, cars. You win the favor of fans you lost, and more."

He was silent for a second, his face full of contemplation and for a second you were scared that you had gone too far, proposing an idea like this. He might see it as an insult that an assistant was giving him advice on how to get fans. You had sworn your heart was about to beat out of your chest by his silence, but a suddenly growing smile on his face quickly calmed it.

"That is perfect! No having to grovel to those idiots."

"Would you like me to get Ashley to help set everything up?"

"Yeah! Do that! Now!"

You made your way to the door and was about to leave the room, when suddenly his voice made you stop. "Hey! What's your name, again?"

"Um, it's (Y/N)," you told him.

"(Y/N)," he repeated, liking the way it sounded on his tongue. "Thanks."

You quickly left the room after that and went to get Ashley to tell her about the idea, and you didn't know it, too naive to realize it, but Homelander had already began making a plan in his head to see you again.

That was it. That was what caught Homelander's attention. Unlike other regular people, and even other Supes, you were the one who understood the pressure he was under, who understood how great he was, how better he was. Soon after that he began making an effort to talk to you. After Ashley would report things to him, he made sure to pull you aside and make conversation, and he surprisingly found it addictive to hear your voice, whether you were talking about your day, your favorite meals, current shows you were watching, he needed to hear your voice. Every now and then, he could hear the tremble in your voice as you spoke to him, fear still running through you at the fact that you were speaking to him of all people. That tremble did things to him. He disliked hearing it as he wanted you to be comfortable around him and trust him, but at the same time, he loved hearing it, reminding himself of the immense power he had over others even when he doesn't do anything.

It wasn't long before he used this power to find your address. He found himself relieved that you lived in a pretty safe neighborhood, not wanting anything to happen to his favorite person. HIS? Yes, HIS. Just the thought of you accepting his affections, a life of being with him, of coming home to finding you ready to hear about his day and please him was already making him loose his already deranged mind, but he knew that you needed time. You needed to still be fearful of him, but at the same time, realize that he would be the best partner for you. And now as he looked at your sleeping form, he listened to the soothing beat of your heart, wishing he could lay his head upon your chest and take a deep slumber with you. Wishing he could wake up next to you, and make love to you first thing in the morning. Make love to you at Vought. Make love to you when he comes home from work. Make love to you before going to sleep. But he knew he needed to wait just a little bit longer. Not too long or else, some dumb imbecile will think they have a chance with you and he'll have to take care of them. But soon you would realize you belonged with him and no one else.

#the boys #the boys tv #the boys x reader #the boys imagine #the homelander #homelander #the homelander x reader #homelander x reader #homelander imagine #homelander x black!reader #homelander x y/n #homelander x you #homelander x poc!reader #homelander x woc!reader

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cooliestghouliest · 4 months

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PUTTY, chapter one

(chapter one), (chapter two), (chapter three)

PAIRING: virgin!Eddie/former cheerleader!Reader

SUMMARY: Eddie has a little brother. Eddie’s little brother has a babysitter.

SERIES TAGS and C/W’s: mutual pining, experienced!Reader, inexperienced!Eddie but he’s eager to learn, mostly sub!Eddie, insecurities and self doubt, narcissistic and/or absent parents, jealousy, mean basketball players, hurt/comfort, they smoke weed, eventual smut (18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI), uniform kink, dirty talk, foot jobs, hand jobs, oral (f!receiving and m!receiving), public sex, sex toys, unprotected PiV. more to be added as this progresses!!!

WORD COUNT: 3.7k+

A/N: hi, my friends!!! this is a rewrite/repost and has been edited for a (hopefully) smoother, more enjoyable read. fun fact that this was one of the first Stranger Things fanfics i ever wrote. it was originally titled She Was Straight From Hell, But You Could Never Tell, and featured Eddie alongside an OC. i’ve changed it to be reader-insert, because that seems to be more in my writing wheelhouse nowadays. this fic will be multiple parts — it begins with backstory, but will eventually branch off into a universe of little smutty ficlets where Reader will corrupt virgin!Eddie as much as humanely possible.

—

Eddie hadn't known about the existence of his little brother until two months ago, when Al Munson showed up in the middle of the night with a small child in tow. Eddie didn't even know his dad was out of prison again, and yet here he was, in the flesh, a little boy with a mop of black curls resembling Eddie's own cradled in his leather jacket-clad arms.

Al was lucky Wayne was working or else this family reunion would have gone south fast.

While Wayne wasn't Al's biggest fan, Al was Eddie's dad, and Eddie would always hold onto as many moments with his father as he could get, no matter how sparse, and no matter how much of a self-serving piece of shit asshole Al Munson truly was.

But Eddie didn’t see it like that. Eddie saw it like this: His dad lived a hard life. His dad struggled with addictions. His dad lost a wife, just as Eddie had lost a mother. His dad tried his best with what he had.

Deep down, Eddie knew these were all just sorry excuses, but he kept that truth tucked away, not wanting to deal with the reality that Al truly only cared about himself.

He already had one dead parent. If he cut his dad out of his life, he’d basically have two.

"When'd you get out?" Eddie asked, stepping aside so Al could enter. His eyes followed the child, brows furrowed. The trailer was always Al's first stop on his freedom tour and the older man had always brought some sort of baggage along with him -- never a little kid, though. What the hell kind of trouble had his dad gotten into this time?

"Few days ago," Al replied, heading for the living room. He placed the sleeping child down on the worn sofa, then straightened and faced Eddie. "Listen, son, you gotta do me a favor. I'm not out long this time. I might've robbed an ATM or two last night. I'm kinda on the lam."

Al didn’t even have the decency to look sheepish at his wrongdoing.

Eddie was used to this. Even when Al was a free man, he was never a free man for long. He didn't think his dad knew how to coexist among non-inmate citizens. Eddie didn't think his dad even wanted to. Prison was a creature comfort for the elder Munson. Eddie wasn't necessarily mad at that fact. He was happy when Al was locked up, because then at least he knew where his dad was. Otherwise, Eddie worried his father would eventually get himself into a situation he wouldn't be able to get out of, and Eddie would really never see him again.

Eddie was also used to Al showing up after months and months, sometimes even years and years, such as now, always asking for favors.

"Who is that?" Eddie asked, pointing towards the couch, not being able to ignore the other human in the room any longer.

"Yeah, that's kinda what I need your help with.” Al rubbed at the back of his neck. "Well, no way to do this other than to just say it. That there's your little brother, Eddie. His name's Oliver. And I need you and Wayne to look after him while I'm gone."

"My... what..." Eddie stammered, face scrunching up. He expected Al to burst out laughing and admit he was just fucking around, and that this tiny sleeping stranger was actually just the kid of a fellow convict buddy. Maybe it was said convict buddy’s turn to rob ATMs tonight, leaving Al the babysitter. Irresponsible. Unlikely. And, turns out, untrue.

With Al's silence, Eddie knew his dad’s admission wasn't a joke.

Eddie was beyond confused now.

"Dad, how... you've been in prison for six years!"

"Conjugal visits," Al answered with a bit of a smug shrug.

Eddie shook his head in disbelief. "What the fuck? Wayne can't afford another kid that's not even his... and I'm in school still, I can't watch him... this isn't... I don't know how..."

But Al was already making his way to the door.

"I know you'll figure it out. I can always count on you, my boy," Al prided, tone cheery as if the favor he'd just asked of Eddie was to give him a quick ride somewhere or find an old family recipe.

Al wasn't acting like he was ditching another Munson offspring off on his older brother. He was treating this like an issue of minor importance, just a little speed bump on an otherwise flat road.

Al Munson was not an upstanding person. Never had been, never would be. Because of this, Eddie shouldn't have been surprised or appalled, but here he was, standing with his mouth agape. Surprised. Appalled.

His dad was out the door with a lighthearted, "See ya 'round, son," and Eddie was left speechless in the middle of the living room.

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

Wayne got over the new addition to the Munson household fairly quickly.

While he'd been livid at first, calling up all of Al's old friends he'd still had the numbers of to try and find out where his dumb shit of a younger brother was, Wayne eventually became resigned to the idea that he now had another little boy to rear and mold.

What else could he do?

Wayne took care of his kin, especially if they were innocent bystanders and had no say in being born in the first place. He'd raised Eddie, and although he knew the boy had his struggles, he didn't think he'd done too bad of a job.

Eddie never went hungry, always had clothes to wear, a bed to sleep in, and Wayne was the one who haggled Eddie's van down to a reasonable price so the boy could pay for it with his lunch box salary.

Wayne knew about the weed and the pills, but so long as Eddie stayed smart about where he was selling and who he was selling to, he didn't much mind Eddie's unconventional line of work. It helped his nephew stay somewhat social, and Wayne knew how important that would be for Eddie's future. If the boy was nothing but a lone recluse his whole life, he'd probably end up just like Al. Nobody wanted that.

Eddie was just about grown now. Sure, he was rearing twenty and still in his senior year of high school, but Wayne had an inkling that '86 would be Eddie's year.

Wayne had always thought about selling the trailer and buying an RV with retirement money once Eddie was out on his own. He wanted to travel the country for the remainder of his life.

The idea that he'd have to raise up another wild Munson for the next fifteen or so years caused a knot to form in his stomach.

Would Wayne even be around for that much longer? He may have been relatively healthy, and he was only in his mid 60's, but Wayne wasn't an idiot. He knew anything could happen at any time.

Wayne knew he needed help this time around. He figured he could count on Eddie here and there, but Eddie needed to focus on school this year if he planned on finally walking the stage. Because of this, Wayne decided to enlist the help of someone on the outside. Someone with experience.

So, he posted an ad in the Hawkins Post, looking for a full-time nanny for a five-year-old boy to start as soon as possible, and waited for a response.

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

Wayne didn't have to wait long.

Two mornings following the job post, shortly after he'd returned home from work, he heard a knock on the trailer door.

When he answered, he saw a pretty young thing standing on the front stoop.

"Hi!" you greeted, then immediately began to ramble. "Are you Mr. Munson? I hope it's okay I just showed up... there wasn't a number listed, only an address, and I didn't know if you wanted me to write a response and mail it, but the ad seemed maybe a little urgent, so I thought, hey, what's the harm in just... showing... up..."

You trailed off, feeling silly for word vomiting during your first impression. He was watching you with a small smile, eyes flickering with what looked like amusement, especially as your cheeks began to color to the soft red of embarrassment.

Listing no number on the ad was intentional. He hadn't owned a rotary phone in about ten years, after having tried to cut back on bills, and he knew not just anyone would make the trek to Forest Hills for a potential job offer. He’d figured only committed applicants that wouldn't waste his time would follow through.

"I have a lot of experience," you continued on at his silence, almost as if you couldn't help it, compelled to divulge all the information you could in the first three minutes of meeting. Wayne found it endearing. "I used to babysit for three different families when I was in high school. And I have two little sisters. My mom and dad worked a lot growing up, so I spent a lot of time with them. Didn't get paid, but... I made sure they didn't die or anything..."

From their brief interaction thus far, Wayne knew he succeeded in his method of weeding out flakes. You were obviously serious about the position. He felt he was a decent judge of character, and he'd learned in life that sometimes over-explaining was synonymous with caring.

"Sorry," you said, forcing out a little laugh. "I guess I could have just introduced myself. You didn't really need to know all that." You shot your hand out, giving your name. "I'm here about the nannying gig. Um, obviously. That is, if I didn't already scare you off."

Wayne took your hand in both of his own, shaking it. He placated you with a grin. "It's a lot harder than that to scare off a Munson, sweetheart. Let's go inside and meet Olly."

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

Although Oliver Munson was only five, he had a spectacular vocabulary and a limitless imagination. Wayne knew the boy was a little charmer, quite like how Eddie was when he allowed himself to be, when the teenager wasn't drowning himself in existential teenage angst and nonsense.

You fell under Olly's spell almost instantly.

And it seemed the little boy had fallen under yours as well.

Oliver didn't stop talking to you while you were there, and didn't stop talking about you after you’d left, asking when you’d be back and if next time you could take him to the trailer park's playground and maybe you two could watch G.I. Joe or He-Man together afterward.

Wayne had taken your number down before you’d left and had told you he'd be in touch soon.

Later that evening, after Eddie had gotten back from his club meeting at school, Wayne took the trip into downtown Hawkins to use the payphone and ask you if you wouldn't mind starting as early as tomorrow.

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

You were far from struggling for money.

Your father was a sought-after criminal prosecutor for the entirety of Indiana. Your mother was a real estate agent for high profile clientele who came from old family money; her father was CEO of a day trading business, and his father before him had been the same.

Although you likely would have never had to work a day in your life and could live a comfortable existence off of inheritance alone, handouts and the humdrum of an All-Play-and-No-Work lifestyle was never a dream of yours. That sounded so cookie cutter, so monotonous, so boring.

You liked to feel a sense of accomplishment. You liked setting goals and reaching them. You didn't want to freeload off of money that was gained from the capitalistic professions your parents were a part of. You wanted to be in control of your own finances and be the author of your own future, not have it already be etched into stone simply by being just another rich kid from Hawkins, à la the likes of the Carver's or the Cunningham's or the Harrington's.

You were ecstatic when you got the call from Wayne, asking you if you’d be willing to start the following day. He left for work at 2PM, so you’d have to be there before then, and would need to plan on staying until Wayne's nephew got home around six.

If you were to be completely honest with yourself, you felt a bit nervous, but the job itself wasn't the reason why that writhing feeling accompanied your excitement.

You had more than ten years of babysitting experience under your belt, and you were eager to get back into a job you actually enjoyed as opposed to trying out different careers to see what stuck and what didn't. Having graduated the spring before, you’d been taking an off year to save up money by working odd jobs around Hawkins to be able to buy your own apartment.

You’d worked as a florist for a few weeks, but it turned out your thumb was pitch black instead of green.

You worked as the personal assistant for a group of lawyers from a local law firm, but it turned out they just needed office eye candy and not someone to actually get any sort of work done.

You worked as a veterinary assistant, but it turned out the job was much more than just petting cats and dogs. You couldn't handle it when a sick animal would come in and there would be nothing anyone could do. Your heart broke more at that clinic than it had your entire life.

You were in between jobs when you’d decided to peruse the classified section of the Hawkins post. There, in the shortest blurb on the page, was a listing for a needed nanny, a full-time position offering negotiable pay.

The next bit was where the excitement wavered.

The listing was published by a Wayne Munson of the Forest Hills trailer park.

That had to be Eddie Munson's uncle. There was no way there were two separate Munson families living in the only trailer park in Kerley County.

You couldn't believe that you’d stumbled across this ad, that the geeky metalhead you’d crushed on since your freshman year of high school had a little brother you could be the potential nanny of.

You were two years younger than Eddie, but that hadn't stopped you from losing periods of time to daydreams about the way the wind ruffled his wild mess of curls on breezy days or the way his band tee sleeves always clung perfectly to the soft muscles of his biceps or the way his cheeks dimpled when he teased the other boys he sat with at lunch.

You’d always wanted to introduce yourself, but you didn't run in the same crowds -- you being on the cheer team and Eddie blasting Black Sabbath in the parking lot after his Hellfire meetings. You could never muster the courage. He seemed so carefree, so full of life, so effortlessly funny. Chrissy Cunningham, your best friend, had spoken to him once or twice and had told you how different he was than what other people said about him. He wasn't scary or mean or threatening, and instead was warm and silly and genuine.

But you knew how the people you spent your time around treated people like him. You knew your group of "friends" referred to him as a freak, a Satan worshipper, and did everything in their power to try to bully him into becoming a shell of himself. Thankfully, he never did -- it was almost as if Eddie absorbed the hatefulness and spent it tenfold by mocking the hilarity of the jock hierarchy that ruled the school, as well as using it to strengthen his own ability to embrace every misfit that walked the halls of Hawkins High.

You never introduced yourself because you were afraid he’d think you had an ulterior motive, that you’d be trying to talk to him as a joke or a prank. You knew the company you kept. You were sure Jason Carver had once or twice suggested you do just that, lead Eddie on and make a fool of him in front of the whole school.

You figured it'd be best to just stay away.

But now, you thought finding this ad was possibly a sign from the universe.

Maybe you were getting a second chance.

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

Eddie was running late.

He was supposed to be back home half an hour ago to relieve whoever Olly's new babysitter was of her duties, but the campaign had taken a shocking turn and Hellfire couldn't disband until it had commenced.

The night finally ended with Will's character decapitating Dustin's, and Eddie had to thwart an actual attack when Dustin leapt across the game table at Will in a bout of rage. Dustin was small but mighty, and Eddie had to physically wrestle the boy off of Will's neck, threatening to banish Dustin from the next few campaigns if he didn’t chill out. Henderson had huffed and puffed but had admitted defeat and apologized to Will for the attempted murder.

By the time Eddie arrived back to the trailer park, the sun had almost set. He pulled his van into his parking spot to the right of the trailer and shut it off. Stepping out, he swung his backpack over his shoulder, but came to a halt when he heard Olly's scream sound from behind the trailer.

Dropping his bag and beginning to run toward the noise, Eddie's heart fell to his stomach. Horrible images of what could possibly be pulling that sound from his little brother pervaded Eddie's mind. He had an overactive imagination to begin with, and something like this verbal cue only egged it on. "Olly!" he shouted, panic raising his voice. "Olly, are you okay?! What’s going on, where are --"

Eddie came to a halt when he found the boy in the backyard with a huge smile spread across his small, sweaty face. Olly had a fake crown on, one made of twigs and leaves, and he was carrying one of the biggest sticks Eddie had ever seen. He had a blanket tucked into the back of his shirt, the cloth a makeshift cape. A thin piece of metal, probably from one of the cars Wayne and Eddie sometimes worked on, was wrapped around his center, acting as armor.

Olly had just been playing.

Letting out a heavy breath of relief, Eddie noticed your frame just off to the side. His eyes started from the ground up, noting the shiny red Docs donning your feet, moving up bare legs that were covered mid-thigh by a short black skater dress, one that hugged your curves in a way that had Eddie’s mouth going dry.

By the time he reached your face, your eyes were wide with amusement.

You’d been watching as he slowly drank you in. He didn't mean to ogle. He had to shake his head a few times to clear it, and when he did so, the face before him started looking more and more familiar.

"Wait," he started, head tilting. He spoke your name, tone riddled with confusion. "From high school?"

You were about to answer when Oliver cleared his throat, obviously not wanting to be ignored or to have his playtime interrupted any longer. You looked down at the boy, who pointed up to his head at his crown. You got the gist -- Olly wanted the game to continue. You could indulge him. You’d been doing it all day, and honestly you’d been having the most fun you’d had in a while.

You turned your attention back to Eddie, fixing your posture and jutting your chin out slightly. "I don't know who that is," you began, voice lilting. "I am Princess Guinevere of Kerley County and this here,” you brought your gaze back down to Oliver, “is my most loyal servant, Sir Olly of Castle Munson."

Eddie couldn't help the grin that broke out over his face at your announcement. He then took a moment to fully take in the rest of your appearance. You, too, had on a makeshift crown, this one made up of cherry blossoms and daisies. You had a flowing blanket tucked into the back of your dress, cascading down your back like a veil.

No fucking way were you, last year's cheerleading captain and prom queen, standing in his backyard playing fucking knights and princesses with his little brother. No fucking way.

Olly broke the silence by shouting out, "Hey, Eddie! Who are you gonna be?"

Eddie tore his eyes from you to focus on his brother. He pursed his lips to one side in thought, trying to come up with a character. He was usually quick on his feet when it came to creative play, but he had just spent the last three hours DM'ing a month-long DnD campaign. His brain felt shot. He was pulled from his introspective reverie by your soft, suggestive voice — no, sorry — the soft, suggestive voice of Princess Guinevere.

"Wanna be my dragon, Eddie?" you asked.

Eddie wasn't exactly sure why that made his breath catch in his throat.

He nodded dumbly, silent, then forced himself to speak because he didn't want to look totally lame in front of a Princess. "Okay. Yeah, I'll be your dragon."

You graced him with a smile before Oliver's tiny but booming voice cut through the air of the darkening night. "HEY! Dragons don't talk!" the boy stomped his foot and hit his stick against the muddy ground in annoyance.

A laugh bubbled from your throat and Eddie grinned, jumping into a wide-legged stance before outstretching his arms, tilting his head back, and roaring.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x you #stranger things

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moonshine-nightlight · 7 months

Text

Nothing's Wrong with Dale: Part Thirty-One

It’s been a week, but you’re fairly certain your fiancé accidentally got himself replaced by an eldritch being from the Depths. Deciding that he’s certainly not worse than your original fiancé, you endeavor to keep the engagement and his new non-human state to yourself.

However, this might prove harder than you originally thought.

Fantasy, arranged marriage, malemonsterxfemalereader, M/F

AO3: Nothing’s Wrong with Dale Chapter 31

[Part One][Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] [Part Five] [Part Six] [Part Seven] [Part Seven.5][Part Eight] [Part Nine] [Part Ten] [Part Eleven] [Part Twelve] [Part Thirteen] [Part Fourteen] [Part Fifteen] [Part Sixteen] [Part Seventeen] [Part Eighteen] [Part Nineteen] [Part Twenty] [Part Twenty-One] [Part Twenty-Two][Part Twenty-Three] [Part Twenty-Four][Part Twenty-Five] [Part Twenty-Six] [Part Twenty-Seven] [Part Twenty-Eight] [Part Twenty-Nine] [Part Thirty] Part Thirty-One [Part Thirty-Two] [Part Thirty-Three] [Part Thirty-Four]

You walk back to your ready chambers as quickly as you can without drawing notice, ducking to hide the smile on your face when you pass a couple of servants. You open the doors to your dressing room and almost jump when you recall the number of those waiting anxiously for your return. Steward Bilmont is still there too, collapsed in a chair looking quietly morose while the maids hover in an anxious group near the fireplace. All turn to stare at you when you return.

You try to pull your expression back to something resembling neutrality as you stride over to your seat in front of your vanity. “All is well,” you say. “There will be no further confusion regarding the wedding.”

“Truly?” Bilmont asks, hope and disbelief in his voice. The maids seem similarly skeptical, but get back to work without a word. Luckily, it looks as though they had been making progress while you were gone—two additional trunks were packed.

“Yes,” you reply, “there was a misunderstanding.” Which was certainly an understatement, but the most honest explanation you could provide with others present. “It has been straightened out. The wedding is going forward as planned.”

Bilmont threw his hands up. “Thank the light! I didn’t know what—” He cut himself off before he said anything further, merely shaking his head in unarticulated dismay.

You allow him the moment to gather himself, occupying yourself with the lace Miss Adir is laying out for you. However, he continues to linger and so after a look from Mrs Dearden, you turn back to the steward. “I’m sure you have other duties to return to, Steward Bilmont.”

Bilmont meets your eyes, blinking as if suddenly realizing where he is. Hastily he gets to his feet. “Yes, my lady, of course.”

You shake your head in amusement as he hurries out the door before turning back to the mirror and letting your maids finish dressing you. It’s mostly flourishes now, lace cuffs and collar mantle, the jewelry your mother provided. The veil re-purposed from Dale’s mother’s is still carefully arranged on a form, you’ll put that on last.

You still feel somewhat in shock, happy shock, but shock nevertheless. Dale didn’t know you knew what he was, but he does now. He wants to marry you. He’d said you were one of the reasons he stayed here, as Dale. He called you ‘exemplary’. And to think only an hour ago you’d been convinced everything had fallen to pieces. Instead you’re finally, finally, on the same page.

With that reassurance, more of your nerves have melted away, leaving you feeling eager anticipation for the beginning this wedding truly is.

“Are you alright, my lady?” Miss Adir asks tentatively as she helps to make sure the lace insert is sitting correctly over your collarbones. No doubt she must have questions about what happened and what sort of confrontation there might have been, even if she is too professional to ask.

“Hm?” You blink yourself back to the present moment. “Oh yes.” You feel a smile grow on your face, unable to be contained. You can find little reason to try to contain it. “I’m very well indeed.”

-/-

Some of those nerves return as you wait in the small ready room to make your entrance into the main hall of the monsacrin, where the spiritual ceremony will take place prior to the legal one. You’re dreading this one more as it involves the most pageantry and the most people. Certainly all guests will be at the wedding luncheon, but you will not be on display in the same manner.

Even the buoyancy of your conversation with Dale had lent you is diminishing as you imagine all the ways in which you might make a fool of yourself. Your fears for Dale too are not insubstantial. You had been pushing those concerns to the side because there wasn’t much you could do to help—the wedding had to take place here, but how would the sacred affect him? He’d been fine during the rehearsal and the few common ceremonies you’d attended over the last few weeks, but…

You’d seen a sanctif nearly reveal him, not to mention Grandfather’s holy water attempt. He is certainly capable of being hurt by it. But to what degree? Both Sanctif Ellon and Dr. Louisa proved detection methods could be used successfully upon him, although not perfectly. Especially if he was forewarned and able to prepare as you’d seen with the sanctif. Hopefully, with the ceremony so straightforwardly laid out over the past few days, Dale will have prepared himself. Right?

Of course, he’d called off the wedding. He’d spent at least part of today thinking it wasn’t happening. How long had he been planning that? He’d been acting a bit strangely over the past few days, but ultimately the decision had seemed impulsive to you. He’d seemed as if leaving Northridge was his next move and yet, he’d clearly not been packed beyond for your wedding trip. The box he’d been filling with books and other items in his study had obviously been items he wanted with him, but would have been sent ahead to your next destination and so we’re prepared.

The swell of music, woodwinds and strings, interrupted your thoughts to let you know Dale had likely entered the monsacrin. He’d come from the right to walk to the middle. You’ve heard some merchant and peasant families had those who were to be wed enter at the same time given family status didn’t have the hold it had on the nobility. However, since you were joining the Northridge family, you’d enter second to stand with him instead of the reverse.

Miss Adir hands you your bouquet as the melody changes. The door in front of you opens, letting in the brilliant morning sunlight. Your practice of the ceremony was all that prevented you from squinting in the face of all that light. Light was the most important aspect of Solennity and monsacrins had as much glass as they could and stay standing. It was traditional for weddings to take place in morning light, to signify new beginnings, and were held in the eastern hall accordingly. Sunlight streamed in, half blinding you as you walked down the left aisle, which cut at a diagonal through the seated guests to the dias against that eastern wall of glass.

Once your eyes adjust, you keep them focused on the center altar, with its backing of colorful stained glass since its easier to look at, and where Dale waits for you. Gone is the more casual red waistcoat he had on in the study. Instead, the luxurious dark blue velvet that he’d selected nearly a month ago has been turned into a lovely suit. His overcoat is rich and plush, embroidered with detailed gold designs that are similar to those on his waistcoat. His trousers are the same color and disappear into polished black boots. The white of his shirt contrasts well and helps lighten the outfit. Even his hair ribbon is white, holding back his dark hair, except those styled in the front. He looks beautiful.

You try not to think about all the guests staring at you and focus only on Dale, only on being careful not to step on the hem of your dress or drop your flowers. The music swells appropriately until you’re stepping up the single step to where you’ll start the ceremony, next to Dale.

Now that you’re closer and not so dazzled by the light, you can make out more of his expression. He looks down at you with a sort of proud awe that you admire given he’s already seen your dress and even your hair more than half done only an hour or so ago. Perhaps you haven’t been giving him enough credit for his ability to act. He is right in that no one else, beyond a few servants, knows over his nature. You smile up at him, more in relief and out of nerves than much else, but there’s also some awe, that you’re really here, that he’s really here—that it's all happening.

As the final notes play out, you carefully lean forward to place your bouquet in the vase to your side, the flowers a gift to the monsacrin and so your hands can be free for the rest of the ceremony.

The sanctif walks up, giving the opening prayer for a wedding. He stands between you on the next step up and his apprentice joins him, her movements as smooth as in rehearsal earlier in the week. She hands the sanctif the ribbon chosen—blue and gold braided together—and he starts the prayer of unity.

“Today we join together these two humble petitioners who seek to unify their lives in marriage,” he proclaims. That is your cue, and Dale’s, and you both remove a glove—your right and his left. The apprentice sanctif takes your gloves while the sanctif continues, “As such endeavors are not to be taken lightly given their grave importance and profound influence on the times ahead, we so bind them.”

You both reach out and carefully entwine your fingers together in a tight handclasp. The sanctif continues to speak as he winds the braided ribbon around your hands, but you barely hear his words. Instead your focus is on the steadiness of Dale’s hand, the moderate temperature of his skin, the way your arms overlap in order to keep your hands securely together. Your sleeves are short, but his are not. The sensation of the luscious velvet brushing against your skin is lovely. You can’t help but look up to see his eyes—only two at the moment, thank the stars—to find them already fixed upon you.

His gaze seems cautious until yours meets it, at which point his eyes crinkle in their corners to reflect the smile that blooms so naturally. Without thought, you mirror the gesture.

The music swells as the sanctif proclaims and you focus yourself back onto the ceremony itself, so you do not embarrass yourself by being caught unawares. You accept the candle holder from the attendant easily, the gold quickly warming in your hands. It’s simple white taper is unlit. Dale accepts an identical one as the sanctif recalls the story of humanity’s ascent from unintelligent darkness to enlightenment.

He paces the half-circle step, speaking to you and the audience, before he climbs to his place behind the elevated altar. He holds his hands up, supplicating, and begins to recite the marital prompts. “Do you approach this altar of light deliberately and of sound mind, willing and able, to join in sacred commitment to one another?”

“I do,” you chorus with Dale. He’d said with you for balance, he’d not need his cane, and yet the first step up makes you nervous that you’ll both fall, as if you’ve never climbed a set of stairs before.

“You may approach,” the sanctif replies.

You and Dale advance, you careful given your skirts and Dale careful given his balance. You reach the step with little difficulty, feeling almost foolish over how nervous you are, but the reminder of the low level of actual challenge doesn’t help.

“Do you approach this altar of light with honesty, loyalty, and fidelity in your hearts?”

“I do.” Perhaps that vow was what had started Dale on his doubts. The first rehearsal had been the day you returned to Northridge and you’d each gotten pamphlets explaining the ceremony, for all your responses were minimal and repetitive.

“Do you approach this altar of light for the purpose of commitment, of unity, of harmony?”

“I do.” this is the vow you’re unsure if you would have meant with the original Dale. It would have been hard to reach any sort of harmony with him. You don’t have any such fears with Dale.

“Do you approach this altar of light with full faith in the enduring union you seek to forge, with no intention of end or fragility, with confidence and perseverance?”

“I do.” With your conversation this morning, you have no reservations or worries with your reply here either. Still, the sound of Dale’s deep voice in concert with you helps reassure you of his words, as does the feeling of his now-warm hand in yours, his body next to you. He’s not going anywhere.

You’ve both reached the altar and the sanctif smiles at you reassuringly, before he looks past you to those gathered behind you. His voice goes out to them, imploring, “Do any here know what might prevent this union? Do any here have any reason to disbelieve the proclamations made by those who seek to join together?”

There is a pause after his voice fades out in which you find it immensely hard to breathe, before the collective response comes, “We do not.”

“As your humble delegate, I implore the light to bless these two with the union they seek.” The sanctif turns from the altar to the fire behind him, which every monsacrin has lit at all times. Carefully, he lit the oak rod in his hand from its flames and with that, lit the large candle on the altar.

The sanctif speaks on the virtues of marriage while he prepares the sacred cup, announcing the virtue of each herb he adds to the holy water held in its vessel above the candle. Truly, the fire was not enough to heat the drink by much, but it was symbolic of using light and heat to purify. You hope that Dale can drink it with ease. You’d taken note of the herbs at the last rehearsal and found most to be either without cause for worry or with little information to rely on. What flexibility there was with the recipe you took advantage of, except for juniper, which had to be included—and the book had specifically recommended that for purification.

“Drink from this holy vessel,” the sanctif says, carefully lifting the overlarge cup, truly more of a bowl, for you. “As is internal, so may be external. Light within, light without.”

You’d practiced this too. Dale drinks first, as the higher partner so to speak. As he leans down, he’s careful not to drop his candle nor your hand.

Your eyes are intent on his face in what you hope is common attention for your fiance, but he seems no worse for wear. His mild grimace easily attributed to what you know to be the bitter flavor of the drink. Once he straightens, you mirror him, leaning down to take a drink yourself. At least the ceremonial cup closer to you height—the sanctif can only lean so far over the altar with it. Bitter, tart, and herbal, the flavors coat your mouth and the water flows quickly down your throat. You’re grateful to have tasted it before so you don’t cough.

Gentle windwood instruments play at odds with the powerful taste in your mouth. They swell around you as everyone sings a verse of gratitude. The sanctif uses his sprinklers, dunking them in the ceremonial cup now that you had each taken a drink. He hands the bigger one to his apprentice for the group below. With another prayer, he sprinkles holy water over yourself and Dale. Your eyes dart to Dale and notice the way his head is bowed in imitation of piety keeps his face at an angle that lessens the chance of holy water hitting it. He already drank it, but on impulse you turn over your hands, arms only slightly more awkwardly placed, so that your clasped hand is up and his is below.

Dale gives your hand a grateful squeeze as you see a few drops land on the back of your hand. Luckily, the sanctif’s blessing over you does not last long and he carefully puts the vessel away while his apprentice continues with the crowd.

“Blessed and enlightened in our souls, I bid you now to light the symbol of your devotion,” he intones. Dutifully you and Dale light your candles from the larger one simultaneously.

Now comes the more difficult part: carrying the lit candles back down and turning with your hands still bound. You don’t care if you’re not as elegant as some you’ve seen in the past at the very few weddings you’ve attended. You keep your gaze firmly on your feet and Dale as the sanctif at last bids you to turn to away from the altar. “Do you depart this altar of light with determination to face life's hardships together?”

Your hold on Dale’s hand tightens as you turn your head, nerves and fear lancing through you unbidden by the crowd and the height. Dale takes the extra strain easily, skillfully stepping down and to the side with enough deliberate slowness you are able to follow him and remember your official response. “We do.”

Your voice is shaky, but Dale’s is clear and the sanctif does not ask you to repeat yourself. You’ve heard tell of sanctifs who demanded repetitions or even those who required a sentence response, re-framing the question. You are so very thankful you’re able to follow the simpler pattern.

“Do you depart this altar of light with persistence in the face of afflictions of the body?”

“We do.” You take another step down, allowing the floor of the step above to keep your hemline free of your shoes. At the very first wedding you attended, this was the vow you were convinced no one would be able to pledge to you.

“Do you depart this altar of light with compassion for the tumultuous emotions of the heart?”

Another oath that you would not have believed coming from the original Dale. His compassion was lacking and his tolerance for others emotions was minimal to say the least. This Dale surprises you still with his attention to your comfort and happiness. “We do.”

“Do you depart this altar of light with steadfastness against the complications of the mind?”

You chance a glance straight ahead this time, as you are meant to be doing the entire descent, and regret it. So many people staring at you as you walk down steep steps while holding fire. Whoever designed this wedding ceremony had best ascended far far away. You hastily look back down. “We do.”

“Do you depart this altar of light to serve your community and your kin with the attention duty and obligation require?”

“We do.” You are now back on the proper floor of the hall, lower than where you started on the first step. You’ve never been so grateful to the ground before. Why had it been so much worse than rehearsals?

“Do you, the gathered community, accept these vows made here in the light?”

Perhaps it was the audience, who again need an additional second to respond that makes your knuckles lighten as your grip tightens with anticipation. “We do.”

The stringed instruments join the lighter and quieter wood-winds, a masterful solo that allows you to regain your breath, for all you’d not been exerting yourself physically. You catch Callalily’s eyes in the second row and she smiles encouragingly.

When the music dies down again, the sanctif speaks, “Reward this faith in you with the gift of your abundance and illumination.”

You cross the stone floor to the first line of benches with perfect synchronicity, Dale shortening his long strides to match your own.

You light Grandmother and Grandfather’s candles with Dale. Grandmother’s eyes are misty as she smiles at you with joy. Grandfather’s smile is more tinged with relief when he looks at you both. Soon they turn to light the candles of the ones around them, who will turn to do the same. Once all the candles in the first row of benches are light, you and Dale blow out each other’s candles.

The music speeds up as the light spreads to everyone’s far smaller candles and soon reaches the cue for everyone who’s candle is lit to kneel. The wave of people kneeling continues until all are knelt, anyone too young to hold a candle pulled down by attentive parents.

You turn back to the sanctif, who’s descended to be only a step above the main floor. Dale guides your turn and approach until it is your turn to kneel as well, your concentration on how you do so in your more elaborate than usual skirt given your lack of free hands.

The sanctif’s speech on marriage is well-enough, he’d given you an overview earlier in the week, but you can’t focus much on his words. You can’t even ruminate on the marriage you are about to begin, the future that is starting now. You can only focus on Dale. You’d think with him pressed so close you’d grow used to the feeling of his arm, his body, against yours, but you don’t. You only crave to have his arms wrapped firmly around you like they had those two precious times before. To feel his lips against yours for a more satisfying kiss. You hope the light and heat can be blamed for any heat in your cheeks as you try to keep your mind on the present and the ceremony.

Soon enough, the sanctif prompts you to present your candles, the holders careful designed to catch and flow the cooling wax. The sanctif dips his finger into the cooling wax of your candle and Dale’s simultaneously. Then he presses a dot of wax to the back of each of your hands, still bound together. “I now pronounce you wed. You may seal the union with a kiss.”

You turn back to Dale, his eyes lit by more than the many candles and the sunlight streaming through the windows. Luckily, you don’t think anyone else will even notice as he leans down to press a gentle kiss to your lips.

Don’t go, you can’t help but lament in your mind as you try with your will to keep him close to you. Dale remembers your audience at least. As he straightens, pulling away from you, he lifts your joined hands in to signify the sealed union. It feels more like a victory salute to you. Victory to have gotten here, to have this ceremony complete, to have Dale joined to you. To be together.

After a final blessing with holy water sprinkled over your heads, you carefully get back to your feet. While the rest of the attendees join the instruments in song, they keep their candles lit so that the center aisle you depart down is lit from all sides.

It’s considered back luck to undo the ribbon until out of the hall. You and Dale depart down the center aisle, hands still bound together.

[Part Thirty-Two]

#my writing #story: nothing's wrong with dale #dale #story part #monster romance #nothing's wrong with dale #terato #exphilia #monster bf #male monster #reader #slow burn #osha compliant #i'm never inventing my own wedding ceremony again #hope you enjoyed it!#dont think about how much of a fire hazard this would b lmao #wedding time #anyone else getting thirsty?#;)

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aziraphales-library · 5 days

Note

hi :))

I'm wondering if you have any cozy ineffable husbands human aus that kinda fit autumn? also angst with a happy ending would be nice

thanks!

Okay, these are the fics that came to mind for stories with somewhat cosy/autumnal vibes and some angst...

Acts of Prayer by Nadzieja (Series) (M-E)

Crowley is not a priest anymore, he has buried that part of his past long ago. Yet, fate brings him back to Tadfield where he'll have to confront a ghost from his past he hasn't seen in a very long time (but whose face might as well be carved onto his heart). [A Priest AU, with *a lot* of angst and a happy ending.]

is there anybody out there? by theycallmeDernhelm (E)

Welcome to the zombie apocalypse. England has been overrun by walking corpses, everything's gone to hell, and the few survivors are scattered- among them, Crowley and his 11-year-old son Warlock. When Crowley's radio signal is unexpectedly picked up by another group of survivors, he finds himself falling, in a way he never thought he'd fall again, for the charming and kindly Aziraphale. Over three seasons and a tenuous radio connection, a romance develops between them, while a friendship grows between Warlock and Aziraphale's nephew Adam. Love isn't dead (or undead) after all.

The Scarecrow by AppleSeeds (M)

The last surviving member of his family, Aziraphale inherits a crumbling 14th century cottage from his uncle. Staying in the cottage to catalogue his uncle's collection of rare books, Aziraphale combats his loneliness by speaking to the scarecrow in the neighbouring field. He awakes one night to find the scarecrow in his bedroom, mouth torn open, speaking to him... Crowley was cursed by a witch and turned into a scarecrow over five hundred years ago, but somehow Aziraphale's presence is changing him into something more human. While Aziraphale works to break the curse completely, the two of them spend a great deal of time together and find something special within each other, both discovering what it truly means to be free.

in the house we remain by commodorecliche (M)

Aziraphale buys a quiet cottage in the middle of the English countryside. It is perfect in every way: old-style, quaint, surrounded by wilderness, with a small water feature in the back and a price to rival that of any other property he's seen. He is in love from the moment he sees it. But when a mysterious set of books, all written by unknown author A.J. Crowley, appears on his book shelf, Aziraphale begins to wonder if there is perhaps more to this house than he'd originally believed. The truth can be buried, but it cannot stay hidden forever.

Under Construction by summerofspock (E)

Crowley has one goal: sell the run-down lodge in the Cascades that his uncle left him in his will. He doesn't expect to meet someone like Aziraphale, the kind handyman working on his uncle's property who turns out to be more of an enigma than Crowley first thought.

The Grindr Logo Doesn't Even Have a 'G' In It by indieninja92 (E)

After the Apocalypse, Aziraphale ventures into a new space in the gay milieu - Grindr. There he starts talking to a charming young man who certainly doesn't bear any resemblance at all to a certain long streak of demon, not one bit, no thank you. Meanwhile, Aziraphale and Crowley navigate their friendship after the world failed to end. There is much drinking and silliness, but could it be that there are other feelings lurking underneath?? Of course there are, this is fanfic.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #human au #angst #mod d

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kkeromenoo · 3 months

Text

Spun Sugar (18+)

Bottom!Mammon x Reader + My first time writing smthn like this ;;

Cruel. That was the only fitting word that Mammon could use to even begin to describe the treatment he was receiving. That night was supposed to be a reminder for him - one of many reminders that he was given. With patience thinning and tensions rising, the demon couldn’t take it anymore. No longer did kneeling for the proper hand of a human seem so inglorious, but instead, demoralizing in the most intoxicating way possible.

Just beneath the surface of his skin, a sickening warmth spread so welcomingly. Every inch of his body felt as if it was vibrating just as the piece of plastic held up against him. Little did pleading looks matter, as this was hardly the beginning of what he was expected to hold up through. By now, Mammon knew that extremely well. It felt almost painful to hold back each note that passed his lips, with most being much higher than he would’ve wanted to have been heard by someone else. Appearances were certainly not the last of his worries even in this moment, but that just made it all the more exhilarating for the one holding the throttle.

“MC…” The word was only identifiable through heavy breaths due to it being his personal mantra for the night. Otherwise, it would have been heavily up to artistic interpretation of the many whimpers being forced out of his throat. Even so, that hardly earned him a smile in return, more of a glare with the mildly upturned corners of her lips. That exact expression was the one that kept him so well-rested for classes the following morning, yet so haunted with sinful thoughts in his free time. If this woman had walked into his life millennia prior, God knows how he’d keep his status as an angel directly under Lucifer.

“Oh, I know.” The human taunted in a sweet voice, as if mocking his struggle with keeping face. “It must be so difficult for you to keep yourself under my watch and mine alone. I can imagine.” Swollen lips pressing onto his neck’s pulse point did little to assist him in the ache of not jutting his hips up to meet hers. Oh, how she adored that look in his eyes. Tears beginning to form in his plight with pure desperation truly spoke measures on the couple’s bond.

No, the demon could hardly be blamed for any growl that left his lips, even if his voice was hastily replaced by two fingers pressing onto his tongue to command silence. Try as he might, it was impossible with her hand working as deftly as it did. Sliding up her fingers on his length with feather light touches, his swollen tip was abused by her thumb working circles around his sensitive edges. Each time her thumb was lifted, she could swear there’d be more of that substance that so eerily resembled spun sugar. Little solace would surely be found for him by morning.

#obey me nightbringer #obey me one master to rule them all #obey me swd #om!#om! shall we date #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me mammon #obey me mammon smut #mammon smut #obey me smut #obey me x mc #mammon x reader

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kybercrystals94 · 15 days

Text

Teal Paint

Read here on Ao3!

Angstpril 2024 | Day 18 | Prompt 18: Left Behind

Rated: G | Word Count: 1526 | Summary: Memories left behind... | Character Focus: Hunter, Crosshair, Tech, Wrecker, Omega, Echo

*some slight spoilers at the very end for Season 3*

Tech finds a reasonably tame city to spend their brief period of downtime between missions. It took several months, but they’ve finally scraped enough credits together, and today is the day. The streets are crowded with evening traffic, the Batch walking close together to avoid being separated.

“Did you know,” Tech says, informatively, “that facial tattoos are among the most painful, depending on the location on the face?”

“Thanks, Tech,” Hunter grumbles, “that’s really helpful.”

“You’re not going to talk us out of it,” Crosshair adds resolutely.

Wrecker nods. “Yeah, we’re gonna do it no matter what you say, Tech!”

Tech huffs. “On the contrary, I’m quite eager to observe the process. I just believe that being well informed is beneficial when making a life altering decision.”

“Maker, Tech, getting a tattoo isn’t life altering,” Crosshair says.

“It’s awesome!” Wrecker declares. “You should get one too, Tech.”

“I prefer modifications that can be modified,” Tech retorts.

Crosshair leans close to Wrecker, puts his hand up to shield his mouth from Tech, and loudly whispers, “He’s too scared.”

“That is not true.”

“Aww, Techie’s scared,” Wrecker crows, throwing an arm around Tech. “I can hold your hand, be brave for the both of us.”

Tech tries to extract himself from Wrecker’s grip. “I am not scared! I have stated my reasoning clearly and concisely. Fear has nothing to do with it.”

Hunter rubs his hand across the left side of his face, a fist of apprehension balling up in the pit of his stomach. He isn’t having second thoughts, he’s almost positive that he’ll be happy with the results. He and Crosshair spent hours with a pad of flimsi sketching and scheming. Crosshair wanted something subtle, meaningful, a reflection of himself. Hunter, to his brothers’ surprise, wanted something bold. A statement. Memorable. Of the Batch, he most resembles, in appearance and speech, a reg. But he is no more a reg than any other member of his squad. He might not be able to easily change his facial structure or vocal pattern; however, inking half his face with the dark contour of a skull seems like a good start.

“What do you think?” Crosshair asked, holding up the sketch he’d made of Hunter.

Hunter grinned, taking the pad and admiring the simple lined likeness to himself, the skull motif shadowed deeply with graphite. He loved it. It was perfect. Exactly as he’d imagined it. “Looks good,” he told his brother.

Wrecker, at the last minute, decided that he also wants a tattoo, although his ideas are scattered and untethered to any sort of theme. Even as they approach the tattoo parlor, he is still undecided, claiming that it is going to be a surprise.

“A tattoo is permanent,” Tech tells Wrecker again, having resigned himself to being tucked under Wrecker’s arm for the remainder of their trek. “You should at least have some sort of idea.”

“I do,” Wrecker says, “My idea is that it will be the coolest tattoo in the entire galaxy.”

“That is not an idea,” Tech sighs.

At Tech’s direction, they turn off on a side street, the crowds petering off the further they walk. It doesn’t exactly feel like a bad part of town; however, it is less kept, the buildings showing their age and wear. Hunter is beginning to wonder if Tech got them lost when they turn another corner and a neon sign blinks the word “TATTOOS” at them, the flashing light practically searing into Hunter’s retinas.

“They should get a brighter sign,” Crosshair snarks, “we almost missed it.”

They step inside, and find the business deserted except for a human who stands up from a chair behind the counter. He is covered in colorful ink, his natural pigment completely lost under the tapestry of mismatched designs across every inch of his exposed skin.

“Now that must’ve hurt,” Wrecker mutters to Tech, but he might as well have screamed it from the rooftops.

Tech rolls his eyes.

The man smiles, flashing white teeth. “Only hurts ‘til the pain goes away.”

“Naturally,” Tech agrees sardonically.

“I’m gonna guess you lot are here for some ink,” the man says.

“They are, I am not,” Tech replies quickly. “I am here to observe.”

“Not a fan of needles, huh?” the man asks.

Tech opens his mouth to deny the accusation, but Wrecker gasps out, “Wait, needles?”

Crosshair groans. “We went over this, Wrecker.”

“Yeah, well” Wrecker says, “it sounds different the way he says it.”

“How?”

Wrecker heaves his broad shoulders in a shrug. “I’ll just wait on my tattoo. Until I think of something good, ya know?”

Crosshair steps around Wrecker and jerks his head in Hunter’s direction. “He and I are getting tattoos. These are what we want.” He pulls two pieces of flimsi from his pocket with their chosen designs, pushing them across the counter.

The man takes them, looking over the details. “Straightforward and to the point. I like that. C’mon around and we’ll get started.”

Hunter takes a deep breath.

He’s not turning back now.

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

Hunter and Crosshair decide to add to their armor to coordinate with their new tattoos. The next time they’re on Kamino, they find their leftover paint and set to work, Tech and Wrecker joining them. Inspired by Hunter’s new half skull tattoo, they decide to incorporate the symbol into all of their armor in some way.

“So help me, Wrecker, if you tip over another can of paint…” Crosshair mutters, snatching up the at-risk bucket from Wrecker’s proximity.

Wrecker is sprawled out on their barrack’s floor, taking up far more than his fair share of space. His paint brush flicks up, sending a spray of heavy duty white across the room.

“You’re cleaning that up,” Tech says from his place at the table.

“No one will notice,” Wrecker assures them. “Maybe they’ll look like clean spots!”

Hunter sighs. “That’s not a good thing, Wreck.”

Wrecker ignores the comment, instead dropping his paintbrush onto the tray Tech ordered him to use and holding up his helmet. “What do you think? It’s a skull.”

“Not a human skull,” Tech points out.

Wrecker shakes his head. “Human skulls are boring.”

“There’s supposed to be red on your helmet somewhere,” Crosshair gripes.

Wrecker reaches over and plucks Crosshair’s fine tipped paint brush out of his hand, the bristles still dripping red paint. Crosshair sputters a curse as Wrecker happily begins painting with the stolen utensil.

“Hunter!” Crosshair cries, “Tell Wrecker to give it back.”

Hunter doesn’t even look up from his work. “Let’s share our toys like big kids,” he coos, earning a chuckle from Tech.

“I’m gonna give it back in a second,” Wrecker says. “Almost done.”

Crosshair growls something rude in Huttese.

“There!” Wrecker says, tossing the brush back at Crosshair, the sniper catching it from the wrong end, paint staining the palm of his glove. Wrecker turns his helmet again to the room. “See? It’s perfect.”

The number 99 is brandished across the forehead of his helmet in dripping red.

“Subtle as usual, Wrecker,” Tech says.

Wrecker grins. “Thanks!”

Hunter sits back and admires his own helmet’s new design, carefully imitating his inked face. It’s exactly how he imagined it.

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

“I like this color,” Omega says, pointing at a swatch of teal paint. “Oh, and this orange is nice.”

Tech glances at Hunter, clearly questioning the decision to let Omega choose their new armor colors. Hunter shrugs. At least it will look…different. Which is exactly what they want.

“What about this one?” Wrecker asks, pointing at the yellow swatch.

“Yes! I like that one too!” Omega cries.

They purchase the three cans of paint and some brushes before heading back to the Marauder. Omega is beside herself with excitement. “Do you think the paint will work on my helmet?” she asks.

“Sure, kid, ‘course it will,” Wrecker says cheerfully.

“I’m gonna use orange on mine, then,” Omega says.

That evening, spread out under the Marauder’s wing, the Batch set about repainting their armor. Wrecker can’t bear the thought of covering up the skull on his helmet, so he settles for removing the bright 99 from it instead, sanding it down and repainting the area white. With Omega’s help, he uses orange and yellow to accent the rest of his armor pieces.

Tech and Echo decide to monopolize the orange paint, leaving very little to Hunter. With a sigh, he picks up the teal paint, and pries it open. Omega beams at him. “I think that will be a very nice color on you,” she tells him sincerely, and suddenly, the color doesn’t seem so bad.

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

“All the armor’s been stripped. But we’re still not gonna blend in,” Echo says, tossing Hunter his helmet.

The colors of his past lives have been removed with finality. He knows it is necessary; however, he can’t help but feel the pang of loss as he stares at the familiar piece of himself he’s had for so long, devoid of the visible memories lingering like ghosts behind him.

Maybe they’ll paint their armor again, when all of this is over.

If they all make it back.

END

@the-little-moment and @just-here-with-my-thoughts 🥳 I can't believe we've only got 4 more stories/chapters each to go!

✨Let me know if you'd like to be added to my tag list!✨

Tag List: @followthepurrgil @isthereanechoinhere96 @amorfista @mooncommlink @arctrooper69 @nagyanna424 @proteatook @ezras-left-thumb @merkitty49

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profound-imagination · 4 months

Text

Tell Me Their Names - Ruhn Danaan - Part 2

A/N: Everyone thank my beloved @thatlosernoonelikes for this chapter existing, and credit to Bri for the idea! This can be continued, we’ll see how it goes.

T/W’s: Mentions of Trauma but nothing specific, mentions of shitty fathers and I think that’s!

W/C: 1.8k

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Velaris was easily the most beautiful place you’d ever seen. Well, from what you could see from your bedroom window and the balconies of the House of Wind as your hosts called it. Feyre had joined you all in the journey to the house, showing each one of you to your bedrooms and playing the perfect hostess. You had eyed Ruhn anxiously, not wanting him to leave you, as she showed you a beautiful room with a huge bed and attached bathroom and continued down the hallway motioning for Ruhn to follow. Ruhn, who she kept eyeing as if trying to work out who he was, he did, after all, bear a striking resemblance to her husband, the High Lord who Feyre would glance at often as well.

They turned when Ruhn didn’t move from his spot at your doorway. Feyre raised a questioning eyebrow. “I don’t want to be rude but we stay together.” Ruhn had said, stepping towards you and wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “We went through a lot and I don’t want to, I can’t, let her out of my sight.” He said quietly, the High Lord, Rhysand hummed, “Trauma bonded.” You nodded, “Something like that.” Feyre smiled kindly, “Of course you can stay together, I should’ve realised you would want to!” You were quick to reassure her that she had done nothing wrong and her kindness was already far too much.

Once the door was closed and Ruhn had assured you they were gone you circled the room, the best you could on your mangled ankle. Feyre had said something about a healer and an hour but you didn’t hold much hope for your ankle being fixed. “Why do you look like him?” You asked Ruhn quietly, following him towards the bathroom where you watched him begin to draw a bath. “I-I don’t know, it’s weird.” He said, shrugging his shoulders, “But it looks like he could be your father.” You mumbled as Ruhn tensed, “He’s already done more for me than my father ever did.” He spat and turned to face you. “Can you get in or do you need my help?” He asked, his gentle tone returned. “It’s for me?” You asked quietly, tears pricking in the corner of your eyes. “Yes, I figured you’d like a bath.” You sniffed, “I can’t remember the last time I had a bath.” He smiled, “Enjoy it, I’ll be right outside.”

He stepped away and headed for the door and you smiled at his back then reprimanded yourself. Whatever you felt for the Fae Prince was dangerous and you only stood to get hurt in the long run. Just as you were struggling to undress two Wraiths appeared in the bathroom. They told you they had been sent by Lady Elain to offer their help should you need it. You smiled gratefully at them and allowed them to help. Ruhn had seen the scars on your face and arms, but he hadn’t seen the damage Lidia had inflicted on your back, nor would you want him too. There was something between the two of them and it wasn’t your place to break it further than it already was.

As you sat in the warm water and allowed the wraiths to bathe you your mind wandered. You felt it when you entered Velaris. That tingle of magic that you hadn’t felt since you were a child. Hadn’t felt it since you’d been ripped from your world and ended up in Crescent City, all magic gone and human ears. It filled you with dread. You absentmindedly wondered if you’d have to come clean. You’d told Ruhn you didn’t remember your family name, that you were an orphan. A lie. You could picture them now, your parents. You missed them so much your heart ached. You’d never see them again. You could still see your mother screaming as she was held back by your uncles. Could still see your father throwing his friends off of him and thundering towards you as you winked out of that world.

You jumped as the wraiths pulled you back to reality. “Are you alright, miss?” One of them asked as she gently wiped the tear that was trailing down your cheek. You hadn’t even noticed it. You nodded at her as you stood and wrapped a towel around yourself as the door banged open. “What’s wrong?” Ruhn’s teeth were bared and the wraiths startled. You pulled yourself together and gave him a watery smile. “I just can’t believe it’s really over.” You told him, another lie to add to the list. His face softened, “It’s over, Tiny.” He opened his arms and you willingly walked into them.

As predicted, the healer, Madja wasn’t convinced she could completely heal your ankle but she was willing to try. It would be done over weeks and it would involve having your ankle broken each time allowing it to heal in a slightly better position each time. Ruhn had been tense through the entire meeting. It was Ithan, the wolf that bought you a ridiculous amount of comfort, who had sat next to you and asked questions that needed to be asked. Ruhn had held your hand and had sat like a statue, his jaw locked in place as she had explained her plan.

After Madja had left, Bryce filled everyone in on what had happened while she’d been here, what help she had found. All from her perch on Hunt’s lap. Apparently, as well as the help she’d brought with her, they had additional backup arriving in a few days. Rhysand had smirked at you as Bryce mentioned their additional back up as if he knew something you didn’t. You raised an eyebrow at him but he simply shook his head.

When Bryce had finally finished her story, Rhysand took over. “You are all welcome and safe here.” He said, “Those of you who are willing and able can join us when we go back to Crescent City and take it back for the people. Those who aren’t can stay here. We will all be training every morning on the roof for those of us who want to join and master their gifts.” His eyes lingered on you for a second before flickering to Ruhn. Azriel spoke up then, “I can help you.” He said to Ruhn, “With the shadows.” Ruhn nodded, “They don’t do much, just enough so I can hide in them when I need to.” Azriel raised an eyebrow, “They can do much more than that.” His own shadows skittering around the room as if to prove his point.

Ruhn had spent the following days training with Azriel. Returning to your rooms late and exhausted. Feyre had chosen to train you, she was patient and kind and worked with you to figure out a way for you to fight with your mangled ankle. You were more than aware that Rhysand had been watching you but you had no idea why and the bigger problem you were facing was the magic thrumming in your veins getting stronger and stronger, as if it was trying to escape. You were sure your ears looked longer each day.

They had taken you to the field you’d first arrived in to train. Ruhn worked with Azriel as usual. Cassian and Nesta worked with Valkyries she commanded. As usual you were working with Feyre when Rhysand strolled over. “Let me take over for a while, Feyre Darling.” He purred at his wife. Some kind of silent conversation passed between them and she stepped away. Then Rhysand, without any warning, threw everything he had at you, darkness, his sword and he went for your mind as well. Your magic answered in response and he smiled. “Let it out.” He said into your mind. You gritted your teeth and shoved it back down. He doubled his efforts. Then something in the atmosphere changed and you watched over Rhys’ shoulder as Cassian left the others and charged at Ruhn, the same time Azriel turned on him. A look of betrayal and confusion crossed Ruhn’s face as he tried to defend himself against both assailants. You vaguely heard Feyre greet someone as your magic snapped. “NO!” You threw your hands out an ice wrapped wind ripped across the field, knocking Rhysand, Azriel and Cassian off of their feet and away from Ruhn.

You weren’t sure how long you held them there, using the wind you possessed to choke the air out of them. “Stop.” You knew that voice. “Y/N, you need to stop.” It couldn’t be, it was impossible. “Baby girl, you need to let them go.” Your vision cleared and you took in who held your face, who was standing in front of you. “Daddy?” You whimpered and your magic dropped. Rhys and his brothers gasped for air and Ruhn was there, just behind your father. “Daddy?” He questioned but you didn’t hear him, you just continued to stare at your father. “Well, she always was a daddy’s girl, I’m not surprised she has his magic.” You span and there she stood, your mother, the Queen of Terrasen. Your legs gave out and you collapsed into your father as you sobbed, your mother joining the two of you in a hug on the floor. “We found you.” Aelin sobbed into your hair.

“I’d say she’s her uncles girl rather than a daddy’s girl.” A familiar voice drawled. Your eyes shot to the person who had spoken and you choked out a sob, “Uncle Fen?” He grinned from ear to ear, “Hi kiddo.” Tears lined his eyes as well as you got to your feet and threw yourself at your favourite uncle, the reason you found so much comfort in Ithan. “What about us?” You took in the others who were in the clearing with you, your aunts and uncles, they had all come for you.

You turned to Ruhn, scanning his face. “Are you hurt?” You asked him, he ignored the question, “Your Fae?” He asked instead. “Yes, this is my mother and father, King & Queen of Terrasen, Rowan & Aelin Whitethorne Galathynius.” Ruhn gawked as his mind worked through the information you’d just given him, your parents coming to stand behind you, taking the prince in. “In a land long since burned to ash.” He mumbled to himself. “You’re a Fae Princess?” You shrugged at him, “You’re a Fae Prince, does it matter? I’m still me.” Panic began to crawl up your throat that Ruhn was going to pull away from you but despite Rowan staring him down, despite Fenrys, Lorcan and Aedion backing him up Ruhn pulled you into his chest, “Of course it doesn’t matter.”

When you pulled away, you turned to your family, “This is Ruhn Danaan, he’s Crown Prince of the Valbaran Fae. He’s…” you trailed off, trying to find the words, “He’s kept me safe and alive.” You told them. Rowan took his hand and shook it, the words that came out of your fathers mouth next could’ve split worlds and started wars if the wrong people heard them, “Ruhn, the Shadowsingers son. Nephew to the High Lord of this place. Thank you for protecting our daughter.” Silence fell as all eyes turned to Azriel and Ruhn’s face drained of all colour.

#crescent city #house of earth and blood #house of sky and breath #ruhn x reader #ruhn danaan x reader #ruhn danaan

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pillow-anime-talk · 9 months

Note

congrats on 4k, my fav writer! can i ask for buddha with fem!reader and number 14? it could be friends/lovers or something similar :) love you

# tags: scenario; strangers/?; a bit of comedy; fluff; size difference; human!reader; precious!reader; playful!buddha; ragnarok time; sfw

includes: female reader ft. buddha {ror}

author’s note: thank you so much, anonnie! love your idea so i hope you like it!

14. “Need some help, shortie?”

Buddha loved to sit in nature surrounded by animals and plants, so exploring the gardens built in the arena was his favorite thing from the beginning of the first fight. He always sat under the trees with his favorite sweets, and sometimes he just took short naps; very often between conversations with other gods or the eldest Valkyrie and her younger sister.

Currently there was a battle between the most powerful sumo of the human world – Raiden Tameemon – and the god worshiped in India – Shiva. The Buddha was next, and his plan was slowly approaching its culmination. Before the fight, however, he wanted to rest and gather his thoughts, while enjoying a sweet snack in the form of a colorful lollipop, which he managed to smuggle.

Unfortunately (or not?), his favorite tree was taken. A young woman with a beautiful skin tone and a friendly-looking face was plucking juicy fruits in a shade of delicate purple mixed with pink from the huge plant. I would like to mention that she was not greedy and chose only very ripe fruit, ideal for harvesting. She had only three in her small basket and was trying to pick the last fruit, which unfortunately was much higher than she could reach. Her light dress looked really good on her body, while the jewelry decorating her neck and fingers perfectly emphasized the sparkle of her eyes and charming smile.

“Need some help, shortie?” The man stepped a little closer and glanced carefully at the petite woman.

When you turned around, he could have sworn you looked like a true goddess. You were just as beautiful – no – you were more beautiful than Aphrodite and definitely sweeter than the fruit in your hands. Your eyes expressed pure curiosity of the world, and your lips were twisted in a sincere, even childish smile. The necklace jumped slightly as you turned to your interlocutor, then greeted him with a slight bow.

“Only if you want... I’ll gladly accept your help.” You spoked timidly, causing the fair-haired sage only to nod. He quickly reached the beautiful plum from the branch and handed it to you. He was curious about you and really wondered who you were. After all, he had never met such a beautiful goddess before. Which religion were you from? “My name is Y/N Y/L/N. Nice to meet you.”

“Buddha.” He said softly, looking at you even more closely. Your voice as beautiful as the singing of nightingales in the morning, and the blush on your cheeks resembled juicy strawberries. “What pantheon are you from?” He asked curiously, and you only frowned, putting the fruit gently into a dark-colored wicker basket. Then you shook your head.

“Oh. I fight for humanity.” You replied with amusement, causing him mixed feelings. He was surprised; he did not expect that humanity has such beautiful women, and also so modest and delicate in her manner. “You may not know me because I died quite recently.” You added and the man nodded one more time. He wanted to know your story, your abilities, your problems. After all, everyone has one. “I’m seventh in line.”

Since Buddha was in the sixth round and you in the seventh, the deity hoped that you two would have a chance to meet again and talk for much longer; about life and death, about Ragnarok and about these sweet fruits... Like... Why did they catch your eye?

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inactiveuser374 · 1 year

Text

MIA (chapter two)

pairing; Simon “Ghost” Riley / Male!Winter Soldier!Reader

contains: graphic depictions of injury, flashbacks, fears of abandonment, mentions of abduction, human experimentation & torture, memory loss and regaining, brainwashing and conditioning, male anatomy for reader, slight sexual themes, lovers to strangers to enemies to lovers??

link to chapter one

Ghost’s once balled up fists loosened as he made contact with the eyes glaring into his. They were empty, hyperaware but completely vacant, resembling the eyes of a once docile animal provoked one too many times.

For a moment the features of the face in front of him were just like any other, but the raised discoloration that ran along the man’s cheek provoked him to study the rest of his face for what felt like an eternity trapped inside a few dreadful seconds as realization hit.

The soldier he’d lost nearly three years ago hadn’t been killed, that much was clear from the lack of a body. But you had been announced missing in action after disappearing with an injury that would’ve had you permanently discharged.

He didn’t want to believe it. He didn’t want to actually realize that he had been the one who left you bleeding out in an empty house while he left to take care of the horde of enemies clawing at the doors like dogs.

Whatever had happened between then and now that lead you to wanting to kill him has happened because of his mistake.

….

It had taken your handler months to find just a single scrap of information on where your mission had gone, but an anonymous tip now had you stationed back in London waiting at a bus stop.

The sky was beginning to darken as you waited for the right one to arrive. You had already been sitting for hours, and just as you were beginning to doubt the instructions of your handler, another tall red vehicle slowed to a halt. The numbers on the roof matched the ones you had been given.

Your hood covered your face as you made your way up the stairs and past rows and rows of seats before something caught your eye.

Even though it wasn’t the same hyperrealistic skull he’d been wearing the last time you interacted, the black outline of teeth made you grimace internally, the taste of iron and failure mixing into your brain as you sat down directly next to him.

You were unable to see his face, but even through your hood you could feel his eyes peering at you as you sat unmoving beside him.

He could already sense something was wrong, but you knew he wouldn’t act unless he was sure of it given the current environment.

Deciding to give him a hint, you shifted your posture so that only the tip of your knife stared back up at him over your thigh holster.

He seemed to remain just as composed as he had been before as the bus started again. Every other seat was filled with innocent civilians and to start anything would be endangering their lives.

Though the ride was only about five blocks, it was long and filled with uneasiness with every small shift in your position or bump in the road. The hood covering your head acted as a fully opaque veil, masking what you would do next with no visible facial expressions.

Up until the very end of the ride, the hood remained tucked around your face. But as the bus slowed to a stop, you pulled the fabric down and followed Ghost as he stood and stiffly walked to the door.

Years of wearing a mask when on missions had clearly conditioned you to keep your face hidden when you realized with a pit in your stomach that everyone around could see you, and could probably read you like an open book due to not having to mask your expressions when the mask was on.

The hood had concealed it well enough, but now you were passing countless people, all of whom had already looked up thanks to the first man’s far from discreet skull mask and the way he towered over them all as he walked.

You suddenly felt like an animal let out of its cage directly into a stampede.

You could tell by the way Ghost balled his fist at his side that he was ready to turn and hit at any given sign of a threat while he stepped off the bus.

“Come to finish me off?” Ghost spoke, still faced away from you.

The sound of his voice only brought you back to the last time he spoke to you. When he had said that name as if he had just watched you slaughtered the person it belonged to.

You didn’t answer, instead you simply watched his movements before he finally turned to face you.

And then he said it again. Like a gas that breached past your defenses and gotten to you unequipped. The name bore holes into your skin and slowly burned the remainders until you were nothing but bones, and you stood shaking in the wake of a light breeze.

“You gonna say anything or were you just planning on dragging me into the alleyway and slitting my throat?” He sighed. His words were sharp but his tone was almost sarcastic.

Silence grew between the two of you before he finally spoke up again.

“I didn’t want leave you.”

Your eyes wouldn’t find a single spot to stay still on his face so you just looked at the wall behind him as you tried to make sense of his words and what they meant.

“If that’s why you’re doing this.” He motioned his hand towards your knife and you noticed that your hand had been hovering above the hilt without you even thinking about it.

He still hadn’t gotten an answer from you, but he continued speaking anyways.

“But why all the others?” His eyes showed a lot more than he probably thought as they turned to genuine confusion. “That mayor,” he continued.

“His daughter found his body the next morning did you know that?”

You wracked your brain trying to remember, but all you could think about was how he was speaking to you like he’d known you for years, how he showed no fear in your presence like any smart person should.

You couldn’t remember.

Your job was literally to do one thing, to kill people. How was it that you could remember not one of your past missions.

And who did this man- Ghost or whatever the hell he called himself, who did he think he was? He was speaking to you like he was lecturing you for God’s sake. Like a mother might talk to her child about being nice to people.

“[name],”

This was the third time he had called you that name, and each time drove you further to a point where you couldn’t help but feel the stinging rush rush of anger and fear manifested into your own adrenaline. Pleading to let you just grab the man by his hair and run him into the ground until he was gone.

Until all that remained of him was a ruined mass of flesh in the alleyway so you could just go back home, back to your bed and forget him like every other mission you had ever completed.

“Who the hell do you think I am?” The words tasted like venom in your mouth and they did their job like it too. Ghost’s expression instantly dropped. His eyes glossed against the remnants of black powder around his eyes that seemed to never be washed away by hundreds of times he had probably washed it.

His mask moved slightly to indicate he was trying to speak but you cut him off.

“I was told to do this, I don’t have a reason other than it being my job.” Seething you tried to quiet the screaming of your own thoughts brought on by this man.

“I don’t know you.”

Your words broke in your throat as you realized that you had been treated less than human, only as a weapon for so long that you hadn’t even questioned the lack of a name for yourself.

Every wall that had been built up, whether by you or by the people who had kept you caged for so long was now coming down in a cacophony of screams and voices and the outlines of what you perceived as memories of someone else, someone identical to you but who had lived another life before.

And another name rung out louder than the rest.

The same one that had caused you fear for the first time in years, not because it held a connection to trauma or was the title of someone you prayed to never see again. But because it was you, and somewhere along the way you had forgotten yourself.

link to chapter 3

taglist requests

taglist:

@chrrywiwss @edenstarkk @justicex101 @mrglubb @grizzersmamma

#simon ghost riley fanfic #simon riley #simon riley x male reader #x male reader #ghost x reader #cod x male reader #ghost x male reader #cod x reader #mw2 fanfic

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the-fandom-is-now-my-life · 3 months

Text

Masterlist

"Masterlist? What is that?"

"it's mostly a record of the writings here, feel welcome to have a look and see if something catches your eye" she turns around and points to the the book detailing where every book or pages should

"last time I updated it was February 16, so it can get a bit behind but usually everything is in here"

Genshin impact

A bouquet of feelings

"a magical land where people are able to handle elements as they please, a bit too fantastical for my liking but she seems to enjoy writing them"

There is a folder on the table and named with perfect cursive handwriting "Holy offsprings". It seems it's a collection of small works

Sometimes actions have unexpected consequences. Good thing Aether knows how to fix this one.

Ancient language au

A long forgotten tongue slips away from their lips to the ears of people who believe it's their god's language

Read my lips

"to suddenly be left in a world where I couldn't read anything... Such a torture"

Universal language

After alhaitham found your ability you were almost forced to work for the academia translating works, some misunderstandings arise

Great sage au

A foreign face settles as a country's sage and tries to help, even when it isn't all that easy

Prologue

As a former player the new great sage had a nice base of knowledge to stand on plus some new tools

Such a backstabber

His duty with sumeru has gotten him into a trail leading to you and believes you to be a danger. For some reason the proof he has reminds you of something… wait a minute.

Over tea

Luckily after cyno recognized them as not guilty they were allowed to return to their position and enjoy their new found love for tea. Seemingly the nation's calmness has lead to people allowing themselves to fantasize about their bosses’ love life

Everything feels so beautiful

"this one fits in the timeline but I'm not sure if even the writer knows how or when..."

Secret husband timeline

Be it because of secretiveness or nobody believing it was possible nobody found out about your marriage with the iudex until someone says it straight up. Oops

The first two are two different beginnings

How the iudex sleeps

"why did she choose for him to have a resemblance with otters? Even then it's a really sweet domestic piece"

Melusines say the darndest things

sometimes children can slip up and accidentally say more than desired. In this case the journalists are very happy about that.

Drabbles

Would they peel an orange for you?

"mhmm... I wonder why she chose oranges, I think she likes better pomegranate. Wouldn't it be more fitting 'would they open a pomegranate for you?' but I guess at the end it's the same intention"

Do they know if you wear silver or gold?

"I only ever wear this uniform, I'm not really sure how important that kind of stuff is"

Types of baby daddy

"my father has been a 'baby daddy' many times, including my and my sisters' conception and many of our half siblings. Despicable man. He even runs as fast as the thunders he throws so he is hard to catch"

Your ex in my body or me in their body

"seemingly this question is used to pick a fight with your lover, I'm not sure why would you, though"

Ideas

"some blurbs or unrefined concepts, maybe in the future they can become something more polished"

Npc sagau

"suddenly strangers and your loved ones start acting as mindless zombies and only certain people seem to wake up but you are unable to know when... It sounds stressful doesn't it?"

Living together (npc sagau)

"it would make sense for them to live close by the only people you can speak with"

Obey me

"It's a kind of undefined academic environment in hell? I heard from other visitors that highschool and university are difficult and sometimes unenjoyable but isn't this a bit too on the nose? Either way seemingly she could romance demons, angels and a... Regular human? I'm sure she did not... My goodness"

Night bringer saga

All this happen during night bringer but aren't particularly connected or in a particular timeline!

Love language: acts of service

After being temporarily transformed into a demon you find that there are some gaps in your knowledge of demon features care but Solomon is very happy to help

With the firstborn's ring I made you mine

A before bed chat with Solomon leads to you showing some concerns about wearing the ring of light so openly and he offers himself as a scapegoat

Love language, gift giving

He is old enough and famous enough that he can spend some money on superfluous gift and extra candies as long as you smile at him

The sorcerer's demonic firstborn

Nobody is exempt from Mother nature's cruel whims, not even the all powerful sorcerer that defied death. Some friends of yours help you with your dream

Twisted wonderland

"another fantasy setting that happens in a world where people can use Magic and a school? I'm seeing a pattern with her likings. Just tell me she wrote for a prince or a future king or- it's just a guy with white hair again? No just because he is sleepy doesn't make him different, writer..."

Forced fairytale

The tale of the sleeping beauty is one he holds dear, be it because it's related to his great grandmother or his dorm, malleus can't help but feel like silver and the prefect would be such a perfect modern retelling.

#masterlist #genshin impact #sagau #sagau x reader #alhaitham x reader #cyno x reader #grand sage au #ancient language au #drabbles #npc sagau #npc au #obey me #obey me shall we date #solomon x reader #obey me solomon #twisted wonderland silver #silver x reader #twst silver x reader

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neteyamsoare · 3 months

Text

𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 alone together ᝰ chapter one : one of the stars.

current game. norm finds you watching your favorite video which causes you to ask an important question.

game warnings. minors and ageless blogs do not interact! sfw, fem! human! reader, major character death, angst + little fluff. wc. 752 words.

streamer's note. ahhh, i couldn't wait to finish this and post it. it's a start to hopefuly a good series and i can't wait to start chapter one and begin lo'ak & reader's love story. i used lo’ak tags cause it’s an apart of my lo’ak series.

series masterlist 𐙚 log entry 001 𐙚 next chapter 𐙚 taglist

“So what am I supposed to say?” Trudy asked as she looked at Norm who was standing behind her with a smile. “Anything you want our sweet little princess to hear,” he smiles as he places a hand over her swollen belly rubbing it softly and she lets out a giggle.

You focused on your mother's features as you stared at the screen in awe, seeing how happy she was and how much you resemble her.

“Well for starters, I want you to know how much your dad and I are happy to meet you, you came as a surprise to the both of us but we wouldn’t have it any other way.” Trudy smiled as she placed her hand over Norm’s.

Norm stands in the entrance as he watched you watch your mother’s old video log that you watched over a million of times but you never got tired of watching it, tears formed in his eyes as he recalled the memories of the log, how happy he and Trudy was to start their lives over once you made your arrival.

All the plans of having a bigger family flushed down the drains once Trudy made her departure from the world, it almost felt like he was in a recurring nightmare and he would never wake up, if it wasn’t for precious little you, Norm didn’t know how to continue life after losing the love of his life.

Norm saw Trudy in you as you took her looks and he knew you have the fire she once had, he wouldn’t change that for the world but sometimes it hurt when he looked at you and all he could see was her looking back at him.

He would get reminded that she never got to meet her sweet beautiful copy, missed all the important milestones you achieved and the upcoming ones in the future.

It was hard to raise a child on his own, of course the other scientists helped when they could, Jake and Neytiri pitching in when they were able to, it just didn’t feel the same, it felt like he was alone even if they were other people around him. He needed Trudy, you needed her the most.

Norm knew he needed to be strong for you as he had a promise to uphold, just before Trudy gave her last breath, she told him to of course take care of her babygirl and make sure she grows up to explore how beautiful Pandora could be just like she did, there was no way he was going to let her down.

Norm clears his throat announcing his presence as he strided over to where you sat. “Daddy, when will I see Mama?” you look up at your father once he reaches behind you, a small smile forms on his face as he tries to avoid looking at the screen.

“Mama became one of the stars, anytime you wanna see her, you can look up at the night sky and she will be smiling down at you.” He explains.

“Protecting you from above,” your eyes return to the screen noticing it was going to the end, you could feel a feeling inside of you that never wants to see it end. “Remember that your dad and I will always love you and you will grow up ready to explore the beauty of pandora just like your mommy!”

“One thing to remember is to never let anyone get in the way of your dreams and if they do just come to me and I’ll deal with them,” Trudy's response makes Norm laugh as he bends down to give her a kiss on her forehead.

“We gotta go now, I love you,” she blows a kiss before the video log cuts off. You are left to stare at a blank screen, you stare at it a little more before turning to face your father.

“Can we look at the stars tonight?” you question as you pout up at him and a small smile forms on his face. “Sure, princess.” he respond as he picked you up and place you on his shoulders and you laugh in the process.

After placing on breathing masks, you and your father find a good spot to lay down under the night sky full of stars. Norm points out to the star and you stare at it in awe, a sparkle in your eyes as you listen to the stories he loves to share about her to you.

next chapter

chat. @chirikoheina, @gothamsirenz, @jennielune + @a-queen-blr.

#ಣ : sylaphone #norm spellman x reader #lo'ak x you #atwow x you #atwow x y/n #atwow x reader #avatar x human reader #avatar x you #avatar x reader #avatar x y/n #avatar x child!reader #avatar x fem reader

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cafeinthemoon · 4 months

Text

Ruins - Part XXI + Extra Content

Chapter 22/?

Wordcount 3,3k

Title Part XXI

Fandom Shuumatsu no Valkyrie / Record of Ragnarok

Previous chapters

1 . 2 . 3 . 4 . 5 . 6 . 7 . 8 . 9 . 10 . 11 . 12 . 13 . 14 . 15 . 16 . 17 . 18 . 19 . 20

Symbols ⭕ . ➕ . 💛

Warnings: none

Tagging @holdyourwine @lilacshouko @shirayuki-ayumi @telvess (If you want to be tagged in any of my stories, just leave a comment on this chapter or send an ask or a message)

N. A.: I'm glad I can share this chapter with you bc I couldn't wait to post it anymore! I wanted this moment between them to be special not only bc it is, you know, they honeymoon, but bc what it will mean for both of them in the future: the trust, the intimacy and the respect they have for each other can be sensed in each second, and it's expected to grow stronger. I really wanted to depict what a healthy relationship means when I had the idea for this story, and that's why I'm putting such effort in these things.

Also I wanted to include some humor in it as well, so I hope you enjoy the content by the end of this chapter as well haha

Your face warmed up when the god revealed his identity.

So, the doctor of the gods is Apollo’s son.

You would still need time to conciliate it, since Asclepius looked like a twin of his own father, but despite your surprise, you soon caught up with the good manners and greeted him with the owned respect.

– It is an honor for me to finally meet you as well, Asclepius-sama – you gave him a fainting smile – I apologize for my first reaction, but you really resemble the God of the Su…

Your last word was interrupted by a sudden decrease on your blood pressure, and your head fell back on your pillow. Hades rushed to your side.

– Y/n? – he helped you to sit and adjusted the pillow behind your back – Are you alright?

– I am – you sighed – For a moment, my body felt heavy again and my sight got dark, but it’s coming back again…

When your sight was finally reestablished, you looked at Asclepius and noticed he had a serious expression. He approached your spot and sat on the bed, placing the cane beside him and taking off the bag from his shoulder.

– These episodes of weakness… when exactly did they start?

You made an effort to remember, but even this was painful for you.

– One or two hours after I drank the ambrosia, I guess. But it was easy to handle... at least until I sensed the beginning of a headache. I passed out for the first time in our way here, on the corridor. But this isn’t everything: while I stood here, waiting for you, my Lord, I noticed my senses... increasing – you indicated the opened balcony with a frail hand – I’ve been hearing the nightly animals as if they’re close to this room, but they’re actually miles away, and all these sounds make the headache worst.

Asclepius thought of this for a moment, a hand under his chin. Then, he took out a strange instrument from his bag, something that resembled a portable mirror.

– Please, put your palm over the lens – he asked and you obeyed, putting your hand over the place where the glass would be if it was a mirror – Keep it there for a few seconds.

You sensed a cold upon your skin, as a glowing light appeared and vanished, little by little until everything was dark again. The exam was finished. Asclepius thanked your collaboration and analyzed the instrument. You glanced over the lens and noticed a purplish glow over them, in a shade that resembled the one of your hair now.

– It is just as Zeus-sama said – he started – You are on the growing spectrum. The blessed fluid is slowly assimilating your natural characteristics and expanding them beyond the human limits. However, your body is still mortal, and this is the cause of the uncomfortable symptoms: your immune system still views these changes as signs of sickness and it’s trying to fight it, but as the ambrosia takes over your cells, turning them into divine ones, they will become the majority, and your body will no longer react as if you were sick.

You swallowed. Knowing what was going on with your body was somewhat relieving, but you were still worried about the possibility of the symptoms increasing, and you exposed those preoccupations to him.

– About this, I might have a solution – he replied with a kind smile – Just give me a second.

He turned the instrument off and put it back in the bag and started searching for something else inside it. Finally, he took out a small bottle from it and handled it to Hades, who received it with a frown.

– Don’t tell me that it is what I think it is…

You leaned to your husband, trying to observe the bottle, then turned to the other god.

– What is this?

Asclepius had a curious expression that deepened his resemblance with Apollo: the grin of someone who had the undivided attention of powerful beings.

– Hades-sama may tell you this story later, when you have more disposition to listen to it – he replied – But to summarize, it is the medicine I created to cease a terrible plague that almost ended humanity in the past. I don’t want to brag about it, but its effectiveness was such that some men became immortal, and Hellheim lost potential inhabitants thanks to it.

Hades sighed by your side.

– Those were chaotic times, in fact, but I’m glad everything was solved – he gave the bottle to you.

You turned to the doctor.

– If this was the effect on human beings, how am I going to react to this medicine now that I’m already becoming a goddess?

– It will diminish the discomfort caused by the metamorphosis – he explained – And it will do this without interfering in the process, like other substances would do, which would be too risky. You see, you’re not really sick, y/n-san. You’re just changing. Then, I recommend you to take it only when you feel you’re not going to stand the symptoms for any longer. Small doses are enough to help you.

Asclepius’ last words sounded as comforting the ones of an adult who was trying to console his child about growing up. You didn’t find it offensive, though: being someone who was used to observe how the living beings’ bodies work, maybe it was exactly the way he thought of the situation; you were leaving the childish state of being a mortal and was now entering the adulthood of existence by becoming a divine being. Of course, the process would be scary and even painful at some point, but it was also a wonderful experience.

Suddenly, you remembered something you’ve been wanting to ask to the gods you were more familiar with, but haven’t had the opportunity.

– Ah, about this, there’s something I’d like to know, Asclepius-sama – you observed the bottle in your hands – Is it possible to tell what type of goddess I’m going to be?

He thought of the question for a while.

– According to what Zeus-sama told me, you’re on the growing spectrum. I don’t know how much he told you about this, but your side on the spectrum of transformations usually determines what types of power you might hold. Gods with the same process as you use to have familiarity with wildlife, the cycles of nature and rebirth. Demeter and Chloris, though they were divine since the start, are this type of goddesses. It’s too soon to tell if your powers are going to be similar to theirs, but they will work under the same principles.

You pondered for a moment, then turned to your husband.

– It makes sense when we remember our dreams about the ruins, Hades.

– Indeed – he agreed – A living human visiting the world of the dead really seemed to be a sign back then. Now we need to observe the development of your powers to reach a better understanding of it.

Asclepius, who was hearing the conversation in silence, stood up put his bag back around his shoulder and grabbed his cane.

– Hades-sama, y/n-san, my sincere wish is to see you reach the referred understanding. It will be a great achievement for yourselves and for the world of the gods – he bowed his head – Now, if you excuse me, other matters demand my attention.

Hades stood up right after him.

– Will you stay in Valhalla, then?

– Yes. Usually, I would visit Valhalla every six months to check on the girls’ health, but personal problems prevented me from coming in the last semester – the doctor explained; and, turning to you, – This is why you’re only seeing me for the first time now, y/n-san. Finally, try to take as much rest as possible. This is as important as the medicine I gave you.

You gave him a cordial smile.

– I will do this, Asclepius-sama. Thank you for everything.

The god bowed for the second time.

– It’s good to hear that. And, if you need me, I will be in the chambers besides Hermes’.

– Thank you for answering our call, Asclepius – Hades replied – I will accompany you to the door.

The two men left and your husband closed the door behind him. You observed the small bottle in your hands for a while before putting it upon the night stand at the left side of the bed and letting your head fall on the pillows.

***

Hades came back to your chambers after a few minutes, stating that he was going to take a bath himself.

– Are you going to be alright while I’m there? – he asked while caressing your hair.

– I am – you smiled, still lying your head on the pillow – If things get complicated, I’ll be following Asclepius-sama’s instructions.

– Good – he bent down to kiss the top of your head – I’ll be right back.

You never had a clear memory of what happened after he left you, but you were inclined to think you just stood in bed, in the dark, your consciousness slipping out as you listened to the murmur of the shower somewhere near you. You were tired and weak due to the transformation, but you were in peace: you had a medicine to lean on, the man you loved was close and your family was out there having fun.

Everything is in its right place.

It was impossible to measure how long you stood in that quiet, peaceful state, somewhere between asleep and awake, but it changed when your body began to feel cold; this cold appeared first in your feet and spread to your legs, then to the rest of your limbs as you pulled the sheets more and more against yourself, but your efforts to keep the warmth were useless, for the cold didn’t come from the outside, and soon you were taken over by successive shivers. You tried to move to your side, but felt your body heavy, as if your blood pressure got suddenly low again; this time, your head started spinning. You knew your situation were getting more serious, and couldn’t help feeling anxious.

You tried to move back to your previous position, to reach for the medicine on the night stand, but your attempt failed: your body barely obeyed you. Now you were really scared, and before you did anything to avoid it, you were already breathless and crying.

What’s going on? What’s happening to me? Am I going to...

A yellowish light appeared on the wall above your head, illuminating the headboard and the painting over it (you opted to keep the art with the fawn and the nymphs). With one last effort, you moved the sheets away and saw the bathroom’s door opened: Hades’ silhouette was stepping out of it, wrapped in a robe. You couldn’t keep looking, because the headache increased, forcing you to close your eyes.

Apparently, your bad state was evident from far, because soon he rushed to your side.

– What is it, y/n? What’s happening?

You tried to sit on the bed, but your body didn’t obey you. You only managed to change your position with his help.

– I don’t know... – you whispered, covering your forehead with your hand – My head hurts… And I couldn’t even reach for the medicine…

Making you look up to him, he moved your hand away and put his palm over your forehead, then on each side of your neck.

– You got a fever – was his worried answer – And a bad one.

Your heart jumped at those words.

– It explains this cold I’m feeling… It’s so scary… – you sighed and passed your arms around yourself as another shiver spread through your body; you raised your eyes to him, raising a trembling hand to hold the sleeve of his robe – Can you stay with me?

Hades stared at you for a moment, a glimmer of compassion in his eyes. Maybe he was thinking the same as you: that was going to be the first time you were sharing a bed; of course, none of you expected this moment to be like this, but it was there before you, and both of you sensed the importance of it.

Your husband sat by your side and wiped your tears, involving you in his arms and kissing your forehead.

– Of course I can, little one – he then grabbed the medicine and opened the bottle, holding it close to your lips – Take it.

You accepted the remedy and, after a small dose, he put it back on its previous place, then turned around the bed and took off his robe; he left the piece on the back of a chair beside the bed and finally took the place by your side.

– Come here – he passed his arms around your body and placed you between them, your head leaning on his chest, your legs folded between his.

You moaned when a new, stronger shiver spread all over your body.

– I’m so scared...

You felt the warmth of his hand massaging your back and curled yourself more on his lap.

– I know – he whispered – But I’m here with you – and, kissing your hair, – And if things get tough, we have a doctor nearby, okay?

– Okay – your voice faded as you replied; and, with an attempt to laugh, – You know… I’ve been wondering how our first night together would be like… And, among all the possibilities, I’ve never considered something like this… I’m so sorry for ruining it...

– What are you apologizing for, little one? – you felt his fingers fondling your hair – You’re turning into a goddess. The most beautiful one. There’s nothing to be sorry about.

– But I wanted to give you… to give us better moments… It’s our honeymoon, after all…

He strengthened his grip around you and kissed you again.

– Each moment, and each night we will spend together will be better than the other. This is just the first one. You don’t have t lose your head over it.

You spent a moment in silence, gathering strength to reply.

– I see…

In fact, you were anxious about that night for weeks, so when it finally came, it was only natural that you felt frustrated, even disappointed with yourself, to see things happening in an uncomfortable, unplanned way. But another thing you weren’t expecting was to find relief while speaking about your feelings and then being understood by your husband: perhaps you’ve been putting so much expectation in your own part in this that you forgot you weren’t going to take care of it by yourself; yet counting on each other was a golden rule of relationships, even more in romantic ones.

I still have too much to learn.

Fortunately for you, you had a reasonable partner, one who have learned the art of patience for centuries and who would teach you in this sense for the next ages. Ages… when you remembered that this was going to be your lifespan, your heart ached, and more shivers hit your body, but guiding your thoughts away from it would calm them down, and with effort you trained yourself in this sense.

That night was long. You spent all of it in the arms of the King of the Underworld, alternating between moments of dreamless sleep and tired consciousness; this extended as the transformation went on, and the fever diminished as the hours passed. During those painful hours, Hades was always there with you, whether talking or just caressing you; as you got used to his warmth, you noticed the cold ceasing, and as the metamorphosis became more tolerable, your body relaxed more and more in his embrace. Slowly, as the new day approached, you were recovering the sense of control over yourself, and the fear of the future diminished, until it completely disappeared.

***

The first hours of the next day were something between dream and reality, for you witnessed – well, you listened to – curious things, but had no ways to decide if they indeed happened or if they were just your imagination.

At some point, you woke up, but didn’t open your eyes. You sensed you were alone in the bed, but it was still warm, and you supposed that Hades might have left moments ago. Though the room was quiet, you had the impression that your husband was in the living room with a visitor – paying close attention, you recognized Poseidon’s composed tone. They had a brief talk when most of what was said was in a foreign, ancient language that, thanks to the lessons given by your husband, you identified as Greek.

Apparently, Poseidon was going to leave Valhalla that day and came to see his brother before the travel. Besides the rapid, murmuring exchange of words in Greek, there was some chuckling, so you had no idea of what was being said (and you'd rather remain oblivious to it).

But then the conversation turned to a language you were able to fully understand.

– You don’t need to worry about that – Hades was saying – She wasn’t in conditions anyway. The changing is being successful, but it has been taking too much from her mortal body. She had a bad fever during night, but it was gone last time I checked.

– Did you call Asclepius to see her? – Poseidon inquired.

– Yes. He gave her a potion for her discomfort, but she wasn’t really medicated – your husband replied – The process of having your biology rewritten, according to him, can take longer or shorter depending on your body’s conditions, and cannot be interrupted or altered by the ingestion of medicine. Besides, as the altered cells become the majority in one’s body, the process becomes easier, and their immune system no longer recognizes the mutation as a problem. I talked to him moments ago to keep him in touch with the situation. He believes that she will be one of us by the end of this day.

– I see – his brother said – If this is the case, then she has suffered less than Heracles, who almost had his body swallowed by fire.

Hades laughed at this.

– Yes, but, please, don’t say this in front of her next time you see us.

– Alright – Poseidon’s voice softened – Send my regards to her when she wakes up.

They exchanged a few words in Greek, then said their farewell in the common language.

– I must go, now. Goodbye, brother.

– Goodbye. Be well.

A door was opened at the distance, a few steps were heard beyond it, then the door was closed, followed by utter silence.

***

Extra content

This is part of what was said between the brothers in ancient Greek, alternated with laughter and inner jokes that are impossible to translate:

– Good morning, elder brother. I came to say farewell. Some things demand my immediate attention in the Seas.

– I see. Truth is that I was expecting to have your company during our breakfast, but I knew that it wouldn’t be possible.

– You and your not-so-subtle way to call me antisocial. Anyways, I would have communicated my intentions sooner, but we haven’t the chance to speak yesterday and I didn’t want to interrupt your moments together. So... I am not interrupting anything now, I hope.

– Absolutely not. But if you’ve showed up earlier, you would’ve found the doors locked.

– I wouldn’t judge you. Not after what we saw at the party. You would be a fool if you didn’t take measures to keep your runaway bride safe.

– Please, don’t say these things about her. With that gaze of yours upon me, I would’ve run if I was a human girl too!

– Watch your mouth, old man! She only ran after she saw you. She was perfectly fine with us.

– Hey!

– Speaking of this, how is she doing?

– A bit tired, but well. Sleeping like a little lamb.

– Hm... You already reached the phase of the ridiculous nicknames, brother?

– Everyone reaches that phase, sooner or later. Just wait.

– Hmpf. I won’t have you cursing my fate, old man.

– It’s not a curse. You’ll thank me later.

#snv x reader #ror x reader #snv hades x reader #ror hades x reader #record of ragnarok hades #shuumatsu no valkyrie x reader #shuumatsu no valkyrie hades #record of ragnarok x reader

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kix-mm · 1 month

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The last bride

This could possibly be a short story, maybe less, maybe more, we will see how it goes!

A lone dragon sat in wait. He had meticulously placed dead and broken trees in a perfect circle and set them a light in hopes of attracting himself a lifelong partner. But his hope was beginning to dim. It had been 4 whole weeks since he had sent out his message. His calls had been left unanswered and echoed off the snowy mountains... had he done it all wrong? He had practiced for years, spending weeks searching far and wide for a place one could comfortably nest and spent all his time preparing the new home he hoped to spend the rest of his life with his partner and offspring... was is all for nothing?

He sniffs the air, his hot breath leaves a plume of smoke in the wind. He was growing frustrated, agitated, even a little concerned... surely someone was in the area... whether female, male, or something completely new, he knew somebody- someone had to be around to see or hear his message! Or so he hoped.

He hesitated at the thought of leaving his spot. What if someone came while he was gone? Then again, what if he had somehow reached a place too far for anyone to get his message? His curiosity had gotten the better of him. And he spreads his wings, making the curtain of smoke part before he took off into the clear blue sky. His skin and underside matched the color almost seamlessly, along with his white fur that resembled the white clouds.

He circles around the mountains, the forests, over the rivers and around the caves. But soon enough circles back to his spot, everything was clear, there was no denying that his message was clear enough to see even beyond the mountains. So why was he still all alone? He decided to repeat the cycle. Again, and again, and again, for days on end. He even had to find new trees to use as material, and still, no answer, no call, nothing.

This went on for weeks... and the dragon grew hungry and tired. His lack of sleep and food made him cranky and desperate, but the lack of company was mainly responsible for his agitation... he eventually decided that food was a priority this time instead of relighting his message. He stood himself up and turned to face the forest - only to be met with a strangers face. Joy surged though the dragons mind for a mere moment before dissatisfaction ruined the moment, he watched the fear and realization hit the stranger as soon as they made eye contact.

A human of all creatures had stumbled across his display. They must have traveled far to get here, as the dragon hadn't seen any human structures for miles. The humans' hot breath plumed into smoke as they took a few steps back but never ran. This got the dragon curious. He lowered his head yet stood where he was. "Speak, visitor..."

The human shivered, and they opened their mouth, but no words came. Their mouth had run dry, and they suddenly had a cold sweat. "-...- I came to investigate... my apologies, I never meant to intrude on your home-

"It is no home, not yet." The dragon quickly corrects the soft-spoken human. He made a slow approach towards the human, keeping just enough distance to if it were an ambush of some kind. "What did you come to investigate?" He asks in a softer voice.

The human spreads their arms and motions to the dragon and display. "Well... this, I could see it from behind the mountains, and I was worried it could have been a distress call-

"So my message was visible from beyond the mountains?" The dragon interrupts once more with a deeper frown, to which the human nods,"if you do mind me asking... was this a call of... distress?"

"Hardly!" The dragon replies with a snarl, but his mind had doubts, he hadn't had the heart to admit his desperation. "A-ah! I see - so um, if you don't mind me asking, what was the purpose of all this?" The human spoke in an even quieter voice than before.

The dragon would have been offended if it weren't for his awareness of his surroundings, ashes, charcoal, and dying flames littered the plain he once wished to call home, all his grind ideas of joyus offspring and favorable mate had burned with the rest of his surroundings. "It was meant to attract a partner... but I haven't had an answer in weeks. You are the first to come to my den." He admits with a bittersweet tone.

The human nods slowly "to be... perfectly honest with you, mister- uh- dragon, I think your breed might have gone... extinct..." they try to make themselves as small as possible.

The dragon looks back at the human, steam began rising out the corners of his mouth as he quickly shortened the distance between himself and the human, blowing steam into the humans face as he spoke with rage. "How dare you! I am not extinct! I am not! I can't be!" He raises himself away from the human in frustration."There has to be someone out there - anyone, it can't be, I shall not believe such nonsense!" He huffs, looking up into the sky, what if the human was right? What if he truly was the last of his race? There was no doubt that dragons were still around, but it wasn't uncommon for a race to die out.

No, this couldn't be, he would have been known about it, he would have heard about this! He looks down at the human. Who just stood there. Shaking in their furry boots. "... well if that is the case, than I have no choice than to accept my first bride"

The human blinks and looks around,"who? Me?? No- wait were two completely different species, we can't court!" "Why not? Are you already wed?" The dragon sniffs the human."You haven't even been marked by your mate"

"I have no mate!" Explains the human in a panic while they took yet another step back from the larger dragon, the dragon in turn leaned back down "well then I see no trouble as having you as mine"

"I-" the human sighs in defeat, they could reject the dragon, they are loyal to their word, however, the human was worried what might happen if the dragon got upset at their answer... besides, the human was a rather lonely one themselves. Maybe they would finally have a place to call their own? Someone who would respect and eventually fall in love with this human? It wouldn't be impossible... "Very well... uh- I do just have one last question, two actually"

"Ask" the dragon huffs out some more steam, looking a little more relaxed and laying themselves down. "What is your name?" "Is it not custom to introduce yourself first?" The dragon chuckles "ah- I didn't mean to-" "Zero, the name is Zero..."

The human blinks, what an odd name... even for a dragon, the definition being nothing, zero, less then one. "And yours is?" "A-ah, im Silver..."

"Silver?" Zero leans himself a little closer to his new companion, observing them carefully to take in all their features. He found it odd that a human would have the name of a precious metal, but it wasn't a bad name, and the human looked decent.

#g/t community #gentle giant #giant/tiny #gt community #g/t #dragon original character #dragon #fantasy stuff #fantasy #writblr #writerscorner #g/t writing #gt writing #dragon oc

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onceuponapuffin · 11 days

Text

Fanatic Intervention Part 5!!

Hiya! Sorry about the delay! Life got in the way there for a bit ^_^" But I am here! With Part 5!!

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*************

Crowley had liked Hozier (although Take Me To Church, predictably, wasn’t his favourite), and after whining at Aziraphale that it’s nooooooot ‘bebop,’ you finally managed to get an admission that all right, it wasn’t all that terrible. You took the win.

But the dance party couldn’t last forever. There’s still a world to save, after all.

And so, all of you sat, thumbing through Revelations. Well, Aziraphale and Muriel were. You and Crowley had given up on the fancy Bible-ness of it and googled the Cliff Notes version.

“Ugh,” You say, “John really hated the Romans.”

“Well, yes,” says Aziraphale, “He had decent enough reason, though, as far as humans go.”

“What, he hated indoor plumbing and heated floors?”

“Actually, he hated people of the Christian faith being arrested, tortured, and killed for their beliefs.”

“Oh….yeah that makes sense,” You say, and after a moment you add “...Sorry.”

“That’s quite alright,” Aziraphale replies kindly, “He wrote Revelation as a way to reassure Christians that all of their suffering would mean something in the end. That it must be part of the Great Plan.”

“The Ineffable Plan, you mean,” chimes in Crowley with a smirk. Aziraphale rolls his eyes.

“Yes, that one,” he replies. You notice the microscopic-Michael-Sheen-ian smile on his face as he says it. Honestly, the resemblance is uncanny. Aziraphale continues. “He wanted Christians to feel heard, and to encourage them to hold fast to their faith.”

You pause for a minute before saying anything. Then you remember a tumblr post or something from forever ago.

“Santa Claus,” You finally say. Crowley spurts wine from his nose, and begins to laugh. Aziraphale is confused.

“I beg your pardon?”

“It’s like Santa Claus,” You say again, “Like ‘be good, and you’ll get presents! it’s almost Christmas Eve! Santa’s watching!’ You know?” You look at Aziraphale imploringly. Crowley is still laughing. Aziraphale doesn’t look impressed.

“I think that’s rather an over-simplification.”

“Am I wrong?”

“…..It’s...it’s not...That’s not how it works!”

“Oh, okay, so I’m wrong then.”

“Sounds about right to me!” Crowley calls with glee from the other side of the room. Aziraphale looks all flustered, his face beginning to go red. Crowley hands him a glass of wine and Aziraphale downs it in one go.

Okay, winding him up is a great deal of fun, and so easy, but I’m guessing, dear Reader, that you love Aziraphale just as much as I do. You don’t actually want to hurt his feelings. Thus you decide to concede the point.

“So,” You say, “He said he had a dream about things getting really bad and then Jesus coming back and saving everyone.”

“In a nutshell, yes,” Aziraphale sighs, clearly relieved to be back on topic. You think back to old interviews with Neil and Terry about their back-then-hypothetical sequel would look like.

“Okay, well the only thing I know about it was something about it taking place in America. I read in an old interview somewhere that Jesus was meant to descend from the heavens in a private jet with a bunch of like...bodyguard angels or something.”

“America? Again? I mean really.”

You shrug. “Neil Gaiman really likes America.”

“But it doesn’t have to be,” says Muriel now, flipping back through their notes, “You said that the sequel was never written, and the third...season?was still being written too when you left. And you said that book isn’t the same as what happened in the tv show, or the radio show, or the musical. So how do we know it would be the same here?”

They make a good point.

“Maybe ask that author of yours,” says Crowley, looking over from his drink, “You said he answers questions sometimes. Who would he be to deny,” he swishes his glass around with what you suppose is meant to be grandeur, “The Famous Crowley and Aziraphale?” He empties his glass.

“Anathema might be able to find him,” You say after a while, “Jesus, I mean. She did a good job finding everything in Armageddon Part 1. Or Adam. I mean, Jesus is supposed to be all about love, right? Maybe we can convince him not to, you know, end the world.”

Aziraphale hums to himself. “Revelations states that Armageddon is meant to be started by the seven angels of the church, bringing together seven keys. I mean, John could be wrong of course, but I wonder...Could one of you find me a map and search these names? I might have an idea why Mr. Gaiman wanted to set The Second Coming in America.”

Good Reader, guess which country contains cities named after 5 of these 7 angels. I’ll give you three guesses, but you’ll only need one.

And so now we have three directions we can take this story in.

❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ 🖤

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