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ohproserpine · 2 months

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vii. deer dolly

see all chapters here tags: fem! reader, heavy warning for violence and blood, overdose, murder, death, hunting, graphic descriptions of injuries, vox being painfully obvious, vox malfunctions (lmao L), allusion to death, valentino warning, alastor's demon form

Rocks and twigs dug into your knees as you crawled forward, the jagged edges cutting your skin as you reached Alastor's side. With trembling hands, you cradled his face against your lap.

"Alastor," you called for him, desperately clutching onto his body, trying to pull him back down to Earth and hold him there "Al, Al, please."

"What did I do? What can I do?" More tears dribbled down your cheeks as you looked down at your husband, leaning in to press tender kisses to the apples of his cheeks. You held him as tightly as you could, careful not to cause him any more pain.

"I can figure out a way to help you, I can. I know I can, baby," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. Your gaze remained locked with your husband's lifeless eyes, the world spinning around you as panic tightened its grip on your chest, making it difficult to breathe.

"Al. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

˚୨୧₊♱

You woke with a startle.

Gasping for breath, your chest heaved with each inhale, the rapid beat of your pulse slamming against your ribcage, the sound hammering in your head. Blinking repeatedly, your vision slowly adjusted to the unfamiliar sight of a ceiling painted with outrageously colorful prints. Faint traces of neon lights filtered through the thin curtains, casting erratic patterns across the room, accompanied by the distant thump of music.

A gentle knocking at the door broke through the haze, accompanied by the muted tones of a familiar voice seeping through the metal barrier.

"Dollface? Are you up?" Vox's voice, though muffled, was unmistakable as it filtered through the door.

Shakily, you pushed yourself up and sat for a while, gathering your composure. The room spun around you, the vibrant colors of the walls and lights blurring into a dizzying kaleidoscope. Eventually, with a deep breath, you pushed yourself into action, moving to open the door.

As you swung it open, Vox stood on the other side, his signature smirk etched onto his features. His mechanical eyes gleamed as they scanned you for any signs of distress or fatigue. And despite your disorientation, you straightened your posture, trying to maintain your usual demeanor in front of him.

"Good morning," Vox greeted smoothly. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything?"

Of course, he wasn't interrupting anything. It was clear to both of you that you had just rolled out of bed. Your hair tousled in disarray, your sleepwear crumpled and creased, and your bed behind you a mess of twisted sheets and pillows.

Still, you forced a polite smile and shook your head.

"No, not at all," you replied.

"Excellent," Vox grinned, stepping a foot past your doorway. "May I come in?"

Despite the internal alarm bells ringing in your mind, you nodded, moving aside to let him in. As he passed by, you couldn't shake the feeling of being scrutinized, like prey under the gaze of a predator before the pounce.

Closing the door, you leaned against it, feeling the cool surface against your back, and turned to face Vox, attempting to hide the unease simmering within.

"What can I help you with?" you asked, keeping your tone steady.

Vox's gaze pierced yours, his mechanical eyes glinting with a hunger that unsettled you.

"I thought of how we could discuss the details of our partnership," he hummed, running his fingers along your dresser. "Over dinner, perhaps?"

The proposal hung in the air, heavy with implications you weren't sure you wanted to explore. Despite your best efforts to hide it, a seething sense of unease bubbled beneath the surface, twisting your features into a grimace.

"Dinner?" The word felt like acid on your tongue as you struggled to maintain your façade, your gaze sharpening into a glare aimed directly at the overlord. "I'm sorry, but… I'm not interested."

Vox's laughter cut through the tense atmosphere, but it sounded forced and hollow.

"I meant a professional meeting, love," he covered up with a wave of his hand, the charm in his voice slightly strained. "Let's go over your contract."

Relieved, you nodded, though beneath, a whirlwind of thoughts swirled.

This could be a chance for you to really have a gauge on your situation. Everything had happened so fast, and you found yourself stumbling in the dark. You knew the Vees were a powerhouse in the entertainment district, their influence stretching far and wide, extending into every corner of hell. They were notorious for their employment methods, for their ability to shape destinies and manipulate lives with the stroke of a pen.

Who knows what was even in your contract?

"Wonderful!" Vox's cheerful interruption jolted you from your thoughts as he extended his arm. "Well then, let's not waste any more time. Shall we?"

"Shall we what?" you spoke slowly, your tone guarded.

"Shall we get to your duties, my dear?" Vox clarified smoothly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, his words laden with expectation. "Velvette is waiting."

"Oh—" you jolted. Quickly, you gathered yourself, smoothing down the wrinkles of your robe and adjusting your disheveled hair with clumsy fingers.

Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you reached out and linked your arm with Vox's. The overlord smirked as he led you out of the room and through the corridors, already launching into conversation about his latest product line.

A part of you found it amusing how similar he was to your husband—both of them chatterboxes who couldn't keep their mouths shut if they tried.

Nodding along to Vox's conversation, you fell into step beside him. As you two walked, it was impossible not to notice the subtle shift in demeanor among the demons and imps, who hastily cleared a path for Vox, some even bowing respectfully as you passed by.

"And here we are!"

Arriving at Velvette's office, you entered cautiously, the tension thick in the air. Models lounged around in various states of undress, their statuesque figures draped in luxurious fabrics. Their expressions ranged from curiosity to suspicion as they observed your every move. Some whispered amongst themselves in hushed tones, casting wary glances in your direction, while others maintained an aloof demeanor, their gazes piercing yet blank.

Velvette stood at the front, her figure partially obscured by the tall curtains behind her. Her eyes, sharp and calculating, swept over you with open scorn.

"Finally! Took ya long enough," Velvette scowled. "Edna, will you please go get her dressed?!"

Edna, a tall and slender imp with delicate horns curved against her head, nodded obediently before gliding over to you. With a gentle tug on your arm, she beckoned you to follow her backstage. You stumbled nervously, clutching your robe as you obeyed.

As you stepped away, Vox chuckled, waving you off with a flourish. You offered a cautious wave back before being enveloped by the heavy fabric of the curtains.

"I know what you're trying," Velvette scoffed as she tapped away on her phone, her perfectly manicured nails, painted in a glossy shade of neon pink, clacking against the screen. Vox turned to her, his expression one of exaggerated innocence.

"Whatever do you mean?" he retorted, raising an eyebrow in mock surprise.

"Oh, please don't act as if you weren't sending marionnette over there heart eyes," Velvette accused, her crimson lips forming a thin line of disapproval. "Listen, I don't care what you do with your little girl toy. Just make sure you don't get in the way of my show."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Vox hummed, taking a seat on one of the plush couches.

Velvette turned to him, surprised, her curls bouncing from the abruptness of her movement. "You're staying?"

"Of course. I'm eager to see your dazzling ideas, my dear," Vox replied smoothly, spreading his long legs across the expanse of the couch. "After all, your show is going to be featured on my channels. It's all anyone has been raving about on Voxtagram lately."

"Cut the crap. You just want an excuse to ogle at her," Velvette scoffed.

Vox leaned back against the cushions, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Can you blame me? She's quite the sight to behold."

Before Velvette could snap back, Edna returned, leading you out from behind the curtains. You emerged, feeling somewhat exposed under the scrutinizing gazes of the two overlords.

No surprise, as the main act, you were dressed in one of Velvette's main designs. Black netted stockings hugged your legs as they met the bright red stilettos that adorned your feet. A red corset cinched your waist and emphasized the curve of your hips, accentuating your figure. Below the corset, you wore a dark miniskirt with cream ruffles and lace, its fabric swaying with every step.

You felt abash as you stood in the outfit. In the past, you had been considered a flapper girl with your bold demeanor and penchant for daring fashion choices, but even you couldn't help but feel a twinge of surprise at the lack of modesty of the skirt in this particular outfit. It barely grazed past your crotch, leaving almost nothing to the imagination.

"Let's see…" Velvette hummed, completely absorbed in her task as she approached you, Vox long forgotten. With a couple of snaps of her fingers, the clothing and accessories you wore began to shift and change, transforming before your eyes.

Velvette's fingers danced through the air, conjuring delicate lace and cascading ruffles that stuck onto the corset. With a flick of her wrist, she summoned a cream fur coat, draping it over your shoulders with a flourish. The colors morphed, the fabrics transformed, until finally, with a satisfied clap of her hands, she took a step back to admire your new look.

"Makeup!"

Suddenly, you yelped as a chair was dragged over, pushing against the back of your knees and causing you to fall right into it. A bunch of imps swarmed around you and they wasted no time in getting to work, dabbing various products onto your face and expertly brushing powder along your cheeks.

Once they were finished, they handed you a mirror, allowing you to inspect their handiwork. Unlike the outfit, the makeup look wasn't as unsettling. Your face was adorned with makeup reminiscent of classic clown makeup, featuring exaggerated lashes, a layer of white face paint, and a bold red lip.

"That's it! That's the one," Velvette grinned, delighted with the makeover. Her grin turned into a smirk as she turned to Vox. "Well, what do you think—Satan!"

Vox's screen began to glitch and buffer, emitting sparks of electricity that charred the couch beneath him. The sudden noise startled some of the models, their eyes widening in alarm as they scrambled to move away from the malfunctioning android.

"The hell is wrong with you?" Velvette shouted.

Vox tried to respond, but all that came out was static.

Concerned, you approached him, the clicking of your heels against the floor echoing.

As you settled beside Vox, there was a momentary pause in the static, and he stared at you with wide eyes, the malfunction seemingly halted by your presence.

Part of you screamed at yourself to leave, to let him handle his problems alone. But another part of you remained, despite everything. Somehow, you still felt a sliver of sympathy for the overlord.

Leaning in closer, you furrowed your brow, the red gloss on your lips catching the studio lights. The corset pushed your chest up, and Vox found his eyes shamelessly drifting.

"Are you okay?" you whispered, your voice laced with genuine worry.

But before Vox could respond, he short-circuited, a burst of sparks and smoke emitting from his malfunctioning screen. You recoiled instinctively, your hand reaching out to shield yourself from any potential danger. With a final surge of electricity, he powered down completely, leaving behind a smoldering heap of metal and wires.

"Is he… okay?"

Velvette waved a dismissive hand. "He's always doing this. Probably overloaded his circuits again."

"Now, can someone please get this thing out of here?!" she commanded, snapping her fingers and tapping her foot impatiently.

As the models and attendants hurried to comply, you were pulled back up to your feet by the overlord. "He'll reboot eventually. Now, let's get back to work."

Reluctantly tearing your gaze away from Vox, you followed after Velvette as she led the way to a photo studio within the boutique.

The scene before you was akin to a circus, with vibrant hues of bright reds and pinks resembling a Valentine's Day massacre. A carousel in the background spun slowly, its eerie music echoing through the studio. Beating hearts hung suspended from the ceiling, their rhythmic pulses visible as they dripped with blood.

"Alright! Let's get the rehearsal started!" Velvette shouted out as she began to direct the crew. Cameras were adjusted, lights were fine-tuned, and the set was re-arranged to her satisfaction.

Turning to you with a tablet in hand, Velvette tossed it into your hands. You caught the device and quickly read through the document on the screen, realizing it was lyrics to a song. Your eyes rushed to memorize the words, the familiarity of the process washing over you.

Decades in the show industry had honed your skills to perfection, making this routine feel like second nature. A small pang of nostalgia tugged at your heartstrings, reminding you of simpler times before everything went amiss.

“Alright.”

Barely giving you ten minutes to prepare, Velvette deftly plucked the tablet from your hands as she stepped back and settled into a director's chair. The chair creaked softly under her weight as she made herself comfortable, slipping on heart-shaped glasses that glinted in the studio lights.

"Let's see what you've got.”

Lifting the scepter to your lips, you pressed it against your mouth, leaving a trace of red lipstick staining the surface, a stark contrast against the sleek metal. As the lights dimmed, signaling the start of your performance, you took a deep breath and began to recite the lyrics.

I write poems to burn by firelight Drink champagne and guzzle gin Good girls call me "the town bicycle" Don't knock it 'til you've tried my life of sin

With a flick of your hand, you pushed back the curls of your hair, the strands catching the studio lights as you kept your gaze glued to the camera lens. From her chair, Velvette smirked and captured the moment with her phone, the flash briefly blinding the dimly lit set.

Oh, my pimp, knows never mess with me Last prick did that faded quick to black I have no idea where to find him, officers But if you do, please mention that I'd Like to have returned the pretty knife That I stuck ten times in his back—

Before you could even finish, the door burst open with a deafening bang, causing everyone in the room to jump in surprise. Valentino stormed into the boutique, his eyes blazing with unrestrained fury. Without uttering a single word, he launched into a violent rampage, his movements wild and unpredictable.

The air was filled with the sound of crashing props and the desperate, panicked screams of assistants as they scrambled to evade Valentino's wrath. You jerked back instinctively as an arm was thrown in your direction, narrowly avoiding the chaotic fray unfolding around you.

"Damn it, Valentino! What are you doing?!" Velvette shouted over the commotion, her voice strained with anger and disbelief as she dug her fingers into her hair, her perfectly styled locks now in disarray.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" the moth demon screamed back, his voice seething with rage as he held poor Edna by her throat, his grip like a vice around her delicate neck.

"I'm airing out my frustrations!" he spat, his eyes wild with fury.

A sickening tearing sound filled the room as Valentino viciously tore Edna apart, blood splattering across the floor and staining the nearby racks of clothing.

"Fuck!" Velvette cursed under her breath. Fumbling, she retrieved her phone, her fingers tapping against the screen in agitation as she dialed Vox's number.

"My dear," the businessman's smooth voice echoed through the speakers, a calming presence amidst the storm. "What can I do for you?"

"Cut the shit. Are you functioning now?" Velvette's words were clipped, forceful, her tone leaving no room for argument.

"Functioning?" The overlord's response was hesitant, his movements jerky as he twisted his head, the wires on his neck audibly cracking with a spark. "I… suppose so."

"Good, because I need you up here now!" Velvette's voice crackled with urgency. "Mothboy is wrecking my department! And I'm waiting for a certain flat-faced prince to come and help!"

Without another word, Vox nodded with a weary groan, the weight of responsibility settling heavily upon him like an oppressive cloak.

"Just another fuckin' day with Val," he scoffed bitterly, his tone tinged with resignation as he pushed himself to his feet with a mechanical whir. "Fuck my life."

In an instant, he transformed into a crackling spark of electricity, zipping up into the CCTV camera before seamlessly teleporting into another one located in Velvette's studio.

"What's going on?" Vox sighed wearily as he materialized, his voice tinged with exhaustion, hands folding behind his back as he surveyed the chaotic scene before him.

"Valentino's lost it again. And he's tearing everything apart," Velvette hissed as her hand shot up, grabbing Vox by the collar of his metallic frame.

Her nails dug into the surface, leaving faint marks as she pulled him down to her eye level. "You need to stop him before he causes any more damage!"

"Consider it done," Vox muttered, rolling his eyes before moving toward Valentino. With a firm grip, he halted the demon mid-carnage, spinning Valentino around to face him. An unsettling grin stretched across Vox's metallic features as he locked eyes with the enraged demon.

"Val! What's got you out of sorts today?"

“That piece of shit! Can you believe what he did?” Valentino snarled, his voice dripping with venom as he flung a small imp across the room, the helpless girl crashing into a clothing rack. “The ungrateful whore!”

"Uh huh, which whore are we talking about now?” Vox spoke nonchalantly as he pulled his phone out and idly scrolled through it. Before he could react, Valentino lunged forward, his claws snatching the device from Vox's grasp.

"Who else would I be talking about?!" Valentino spat, his grip tightening around the phone until it crushed in his hands. With a primal scream, he hurled the remains of the tech against a nearby wall, the impact causing the column to crack under the force of the blow.

You watched with a frown as Vox attempted to calm Valentino, but his efforts fell short against the demon's relentless anger. Despite Vox's attempts, Valentino continued to rage, his voice echoing through the room as he screamed about hotels, phone calls, and among other things you didn't bother picking up.

“Fuck. Alright, he's not calming down anytime soon,” Velvette scoffed, rolling her eyes. She turned to you and motioned for you to follow as she began storming out. “Come on."

Quickly, you nodded, falling into step behind Velvette as she navigated through the gory scene. Blood stained the bottom of your heels as you stepped past limbs and puddles of blood, bones cracked underfoot, and muscles squished beneath your weight. The overpowering scent of iron filled the air, mingling with the metallic tang of fear.

The overlord guided you out of the room and towards the other side of the building, where a door adorned with your name on a golden plaque awaited.

"This is your dressing room. We'll have another shoot in a few hours, so get yourself prepped in here while I go take care of the piss baby," Velvette scowled, already busying herself with her phone again.

"Will do," you sighed, running a hand through your hair, grateful for the moment of rest.

"Good. I'll see you then," Velvette declared with dramatic flair, her vibrant curls swirling around her face as she turned on her heels and walked away, leaving a trail of her perfume lingering in the air.

As you were about to step into your dressing room, the door beside you suddenly swung open with a creak, revealing a slice of the pink-filled bedroom beyond. To your surprise, you were met with the familiar sight of a fluff of white hair. An accented voice filled the air, screaming into a phone, the sound echoing down the corridor.

"I told ya, I didn't mean to—," The demon turned to you and froze, his eyes widening as he dropped his cigar in shock. The carpet beneath your feet caught fire from the dropped cigar, but neither of you seemed to care.

He stared at you, wide-eyed.

Hands flying up to your mouth, you stared back.

For a minute, all you could hear was the muted sounds of Valentino's screaming from the phone speaker and the building's hustle and bustle

"Dollface?" Angel Dust finally broke the silence, his voice barely above a whisper as he blinked dumbfounded. "What the hell are you doing here?!"

Your heart dropped like a heavy stone, sinking into the depths of your chest. Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision as you stood there.

Everything was becoming too much to even process. Your body betrayed you as you lost your balance, collapsing and hitting the floor. A high-pitched ringing pierced your ears, drowning out all other sounds, as warmth seeped from them.

"Aw, shit," Angel Dust hissed in panic. Without hesitation, he reached out and pulled you into his arms, dragging you into his room, the door closing behind you with a soft click.

Ending the call, he tossed his phone away and guided you to a plush couch, the fabric soft and inviting beneath your touch as you sank into its embrace. Angel Dust settled beside you, his presence comforting like a warm blanket on a cold night. He offered you a sympathetic smile, though slightly awkward, his eyes filled with understanding.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," he murmured soothingly, his words a gentle caress to your troubled soul.

Opening his arms wide, Angel offered you a hug, and you leaned into his embrace, finding solace in the warmth of his arms as he enveloped you in a comforting hug. Slowly, your senses came together as you nestled against him, the gentle rhythm of his breathing calming the storm of emotions raging within you.

"It's gonna be alright," he whispered softly, his voice a comforting murmur. Moving closer, he wiped away the warm liquid seeping from your ears. You could faintly see his hands moving away, stained with red. "You alright? What happened, mama?"

"A lot," you sighed, raising a hand to massage your temple as you recounted the events of the past 24 hours, from Mimzy's lounge getting busted down to your soul exchange with Vox.

Angel listened intently as you recounted the events, his expression shifting from concern to disbelief as he processed the gravity of what you had experienced.

"Damn, you've been through hell twice. You're one tough cookie, mama," Angel said with a warm smile as he reached for a brush on his vanity and gently ran it through your messed-up hair.

Despite the heaviness of the situation, a hint of laughter escaped you.

"You could say that," you sniffed, feeling a sense of relief wash over you as you let out a long-held sigh. "It's been a while since I've been able to let it all out like this. Most demons aren't exactly the nicest."

Angel Dust chuckled with a shrug, his hands gentle as he worked through the knots in your hair. "Yeah, I've… ah, been tryn'a to stay 'good' for a while now. Charlie's been real pushy with the redemption thing, and I thought, what the hell, why not?"

Suddenly, he paused his brushing and gawked at you, his eyes widening in realization. "Charlie! The hotel!"

Your heart skipped a beat as Angel Dust's words sank in. "The hotel," you echoed, the pieces of the puzzle starting to fall into place in your mind.

"Shit!" Angel laughed, running a hand through his hair. "Well, there ya go! I get off shift tonight, and I sure as hell can get my ass over there. Hell, I can leave right this instant if you want!"

"Won't Valentino be pissed?" you asked, a flicker of concern crossing your features. "You'll be—" Your gaze darted over to his discarded phone on the floor, which was buzzing with calls. "Well, already are in deep shit."

Angel Dust frowned, his expression hardening with resolve. He grabbed your coat and swiftly removed it, tossing it aside to cover the buzzing phone. "Fuck 'im. He can bark all he wants in the studio, but outside of it, he's got no power over me."

The spider leaned in, his touch as gentle as a soft breeze against your skin, his fingers delicate as they brushed a stray hair from your face. "I'll help you. So don't get your pretty little tits in a twist anymore, alright?"

With a heavy heart, you whispered your gratitude, bowing your head as tears continued to stream down your cheeks. Today had been bleak, but a glimmer of hope lingered for a brighter tomorrow.

"But I don't want to get you in trouble, Angel," you said softly, wiping away your tears, exhaustion washing over you. "I can wait until tonight."

Angel Dust's expression softened, a warm smile spreading across his face. "Nah, babe, ain't no trouble for me. Besides, waiting ain't my style, and I ain't about to let you deal with this mess alone."

"Plus," Angel grinned devilishly, his eyes sparkling with mischief, the corners of his lips curling up. "I know your man is going to tear shit down. And I want front row seats to all that drama."

˚୨୧₊♱

"NO!"

Charlie shrieked, her voice piercing the air as she lunged forward, her fingers grasping desperately at Alastor's piece on the gameboard. "Al! You can't just do whatever you want! You have to follow the rules!"

Alastor leaned back in his chair, a low chuckle leaving his lips as he regarded Charlie with amusement. "But my dear, where's the entertainment in that?" he purred as he tilted his head in mock innocence. "Rules are made to be broken, after all. So, I had a little fun with it."

"A little fun?" Vaggie scoffed from her spot on the floor, her brows furrowed in frustration as she idly shuffled the cards.

"Yeah, thanks a lot, dickhead," she muttered, her voice laced with irritation. "That's what you've been doing these past 2 hours. If you don't start playing properly, might as well not play. I mean—why did you even bother?"

"For the entertainment!" Alastor cheered, his grin widening as he rolled the dice once the turn landed on him again. With a flourish of his claws, he moved his piece three spaces, landing on an unclaimed building which he quickly purchased. "I came here because I love seeing you wayward souls struggle to accomplish something great, and fail spectacularly!"

Vaggie scoffed and rolled the dice, her hand deftly moving the piece along the board with a flick of her wrist. However, her expression soured noticeably when the piece landed on the Jail panel. She seethed and sank back, silently cursing her streak of horrible luck.

"Ah, like you are doing now!" Alastor smirked down at her like the asshole he was, punctuating his words with a clap of his hand. "Good job!"

Vaggie clenched her jaw tightly, her knuckles whitening as she lifted the board, readying herself to strike Alastor. However, before she could make her move, the door burst open, and Angel Dust rushed in with a gasp. He looked every bit disheveled, as if he had just run through all nine circles of hell.

Charlie's eyes lit up at the sight of him, and she lifted her hand, waving him over excitedly.

"Angel! Perfect timing. We need one more player for Monopurgatory," she exclaimed, gesturing excitedly towards the game board. With a gleeful expression, she plucked a piece from the board and held up a small metal figurine with a wide smile. "You can be the cupcake~!"

"Sorry, princess, I've got business," Angel huffed, brushing his hair back as he turned to Alastor. "Alright, freaks. We need to talk."

Alastor hummed, studying Angel with mild amusement. "My, my, such urgency," he remarked, his smile widening into a grin. "What's got you in such a hurry?"

"It's about Vox," Angel replied, pressing his hands flat against each other. "I need to speak with you in private."

Alastor's grin faded slightly, and he tilted his head, his eyes narrowing at Angel. Well, this was certainly getting very entertaining.

After a moment of contemplation, Alastor shook his head, snapping himself out of whatever daze he had briefly fallen into.

"Vox, you say?" Alastor mused, tapping his chin thoughtfully. With a nonchalant shrug, he pushed himself up, twirling his cane in the air. "Oh, well, in that case, let's chat."

With a flick of his wrist, Alastor moved forward and gestured towards the door, indicating for Angel to follow him. Charlie and Vaggie exchanged puzzled glances, but they remained silent, watching as both men left the room.

"You know, I'd usually never even think of entertaining you, and I'd rather let you deal with your own issues. But you seem to be in a great deal of suffering!” Alastor laughed heartily as he shut the door.

"So, pray tell, what happened? Did you get yourself entangled in another deal from a whim decision? My! I certainly hope you don't bring any of this into the hotel. What will the papers say?"

Angel rolled his eyes and cut Alastor's rambling short, jabbing a gloved finger into the Radio Demon's chest. "It ain't about me. And you're gonna want to listen because it's your missus that's in deep shit right now."

Alastor's eye twitched at the mention of you, a brief flicker of static and symbols dancing in the air. His crimson eyes bore into Angel Dust, his expression unreadable, save for the wide curl of his lips.

Inwardly, Angel smirked. If he didn't have Alastor's attention before, he sure as fuck had it now.

"What does my wife have to do with this?" Alastor quipped sharply, his claws delicately removing Angel Dust's finger from his chest. "I fail to see the connection. Do enlighten me."

"Wanna be enlightened?" Angel waved him over, "Then follow me."

Without waiting for a response, Angel turned on his heels and strode out of the hotel. Alastor followed closely behind, his red-clad figure cutting through the streets of hell like fire against the night.

A few streets later, they approached the border edge of the entertainment district, and Alastor halted abruptly, his gaze narrowing in suspicion.

"I don't particularly fancy this area, and I'd rather not enter," he scoffed, adjusting his coat and brushing away dust from his sleeves with a disdainful flick. "It's rather unsavory."

"Just look," Angel rolled his eyes, gesturing upwards towards the towering Vee tower, where a new advertisement had just been erected.

Alastor's gaze shifted upward, and he froze as he beheld your face plastered across the billboard, larger than life, dominating the skyline of the entertainment district. The vibrant colors of the advertisement clashed with the dark hues of the surrounding buildings, drawing attention like a beacon in the night. Beneath the image, in bold letters, was a sign that read: "Sponsored by VoxTek," stark against the backdrop of your image.

There was silence for a minute, then another, before a sharp crack split the air.

"Angel?" Alastor's chipper voice rang out as he stared up at the billboard with a manic grin. Crackling began to be heard as his limbs lengthened, each movement accompanied by the sound of bones shifting and sinewy muscles stretching beneath his ashen flesh.

"Would you be so kind as to…" His antlers began to grow in size, curling and twisting like the branches of a gnarled tree.

"—explain…" His eyes darkened, the whites turning to a deep, swirling black, while the pupils glowed with a golden light, resembling the flickering dials of an old radio.

"—what exactly am I looking at right now?" His hands elongated into grotesque claws, the fingers stretching and sharpening into razor-sharp blades capable of ripping flesh—or in this case, wires—with ease. As his claws extended, they stretched his glove to its limit until it tore right off, revealing the glint of his wedding ring.

"Vox got her soul," Angel replied immediately, his voice steady despite the horrifying sight in front of him. "Screens has her wrapped around his finger, and he's not planning to let go anytime soon."

Alastor's head snapped to the side with a sickening crack accompanying the movement.

"Show me," he snarled, his voice taking on an inhuman quality, heavily filtered by radio waves.

Without hesitation, Angel gestured towards the billboard, his expression blank.

"Get in there, and see for ya'self."

˚୨୧₊♱

#im sorry for the shitty filler chapter :(( this was for the pacing and so i can prepare yall for the next chapter #sephiewrites #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #alastor imagine #hazbin imagine #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x you #hazbin x you #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel velvette

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lecsainz · 4 months

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READY FOR IT

parings: luke castellan x ares!reader

summary: where you're the daughter of ares, and during a capture the flag game, you get angry with the son of hermes and the best swordsman at the camp, leading to a big fight with him.

an: I'm still trying to get used to the fact that the next time we see luke, he'll already be the villain 😭. and if you have any pjo requests, feel free to send them! yes, the title is from the taylor’s song, cause it was on repeat while I was writing.

( my last work || my last work for riodanverse || main masterlist )

You tightened every strap of your vest, ensuring it fit snugly against your body before the impending round of Capture the Flag.

The confidence in your team's prowess echoed within, just like the confidence in your own abilities. Your team's unbeaten streak reassured you, a source of collective pride among your half-siblings.

"Ready for another victory?" Clarisse's playful toss of her sword in your direction was met with your quick reflexes as you caught it, securing it to your waist, a reassuring weight that promised defense and offense in equal measure. "Of course! As always," you affirmed with a nod.

Walking in step with the other campers, you moved through the forest's lush foliage, Chiron's instructive words playing in your mind, an automatic script recited from countless past games.

Once Chiron signaled the start of the game, your gaze shifted to Clarisse, exchanging a playful yet determined glance. "See you on the other side," you quipped with a hint of competitive spirit.

"Better be!" She laughed back.

Parting ways from the group, you ventured alone into the forest you knew by heart. The plan was to grab the flag while the others distracted the blue team. It had always worked, so why change it?

The forest engulfed you as you traversed deeper, rustling leaves and the distant calls of woodland creatures accompanied the group, a symphony of nature lending an atmospheric backdrop to the impending contest.

The path you trod felt oddly tranquil, an eerie calmness in stark contrast to the usual pre-game adrenaline rush. It raised a flicker of unease within you, a foreboding sense of something amiss.

Eventually, the azure flag emerged, solitary and unguarded, a tantalizing prize nestled among the foliage. However, your intuition whispered a warning, urging caution amidst the apparent opportunity.

Your instinct proved right. A subtle shift in the surroundings alerted you, a subtle disturbance that stirred the air, prompting you to whirl around, unsheathing your sword with lightning reflexes.

"I knew it!" The accusation slipped from your lips as you swiftly aimed the weapon at the figure of the Hermes boy who had materialized behind you, an unexpected yet anticipated intrusion.

"The rules of the game don't include killing or maiming," Luke's voice echoed, his calm demeanor belying the tension.

"Since when do you follow rules, Castellan?" You retorted sharply.

Glancing around quickly, you realized it was just the two of you.

"Why are you alone?" You took a step forward, still pointing the sword.

"It's easier to catch you off guard," he shrugged.

Then you advanced towards him, but he held back the blow easily with his sword. But it seemed too effortless for the best swordsman in 300 years at the camp. You noticed he was going easy on you when he countered, and that made you angry.

"Stop," you demanded as you attempted a move you'd practiced with Clarisse earlier in the week, catching Luke off guard.

Luke used his shield to defend. "Stop what?" He asked, not understanding.

"Stop trying to be kind!" You spat. "I can fight with you without you going easy."

"I'm not being kind, I'm being fair," he replied, parrying your sword. "I don't want to hurt you, Y/N."

That made you furious with the boy. You lunged at him with the sword, showcasing an anger inherited from your father and proving you could match Luke's level. With every strike you made, Luke stepped back until he found himself cornered behind a tree.

And with a final clash of swords, you ended up throwing Luke's sword away and stood face to face with him.

You breathed heavily, examining Luke, noticing details you hadn't seen before. And then, as you realized, you took a step back.

"Tired of looking?" Luke asked, a smirk forming on his face.

Pretending not to hear, you bent down to pick up Luke's sword. But as you reached for it, he was quicker, throwing you to the ground and pinning you down.

"Let me go, Castellan!" You squirmed under him but to no avail.

"You told me not to go easy on you, Y/L/N," he pinned your wrist to the ground when you tried to reach for his dagger at his waist.

"I hate you," you said.

Luke's laughter echoed through the forest, his eyes locked on yours. "No, you don't."

Frustration bubbled within you as you squirmed, trying to free yourself from his hold. He was strong, but you were clever.

With a swift movement, you feigned surrender, allowing your body to go limp beneath his grasp. Luke relaxed his grip slightly, thinking he had you under control.

But it was a ruse.

In that split second, you used the distraction to your advantage. You swiftly twisted your body, catching him off guard, and managed to slip out from under him.

Luke's eyes widened in surprise as you sprang to your feet, picking up his discarded sword and pointing it towards him. "I told you not to underestimate me, Castellan."

He smirked, impressed by your maneuver. "I guess I owe you an apology for that." You couldn't help but notice the glint in Luke's eyes and the hint of a smile playing on his lips.

#luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x you #luke castellan fluff #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan oneshot #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson x you #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo series #pjo tv show

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doumadono · 4 months

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I have come to confess for sinful Sunday that I have heirophilia, and I have it bad, and as much as I love religious imagery, I also love the thought of demons who play as false priests or saviors. If there was anything I could ask for, more than anything, could we get some Sekido x fem reader where he degrades and yells at the reader to repent for their sinful lust even though he's obviously the one who's been fucking them while they prayed for mercy?

SINFUL SUNDAY

Warnings: non-con, hierophilia

A sense of unease settles upon you as you enter the church, greeted not by the familiar warmth of a congregation but by an eerie emptiness. The air carries only a faint hint of iron, and an unsettling stillness replaces the usual harmonious chorus of communal hymns. A glimpse near the entrance hints at something amiss – perhaps blood, though uncertainty veils your perception. The ordinary atmosphere, once brimming with the warmth of community and shared songs, now feels cold and distant, shrouded in an unspoken disquiet.

Abruptly, a towering presence advanced from the confessionary. "How may I assist you, my dear child?"

Your uncertainty lingers, but you muster a response, "I came for a confession, but… isn't the mass supposed to be happening now?"

The figure, a man with dark hair, smiles as he draws nearer. "We've adjusted the schedule. Nevertheless, I'm here to help. Follow me, my child."

A furrow forms on your brow as you observe him guiding you to a different section of the church, revealing the rectory where priests reside between masses.

As the door shuts behind you, a chilling shiver races up and down your spine - a premonition that danger lurks right behind your back.

Sekido, the false priest, clad in the vestiges of religious garb, becomes the harbinger of damnation. "You need to repent for your lust, I can smell it lingering on you, little sheep."

Torn garments leave you exposed, and you frantically attempt to shield yourself, using your hands and tightly pressing your thighs together in a desperate bid for modesty. "Please, Father, please let me go..."

Sekido's lips curl into a sly smirk in response to your pleas. "I am not a Father, but for you, my dear child, I can certainly play the role of a daddy."

He picks you up easily and throws you onto a tiny bed standing near the beautiful stained glass window.

Laying on the bed, you feel the sting of his firm hand on the meat of your ass, on and on, each spank punctuated by a low growl of Sekido. His commanding voice reverberates, demanding, "Confess your sins, woman! I insist on hearing your confessions!"

You plead with him, your voice a fragile murmur, "Please, please, release me…"

Sekido, in his relentless resolve, dismisses your entreaties, administering a more forceful spank to your exposed flesh, leaving a red mark in a shape of his hand there. "You're destined for damnation, the gates of heaven shall forever elude your grasp."

Tears stream down your face, a silent plea for mercy, as you desperately attempt to crawl away. The disconcerting sound of a zipper being undone reverberates through the air, accompanied by the subtle rustling of fabric, signaling the descent of his obsidian pants.

Before you realize it, the crimson, swollen tip of his dick teases against the tender entrance of your ass.

A sharp cry escapes your lips, a melody of anguish, as he thrusts into you unyieldingly, affording no respite for your senses to acclimate. The relentless intrusion establishes a vigorous, unrelenting rhythm, each forceful thrust sending tremors of intensity through your form as you cry and scream, suffocating on your own tears.

Sekido seizes a handful of your hair, yanking your head back, causing your back to arch in response to his forceful advance. As he pushes deep into you, his balls resting against your ass, he leans forward, his voice a sultry whisper against your ear, "You relish the intensity, don't you? I can see you do, your breath quickening like a bitch in heat. You like the demon's cock splitting you open, yeah, woman?"

The agony courses through you, pushing you to the brink of unconsciousness, while an unfamiliar heat simmers in the depths of your abdomen.

Sekido releases his climax inside you, a guttural groan escaping his lips, accompanied by a triumphant exclamation, "Yes! Yes! Take it, bitch, take it all!"

The scarlet-eyed demon departs, leaving you sprawled on the bed, your consciousness wavering, tears marking your face.

Sekido adjusts his trousers, offering gentle pats to the now reddened flesh on your ass. "You did well. Your next confession awaits this Sunday, remember to grace the damn chapel with your presence."

taglist: @aliorailrow

#doumadonos sinful sunday 🔥#sinful sunday #anime smut #divider by cafekitsune #sekido smut #sekido #hantengu clones #sekido x reader #sekido x y/n #sekido x you #kny smut #demon slayer smut #sekido kny #kny sekido #kny x reader #kny x y/n #demon slayer x reader

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grapenamjams · 1 year

Text

Gaz & Captain Price scenarios with a fatally injured reader

Warning: descriptions of injury, wounds, possible reader death and ofc angst my old friend.

A/n: couldnt leave them out of the fun

Continuation of this post

...

Gaz

Kyle’s heart had been hammering inside his chest to the point it was painful ever since he saw the explosion.

Ice ran through his veins when you stated over comms that you were badly injured and unable to move.

The only thought he let occupy his mind for reasons of staying sane was getting to you.nothing else mattered until he saw you safe.

“Hey. Hey focus on my voice. I’m making my way towards you” Kyle’s voice rang in your ear through the headset.

Trying to keep your attention on him.

Even though he tried to sound calm for your sake, you could hear the concern in his voice.

“I need you to stay with me, alright?”

The pressure in his chest grew every second that passed without answer. “Talk to me, please.” He pleaded

He breathed out of relief at the sound of your voice, the most prettiest of sounds to him, coming through his ear after a few moments.

“I tied a tourniquet on my leg” you said breathlessly looking at the metal piercing your thigh.

“as for the other thing…” your voice faltered as you moved your eyes to look down at your stomach and blood covered hands, grunting out a curse when you applied pressure against the large opened wound again. “ I don’t know what else I can do.” You say defeated

Kyle shakes his head cursing himself and at the distance he still has left to cover.

“just stay calm,I’m close. I need you to focus on me for now and keep talking”

You look around your surroundings.your sight coming in and out of focus. “Talk about what?”

Sounds like he’s running now. “Anything, how about your favorite shop or restaurant?”

He hears the light laugh and the small smile accompanying it when it comes through the comms.

Envisioning it in his head, filling his heart with desperation, hoping it’s not the last he will receive.

“Asking me on a date, gaz?”

“and if I am?”

“I’d say took you long enough”

he hears your rattling coughs through the static.

his heart and stomach constrict. “It’s a date. You better not stand me up then.”

He hears no response.

“Don’t go silent on me, love”

Your voice finally barley comes through. “It hurts, Kyle. I’m so tired” you whisper

His heart shatters. “I know- I know it hurts love but you have to stay with me. keep talking to me please. I want to hear your voice”

He doesn’t get a response.

He curses “Say something love, anything”

Kyles voice sounds like distant sound no matter how much you try to follow it.

“Please don’t do this, don’t fade away”

All he hears back is silence.

Captain Price

“You have to calm down your breathing, darling or it’s going to make it worse” john tells you as he kneels down in front of you where your back is propped up against the wall.

“Slow breaths like this” he slowly starts breath in and out.

You follow his lead as best as you could. your quick panicked breaths do steady out but you can’t take in a full breath without wincing and having something rattle in your chest.

“That It, good” John try’s to not wince at the sound.

His eyes flick down to your abdomen, where a dagger is logged deep.

Blood seeping on to his hand as he tries to apply some pressure.

Knowing that its all he can do for now makes him frustrated, just sitting by you as you suffer infront of him.

But he dosnt want to risk causing more damage than it already has if he takes the knife out.

He hears you groan in pain getting his attention.

“Eyes open darling” he tells you quickly

You look at him with tired eyes head resting on the wall.

“There you are” he says when your eyes land on his, giving you a small smile under his beard.

But it can’t hide the Worry that fills his eyes every time you take a shaky breath.

He pushes your hair away from your face before placing his palm on your cheek.

“You’re going to be okay. I’m here.”

Your eyes start to drift down.

“Hey, hey none of that, look at me” panic enters his voice as he tilts his head down to catch your eyes.

Once they are up again he rubs his thumb against your cheek. “I got you, okay? I’m not letting you slip away. You’re not gonna leave me. Not like this”

You could look into his eyes forever. his kind eyes that you always loved to look at were now filled with pain and worry, making your heart hurt.

you fought against the pressure in the back of your mind making your head feel heavy.

his hand on you felt so warm against your shivering skin.

“Darling?” John calls to get your attention but your eyes flutter close. Head resting against his palm.

“No.” He whispers “no no no” he says louder

He cups your face in his hands, “come on wake up[ name]!”

“You’re not leaving me! I’m not, letting you” John chokes

He pulls his hands away from you, eyes catching on the red mark on your cheek.

Looking down at his hands,he sees a image that only haunted his head at night making him wake up in cold sweat.

Your blood on his hands and your body unmoving in front of him.

…

Pt. 2 for Price

#call of duty #modern warefare 2 #angst #kyle garrick #kyle garrick x reader #captain price x reader #captain price #john price #simon ghost riley

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rindough · 2 years

Text

cw. manga spoilers, death implied (not toji dw!)!

as the cold night took over the town, the wooden floor beneath toji creaks under each of his footstep, circling from his side then to your bedside where he kneels down.

“doll,” he whispers, gaze softening at how you stir a little before meeting him with your tired eyes.

you hummed in response, and he apologizes deep down for having to wake you up. now with your blanket pulled up to your lips (due to your morning breath), you waited for the man to speak. your own consciousness tipping between wakefulness and tiredness.

“doll, hey,” he repeats, his thumb rubbing circles on your shoulder. “i’m gonna head out for a while.”

“for?”

“the usual.”

hearing his words, you remained quiet, processing his words before nodding. ever since the relationship started there were times where toji would grow a little distant.

not like he doesn’t love you, just that before being with you and as a friend, you watched all the countless relationships he’d entered having their lifespan being between a week to a month max — toji is used to people disappearing and leaving, used to people using him.

his late wife impacted him deeply, slipping away the moment his son got his first gasp of air. all while helplessly carrying his son, watching as her body grows lifeless by the second by his side.

loving him is easy, but at times like now when the man couldn’t sleep, when the man is plagued by intrusive thoughts, that is when it requires your full understanding.

he combs his fingers through his dark locks, lips pursing as he whispers into the darkness, into your lips.

“i’m sorry, y/n.”

shaking your head, you pull the cover back up your lips after the kiss before cradling his face, feeling his jaw clenched.

“take your time, toji.” your lips tremble a little before continuing. “just be careful driving, alright? remember, you’re enough.”

“i love you, toji.”

it’s been thirty minutes — thirty minutes of him driving into the night, your voice echoes in his mind for the umpteenth time. the car radio a source of background noise, the grumbles from the gravels beneath and the rustle of his truck accompanying his racing thoughts.

toji is scared. if toji had to be honest, your relationship was the longest he had been in in a while — in so long. he fears that one day, you’re done putting up with his insecurity and find someone better, someone less like him — someone less problematic (that’s what he calls it).

but what he fears worse is the unknown, the possibility that one day his mind will manage to fool him into thinking he’s not enough, into thinking he has never loved you after all these months.

the familiar dread creeps up on him, maybe he should go for another round around the town.

maybe two?

three?

when he hears the familiar sound of the road below, he feels a wave of unworthiness washing over him. he feels undeserving to look you in the eye or even to greet his son in the morning, as if he’d done something terrible.

the cold air brushes against him when he steps out the truck, somehow pulling his focus away from his thoughts. the door creaks opens, then closes as his calloused hand puts the keys back on the shoe cabinet.

it’s a little hard to stay completely silent, given how many years this house has lived.

“hi hun, good morning,” toji blinks at your figure, fully sprawled out on bed with your eyes fixated on your phone. his silence causing you to look at him standing by the door. furrowing your brows, you then chirp at him. “come!”

phone aside, he walks towards your foot just in time when your arms spread wide open. a loud groan leaves your lips at his sudden body weight on you.

“missed ya, baby.”

“you’ve only been away for two hours, toji.” you chuckled softly, squealing as his inhale tickles your neck. “ya okay now?”

he hums, his lips melts into a smile, causing you to giggle more when you feel the plush of his lips pressing against your jaw — then neck. your stopped breath soon replaced with a sigh when he nuzzles against the warmth of your chest. fingers raking his hair, he grunts with big arms entrapping you in a tight embrace.

he speaks out, moments before drifting into his slumber.

“thank you, y/n, i love you.”

want more? check out my master list!

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inkyleaf · 2 months

Text

TG 210: Goblin Gambit (M-Humans to F-Goblins)

Note: The following story depicts a budding incestuous relationship.

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

“Ready to finally get out of this dreadful town?” a young man named Arthur asked his brother Theodoric as he tightened his boots. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” Theo replied with a sigh, then continued: “You’re sure about this? Leaving mother and father to tend to the house and farm until this expedition is over and through?” Arthur laughed, scratching his short dirty blond beard. “You know they’ll be fine, brother! Besides, do you really want to stay cooped up in this tiny village when so much of the world is out there – unknown, and waiting to be discovered? And who’s to say we don’t encounter riches for the whole family along the way, aye?”

Ever since Arthur was a little boy, he’d always dreamt of exploring the world, as he’d grown up in a small medieval village known for its agriculture. His brother Theo was timid by comparison, but was always levelheaded and kept his brother out of trouble. Although Theo was hesitant about leaving his aging parents, he wanted to accompany Arthur on his journey to ensure that he stayed safe. Perhaps Arthur’s extravagant optimism and excitement was rubbing off a bit, too.

The brothers set off by horseback after hugging their parents goodbye, promising to return better than they left. Looking up from his map, Arthur loudly declared: “We’ll arrive at Feyhelm before the sun sets! Think of how good the ale will taste at the tavern, brother! This is only the beginning!” “I’ll hold you to that!” Theo said back with a grin as they both urged their horses to gallop faster. Without any words, the gallops quickly turned into a race that left a trail of dust in their wake.

Arthur arrived at the distant town of Feyhelm a good while before Theo caught up just as the sun was setting. Recognizing Arthur’s horse tied to post at the tavern, Theo followed suit and found his brother laughing and drunk with a group of strangers huddled over a pair of dice. Just as Theo was about to approach the tapster, he heard Arthur’s voice turn from jovial to rage. “Yeeeww fockin’ cheat’r! ‘Ere’s no way yewcud’ve nicked thrice inarow!” he slurred with a red face. Theo jumped in before things could escalate further: “Good sirs, this is my brother. I apologize for any trouble he may have caused. You see, we’re travelers new to this town!” One of the strangers, a strong man with long, messy hair, facial scars, and a jarringly fake tooth, pulled Theo in close by his collar and said with a wolfish grin: “Your brother owes me money,” then pushed him away.

“Please excuse us for a moment,” Theo grunted as he forcibly dragged his brother out of the tavern. He noticed a few other men guarding their horses. “What the hell did you do?!” Theo asked Arthur in a sharp whisper. “Aye…thought I could get us rich,” he replied slowly. “Odds were in my favor ‘n everyfin’! Itwas-n’t a bad idea…” After chatting with Arthur for the next half-hour as he sobered up, the brothers returned to the tavern to pay up. “You owe how much?!” Theo exclaimed. Arthur hung his head as the burly man said it again: “320 pence.” The brothers were diligent in bringing a lot of money for their journey ahead, but neither of them carried that much individually, forcing them to pool their coins together. “Pleasure gamblin’ with ya, boys.”

Leading their horses by the reigns, Arthur and Theo walked around town to find the inn in silence. Arthur knew he had messed up, and Theo was rightfully upset. The next morning, they got into an argument. Theo exclaimed: “Let’s cut our losses and go home! We can save up again to try this next year or something, but you’ve shattered our chances at survival on day one!” “Next year?! You hardly even wanted to explore this year! How much more time of your life will you throw away? How many more excuses will you make for staying put? Brother, we are fine! We still have some money.” Theo had always been proud of his ability to keep in brother in check, but it seemed like there was no convincing him this time. Arthur was determined to forge ahead despite only having enough money for the bare essentials that wouldn’t even last a week. During the argument, Arthur spat: “If you want to go back to mum and dad, then go! I’m not going to stop you!” “And leave you to die in some unknown cave?” Theo mumbled back, knowing that he couldn’t leave his brother in good conscience.

The brothers set off to the next closest town of Alryne after a light breakfast, expecting to arrive before sunset. The cheerful atmosphere of adventuring that Theo felt yesterday had been replaced with anxiety. Arthur put on a good face, trying to convince his brother that they would find some kind of riches along the way, or even women, but even his optimism was slightly faltering. Wanting to manifest his beliefs, Arthur insisted on a detour since he knew they had time to spare before arriving at Alryne. He dragged his increasingly pessimistic brother along for hours before finding an old, crumbling tower in the middle of a forest.

“Ah-ha!” Arthur exclaimed, “I knew there were treasures to be had! Look, brother! Think of all the ancient riches that could be hiding away in this building! This is what I’ve been talking about! There’s so much to find and explore!” Theo managed to crack a smile, praying that his brother was correct. The pair walked through the doorway that had already been broken into, finding nothing but an empty room with a staircase spiraling upwards. “The riches must be up there,” Arthur said with a wide grin. Upon arriving at the upper levels, Theo’s hopes were dashed. Every room was filled with desks, shelves, and other hidden compartments – all picked clean like a meatless skeleton.

Theo tried to contain his frustration as they walked back down the stairs, but his brother’s delusions were now made clear, and he had to let it out. “There’s nothing here! Nothing!” Theo yelled, stomping his foot to the floor. “Do you see now, brother! Your ideas of the grand adventurer are fantasy! Any riches that may have been waiting for us are already long gone!” Theo stomped the floor again, causing it noticeably buckle. Arthur admittedly felt embarrassed, but the shift in the floor reignited his hope.

“Wait, brother, do that again,” Arthur said, stomping the wooden floor beneath him to no avail. “I’ll damn well stomp as many times as I need to to get this through your head!” Theo replied with more stomps, making a seam between two parts of the floor clear to Arthur. “That could be… Brother, help me lift this!” Arthur shooed Theo away from his spot and looked for a good way to grip the slightly displaced flooring. The piece was larger than he would’ve thought, as it extended all the way to the wall a few meters away. “This is bloody heavy!” Arthur huffed through clenched teeth, unable to get a good grip until Theo pitched in. With a lot of effort, the brothers managed to overturn the large floorboard with a thud that shook the room, revealing another staircase into the underground.

“This is it! This must be where the treasures are!” Arthur exclaimed, skipping down the stairs. Theo followed with a furrowed brow, then eased up at the sight of the room downstairs. There were tables and shelves lined with old vials and equipment he’d never seen before. He plugged his nose at the stench of dried-up plants, dead rats, and other ingredients that surrounded a lot of the equipment, but was nevertheless excited for Arthur to have discovered this room.

Arthur came up to Theo with a bunch of glass and metal instruments in his arms. “How much do you think these will go for?” he asked giddily, then continued: “This place hasn’t been touched in years, or maybe even longer… And we’re the first to discover its history!!” “It’ll be hard to make back 320 pence with some rusty metal,” Theo smirked, then continued to look around. He noticed a large green stone on a pedestal at the back of the room, protected by a glass covering. As he drew closer, he could see a slight glow. “Hmm, now a rare mineral may actually fetch a good price,” Theo mumbled to himself while his brother gathered more things like a kid in a candy store. He hauled the heavy stone to the center of the room, then called Arthur for help.

“I think that if we can break into this stone,” Theo began, “we can figure out what kind of minerals are inside.” “So we just gotta break it, yeah?” Arthur replied. “Yes, well, carefully. I think. I’m no expert, but doesn’t this look like it’d be worth more than most other things in here? If we took it to an appraiser, they may charge extra to get to the minerals in the first place…I think. And it’s already cracked quite a bit, see here and there?” Theo pointed at the lines.

Arthur dropped his haul to examine the rock himself. “Minerals…like diamonds? Oh yes brother, this has to be it! We’ve struck gold on day two!” After a little more discussion, the brothers held the rock together and dropped it onto the floor with a loud thump. They repeated the process multiple times, increasingly chipping away at the rock’s exterior. “C’mon, show us the insides!” Arthur cheered, eventually taking the rock himself to slam on the floor. After a few slams, the rock burst like a bomb, releasing green haze and knocking the brothers onto the floor where they fell unconscious for an hour.

As Theo awakened, he slowly recalled what they were doing prior. “The…rock…the rock! Argh! What happened to that blasted thing? Did it really…explode?” he said to himself, scrambling back to the location of its impact. He found pieces of the rock, but it had lost its subtle glow, and there were no traces of valuable minerals inside. Theo sighed as Arthur awoke. “Theodoric, are you okay?” was the first thing Arthur asked, thinking of his brother before himself despite his pounding head. “I am. I think the rock may have burst, but it should be okay. The minerals must be deeper in. At this point, it’s probably wiser to take to an appraiser so that we don’t risk further damages.” “Atta boy!” Arthur exclaimed, slapping his brother’s shoulder.

The brothers were relieved to still see that the sun hadn’t set yet. As they emerged from the tower with loads of supplies, their horses looked at them with pause. “What’s that look about, Thor? It’s me!” Arthur said, securing his load to the side of his horse. “They probably don’t want to carry this much on top of your fat arse,” Theo laughed as he secured a lighter bag, then continued: “We should be reaching Alryne in a few hours. We’ll be traveling slower than expected and lost a lot of time, so it’ll likely be after sunset, but we should be fine. Tomorrow’s priority is finding an appraiser.”

Arthur and Theo set off and talked cheerfully for a good while, but Arthur grew quieter as time passed which was unlike him. Eventually, he let Theo take the lead and voluntarily trailed behind, not wanting to speak or be seen. I’m beginning to feel ill, he thought, but we’re almost to Alryne, and Theodoric is in good spirits. I probably just need a hot bath… Due to his lack of energy, Arthur was leaned in close to his horse’s mane and did not notice how the hair on his sweaty skin was beginning to fall out, including the short beard he wore with pride.

Around the same time, Theo also began to feel unwell, but wanted to press on strong as the rider in front, knowing that their daylight was limited. Similar to his brother, his skin became lined with sweat, and his body hair began falling out. He lightly flexed his fingers, toes, and jaw with repeated movements, feeling as if his bones were growing stiffer by the minute. “G-Gaahh,” he would mutter to himself as bones would shift and grind against one another, primarily around his joints, shoulder, and pelvis. He frequently stretched his arms and legs while still riding to alleviate the odd sensations, hoping that his brother wasn’t judging him from behind.

By the end of the hour, both brothers were fidgeting uncomfortably within their clothes. Both of their feet had shrunk, making it difficult to keep their boots on, and their shirts and pants were noticeably baggier. Gritting his teeth, Theo sat as tall as he could while periodically looking back to ensure that his brother was still following – he was too far behind to see clearly, but the silhouette of his horse was visible enough. Frustrated by his longer sleeves, he rolled them up and noticed that his forearms had become slimmer along with his fingers and hands. The sun sets soon, we have to make it… That is the priority right now, he thought, shaking his head.

Arthur wasn’t taking his illness as well as Theo. He was barely holding himself upright, enduring the plight of his changing skeleton as best he could. “Still a few more hours,” he mumbled under his breath just as he felt something different from within his body. His body leaned even more forward as he felt the small of back arch inward. “Hn-hnngghh-!” His grunts came through clenched teeth as his legs tightly held the sides of his horse. What started as soft fat filling out his shrunken thighs soon turned into an abundance of volume. Alongside a broadening pelvis, his lower body grew and morphed with large feminine proportions that threatened to tear his once-loose pants.

Arthur’s groaning grew louder, but Theo couldn’t hear him over their horses’ clops or over his own muttering. He tried to giddy his horse to go faster once he realized that his fingernails were elongating and darkening, but his horse remained at a slow pace, feeling Theo grow heavier before Theo himself noticed. As his upper arms became fuller with soft feminine fat, a faint crack emitted from within his chest. His breathing was heavy, and every step his horse took was met with a little bounce in his chest that grew more uncomfortable every minute. Veins pressed against his skin, and his nipples hardened, as his pecs swelled over the course of the next hour, eventually splitting into two distinct mounds.

Theodoric was periodically shocked into silence as he felt his chest grow and could simply not focus on anything else once the orbs of flesh became large enough to sag and flail around from riding on horseback. His skinny body continued to thicken beneath his chest with plump thighs that filled out his pants – although not nearly as much as Arthur’s – and a softer, less defined stomach that was accented with a pinched waist.

Unable to bear the afflictions any longer, Arthur stopped on the side of the road as the sun had almost set while Theodoric continued forward, oblivious to what was happening behind him. Arthur angrily threw some of his clothes off, almost ripping them beyond wearability in the process, to alleviate some of his cold sweat. “What is this…?” he spat when he felt longer and sharper nails poke into his body in the process. “My legs!” Arthur yelled after wriggling out of his pants, laying his eyes on two hairless thighs that were thicker than thick. He fell onto his weak knees, feeling his arms and face begin to twitch from some force within. He clutched the side of his face with one hand, feeling his jaw reshaping within his palm, while the other cupped his slimy shrinking genitals.

“No…! No!” Arthur could feel his manhood slipping away from his hand, diverting his attention from his changing skull. His stern nose flattened above a mouth that was growing sharper and more jagged teeth, and his bushy dirty blond eyebrows slimmed and darkened while his short hair began growing. Arthur noticed his voice changing as he mumbled to himself with fear and panic, but paid it no mind as he spread his legs further, trying to stop his dick and balls from retracting further. He also failed to notice his large biceps diminish after a crack in his shoulder blades shook his upper body, feminizing his whole upper frame with increasingly smoother skin.

After the sun had gone down, Theodoric also needed to stop at the side of the road. Looking back for the first time in a while, he wondered where Arthur was. Instead of worrying about him, he was relieved that his brother wouldn’t see him in this state for the moment. Theo’s calm and collected demeanor crumbled after painfully throwing his shirt and coat off. The ridiculously large breasts that hung from his body made him scream in terror and fall back onto his ass. A few pops emitted from within his pants as his slender legs continued to shrink and develop into limbs that would contribute to a shapely figure.

Through heavy breaths, Theo examined his bare arms and hands after getting a grip, noticing that they looked nothing like his own. They were weak, dainty, and even within the darkness, Theo could tell that their color was off. He fell all the way onto his back as sensations similar to Arthur’s crept into his face and neck. Is this where I die…? he thought as his rigid and baggy eyes were forcibly closed. He could feel every little shift of bone and muscle in his face as it reshaped beyond recognizability, but was numb to his hair darkening and growing down to shoulder length. The tips of his ears also grew to a long point, almost poking out like horns. He clutched his pounding head with one strong hand and yelled at the top of his lungs, his voice completely changing in the process.

Neither brother moved for a long awhile as the pains of their transformations faded away. They caught their breaths and attempted to assess what had happened in their own ways. They could barely see themselves in the pitch-black night, but felt their new flesh, proportions, and feminine assets with horror and uncertainty. Only the raw need for warmth and shelter was able to move them once a few too many breezes swept by. Unfortunately, both of their horses – who had excellent night vision – bolted at the sight and smell of them in fear, leaving them stranded in the woods near the path to Alryne.

“Theo!” “Arthur!” The brothers called out to each other as they hobbled in the directions they thought they were in. Both of them were equally disgusted at the sound of their distinctly husky and womanly voices. To their relief, they managed to find each other by the sounds of their names after some time, although they were hesitant to approach.

“Arthur, are you over there?” Theo called. He knew Arthur wouldn’t be able to see him, but he felt utterly helpless and embarrassed in his foreign body draped by clothes that were now far ill-fitting. “Theo, it’s me!” Arthur called back, “I’m walking in your direction…!” Arthur had similar reluctancies, but was more relieved to know his brother was alive. Arthur’s hair had grown long enough to tickle the small of his back as he awkwardly moved with his large swinging hips.

“I’m right in front of you, Arthur.” “I’m here, I’m here…is that really you, Theo?” Unable to see clearly, the pair slowly approached for an embrace, but the feeling of Theo’s massive bust pushing against Arthur’s modest breasts made them flinch and walk back. “I don’t…” Theo began. The pair muttered aimless thoughts to each other for a while, wondering what had happened to them and if they were going to be okay. As the night progressed and as they continued their small talk, the needs for sleep and warmth quickly approached. The brothers ended up huddling together on the ground within the forest, feeling each other’s smooth skin and shapely figures with tired mumbles and silent chuckles.

Once the sun rose, the sound of Arthur’s screaming at Theo woke him up, who then screamed equally loud at the sight of his brother. Both of them stood around 1.5 meters tall and were completely unrecognizable through their female faces, both of which were slightly tinted pale green with long ears, pointed teeth, and vaguely yellow eyes. From last night’s experience, they knew that their bodies carried feminine proportions, but seeing them in the flesh felt surreal, especially when Arthur’s ass and Theo’s tits were far larger than the other’s. Contrary to their lighter hair, they both now wore long and slightly wavy black hair at different lengths.

“Brother…” “Are we…” “We’re women?” “We’re…we look like goblins,” the pair spun their thoughts around in awe, unsure of what to say or do about any of this. After a long pause, Theo said: “Well, we could walk to Alryne from here before sunset, but-” “We have to find a way to fix this!” Arthur interrupted, “I cannot live as-as a creature! Look at us!” “Brother, c-calm down,” Theo said, “perhaps we can find someone in Alryne who knows about…but would we even be able to approach the town? What if we’re cast away as monsters? I’ve heard tales of woodland creatures before, but I didn’t think they’d exist-“ “What choices do we have, brother?!” Arthur yelled. “We have to get to Alryne and fix this, now!”

As the pair walked down the muddy path, struggling to keep their shoes on every few steps, Theo was quickly getting used to the weight of his new stride, while Arthur continued to complain about his appearance, his weight, and the loss of his manhood. “Like, it’s really just gone!” he would constantly state, feeling himself again as if it would come back at any moment. “I know, brother, I know.” Theo didn’t know how to calm him down or how to reassure him that everything would be okay this time, which began to upset him.

A guardsman approached the brothers when they were close to Alryne after several long hours of walking. Although he wanted to fend them off, the fact that they were wearing clothing and could speak coherently swayed the guard to let them in. Theo asked if any other creatures had come through Alryne and told the guard about their condition, hoping to find anyone who could offer a cure. To the brothers’ surprise, the guard stated that goblins did pass through town on rare occasions to drink and peddle wares, but were also under close supervision – the brothers were warned that any signs of aggression would result in death.

“So goblins are real,” Theo said to himself with a chuckle, “And they speak and drink like us. Isn’t that wild? I suppose you were right, brother. There really is a lot to discover in this world.” While Theo was becoming more and more fascinated, Arthur was scouring the town for the pub – not for a coveted drink, but for information from tapster. When Theo suggested that they purchase fitting clothing, Arthur stated that it would be a waste of money since they would surely be cured soon. The tapster led the brothers to both a practical doctor and a shaman. The doctor offered no help; only a perverted fascination in their bodies. As they recounted their tale to the shaman, the shaman theorized that the explosive green stone may have cursed them, which set Arthur’s next goal – finding their horses who carried all of their loot from the day prior.

Theo naturally agreed to help his brother, but only after the pair purchased small feminine cottes and shoes to wear, expending most of their little remaining money. Holding his breasts in both hands through the clothes, Theo said: “This certainly feels much better, doesn’t it, brother?” Arthur sighed and replied: “Yeah. I guess so. Let’s get moving, I don’t want to spend another night in this…this skin.” Despite their best efforts, the horses weren’t able to be found, and the sunset forced them to return to Alryne for food and shelter. Pinching pennies, they rented a single bed room.

The brothers found it difficult to sleep that night, especially with their large assets constantly pressing against the other while they tossed and turned. They tried sleeping on the floor, but didn’t have enough blankets or pillows to fend off the cold from the floorboards, making the bed their only option. Due to his smaller bust and longer hair, Arthur ended up being the bigger spoon to his brother despite being the same height. Throughout the night, his little hands intentionally and unintentionally held and brushed against Theo’s large breasts, giving him some sense of comfort and normalcy. Theo didn’t respond or swat Arthur’s hand away; rather, he reluctantly enjoyed it. His breathing became intermittently heavy, and unfamiliar sensations fermented between his legs.

The next day, Arthur continued to search for the horses while Theo remained in town desperately searching for work. He ended up selling a few strands of his hair to curious researchers and posed nude for hours for an artist who was eager to capture his first willing non-human subject. That evening, Arthur returned to town in an expectedly sour mood from being empty-handed, and even the news of Theo’s newly earned money did little to cheer him up. The pair ate a hearty dinner with ale at the tavern that night.

As the pair got into bed, Theo insisted on being the big spoon despite how uncomfortable his breasts were pressing into Arthur’s back. After a moment of silence, Theo spoke softly: “You know, maybe these forms aren’t as awful as you’re making them out to be.” Theo’s left hand glided down Arthur’s curves. “Of course they are,” Arthur pouted, “I am not a woman, I am not a-a creature… I’m supposed to be a m-maa-aan-” Arthur began to stutter as Theo’s hand slipped between his large thighs. “You needn’t be so rigid all the time, brother,” Theo practically whispered. “Maybe we’ll be cured one day, but if we are to remain like this for the rest of our lives, well…” “We can’t!” Arthur shouted, “How are we supposed to return to our family like this?! It’s unthinkable!” After another pause, Theo brought his hand up to Arthur’s breasts. “That’s something we can figure out in the future. But we must live in the present right now.”

Arthur and Theo continued lodging in Alryne for the week, taking on odd jobs around the large town while continuing to search for their lost horses and loot, losing hope that they’d find either. As they became more involved in town, they faced racism and sexism to extents they couldn’t have foreseen. Theo was adept at brushing it off most of the time, but passing comments continued to make Arthur angrier and more insecure about his body, leading him to be even more reliant on Theo to cheer him up. Although they never looked directly at each other as they slept together, they continued to lightly poke and fondle each other’s bodies. They knew it was wrong, but their soft skin and ample feminine assets brought a form of comfort that couldn’t be describe in words, especially when pressed up close in a single bed.

One night, as Theo was playing with Arthur’s long hair in bed, he said: “Why haven’t you cut your hair?” He wanted to address him as ‘brother’ or ‘Arthur’ as he usually did, but stopped himself that night; it just didn’t feel right anymore. Then, he continued: “This is awfully long for someone who wants to cling to their masculinity.” A moment of silence passed. Theo wanted it to come off as playful teasing, but was worried that he may have gone too far. The truth was that the thought simply never occurred to Arthur over everything else they’d been dealing with, but he thought of another reason that felt appropriate to say through a cracked voice: “It’s for you.” “For me?” Theo replied, dumbfounded. Arthur continued after clearing his throat: “Yes, well…I was under the impression that you enjoyed it, and you’ve done so much for me…throughout my whole life, but especially throughout the past couple weeks. Sometimes I feel like a burden. I always wanted to be the one to be relied on, and yet it seems like I’ve been relying on you for longer than I can remember. You’re always so…calm, so leveled. Sometimes I try to imitate it, but I just can’t. And now, even when your body is lost to the Devil, you carry on. You keep us safe and fed. And all I can do is try and catch up.”

Theo sniffed, feeling a tear well in his eye. He didn’t know how to reply, as such a heartfelt sentiment from Arthur was incredibly rare. With a trembling voice, Theo whispered as he caressed Arthur: “Oh Ansee…” After a pause, Arthur chuckled. “Ansee? What’s that?” Theo couldn’t help but giggle too. “Ansee is, well, it’s an elvish name. I’ve been trying to study the language of…goblins. Although the dialect between elves, goblins, and orcs are all very similar, I’m not too good at discerning specifics just yet.” “Oh so now you believe in orcs?” Arthur laughed. Theo replied with a smirk: “Could mistake you for one in the dark, you little scamp,�� then gave Arthur’s ass a hard smack.

It took a few days for Ansee to get used to her new name. In turn, she decided to rename Theodoric to Thraba over a fresh meal and ale at the tavern. “To living in the present,” Ansee smiled, raising a glass with her sister. By now, both women had gotten used to presenting as the exotic females that they were around town and were eagerly making connections with townsfolk throughout their odd jobs, even though Ansee could still get moody about herself from time to time. Thraba had been looking into jewelry, only holding herself back due to the uncertainty of tomorrow’s funds, and Ansee had been taking even better care of her long lustrous hair, always wearing it down with pride.

On that same night, when Thraba had left to use the outhouse toilet, a group of men approached Ansee and demanded sexual favors, insisting that this was the luckiest day of her life while also ragging on her appearance. Ansee breathed and remained calm at first, but then several men got physical. Ansee called for help, but her sister was out of earshot. With her ass and breasts being groped and her limbs being constrained, she howled more fiercely than she knew she was capable of. The moment of the shock that the men experienced gave Ansee the chance to free one arm long enough to slash at the face of a man with her sharp nails.

Pandemonium broke out in the tavern. “Guards! Call the guards!” “This creature attacked us!” “It’s gone mad!” It took a lot of effort for Ansee to hold herself back from pursuing the other men. Once Thraba heard people screaming and running outside, she bolted back into the tavern and saw her sister’s bloody hand. There was no time for words, Thraba simply held the door open for Ansee to approach, then they ran as far away from the building as they could.

Once they found a quiet place, Ansee’s guilt came pouring out. “I-I didn’t mean to, I didn’t…want to, they just came out of nowhere and-” “It’s okay,” Thraba interrupted, “I know you wouldn’t do such a thing if you didn’t have to.” Thraba held her sister’s shoulder with one hand, and slowly brought her other to Ansee’s face as they gazes met. Just as their eyelids were fluttering, they heard a guard shout: “Monster spotted on Crescent Road! Seize them!” The sisters started running again, then a guard blindsided Ansee with a buckler from a hidden alley, knocking her to the ground.

Thraba snarled at the guard. For once, she didn’t think, she simply acted by tackling the guard to the ground before disfiguring his face with her nails. “Let’s go!” Ansee called, snapping Thraba out of her rage. The guards stopped chasing them once they had escaped the town’s borders. The sisters ran for miles before running out of breath and collapsing onto the ground. After a few long minutes, Ansee crawled onto her sister as she had nearly regained her composure by looking up at the stars.

Looking into each other’s eyes again, the sisters made a few quiet hums before Ansee closed her eyes and gave Thraba a passionate lip-locking kiss. They held each other tight and felt each other up and down. Ansee nibbled on her sister’s long ears while Thraba bounced Ansee’s hefty ass, soon moving in to subdue her with unbridled feminine joy, her fingers in between her legs. Throughout the starry night, they locked legs and rubbed cunts, licked and squeezed voluptuous breasts, and stuck their tongues wherever a wet opening would accept.

After a long night filled with more climaxes than either of them could remember, Ansee and Thraba awoke in the early afternoon, slowly recalling everything that had happened. They looked at each other and giggled like little girls, almost wanting to start again until they felt their stomachs rumble. Thraba pulled a map out of her cotte’s pouch, barely legible through all of its creases and folds. “The next town, Wimborne, isn’t too far off. We should be able to make it by foot before the day ends,” she said.

The sisters chatted about anything and everything as they walked under the beaming sun. Eventually, Ansee brought up what they had done last night, causing both of them to stop walking. Thraba approached her and held her shoulder. “This is who we are now, Ansee. Living in the present, remember? That doesn’t just mean living with these bodies, it means living with everything that makes us, us. And, well… I don’t care if it’s wrong. I liked it. And if you like it, we can keep doing it.” Ansee blushed as her sister pulled her in closer, squeaking out an embarrassed “Thank you.” After a pause, Thraba closed her eyes and went in for a quiet kiss, then said “We might not actually make it to Windborne by tonight…but I trust that you’ll keep me warm?” Ansee snorted as she giggled, brushing her hair back. “Of course, uhm, b-baby… Of course.”

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A Patreon reward for Aezneth, thanks so much!! :D This medieval story features two brothers who set off on an adventure, running into some unexpected event that changes their lives forever. It also brings them closer together in ways they couldn't have foreseen...

This story was patron-exclusive for 28 days, and another new patron-exclusive caption has gone live - a classic M2F + Race Change caption.

If you enjoyed this story, check out another medieval-fantasy tale I spun over the course of a year, my longest story to date!

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#m2f #racechange #transformation #magic #fantasy creature #story #medieval/in the past

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bloomingdayswithyou · 9 months

Note

Can you do a Giorno x reader x Abbacchio ? Many thanks!

Morning routine with Giorno and Abbacchio

Pairing: Giorno x Abbacchio x gn!reader (poly)

Words: 559

Warnings: real world au, just a lot of fluff🩷

The soft hues of dawn filtered through the curtains, painting a gentle warmth across the room where Giorno, Abbacchio, and you lay entangled in the embrace of sleep. As the first rays of sunlight kissed your eyelids, you stirred, your senses gradually coming alive to the world around you. With a contented sigh, you shifted slightly, your movement causing Giorno to nuzzle closer, his arms tightening around you. Abbacchio, nestled on the other side, let out a soft grunt before his features relaxed into a peaceful expression. You smiled, taking a moment to relish the simple intimacy of the morning. Gently extricating yourself from Giorno's grasp, you slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb his slumber. The wooden floorboards felt cool beneath your feet as you made your way to the kitchen, where the promise of a new day awaited.

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee permeated the air as you set about preparing breakfast. The rhythmic sounds of a soft jazz tune played from a record player in the corner, creating a soothing backdrop to the morning's activities. With practiced ease, you cracked eggs into a bowl, the satisfying sound punctuating the quiet tranquility. Soon, the sizzle of eggs hitting the pan joined the melody of the jazz music. Abbacchio emerged from the bedroom, his hair mussed and his expression still half-lidded with sleep. His presence brought a sense of familiarity and comfort, and you greeted him with a warm smile.

"Morning," he muttered, his voice still rough with sleep as he shared a soft kiss with you before he reached for a coffee mug.

"Good morning," you replied, the corner of your lips quirking up. "Coffee's ready whenever you are." As the rich aroma of coffee enveloped the room, Giorno's voice joined the symphony of the morning. His tousled hair and sleepy smile made your heart skip a beat as he entered the kitchen, his gaze finding yours with an affectionate glint.

"Am I just in time for breakfast?" he asked, his tone playfully teasing while he hugged you from behind after sharing a kiss with Abbacchio. "Of course," you said, your heart fluttering as he pressed a soft kiss to your cheek.

The three of you worked together in a synchronized dance – eggs sizzling, toast toasting, and coffee pouring into mugs. Abbacchio's quiet efficiency complemented Giorno's innate grace, and your own contributions wove seamlessly into the rhythm of the morning routine. As you sat down at the kitchen table, plates of scrambled eggs and buttered toast before you, Giorno offered a toast. "To another day together."

"To us," Abbacchio added, raising his mug of coffee in agreement. The clinking of mugs was accompanied by shared smiles, the morning light casting a golden glow across your faces. As you savored breakfast together, the conversations flowed effortlessly – from plans for the day ahead to nostalgic anecdotes that brought laughter.

After breakfast, the three of you gravitated toward the living room, settling onto the couch in a tangle of limbs and shared blankets. Giorno's fingers intertwined with yours, Abbacchio's head resting against your shoulder as you enjoyed the simple pleasure of being together.

The morning hours slipped away in a haze of companionship, the soft cadence of your laughter filling the air. From whispered confessions to stolen kisses, the intimacy you shared was a testament to the depth of your connection. As the sun climbed higher in the sky, bathing the room in a warm glow, you found yourself lost in the embrace of their love. The worries of the world outside seemed distant and insignificant compared to the sanctuary you had created together.

In that tranquil morning, as Giorno's fingers traced gentle patterns on your skin and Abbacchio's steady breaths mingled with your own, you couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude. The moments like these, filled with love, laughter, and shared moments, were the true treasures that defined your unique relationship. And as you basked in the glow of that morning, you knew that no matter where life's journey took you, the bond you shared would remain unbreakable.

#jojo’s bizarre adventure #jjba #jjba part 5 #giorno giovanna #leone abbacchio #giorno x reader #giorno fanfic #abbacchio x reader #abbacchio x male reader #jjba fanfic #jjba x reader #jjba x male reader #jjba fluff #anime #anime fanfic #anime x reader #anime x male reader #anime fluff

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ltbarnes · 2 months

Text

You’re Gonna Go Far

Summary: You’ve been acting different for weeks now and Steve is not having that at all. His little sister is his world, and sitting crying in your room without telling him why? Unacceptable.

Pairing: older brother!Steve Rogers x sibling!gn!reader

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: anxiety, Steve swearing (he’s not a sweet innocent angel when it comes to language and I stand by that), classic hurt/comfort fic

A/N: Just a sweet little drabble (by my standards) inspired by a request I got ages ago.

@yoquese2637

Masterlist

"Y/n?"

The knock on your door is gentle, despite the man delivering it. Steve's a brute and doesn't know his own strength most of the time, you always tell him that, but this time it seems like he took great care in being careful.

"Mhm?" you answer, sniffling. No point in hiding the tears when he could already hear them from downstairs. Fucking super soldier serum thingy.

Steve presses down on the door handle, stepping inside your room silently. He doesn't see you at first. Finds out it's because you're sitting on the floor, back against the bed, arms around your knees.

The palm of your hand dries away the solitary tears dripping down your cheek, ignoring the concerned glance of your brother. His eyebrows are knitted tightly into a frown, making him look so serious and ceremonial. You've never liked upsetting him.

Maybe you don't have the restraints you thought you had, when Steve's arm wraps around your shoulders and tugs you into his side. The small sliver of composure you managed to hold onto when he entered the room disappears into thin air as you cry into his chest, soaking his white t-shirt with your tears.

He stares out of the window, seeing the pale purple hue of the sky as it slowly fades into darkness. It takes a long time before your sobs die down into sniffles. Too much time, much longer than he likes.

"Why are you crying, sweetheart? Huh?" your brother asks, letting his chin fall down as he glances down at your figure curled up into him. "You know I hate seeing you like this. More than anything."

You shake your head, another onslaught of tears coming from your eyes. They're already red and puffy, accompanied by the pounding headache and sore throat from hours of doing the same. Talking feels like an exhausting effort, despite the knowledge that Steve would listen to any and every word that would come out of your mouth.

There's no one else left in your family but Steve. That and the large age gap between you has made it natural that he's become some form of caretaker, protector, for you. You're an adult now, but he still looks out for you as if you were a little kid.

"Alright, silent treatment it is. Just gonna leave me to talk then, yeah?" he says, an attempt to lighten the mood. It doesn't work. Steve sighs. "It hasn't slipped past me that you haven't been yourself lately, Y/n. I can hear that you don't fall asleep until early in the morning when you're here and not in your dorm. Crying yourself to sleep. You barely talk to me anymore."

All you do is bury your face into your arms, small whimpers and sniffles escaping your lips. Steve's hand comes to rest on your back, rubbing up and down.

"It's not enough that I barely get to hang out with you anymore 'cause you spend most of the time at campus, but while you're visiting home you're so distant. It's not like you, doll. C'mon. What is it?"

A deep breath that comes out as shaky, your lips trembling as you part them to speak.

"It's so hard," you whisper, voice breaking and getting stuck on a sob desperate to come out. "And I'm scared. I don't know anything about what I want. Everything just feels pointless."

He draws in a sharp breath, tightening his fingers until they dig into the soft flesh of your arm. "Y/n..."

"I can't fall asleep because I just keep thinking about the future and it makes me want to hole myself up here in your house forever. I feel like I'll never do anything worth something. Like I'm just doomed to be one of those people that fade into the background, don't mean anything to anyone."

"Don't say that," Steve growls, retracting the arm he had around your shoulder. "Don't you ever say that again, Y/n."

The abrupt change in the tone of his voice unnerves you, forces your gaze away from his burning stare. But he doesn't let you—no, he grips your face with his hands, tilting your chin up until you're staring into his now narrow eyes.

"How could you even think that?" he asks. He sounds upset, for real. Like he actually believes in the words he's saying. You just don't. "God, Y/n, I'm so damn—I'm so mad that you don't see..."

Steve shakes his head, lowering his gaze with a mumbled curse under his breath.

"You're scared and anxious. That's understandable considering the goddamn horrible state the world is in. But don't you ever think that you are not something special, Y/n. I want you to think that you're the most kind, sweet and smart person in the world."

It's your turn to shake your head with a silent scoff, letting the salty tears seep into the corner of your mouth.

"You're family. You have to say that. It doesn't matter what you think or what you want me to believe you think. That doesn't make it less true that I'm just an average person who'll probably never amount to something. I'm not good at anything."

Steve clenches his jaw, breathing out deeply through his nose. "It's hard not to compare yourself to people, I know that. Believe me I do—"

"You can't say that. God, Steve—you're a literal fucking Avenger. Don't you understand that? You can be insecure as much as you want, but at the end of the day you still matter. The world would miss you if you were gone. You've done something meaningful with your life. That's never gonna be how people look at me."

"Fucking hell you're stubborn,"Steve seethes, the very rare curse slipping out of his mouth. "Even if you don't believe me, I want you to know that I do think you are one of the most amazing people I know. I genuinely do. And I've met a hell of a lot of people."

The roll of your eyes doesn't go unnoticed by your brother. He dries away the last few tears from underneath your eyes with his thumbs, letting his hand linger on your cheek for a second.

"Don't you roll your eyes on me. I don't know what's made you so insecure about yourself, but this that you're feeling—it's not forever. You haven't even graduated college yet, honey. You don't need to have anything figured out.

Your gaze averts from his, staring out through the window out onto the green trees lining the yard, peaking over the sill. There's a certain genuineness in your brother's words, and you know he really does believe whatever he's saying. That doesn't mean you are there yet, far from it. But for tonight, maybe you can let it go.

"You know, anyone that tells you different are punks," Steve adds.

A chuckle escapes through your tears. "Who the hell still says punks?"

Steve scoffs, the corners of his lips tugging upwards. "Yeah, yeah. I'm not young and cool anymore. An old man."

"You're 30. Hardly old yet. Never been cool, though," you tease through your sniffles.

"Who raised you?" he answers playfully, squeezing the back of your neck.

"You did."

"Huh. Did a bad job at it, then."

A minute passes by, comfortable silence. Your head leaning on your brother's shoulder.

"I'm hungry," you mumble under your breath while looking down at the carpet underneath your feet.

A scoff, equally amused and relieved, sounds from Steve. He squeezes your arms, tugging you into his side to plant a kiss to your head. With a grunt he pushes himself up from the ground, offering his hand to help you do the same.

"I ordered Thai. A lot," he says, holding onto your arm even when you’re standing up now. "Let's stuff our faces, huh?"

#marvel fanfiction #marvel fic #steve rogers x reader

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xivu-arath · 6 months

Text

Savathûn recalls a moment when she looked to the sky.

“Look,” says their father, the king. “The storm lifts.”

He has brought them into the orrery, its brass and platinum moons spinning around Fundament on many interlocking axes. Up the stairs to the swell of the dome where the telescopes, lenses, and listening instruments rest. They are old, older than seven generations of the Osmium Court, salvaged from another continent that had drifted close in the first year of the king’s reign.

Xi Ro, eager as always, runs to the winch, helping him open the dome’s eye for them all to look through. She does this even though the telescopes bore her, because moments when the king remembers his surviving children are rare. Rarer still for him to allow them close to his most prized treasures.

The dead worm has its own place here, set on a pedestal from where it seems to be watching.

Sathona is not bored, but neither is she sated (not like Aurash, who is already pressing forward to count how many moons can be seen). The Court is full of whispers these days, and Sathona does her best to hear most of them. Whispers of war with the Helium Drinkers, of the king’s negligence, of untrustworthy waters and worsening weather. Direr still are her dreams of brave, foolish Xi Ro crushed under rubble, Aurash swept away by a burning wave. What may come looms ahead, dark and not quite unknown, and the stars and moons are much too distant to matter when weighed against it. Whatever use to her is something that cannot be touched or swayed?

The orrery frustrates her as every discovery of her limits does. Beneath the mystery of it – just how old is it? Who thought to build it, and why? – lies the same taste of bitter air, a reminder that she is small and frail and meant to live a life she can barely count on both hands.

But when Aurash waves at her to take her turn, she still closes two eyes and peers up into dissipating clouds and an uncaring, glittering sky. Useless as these are to her, they are pretty enough. For that, and because they are all still together, remembered and alive, Sathona thinks to cherish this moment.

Savathûn does not cherish it. She forgets nothing. Every moment of her past is as it should be, a single gleaming instant that she can pin between her claws. But still, something (the warm surprise of trust from an uncertain parent, pushing Aurash’s shoulder for more space, flickering awe at a new curiosity well out of her reach) is lost.

It is a moment of synchronicity that reminds her. They are pruning away yet another civilization, and through secret and subtle means Savathûn knocks their binary stars from their seat, spilling the accretion disk out to envelop the nearest planets and moons. The swell of satisfaction that accompanies this is unexpected, and so she stops to find the cause.

Look how far she has come from that moment. Her father’s efforts seem small and futile now, while she can pluck every star from the sky. There might be some few, paltry things still beyond her grasp, but they will not remain so. She has lived longer than young Sathona could have envisioned. Of her siblings she is the wisest, the most prepared, and by far the most clear-sighted. Is this not everything she has wanted?

But –

Xivu has swooped down to drain the lesser star, and Oryx infests the heart of the greater with his blights. He is singing some awful dirge he picked up several systems ago and not yet tired of, and Xivu joins him with far greater enthusiasm than skill, until the pressure of their combined voices forces even their fleets to scatter from them. They don’t care, drunk and giddy on triumph and certainty.

Savathûn is quite sure she does not envy them their stupid, simple joy. This is not the first battle, nor even the thousandth, where she has watched them make fools of themselves amidst their slaughter.

But. She is not sated, and it gnaws at her more sharply than her worm ever has. Nothing that she would strain to reach for is here.

The lesser star gutters down to a dully flickering core, and the greater has been rendered a cyst through which the Deep can be heard. Savathûn finds this a tedious, predictable ending and turns away. Behind her, her siblings continue to laugh and kill and sing (terribly still).

If there is nothing here that she would reach for, then it is past time she look elsewhere. She remembers that glimpse of the sky once more.

Among those stars and shadows was one lying moon.

#destiny #savathun #destiny fic #written for a private gift exchange #books of sorrow #my words

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livlivlivliv · 1 year

Text

╰➝ FLUFF ALPHABET ೃ⁀➷

some letters are missing ups

masterlist

🔸Activities - What do you like to do with your s/o? How do you spend your free time with them?

As is known, hawks is somewhat lazy so when the planets align and he gets a day off he doesn't feel like doing anything.

Don't get me wrong, he loves being with you, you are his priority, by "he doesn't feel like doing anything" I mean activities that require leaving the shared apartment, on patrol days he lives waiting for the moment when he finally returns home with you. Although if you want to go somewhere you will have to bribe him, give him something in return and he will happily go out with his girl.

Favorite activities: Watching movies; cook with you (you do all the work); for some reason he likes some board games and for some reason he always beats you; To talk a lot ; pampering session.

🔸Beauty - What do you admire about your partner? What do you think is beautiful about them?

He loves everything, often thinks that you tricked him. But below are her favorite things about you:

- Your sense of humor. For someone as talkative and joking as this man, there is nothing more important than laughter and good talks. You are one of the few people, if not the only one, who makes him laugh without having to pretend.

- Your voice + laugh. Oh girl, he doesn't understand why but your voice drives him crazy (maybe it comes from the bird side of him?) When you whisper to him, when you sing your favorite song, when you say his name!! And not to mention your laugh, his mind is constantly working on good jokes to listen to you, because he scores a lot of points when your laugh was caused by him.

- All your body. I think it doesn't need too much description. He drives him crazy.

🔸 Comfort - How would you help your partner when you are feeling down or having a panic attack, etc.?

He wouldn't know what to do other than hug you and tell you that everything will be fine, the amount of questions he will throw at you would overwhelm you a bit, he just wants to know what caused your state of mind.

He doesn't know if you want him to accompany you in silence, if you want words of encouragement, hugs... he would get nervous and end up doing everything at the same time. He empathizes a lot with you and wants to see you well, you are everything to him.

🔸 Dreams-How do you imagine his future with his partner?

I'm not sure if he wants to get married or have children, perhaps in the quite distant future and if he sees that you do have intentions of that with him.

Otherwise, the only thing he knows is that he wants to have you by his side until the end of his days and discover new places, new experiences.

🔸Same- Is he the dominant in the relationship, or rather passive?

He is 50/50, although there are things that he manages, there are other things that you manage. They are quite a healthy and equal couple.

🔸Fight-Would it be easy to forgive his partner? How are they fighting?

The fights or differences they would have would be mostly because of Keigo's job, which is to be Pro Hero No. 2 and that demands long hours of patrol and fame. I think they would have these discussions because of the fear of both of them, which is seeing little and that the spark is over.

But don't worry! They almost never fight and if they do they make up quickly. There is good communication between you and that is the basis of everything. Nothing to be alarmed about.

🔸 Gratitude - How grateful are you overall? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

He feels that he owes you everything and that he is indebted to you for saving him from the darkness and monotonous routine that he had before he met you. You have taught him so many things (and he has taught you) that he deeply thanks you, you are his light.

I thought the world was rotten but you are the clear example that it is not.

He is super aware of the things you do for him, he sees it when you wait for him too late when his patrols get longer, when you cook for him, when you give him massages, when you worry excessively when he comes back with a little scratch. And even more so when he sees that you do all that without anything in return, just because you love him.

🔸Honesty- Do you have secrets that you hide from his partner? Or do they share everything?

Today there is nothing you do not know about him. But before you started dating, even when you were already dating, there were things you didn't know.

Like his past, his childhood, even his name! He revealed it to you after the fourth month of acquaintances, when he saw that you could be trusted.

He now he tells you absolutely everything, and when he runs out of personal experiences to tell you, he starts talking about Endeavor lol.

🔸Jealousy - Do you get jealous easily? How do they face it?

Ego to the max, he's not that jealous. He always tells you that you would not change him for anyone because he is the best.

Although he would never admit it to you but when he sees you laugh a lot or have a close bond with someone else if he makes him feel like you are replacing him he is a drama queen!

🔸Kiss - Are they good kissers? How was the first kiss?

This man. Of course he is.

His kisses come with combos, it's not just kissing you and that's it, no. He always touches you there and there while his mouth captures you. Give him compliments that he loves it and it will make the session more passionate.

As for the first kiss, as extroverted, arrogant and flirtatious as it is, it was you who gave it to him. A short and shy kiss, but you still left him speechless.

🔸Confession of love - How would you confess to your partner?

He liked you very much and longed to have you as a companion, but he never dared to tell you, perhaps out of fear. That night he saw him nervous, he barely followed your conversation until you asked him if something was wrong. And at that moment he told you, shy.

You had never seen it like this before, today with the passing of time you live joking about it.

🔸Marriage - Do you want to get married? How do you propose? What would marriage be like?

It is not a necessity for him to get married. He is lazy to organize the entire event and even more so, to be in the news and for the press to stick their noses in him at an event like this. Although after years of relationship he could come to consider it, he likes the image of you with a ring on your fingers.

His proposal would be quite cliché, this man is a true lover, "make yourself pretty and we'll go out to dinner." Perhaps an evening under the moon with some wine. Until it was time to talk about his feelings towards you to later show you the ring. You jumped into his arms delighted.

The celebration literally depends on you, he will prefer something intimate but if you want to make your entrance with a bouquet of flowers and a beautiful white dress, he will also agree.

🔸 Nicknames-What do they call the s/o of him?

He loves to call you anything except what your name is, don't get me wrong, he loves your name, it's just that his ego increases when he calls you nicknames, because only he can call you that.

Baby, love, darling, pretty, princess, and the one who embarrasses you the most and you tell him to stop, queen of my days.

🔸 On Cloud Nine - What are they like when they're in love? Is it obvious to others? How do they express their feelings?

It's super obvious, the heroes close to him know you perfectly, not because their talkative nature exposes everything about you, but because somehow or another they found out that he had something with someone because he wasn't as hysterical and infuriating as before lol.

If he wants some advice or just a chat to kill patrol time, he'll tell Mirko a few things. Who always teases and wants to meet you.

🔸PDA - Are they sincere about their relationship? Do you brag about your partner in front of others? Or are they rather shy about kissing etc. when others are watching?

He is shameless, I don't think he will desperately kiss you when there are cameras pointing or too many people around, but rest assured that when you go out on a date or there are visitors at home he will have no problem giving you affection. The minimum is to take your hand, waist or shoulders. That always will.

🔸Romance - How romantic are they? What would you do to make your partner happy? Cliché or rather creative?

Super romantic, I've already mentioned it, he's a real heartthrob. A casanova. He is a cliché type but also creative, believe me that for his part the spark will never end.

🔸Value - How important is the relationship to them? What value does it have compared to other things in your life?

You are his priority, number one. There is nothing that is above your relationship. Today he looks at the past and realizes how monotonous his life was without you.

🔸Wild - A random Fluff Headcanon.

He is a great dancer. Not hip hop and stuff, I mean slower, more sensual music.

The first time they danced it was because you played one of those songs jokingly but you were surprised at how well she moved. How one hand held yours and the other your waist. What's more, it was he who taught you since you got confused and broke the romantic bubble with laughter.

🔸XOXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and hug?

It's a fucking tick. Obviously he's going to hug you and kiss you until you drop. He constantly needs to touch you and be close to you, as I said before, his love language is physical contact.

#bnha x reader #fluff alphabet #alphabet #hawks x reader #takami keigo

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hd-junglebook · 2 months

Text

Neutral

Part 6.5

Lets pretend this chapter doesn't exist queens lol

word count - 2353

The dim light flickers overhead, casting elongated shadows that dance across the walls, mirroring the uncertainty looming over the makeshift surgery. the sounds of the outside world— lightning cracks lighting up the sky, the occasional howl of the wind —filter into the dropship.

Clarke's focus is split between her wounded friend and the urgent instructions crackling through the radio. Abby's voice, a lifeline in the chaos, is both a source of comfort and pressure. “Clarke honey, how deep is it?” Abby questions, her mother's voice cuts through the static.

"Well, I can't tell how deep it goes," she admits. Abby and Jackson exchange worried glances. Abby's voice filters through the static again. "That's alright, just don't remove the knife yet," she instructs.

Clarke nods as she processes Abby's instructions, Raven is pacing by Finn, her restless energy palpable as she moves back and forth near Finn. Clarke hands her a canister. “Hey, here, sterilize your hands.” Raven takes the moonshine and drinks a large sip, before pouring some on her hands.

The clinking of the metal canister against Raven's trembling fingers adds to the cacophony of sounds filling the dropship, blending with the distant voices on the radio and Clarke's own inner turmoil. "Clarke, do you see any fluid?" Abby ask.

Clarke's brow furrows in concentration as she processes Abby's question, her gaze focused intently on Finn's wound. But before she can respond. As the voices blend and overlap, Clarke's frustration mounts. "Damn it!" Clarke curses under her breath, she turns to Raven, her voice cutting through the noise with authority. "Clear the room!" she commands.

Raven nods in understanding and takes charge of the situation. She charges towards the group of delinquents, her voice ringing out above the din. "Everyone! Upstairs! Now! Let's go!" she calls out

In the dim light, Clarke's hands move with precision as she carefully touches Finn, her movements deliberate and measured, she calls out "He feels a little warm." Raven, ever vigilant, turns on her heel and rushes towards Finn joining Clarke by his side.

"That's alright, fever sometimes accompanies trauma," she reassures, her voice calm yet authoritative. "Clarke, I need you to tell me if there is any fluid leaking from the wound." After a moment of silence, she responds hesitantly, "No."

Abby's response is barely audible, a whispered acknowledgment of their luck. "Pleural membrane's intact," she murmurs under her breath before addressing Clarke directly. "That's good. That's actually really good. You got lucky," she says, her words a balm to Clarke's frayed nerves.

Raven's smile is infectious as she looks down at Finn, her breath coming in short bursts as adrenaline courses through her veins. "Hear that? You're lucky," she says, her voice a mixture of relief and disbelief.

As the storm outside intensifies, the dropship is rocked by powerful gusts of wind, causing the metal walls to creak and groan under the strain. Debris pelts the exterior with a deafening cacophony, each impact sending tremors rippling through the cramped interior.

…

Harper kneels next to you, her brow creased in concern as she looks you over. "Her hands are cut up but that shouldn't make her so pale and weak," she says to Clarke. Clarke spares you a brief glance before returning focus to Finn. "She's probably in shock. See if you can get her to drink some water."

Harper nods, grabbing a canteen and bringing it to your lips. The cool water revives you a bit, but exhaustion still weighs heavy on your limbs. "Just rest," Harper soothes, brushing hair back from your clammy forehead.

Inside, Abby's steady voice guides Clarke through the delicate task of removing the blade from Finn's side. With trembling hands, Clarke works methodically, her focus unwavering but just as Clarke's hand hovers over the blade, a particularly fierce gust of wind strikes the dropship with brute force, knocking everyone off balance.

Clarke and Finn are sent sprawling to the ground, the impact jolting through your body like an electric shock. For a heart-stopping moment, the dropship is consumed by darkness, the only sound the howling of the wind and the frantic pounding of hearts. As the dust settles and the dim emergency lights flicker back to life, relief floods the cramped space.

As Clarke struggles to her feet, you stand at the ready, your heart pounding in your chest as you survey the scene before you. Raven's concern is evident as you make your way over to her, Harper's steady hand at your side providing much-needed support.

"Hey, are you okay?" Raven prodded, her voice tinged with worry as she takes in your disheveled appearance. You manage a weak smile, attempting to reassure her. "I'll be fine," you reply quietly. "Just a bit shaken up." Raven's brow furrows in concern as she studies you, her eyes scanning your face for any sign of injury. "You sure? You look like you've seen a ghost," she says with genuine concern.

Before you can respond, Clarke's voice cuts through the air, "Yeah, you look like death warmed over," she quips teasingly, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. You manage a weak chuckle at Clarke's remark, grateful for the brief moment of levity.

…

Clarke lets out a long breath as she ties off the final suture in Finn's side, her hands steady despite the exhaustion creeping in. His skin is clammy and pale, early signs of infection setting in. She smoothes a hand over his feverish forehead, praying the procedure worked.

At the crackle of the radio, Clarke turns to see her mother Abby requesting a private conversation. " Clarke. Clarke, wait. Raven, could you give us a minute?" she asks. Raven nods, moving back to keep vigil over Finn but Clarke declines instructing raven to stay with Finn as she makes her way to the third level of the dropship.

As the screen flickers on, Kane's face appears. Your shoulders relax slightly at the sight of his familiar, comforting presence. Raven, ever perceptive, senses your need for privacy and nods in understanding, gesturing for Harper to follow her as she steps away, leaving you alone with Kane.

Taking a deep breath, you walk toward him, your fingers trembling slightly with anticipation. "Kane," you say, your voice barely above a whisper, "I wish you were here." There's a brief pause before Kane responds, a sad, sympathetic smile on his face. "I wish I were there too," he replies. "But you're stronger than you know. you're not alone, y/n.” you nod at him, glancing down to your bandages before Kane speaks again. “"Y/n, you look pale. What happened?"

You hesitate for a moment, debating how much to reveal, before deciding on honesty. "I got into some trouble," you admit, your voice tinged with resignation. "Sliced my hands open, but I think I'll be fine."

Kane's expression softens with sympathy as he listens to your explanation, a silent understanding passing between you despite the miles separating you. "Take care of yourself, y/n," he says, his voice heavy with emotion. "And remember, I'm here for you, no matter what."

You turn away from the radio, the sickly feeling settles back into the pit of your stomach. You continue walking away but darkness begins to cloud your eyes once more. a sudden commotion breaks out behind you. Finn begins to seize, his body wracked with convulsions, and you feel a similar sensation coursing through your own veins.

Raven and Harper rush to your sides, their panicked cries for Clarke pierce through the haze of agony. “Clarke! They’re seizing!” The world spinning wildly around you as you cling to consciousness with all your strength. Clarke rushes down to assess the situation, her face paling when she sees you and Finn seizing in tandem, the truth hits like a punch to the gut—both you and Finn have been poisoned. “Get my mom on the radio now!”

But Raven shakes her head, distraught. "The storm's blocking all communication. Please don't let him die."

Clarke's expression hardens with determination. She squeezes Raven's shoulder. "I won't let him die. I promise." Then she runs to Finn's side. She rushes off to attend to Finn, leaving you in Harper's care, you feel another wave of dizziness wash over you.

Harper does her best to soothe you as another seizure takes hold, your back arching off the floor. Helpless tears fill her eyes as your body contorts in her arms, her steady hands wipe your face with a damp rag. Despite her efforts, the seizures continue to wrack your body, each convulsion sending shockwaves of pain coursing through your veins.

Finally, the convulsions ebb. You sag back, drained and gasping. Harper gently mops your fevered brow, her soft voice encouraging you to keep fighting. Though your limbs feel like lead, you manage to push yourself up on shaking arms. The world tilts around you, but the rolling in your stomach has ceased for now.

Harper helps prop you against the wall of the dropship. "That's it, just breathe," she coaches. She grips your hand tightly, anchoring you against the lingering tremors.

With a defiant curse, you push back against Harpers attempts to stop you, the dizziness threatening to overcome you as you struggle to maintain your balance. Ignoring her protests, you grit your teeth against the pain and stagger towards the ladder.

…

With a trembling hand, you start to climb despite the struggle to maintain your footing. With every last ounce of strength within you, you make it to the top floor, pushing open the hatch. As you emerge into the dim light of the upper level, the world spins wildly around you, but you refuse to give up.

You draw closer to the tied-up Grounder, Bellamy and Clarke halt their torture, their expressions a mixture of surprise and concern as they take in your frail frame. The bruises on the Grounder's face stand out in stark relief against his tan skin. He meets your stare evenly as stop walking.

"Which vial is it?" you croak out between a gasp for air, searching for any sign of recognition in his eyes. But he remains unresponsive, his gaze flickering towards Octavia. You catch his eye for a fleeting moment, a silent exchange passing between you before your gaze falls upon the knife still lying on the ground.

With a shaky hand, you reach for the knife, the blade glinting in the dim light, your fingers closing around the hilt with trembling precision. The weight of the knife in your hand is a sobering reminder of the choices that lie ahead, the line between right and wrong blurring in the dim light of the dropship.

You pull Octavia to your chest, pressing the cold steel of the blade against her neck. “Please,” you begged, tears streaming down your face. “I don't want to hurt anyone, but I have to save Finn.”

The Grounder's eyes widen in fear, his muscles tensing as he struggles against his restraints. "Tell me which vial, or I'll slit her throat right here." The words come out harsher than you intended, but you know you have to do whatever it takes to save Finn.

As the air grows hotter in the room, a wave of dizziness washes over you, your sickly form swaying with the effort to stay upright. But you refuse to let weakness overtake you, clinging to consciousness with all your strength as you await the Grounder's response.

Bellamy rushed forward into your line of sight, trying to reason with you. 'Let her go, y/n,' he demanded. 'You don't know what you're doing!'

But you refuse to yield. The weight of the knife in your hand felt comforting, giving you a sense of power and control. “I know he won't let her die,” you rebutted. With a defiant glare, you pushed Bellamy aside and focused back on the grounder. 'Which vial is it?' You repeat again, pressing the knife closer to Octavia's neck.

From beneath you, Octavia's voice trembled. 'Y/N, please, don't do this,' she pleaded. “I don't want to see anyone else get hurt.”

With a jerk of his head, the Grounder directs Clarke towards the correct vial, his gaze unwavering as she shouts out a confirmation before rushing downstairs to Finn's aid. You hesitate for a moment, wondering if you can trust the Grounder's words. But then you remember the look in Octavia's eyes, the desperation and fear, and you know you have no other choice. With a sigh of relief, you release your grip on Octavia, allowing her to collapse to the ground beneath you.

You could see the pain and betrayal in their eyes, and you knew that you had crossed a line that could never be uncrossed. With a shaky breath, you apologize for your actions, your voice barely above a whisper as you show her your hands, the cuts reopened and fluid seeping out. Octavia's expression softens with understanding as she takes in the extent of your injuries.

…

Emerging from the dropship, you felt grateful for the sun. The hues beat down on your skin, warming you after your day of cold and darkness. You took a deep breath, trying to shake off the memories of the hurricane that had almost swept you away with it.

campers working tirelessly to clean up the aftermath of the storm. The air was heavy with the scent of mud and debris, and the sound of voices raised echoed through the clearing. The camp was in shambles.

Bellamy approached you, his expression guarded as he stopped at your side. You could feel the anger radiating off of him, the unspoken words hanging in the air. "I'll never save you again," he says with a hint of bitterness. "So don't take my actions to heart."

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. You never relied on Bellamy to protect you, to save you from any danger. But during the hurricane, he had left you behind, choosing to save others instead. You decided to put Finn before yourself and it was clearly costing you more than you thought.

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whyareyouhere66 · 2 years

Text

Charlie Conway x Reader - Exile

Charlie Conway x Gender-Neutral Reader

Angst - I’ve been thinking of maybe doing a thing, where I write stories/one shots that are based off song lyrics. Not like a song fic, per say, but just one lyric from a song and basing a story off of it.

“I think I’ve seen this film before…and I didn’t like the ending”

[Taylor Swift ft Bon Iver, Exile. 2020]

Is it a bit unfair to name this fic after the entire song, even though the song isn’t necessarily in it? Sure, but I didn’t feel like writing out the lyrics that inspired this one. So yeah, enjoy. warnings: mentions of toxic relationships, fighting, cursing. I think that’s all?

Reader is the guitar player in a band, and Charlie is y’know, a hockey player for the ducks.

Part 2

“Charlie, please just-“

“No y/n!! I don’t need you telling me what to do too!” Charlie says angrily, storming past you. The door slams loudly behind him, causing you to wince at the abrupt noise.

You let out a sigh. “Charlie…” you mutter, exhaustion clearly evident in your voice.

This was your 3rd or 4th fight, just in the past 2 weeks.

You heard his footsteps marching down the hall, quickly becoming distant as silence once again filled your room. “What am I doing wrong…?”

Salty tears began to stream down your face, any previous efforts to push them down failing. “Am I really that bad of partner? Why- why does this keep happening to me, I-“

You choked out a sob, hand going to cover your mouth instinctively as you sink into the mattress of the small, twin sized bed.

Tears fell and collected at the top of your hand, spilling over the side of your finger and continuing to fall until it landed on your lap.

Ugly noises erupted from your throat, rumbling through your chest. “Please, please tell me what I’m doing wrong…please..” you whisper, eyes squeezed shut.

You sat there for a couple of minutes, the worst part of your crying fit slowly calming down as your breathing slowed. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the familiar green fabric of Charlie’s favorite hoodie. He’d left it there a couple days ago, leaving it on your desk chair after a study date.

You reached out and grabbed the green material, pulling the hoodie over your head.

His smell lingered on the fabric, neither relieving or worsening the dreadful feeling in your stomach.

You curled into a ball, face hitting the pillow as you continued to cry.

You didn’t bother pulling the blankets over yourself, his hoodie warming you as you cried yourself to sleep, the same thoughts of stress and sadness swirling through your brain.

*****

The Eden-Hall cafeteria was bustling with students and teachers alike, all chatting loudly amongst themselves. At a table just to the left of the cafeteria, you sat with your group of friends- band mates, to be exact. With a ham and cheese sandwich in one hand and a pencil in the other, Cameron (the bass player) was scribbling down ideas for a new song. To the right of you was Amelia, the pianist. And to the left, was Asher. He was on drums.

“Alright- now I think we should add a guitar riff here- y/n, you got that?”

Cameron asks, looking up at you. You nod, making a mental note to work on a good riff after classes.

“Ooh-ooh wait I got an idea for a chorus-“

Jasmine said enthusiastically, stealing the pencil and paper from Cameron (despite his protests.) She was our lead singer, and a good one at that. Best singer I’ve ever met, that’s for sure.

While she scribbled something down in the notepad, I noticed the Ducks walking into the cafeteria. At the front of them all was Charlie, accompanied by Fulton and Kenny. The sweat from hockey practice caused his jersey to cling to his skin, and his hair to stick to his beet-red face messily.

‘Guess coach has really been over-working them recently, huh…’

You ignored the voices of your friends, instead deciding to get up and walk to where the hockey players were. “Charlie.” You say, the boy’s face turning to meet yours.

A few of the ducks glanced at you, but since you didn’t talk to them as much it didn’t go any further then nods and a few waves. “What do you want, y/n.” He says. ‘Harsh, alright…’

Ignoring the clearly harsh tone in his words, you ask; “can we talk, please?”

He shakes his head, turning away from you. “Cant, I gotta get lunch.”

“Please, it’ll just be quick-“ you pleaded with him, stepping closer to him so you could still be seen out of the side of his eye. “Coach has been extra strict on us recently, I have to eat.” He says sternly, clearly exhausted. You felt slightly guilty for dragging him away from the well-deserved food, but it’s been so long since you’ve had a real conversation and that needed to end.

“I’ll give you the rest of my lunch, c’mon Charlie, please?”

He hesitates for a moment, before accepting the offer. He lets you drag him out of the cafeteria, the remainder of your lunch in his hand.

“So what’s this about?” He asks, his mouth being stuffed with what was previously your sandwich. You take a deep breath, preparing yourself mentally. You’d rehearsed what you were to say to him, and now you finally had the chance. “I wanna talk about us.” You say, and he pauses eating for a moment. Looking up at you suspiciously, he cautiously takes another bite of the food. “..what about us.”

‘Just like you practiced..’

“I know, things are really stressful right now. You’re working your ass off with hockey, I’ve got my band and stuff. It’s a lot. But it’s just..” you pause for a moment, taking another breathe, and turning to face the hotheaded boy.

Charlie makes an odd face, as if he had eaten something sour. “…what was that face?” You ask curiously. “This sandwich is disgusting.” He says, dramatically forcing himself to swallow it. You scoff. “Alright your highness well I don’t have any other food, so if you’d just listen to me-“

“I was promised food. I’m hungry, y/n at hockey practice-“ you groan. “Will you forget about that for just a second? I’m trying to talk to you about something important right now-“

“I can’t listen on an empty stomach.” He says, a hint of anger and annoyance underlying the heavy, sarcastic tone. You look at him, and exhausted, disbelieving look in your eyes. The look lingers there, even when you turn your head away from him for just a moment.

“We’re fighting about sandwiches now, I can’t get in a serious conversation in without a fight, and it’s about fucking sandwiches..” the mumbles are mildly incoherent, being rushed out of your throat as all the stress was beginning to go to your head.

Charlie looks at you, somewhat offended. “What’s that supposed to mean.”

“Oh my god!” The words come out mimicking those of a shout, throwing your hands up in frustration. “I mean all we ever do is fight anymore Charlie! I’m tired of it!” You say.

The look you gave him was almost pleadingly. He did nothing more then glare, knowing you were right. But his ego wouldn’t let him admit that.

“Things are a lot right now, yes, but that doesn’t mean we get to treat each other like shit.” He remains silent.

“I’ve been, in relationships like this before. Toxic, and they’ve never ended well for either party…” you say, trailing off at the end.

“…well then maybe it’s not me, who’s the problem..if this has happened to you so often.”

The words stung, and he could tell. Your hands shook slightly, and despite the overwhelming guilt that hit him after he said that, he didn’t correct himself. “I can’t..do this..anymore..” you say, it almost coming out as a whisper.

A newfound fear strikes Charlie, his head snapping up at you. “…what?”

For once in the past couple of weeks, Charlie looked at you with emotional eyes- just this time, it wasn’t anger.

“Look, Charlie…I want you to be happy, and I want me..to be happy.”

“And we can be-“

“Yes, just not right now. Too much happening, with your hockey and my band…”

The boy looked at you desperately, already knowing what was about to come. “I want you to be the right person…but, it’s just the wrong time.” You say, e/c eyes glossing over with tears. “No, no please y/n I can fix this-“ panic was evident in his voice, stepping closer to you in the fear of you walking away.

“You can’t fix everything, Char…you’re only human..I think you forget that, sometimes.”

With that, you turned and brushed right past him into the cafeteria. Tears threatening to spill. you did the best you could to push them down upon arriving at your friends table, ignoring the questioning looks they shot you. It didn’t work, of course, Amelia pulling you into her side comfortingly as tears spilled out of your eyes and down your s/c cheeks.

Still in the hallway, Charlie stood there stunned. He lost you, you walked away just like he’d been scared of. “Fuck…” he muttered, he too beginning to cry. The reality of the past few weeks had finally hit him, and it hit him hard.

“Charlie?”

He spun around startled, met with the brown eyes of his fellow friend and teammate, Connie. Once she saw the wet streaks on his face, a sympathetic look took over her features. Without a word, she pulled him into a hug to which, surprisingly, he returned. The motherly-like embrace only strengthened his tears, the salty taste slipping past his lips occasionally as Connie patiently waited it out.

“I’m sorry…” he mumbled, the words being incoherent and unheard by his friend.

“I’m sorry…”

should I make a part 2?

#charlie conway x reader #charlie conway #gender nuetral reader #angst #mighty ducks #the mighty ducks #charlie Conway angst

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blackiraven · 11 months

Text

I recently played “Vampire: TMB”, so it was born...

This rough sketch was written in a few nights when I had free time between writing my master's thesis. Therefore, I do not know if it is possible for this vampire au to continue.

The Bloody Kiss of a Nightmare.

Again, night slowly crept out from behind the distant horizon and pounced on the cramped city. Darkness filled all the small corners, swallowed the inaccessible tops of multi-storey buildings. The rays of the warm sun could no longer protect mortals, and therefore the creatures of evil once again broke out into the fresh, frosty air. Hunger and thirst with internecine strife pulled them, like a leash, on a new hunt.

And only in one place did darkness and gloom always live. A lair hidden from everyone underground, a real frozen crypt right under the city center. The perfect home for one of the most dangerous creatures. The stone walls absorbed all the noise of streets and houses coming from above. Several small rooms seemed endless because of the viscous blackness in which the interior items were drowned. The owner saw everything perfectly and was guided. But the light sources were still present here: a lot of burning candles lined up in long rows and illuminated the road. It was a small gesture of hospitality.

The sounds of light and calm footsteps resounded on all sides. The newly arrived guest knew perfectly well and realized where fate had brought him today. Riddler's cane was confidently knocking on the floor, creating a rhythm that relieves tension. All the short way he was carefully accompanied by a tall and nimble shadow, jumping from wall to wall. The twitching flame of the candles molded different images and different creatures from human nightmares out of the shadows. - You came to me... - Scarecrow whispered with satisfaction and even a little surprised when Riddler reached the library - a source of valuable knowledge about vampires, ancient magic and alchemy. This collection accumulated over decades is always proudly displayed to every visitor of the abode of fear. - Your invitation was too attractive.- a silk-gloved hand slipped noiselessly under the emerald jacket and took out a neatly opened envelope. This letter, written in the old-fashioned way, with pen and ink, was brought by the black raven, personally into the hands of Nygma. On paper Crane expressed his great desire to meet with him. And some lines were able to reach out and gently touch the strings of the soul and the curiosity of Riddler.

"Your image is stuck in my head. You collect paper birds from my thoughts and release them into free flight."

Thin threads of darkness intertwined in front of Edward into a viscous clot. From this mixture of whispers and barely perceptible screams of each victim, a tall and thin figure came out to him, covered with patches of black-brown leather sewn with large seams and wrapped with thick ropes. Long hair partially concealed a pale, sharp face. - Hello, Edward. I'm glad you decided to come here. You don't have to be afraid of me.- the hoarse voice tried to sound polite and restrained. The clawed hands slowly reached out to the warm human palm. Riddler did not resist and allowed Scarecrow to take off his glove and kiss the soft skin with thin icy lips.

"My job is to pick up a mask of horror for everyone, but I don't want my art to creep into your mind."

- Nice to meet you, Jonathan. Let me guess, a powerful vampire like you called me in order to... - feeling slight goosebumps caused by the dead cold, Edward smoothly pulled his hand back to stroke the monster standing in front of him on his sunken cheek.

- Yes... I want to taste you... drink you.- baring his long, thin fangs, Crane growled excitedly and buried his nose in the tender palm in order to enjoy the smell and warmth of the blood circulating in the vessels a little more. When ordinary people fall into the lair of a Scarecrow, they are doomed to cruel death and complete draining, but Riddler was special. The blood in his veins is unique, valuable. Bloody ambrosia, vampire wine, moon blood – there are many names, but the meaning is the same. This magnificent taste will bring any vampire to ecstasy and overwhelm with crushing power. Edward Nygma actively uses his peculiarity and quickly took a cozy place among the vampires of Gotham. There are only a few like him all over the world, and at the moment it is unknown how the owners of this blood appear. That is why Riddler was never afraid of vampires, but, on the contrary, tamed them and subdued them. The most obedient, loyal and dutiful are rewarded with a couple of sips of golden blood. Killing or incarcerating these precious people is punishable for any creature, so Eddie has long since exchanged human society for vampire society.

The invitation from Jonathan Crane is a great success, as he is a very strong, cruel and deadly vampire, sorcerer and scientist. And Nygma wished to have such a useful ally. - Oh, how straightforward. I like the openness of your kind. And how can fear satisfy a genius?- Riddler switched to a playful whisper, which pleased Scarecrow. The glove fell off the second hand and there was more pleasant warmth. These touches felt different and stirred up everything long dead inside. He came close to his guest and carefully examined the undistorted fear face. A sly smile, but not cutting the spine, a soft and full of life look. Soaked in dark magic, the body clearly caught every breath and heartbeat. A charming and alluring melody that will evoke memories of a past life for everyone and awaken echoes of faded human feelings.

"I began to be interested in the magic of dreams, as I would love to visit your dreams."

- The embodiment of fear will never encroach on you. I can come to you in dangerous moments - just think about me. Your best subordinates will be able to learn some useful things from me, if they can survive it, of course. In return, I want the opportunity to study your phenomenon and taste it. But don't flirt with my loyalty, Mr. Nygma, it can make me very angry...- in order to think soberly and not accidentally overdo it, John, reluctantly, was forced to stop the velvet touches. He is one of those who was able to break the bonds of his relatives and kill the one who turned him, take all strength for himself, and then also get and absorb the past generation.

At first it was only a scientific interest, a craving for study and discovery in a clouded offshoot. But after finding out the details about the first known owner of moon blood in Gotham, the vampire began to attract something to him. - Perfect. And you haven't seen how I play my games yet. You might like it.- but Edward was not at all afraid of Crane's well-known reputation, for him it was a new and large-scale game, a long and exciting round. Scarecrow's offers and patronage completely suited him. The figures were placed, the cards were distributed. The first move is to conclude a contract. Riddler defiantly loosened his green tie and unbuttoned the first buttons of his white shirt.

- Do you trust me with your neck? Will you let me leave a mark and make you mine?- Jonathan shook his head curiously. Straight claws carefully walked up the chest and straightened the ironed collar. The source of the holy blood opened to him like a flower awakened after winter, like a juicy fruit that is about to fall from a tree. The smell of this man captivated the vampire, intoxicated him and invited him. - Believe me, I am confident in myself. And in you, Professor Crane.- with a strong grip, Riddler grabbed Scarecrow's shoulders and brazenly pressed himself against an almost new ally so as not to lose his balance in the future. But Jonathan quickly joined in a short flirtation and picked him up, holding him by the waist and head. The bared fangs approached the skin, the nostrils inhaled an attractive smell again, the long tongue slowly licked the appropriate place. - Mmm... when is a human's blood ready for vampire consumption? When it boils up with anticipation…-

"Will you allow me to taste a piece of you and appropriate it for myself?"

Abruptly, like a beast, Crane clung to Nygma's neck, right into the cherished artery. For the first time, Scarecrow's bite was intentionally painless. Bloody ambrosia poured in large streams down his throat to his stopped heart. Riddler immediately tensed, stiffened, but after a second he went limp in his hands and began to moan loudly from the pleasure that a bite creates by mutual consent. Deep sighs and shudders awakened a vampire growl. It was indescribable, every sip gave a feeling of sweet oblivion and rebirth. It was as if there was no turning into a vampire. All the forgotten human pleasures are entwined in a single euphoria. The grains of good memories formed into rich and colorful pictures. The warm, spicy drink turned his head and carried far-far away that he could reach the moon. The blood he drank filled him with strength and new thoughts, reflections. The incessant human groans of bliss made the harsh vampire melt and drop a couple of unsalted tears. John will forever remember the scent of blood and the special rhythm of the heartbeat with breathing, by which he will be able to find Edward among the crowd, and even underground. This valuable life is in his hands and now he will not allow anyone to take his treasure. At the right moment, Scarecrow stopped and licked a deep bite mark. Riddler, still arriving in the semblance of an orgasm, lost consciousness due to blood loss and continued to breathe deeply. - Finally, you're mine... - Crane licked lips that had absorbed the blood and then kissed Nygma to grab a little more vital warmth. Now the embodiment of horror and nightmare protects the mortal prince of puzzles, who will cherish his tamed vampire. Perhaps this is the beginning of something more than just a union.

"I collect other people's screams, crying and pleas for mercy. But now my goal is your groan, which will rise above all the exhibits."

#if there are mistakes in the text then I sorry #yes I love romantic John #vampire au #fanfic #scriddler #riddlecrow #scarecrow #riddler #jonathan crane #edward nygma #Blacki's fanfiction #bad english

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