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fanaticsnail · 7 months

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You Kissed the Clown? Part 1

(Notes: Hello new friends! I have found myself fallen under the spell of the flashy fool himself and felt compelled to create something for him.)

(EDIT: This was my first ever fic on Tumblr. It was only ever meant to be a one-shot and it turned into a 15 part series 🤦‍♀️. I have so appreciated each and every one of you liking, commenting and inboxing me about this series and others. Thank you so so much 🥹)

(S1:E2 OPLA timeline)

Upon waking, you found yourself in an unfamiliar environment. Stuffed into a small crate with your three travelling companions, your dark haired friend referred to as a “crew”, your senses were still groggy from the crimson powder exploded above your small rigging.

After your “Captain”, Luffy, disclosed to the group he had consumed the map to the grand line to “keep it in a safe place”, the crate opened to reveal a darkened space. Applause rang throughout the area and your eyes were drawn to a spotlight being placed on a man dressed as a white lion. Several circus-type performers littered the room and directed the large crowd to respond with prompts written on large white panels held by several members. You noticed the features of the crowd were bearing terrified expressions, crying streaks littering their cheeks and some crusted over wounds adorning their faces and bodies.

Through the small opening of the red and white tent, a displeased figure appeared out of the shadows. You were immediately mesmerised by the figure, brightly coloured facial paint adorning his cartoonish features, a large brim hat with blue tassels hung over the folded edge and a collection of mismatched stripes, spots, fur and feather upon his physique. He had a dangerous air around him, full of malice, ill-temperament and a small amount of desperation amongst his features.

The blue haired man immediately berated his companions, yelling at them for the wrong timing, the queue being off, the lighting contrasting over a lion-like man instead of his own features. You looked to your green-haired swordsman companion, making brief eye contact with him and quirking up your brow in question. He shook his head at you and nodded back to bring your attention to the scene playing before you.

You had no idea how you were among this ragtag trio of misfits, especially as piracy was never an occupation you fancied for yourself. You and those within your family line were skilled jewellers; antiquity restoration, appraisal and fine gold and silver smithery was your trade. You and your father were requested to appear before Captain Morgan and add a new gem encrusted embellishment to his recently acquired new head for his Axe-Hand.

You witnessed the fight that was brought out with Helmeppo and several other marines at the skilled hands of Roronoa Zoro. At that point, your father decided he was no longer going to be working with Captain Morgan; no payment was enough to continue working for a man that allowed his child to bully those lesser than him. You were given a choice then to find your own way in the world and bring attention to your own skilled crafts or to sail home with your father to return to work in the shop as a finery smith. Opting for the former of the two, you bid farewell to your father and found yourself upon the small rigging with three companions of whom you had grown fond of.

Bringing you away from your thoughts and tuning back into the conversation, your gaze fell to your orange-haired friend, Nami, as she attempted to bribe the blue-haired clown with a new crew member with untold abilities. Before you could stop her, she threw Luffy’s straw hat into the air and bolted for the opening of the large tent. Two members of the circus crew managed to drag her back to the group which she then berated the jester before you for destroying the town the tent was situated in. The conviction she held in her voice sounded quite intimidating, but the clown just laughed in response. He used a small knife to cut a piece of apple and place it into his mouth, while nonchalantly saying he didn’t destroy everything in the town – he allowed the townspeople to keep their hands to applaud his act.

You inhaled through your nose deeply and widened your eyes at his comment, breathing out slowly through your mouth while fixating your gaze onto his relaxed form. He continued to look over the four of you with a twinkling smile as he consumed his crisp apple before his gaze fell over you.

“You,” he began, pointing at you with the small knife in his hand, “you have been awfully quiet.” He gestured to the rest of the crew with the same knife, “that one threatened me,” he said pointing at Zoro, “that one attempted to bribe me,” he pointed the knife at Nami while sauntering over to the spot you were situated, next to Luffi and Zoro.

“Your Captain lays claim to what’s rightfully mine,” he continued while stalking your form. Your eyes leave his form to look to your companions.

“Don’t you look away from me!” he yelled suddenly at you, causing you to flinch in response. Your body began to tremble slightly at his demands, not used to threats of great violence being thrown at you at a whim. He almost danced over to your place on the ground, bringing his body within an uncomfortable proximity to your own. He made no effort to hide his gaze raking over your body from the hair on your head to the shoes adorning your feet.

Although he had a large nose that immediately drew your attention to it, you couldn’t help but to notice the hue of his irises hidden amongst white, red and blue paint. The intensity of his gaze was drawing you in like a moth to a flame. The hue was akin to several fine gemstones you worked with in your family’s smithery. Jade, sapphire, tourmaline and emerald being the first stones that sprung to your mind while gazing at the angry and menacing clown before you.

“And what would you do, hm?” he condescendingly smirked at you, “you’re no fighter, by the looks of you.”

You held his gaze, staring deeply into his mischievous teal eyes while searching your mind for a response to his pointed question. He placed the small knife into his breast-pocket within his long fur coat and stalked slowly over to you like an animal prowling over to their meal. You trailed your eyes over his form slowly, raking and sizing him up with a small amount of unbridled suggestion held behind your eyelids.

Unsure if what came over you was bravery, stupidity or something else entirely, you reached your right hand forward and swiftly grasped the mustard coloured cravat hanging tightly from his neck and pulled him into you with all of your strength and successfully closed the distance between your bodies.

He was right of course, you were no fighter. Your skills lay in appraising fine metals, gemstones and hand whittled crafts. You read books filled with fairytales, poetry and refrains whispered between lovers. With your occupation, an aura of charisma would often aid in sales; whether you were doing the buying or the selling. You were known far and wide in your homeland as someone with a small amount of flirtatious charm, which was why you were asked to aid your father in his journey to the “tight-pocket” Captain Morgan. You were to charm him as you did many others, swindling them out of their apprehensions and bringing more berry to the till of your family’s business.

A shocked whimper left the lips of the Genius Jester as you tenderly placed your own lips against his, bringing your left hand to his side and using it to bring his body flush against your own, cradling him into a tender embrace. Your eyes were closed as you deepened the kiss shared between you. You began using your lips to open his and caressing them slightly with your tongue.

You slowly felt him relax into your embrace as he placed one hand to the back of your head and the other hand wove itself around you, placing it to the small of your back. He almost gently laced his gloved hand into your hair and held you tightly against him. He released a stifled gasp into your mouth as the hand on your lower back squeezed slightly, pressing your bodies closer together. You released your right hand and moved it tenderly from his cravat to his jaw, feeling the slightly prickled skin beneath his painted face.

Not a word was uttered, silence engulfing the space. In this instance, nothing existed to either of you apart from the moment you were sharing with one another. The map? Gone from both of your minds as you held each other tenderly. You arched your back, pressing your chest further into him as you began lacing your fingers into the hair peaking out from the bottom of his broad hat. You snaked your left hand around his waist, beneath his fur coat and raked your fingertips over his skin, causing him to moan into your mouth and cradle you further into him.

You utilized your head to nudge his own head upward for you to deepen the kiss further. Trailing your hand from the hair under his hat down towards his neck and exploring his pectorals, you massaged down his body while holding him tightly and skillfully in this heated embrace. Your fingers began to explore the flesh of his back, lifting the material slightly to expose his flesh to your administrations.

He did not withhold any sounds from escaping his lips, as small groans released from his lips between kisses alerted you to how much he was truly enjoying your touch. You even allowed some gasps to escape your own lips as you continued to caress, massage and cradle him to yourself as he held you.

You were not foreign to the romantic touch of others by any means, but this kiss felt unlike anything you had experienced prior. You could almost feel his desire for affection as he hungrily held your body against him. Waves of loneliness escaped from his form and onto you as he began to be filled instead with your freely given affection, unlike the painted women he would pay berry for their time.

He groaned slightly and furrowed his brows together at the thought, releasing your lips from his own and holding you to him. His eyes bore into your own as your lips parted from one another, almost gazing into your very soul with the intensity he held.

Without warning, he pushed you from his body and swatted your hands from their position on his back. He turned to face away from you and brought his gaze to your captain before monologuing.

“Ok, here end the theatrics,” he began as the spot lights filter onto the four of you.

“I know one of you have my map, and I’m gonna get it back,” he said with malicious intent.

“What was it you said, rubber boy? That it was ‘in a safe place’?” he mocked with a small glint in his eye. Luffy looked to you in confusion.

“Oh, don’t look so surprised. I have eyes and ears everywhere,” he laughed. You trailed your eyes over his features, noticing the paint over his lips appeared more smudged than it had been moments prior. You then began to imagine how your face may appear after you shared the kiss with him moments prior.

“So,” he clapped his hands together and looked to his gang of circus members, “please make our guests uncomfortable in the green room.”

You felt hands clasp your wrists. You looked around to see a large man in a leotard grasping your form before you looked back to the clown. Your eyes met briefly once more, an unfamiliar emotion that could almost be described as a combination apprehension, longing and desire located in his eyes as your body was dragged to another location, this time without your captain amongst you.

You held little resistance as your body was escorted away. You looked to Luffy once more and attempted to reassure him with a nod as you walked briskly to be caged with your friends.

Nami was placed in a small cage suspended above the ground, whereas Zoro was bound to a large spinning wheel. As they were placed into these positions, their movements protesting and making it difficult for your captors to place them in these restricting positions; you held no such apprehension.

An aura of calm was coming from your form, confusing the large leotard-clad man. You placed your wrists together and held them out in front of you with a shrug and almost taunted him with how easy you were making this for him. His brows knit together in a puzzled fashion as he began to bind your hands in rope and tie you to a post away from your companions.

Once successfully restrained, the circus people left you with your thoughts as cries of laughter were echoing to the chamber that sounded like it was being pulled from the mouth of your captain.

“You kissed the clown?” uttered your green-haired, tri-sword wielding companion in a low accusatory tone, “why did you kiss the clown?”

You laughed slightly at the question, looking down at your bonds as you wiggled your hands against the tightly clasped rope, testing it for any sort of weakness amongst the restraint.

“I honestly can say I have no idea,” you smiled while pressing your knee against the post you were bound to with a small shove to assess its strength.

“It was incredibly stupid,” Nami commented from her enclosure, “if you were that touch-starved, I’m sure Zoro or Luffy wouldn’t have minded if you wanted to give them a little smooch.”

You turned your gaze over to Nami momentarily before rolling your eyes.

“Oh please,” you replied, “Zoro, I’m sure you are a wonderful kisser but unfortunately you don’t quite have what I’m looking for.”

He scoffed slightly at the comment while you moved your hands down to the hilt of your belt and began searching the folds of your skirts with your wrists.

“And if you don’t mind me asking, what does the dangerous clown-man have that Zoro doesn’t?” Nami asked with a teasing tone. Your wrists find the object within your belt and you smiled broadly, gripping it and bringing it to the light.

“Right now?” you said with a small twinkle in your eyes as you held the small object up to your new friends, "a knife."

For the first time in a while, the three of you shared a laugh before you all began to attempt an escape from the bonds of the green room.

Part 2

#buggy x you #buggy the clown x reader #one piece #one piece live action #opla #buggy #captain buggy #kiss #creative writing #you #buggy x reader #buggy x y/n #unnamed reader #y/n no name #original character #buggy x female reader #buggy x kiss #x reader

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guessm0del · 8 months

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Little Red Riding Hood

Chapter Two: An Uninvited Guest

Summary: Living a life of caution for as long as she can remember, Y/N has never stayed too long in one place, always moving from town to town in hopes to hide her identity. With the Hunters Moon coming, she knows she must be extra careful, as the local culture resides heavily in the hunting of her kind. One night, when a cloaked figure unveils her secret and narrowly escapes, Y/N finds herself in a desperate situation: kill or be killed. With no face to go by, she must now search through the townsfolk before the stranger can spread the truth about her. But the task proves more than difficult when she realises her only lead is a long, crimson cloak.

Genre: horror, fantasy, little red riding hood retelling

Warnings: cursing, stalking, death, heavy smut (later included)

Pairing: redridinghood!Jungwon x femwolf! reader

chapter one here

chapter three here

chapter four here

Midnight air slips through the town square. The small clearing in front of the monastery lays bare, except for a small crow perched above its tallest wing, scrutinising my every move. The townspeople must be sound asleep in their warm beds. It’d be well past midnight by now, seeing as the way the moon slowly sinks across the stars. I glance to the midnight sky, cursing the way its constellations align so perfectly.

God is taunting me on this night.

He too, has seen my sin.

Perhaps he’s seen all along, and has only chosen tonight as the opportune time to tell me. Observing the empty courtyard to my left, I squint at the quiet townhouses in the distance. No red cloaks hurry through the footpaths.

The fool thinks he can hide from me.

The crow hawks a loud farewell and launches into the midnight sky. I hear it wishing me well as it passes. Smiling, I recount all the times they’ve watched on as I’ve killed the innocent. All creatures of the forest have an equal fealty to werewolves. Even birds know there are loyalties that must never be crossed.

Casting a subtle glance back to the monastery, I watch in silence as the town pastor gently closes the gates.

Shit.

Hearing him approach, I suck in an awkward breath and turn to retreat. His presence will only serve as a distraction.

He hurries forward and touches a gentle hand to my shoulder before I can turn away. “Y/N! I’ve been looking for you!”

Taking in a brief moment of freedom, I release a subtle sigh and turn to face my guest.

Pastor Mikaul has aged fairly since the last time I had seen him. His eyes droop with age, waning on the edge of exhaustion with chunks of hair that seemed to stick to his forehead like a mop.

In Mikeals mind, God was the greatest diety of all, giving sanctuary and hope to all those who send him their precious prayer.

I tilt my head to the side, observing the stern callouses that paint his palms. Some god indeed, stripping his faithful of freedom and leaving them to wander around a chapel all day like mindless fools. Blinded by their faith, High Priests in Avion spend their days locked up without a morsel of food or sunlight. They believe praying is the only thing they need to survive. I suppose it’s silly of me to judge, considering I’ve spent most of my life adapting to the shadows and living by the rules of the forest.

Pastor Mikeal makes an awkward cough as he takes his hand from my shoulder.

Cringing, I watch him shift closer, giving me a stern expression of disapproval. “The Council and I have been wondering why you haven’t been showing up to Church for our Sunday services.” He nearly whispers as he mentions the Council, pointing narrow glances to every corner of the courtyard before proceeding, “I understand your aunt is gravely ill, but perhaps praying for her good health will do better than neglecting your religious duties. You don’t want to break the Council’s trust now do you my dear?” Just as before, the old cripple goes into a hushed tone when mentioning the Council.

I suppress a smile.

Even the pastor fears them.

Under the guise of hiding a sob, I give each eye a firm pinch and wait impatiently for the tears to fall. I spend the next 10 minutes explaining my absences from church, and my dear aunts depleting health that seems to worsen each day. Waving my arms around on occasion, I weave a delicate tale of a hidden antidote, a difficult journey through the Northern treks of Rangaar, and a kind young woman trying to save her only living relative. In this story, and only in this story, I am the kind young woman. I finish my appeal with a long sob and a heartfelt apology thrown in for for his pride.

I watch through the corner of my eye as he stares uncertainly at the ground, catching the way his eyes twist in discomfort.

I’ve been a cold bitch to the him since the day Helena and I arrived in Avion. He wasn’t expecting this heartfelt reaction.

“My dear girl, if it troubles you so, let’s leave it be as it is for now…” he murmurs, briefly hesitating before giving my back a comforting pat.

I force myself into a stuttering mess. “B-but the Council will still be angry-”

“Don’t you worry about them, I’ll let the Council know of your impending troubles.” Giving me a reassuring pat on the back, he sets off in the opposite direction, leaving me to stand alone in the cold. I feel the sad expression on my face wear thin, moulding into the familiar uniformity of a nothingness.

In twelve days, when the winter solstice has begun, he will die. As will most in this town. Nothing has changed.

Our plans are still set, no matter how delayed.

I watch his figure morph into emptiness, chanting the promise once more in my mind.

They’re all going to die.

I turn to continue my hunt, finding myself pushing for any emotion, any small sign of sympathy, but all I feel is my heart sink at the knowledge that it’ll never hold more power over me than my head.

___

The South side of the forest could easily be considered the joyous reflection of the North. Complete opposites in every way.

Ever since Helena and I arrived in Avion, we’ve spent every spare hunting day covering the grounds of the North and West sides of the woods, using their confines of dark solidarity to our advantage while we hunted in secret.

The only few times I’ve needed to cross into the South was to visit Mary, who lives in a comfortable little cottage on the other side of town.

Leaves crunch beneath my feet with weary pace, leaving me to wonder if someone is actually watching me from afar or if it’s just my paranoia. I shake my head, pulling my lavender dress up to avoid a muddy branch in my path. Mary always fusses over my dresses, warning me not to get them dirty or she’ll be forced to do the one thing I hate most; make more of them. While Helena also pushes the importance of dresses as it eases the process of ‘blending in’ with the townsfolk, I’ve never been particularly fond of the discomfort a gown can bring me. Avion may be a quaint and colourful paradise in Summer and Spring, but in Winter the waters soak down through the small winded mud puddles, making it nearly impossible for any young woman to trek through the forest paths. How most Avion women bear the irritation that comes with wearing sun dresses and gowns everywhere they go, I’ll never know. Upholding the social standards of others has never been a concern of mine. Not with my situation.

I look ahead to the narrow stone path closing in, knowing I must be close. Mary usually insists I bring a map of Avion before setting off on my journey to her cottage, as the both of us know it’s not the easiest little place to find. Little does she know, I have a knack for finding people.

The crunch of leaves beneath my boots gradually soften, signalling I’m close. Mary’s cottage is situated in the centre of the most beautiful part of the forest, where the leaves in her garden shine with delicate care as though they’re watered everyday. Knowing Mary, they probably are. Small slivers of sunlight catch a small cottage coming up to my left. Hues of pink and green hover in small spaces of light above the roof. It’s almost as though Mary’s cottage is where the fairies come to congregate. That wouldn’t surprise me, honestly. I can already picture Mary welcoming them with her cinnamon cocoa and warm smile. Unlike the rest of the townsfolk, Mary has a pure heart filled with patience and compassion for the magical elements. Creatures of myth have never scared her, but that’s only because she’s never met a creature of dark magic.

She wouldn’t accept me, and as much as my affection for her stands firm, I certainly wouldn’t expect her to.

The smell of warm chocolate and pastry fills the air as I approach, pushing all thoughts of acceptance aside. Mary usually waits out the front for my arrival, fussing with my coat and boots so that I can enter comfortably, but today, she’s nowhere in sight. Making my way past the small porch steps, I take off my shoes and go to place them neatly by the door, stopping abruptly when I hear voices coming from inside. She must have a visitor. I glance to the small shoe rack by my side, searching for any shoes that mightn’t belong to Mary. I don’t see any.

Strange.

She hates it when people don’t take their shoes off before entering. Pressing my ear to the door, I listen in silence as I hear Mary’s voice accompanied by that of a males. Before I can catch what they’re saying I hear a loud crash followed by a scream.

Mary.

This was no visitor,

but rather an uninvited guest.

_____________________________________________

Authors Note:

Sheesh that took me forever haha, sorry to everyone who’s been waiting. I’m really going to try and punch out another chapter this week cause I’m getting too invested in my own story LMAO.

No fr, send help💀

Anyway hoes comment in the comment section if you want to be added to the taglist (for those that haven’t already asked)

Taglist: @ramenoil @moonmoongi

#enhypen x female reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen smut #heeseung smut #heeseung x reader #jungwon smut #jungwon x reader #enhypen jungwon #enhypen fluff #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen imagines

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falloutjuli · 1 year

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Back on my shitposting Bullshit. This posts theme is something I had already done on my older writing blog and I always love making headcanons so here it is for JJBA. (Jodio not included yet)

Feel free to drop in my ask box if you miss any character and wanna hear what I think or for literally anything else. (Please remeber to not send in too many charcters, Ill set the limit for now at 6)

Anyways, I hope yall get a kick out of my funky ideas.

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1-8 JoJo’s x Reader - Playing Animal Crossing Together

Wordcount:

Short summary: My personal headcanons on the JoJo’s playing Animal Crossing with references to you and their friends.

Warnings: None. Only wholesomeness here., except for Joseph srynotsry

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Jonathan:

Loves it, huge fan of the tiny wholesome animal game.

Speedwagon showed it to him, knowing Jonathan would love it.

Jonathan puts a big effort into keeping his island pretty, villagers happy, filling the museum, sending gifts and letters to his friends and you.

Most wholesome player you'll ever encounter, that happily trades anything he has.

Loves to buy furniture and clothing for you to surprise you with it.

🌟

Joseph:

Wasn’t that big into it until he discovered the custom pattern function.

Now he's a menace, using loads of cursed patterns to paint his island in and give his villagers ugly shirts.

His own character wears a "Pussy Master" shirt.

Will visit Caesar’s and your island just to mess with you and gift your villagers ugly clothing and furniture.

Avid time skipper.

Biggest troll you two know and yet you love him.

🌟

Jotaro:

Not interested, didn't know what it was until he saw you having fun with it.

He asked Kakyoin what the game is, and he happily showed Jotaro.

Jotaro eventually surprises you with a friend request on your switch.

He doesn't do much around his island, just places some stuff here and there.

Is absolutely obsessed over aquatic Villagers and filling the fish part of the museum to take pictures there with you.

🌟

Josuke:

Organized Town, pretty layout, casual player that takes his time to slowly work towards everything.

Will make his house gaming themed.

One part of the island is dedicated to recreating the cafe and fill it with references to you and his other friends.

Eager to get his friendship up with all his villagers, loves to give them gift and talks to them daily.

Loves the Nookmile tickets/ Kapp'n trips and goes on them whenever he can.

🌟

Giorno:

Froggy Chair obsessed.

Owns the Sanrio Amiibo cards and decorates with it.

Also has all the villager amiibo cards and everyone is welcome to borrow them to get their favorites on their respective islands.

Loves the museum and eagerly works on filling it, gifting anything he already has to you.

Cute natural island theme with loads of plants and occasional duplicated statues spread around.

Made a cute park for you that has lots of hybrid flowers and cutesy furniture.

Loves all villagers, but his favorites are the frogs.

🌟

Jolyne:

Surprisingly organized in a sense?

Like you, Ermes, FF and her share a group chat where everyone posts their newest decoration updates, what villagers moved in and might move out, turnip prices.

You trade furniture for the catalog and help each other's museum, teamwork makes the dream work.

Loads of pictures of you four hanging out in the coffeeshop.

One room in her house is dedicated to you and filled with references to your relationship.

Anasui is banned from all islands, and you designed a custom pattern with his face and a red X on it that all of you have next to your airport.

🌟

Johnny:

Johnny wasn't big into it at first and then got completely hooked.

Only Horse and Mouse villagers.

Western themed all the way. Kentucky state flag as his island flag.

Loves Gyroids and has multiple in each room.

Gyro and he trade furniture and ignore the museum completely. They are only interested in decorating their homes and island to have it perfect.

Made it big with turnips but refuses to explain to Gyro how it works.

🌟

Gappy:

Was confused at first why you liked the game so much.

Yasuho and you made him his sailor outfit and buy him some furniture to start him up with.

You two explain the whole concept roughly to him and then let him play.

You never expected him to figure it out super quickly and making loads of money with turnips.

His house was upgraded faster than yours and Yasuho’s, he began making his own custom paths, made an orchard on his island.

He quickly takes a huge liking to the game and loves everything about it.

He leaves the island largely as it is, the only stuff he really decorates are his house, the orchard (reminiscent of the Higashikata one) and the little area with his villagers.

The rooms in his house are all dedicated to a person that he then decorates accordingly to. (You, Yasuho, Holly, the Higashikata Family etc)

#jjba x reader #jojos bizarre adventure #jjba #johnny joestar x reader #gappy x reader #joseph joestar x reader #jonathan joestar x reader #josuke x reader #jotaro x reader #giorno x reader #jolyne x reader #Jays back on her bullshit yeehaw

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locallixie · 1 year

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little red — heeseung

> summary. don't wander too far from the path, there's a wolf roaming the place.

> genre. dark fantasy, light horror, smut, wolf hybrid!heeseung, masc!reader, technically little red riding hood but i kind of fucked it up.

> warnings. non-con, minor gore, vulgar language, oral receiving, overstimulation, dacryphillia, sadism

Mother sent you out again, and everytime she would say the same thing. "Don't stray away from the path, my dear, there could be a wolf roaming around."

You were all too familiar at this point, she must be bluffing for all you know. You have never seen anything close to a predator in the woods, you even barely seen a squirrel. There was no such thing.

Why should she be worrying so much? You were already grown, it would be your twentieth birthday soon. She has nothing to stress, you would not take long to grandma's house. You'd be back before she could blink!

You heard from mother that grandma wasn't feeling so well, she made a gift basket to hopefully cheer her up. She, herself, couldn't go. That was why she sent you, grandma missed you very much and would love to see you.

Filled with curiosity as you were, even though you thought you've seen it all, the woods still fascinate you every once in a while. There were flowers of many kinds which bloomed oh-so nicely this spring season, birds which chirped their pleasant tune, the bright atmosphere from the sunlight seeping through every leaf. It was such a wonderful day outside.

"Where are you going, little one?" One of the townfolk appeared out of nowhere, a simple farmer he was.

"Gosh, I'm not that little, Heeseung." He wouldn't stop with his endless teasing whenever you crossed paths. He was fairly tall, and had a bulkier built than you. You swore, he always seem a bit taller everytime you see him. "Just to my grandma's, she's quite ill at the moment."

He placed on of his newly picked apples into your basket, "Here, this is for your grandma. I grew them myself." It was a vibrant red like every other apple, and like every places in this small town, most were also home-grown. But there was something about his apple that stood out, the outer skin felt particularly weird under your fingertips, it was unsettlingly soft. It felt like human skin.

Your face held uncertainty in a smile, "Thanks, I'm sure she'll like it." Maybe you were overthinking things, it was only an apple, he probably grew them a different way. There were many farmers in your town, there certainly would be some rivalry between some of them. You heard many say that produces from Heeseung were the freshest and best of them all.

You bid goodbye to the farmer and continued your journey to grandma's house. He, too, reminded you to stay on the path. That there was danger lurking when you least expected.

She was bed-ridden, was falling in and out of consciousness when you came. You left the basket on her dining table, putting the bouquet of flowers your mother provided into one of the many glass vases she had in her home. Such a shame that she lived alone and has no one to look after her, it was a luck that you came to check up on her just in case something did happen.

You washed and placed fruits on a dish for her to eat, there were grapes, and oranges, and pears. You were choping them into smaller pieces to make it easier for her to chew on.

The apple that Heeseung gave you were a bit too easy to cut through, the knife almost slide into it as if there was no core. You dropped the knife, it hit the floor a few inches away from severing your toes. Blood and guts poured out from inside the apple, you saw bits of intestine mixed in with scarelet substance.

There was a single finger, a finger that had a ring wrapped around it fell out from the fruit. This was paint, paint on human skin. "Grandma!" You screamed, running up the stairs to her. You pulled the blanket off of her, witnessing a scene which would traumatize you for life. Your grandma laid in bed with blood soiled sheets, her stomach hanging out from her torso.

In utter terror, you fled. Your feet kept running, mindlessly running throughout the deep woods. You didn't even notice that you strayed from the original path mother told you to stay on.

Heart pacing faster each step, lungs burning like there was a inferno inside of you. These shoes mother have put you in would twist your ankles, they ached as you continued to run. She refused to buy you new shoes, a pair that would fit you since you have out grown it. It was such a pretty pair yet it pained to walk in.

You let out a devasted yelp, hitting a stone on the earth ground. Luckily, before you hit the floor, someone caught you. "What's the rush, little red?"

Seeing him brought such relief, so happy that you never noticed how he simply showed up out of the blue every single time. One hand, his strength was overqualified for a plain farmer. The other hid behind his back, he too, was caught up in some business before bumping into you once more.

"Heeseung—! Oh, thank God! Call the hunter, I think a wolf got my grand—" You stopped aburptly, the realization finally hitting your dense head. He was the one who gave you that specific apple, he was the one people praised and ignored at the same time, he was the wolf.

"I— I—" Stumbling on your words as you stared at him in a slow burn fear.

"Hmm? A wolf, you say? Interesting." The corners of his lips curved, a unsettling smile he wore on his face. A smile paired with blank eyes, his sharp fangs reflecting off the sun as much as his eyes did. His furry tail wagged from side to side, taunting you. He knew what he was doing, calculated it all for some time.

You yanked yourself away, trying to get out of his firm grip. Catching him off guard, you threw one of your shoes at him. Lost, not a sense of direction, the sunlight blinding your sight. Nevermind it, you kept running, in hopes that you'd come out alive.

A breath knocked out of you, the blood stained axe flew and cutting deep into the tree in front of you. "Why are you running away? You don't trust lil' old me no more?" His tone of voice, of how sadistic it sounded, joking with your fear.

Your red hood fell from your head, pulled back, which choked you by the coat collar. You saw your feet dangling above the earth, helpless, and devastated. If only you were a little faster, if only these stupid fucking shoes didn't hurt every time you take a step. A bunny like you would quickly be devoured by the big, scary wolf.

Another prey, you were. You should've seen the blood that stained his pretty hands, should've seen the madness that glared in his eyes. You should've forseen it all! A wolf in sheep's clothing, hiding the darkness under a friendly exterior.

Free to kick and scream all you want, he already got you in submission. "Hmm, aren't you cute little thing," He sniffed your neck, licking the thin skin of yours, "And smells enticing too."

Tears filled your eyes, crying and begging him to let you go. His grip tightened every word of pleading that fell out of your lips, the more you sobbed and screamed at him, it filled him up with insanity. No one could save you now, he got you wrapped up around his claws that could easily ripped you apart. You were his prey, belong to solely him to toy with and feast on.

He dropped you, falling to the ground as you winced in pain from the impact. Coughing and trying to get every inch of oxygen into your lungs. The rough soil scraped your knees from the fall, the skin was broken and began to bleed.

Before you could even rise your head, pushed back onto the grass as he trapped you between his arms. Claws only mere inches away from tearing you into tiny pieces.

"What a nice coat, did your mother sown it herself? She sure is a nifty lady, is she?" He laughed, ripping away your layers until you were laid before him completely bare like a piece of raw meat, waiting to be eaten.

You couldn't bare having his hands all over you, staining your purity with his fingertips. Slowly sliding through every single rib, making his way to your waist. Your soft, warm skin under his hands, he could not resist nor restrain himself from wanting to do bad things to you. His sharp claws could cut you, gliding on the surface just to taunt you more.

As he breathed over your naked body, his warm breath which teased the senses on your skin. Sending shivers, and a guilty pleasure. It felt nice, your overly sensitive body was giving up underneath him bit by bit as he kept touching you in places that you, yourself, haven't went to.

His wet and long tongue dragged on your half-erect cock, exciting you just a little more. Heeseung kept his gaze on you, intense and utterly wild. He was going to eat you, but not in the way you think. He'd savor you like you were meant to, take you apart slowly until you fully submit to him.

Your breath hitched, gripping his gentle curls. You should stop him before you find yourself lost in the ecstacy. His teeth ghosting on the skin, his fangs caged your cock with threats.

"If you scream, I'll fucking bite it off." He growled. Pretty plump and pink lips wrapped around your shaft, the inside of his mouth was wet and warm. Flicking his tongue over the head everytime he got to the tip. Oh, it was absolutely driving insane!

Saliva dripping down his chin as he dived deeper, almost having you all the way down his throat. You gripped his broad shoulders, trying your best to push him off as you sensed something rising from the inside. You could not let him have the satisfaction of seeing you break down under his tongue. He was strong, as if he got a bit bigger than a few moments before.

You came into his mouth, the thick fluid spilling out the corners of his lips. But he didn't stop, kept bobbing his head by the same pace, keeping your stimulated cock in his mouth.

Your chest rising and falling, it felt hot, burningly hot. Your breathing was even worse than when he was chasing you down with his axe, you could not even take a breath without being rudely interrupted.

Then you came again, and again without one break. He was giving absolutely no room to breath, continuously sucking you off that pleasure soon turned into torture. He spat all your sweet juice out on the grass, even on your body which he disresepected.

You cried, "That's enough! I—can't—!" Face flushed, tears falling off your glossy eyes nonstop. He definitely got off to this, a wonderful sight of you embarassing yourself like this. So fucked, crying and moaning like the little bitch you were.

He flipped you over, the grass rubbing against your perked nipples, making you released a breath. Let him have his fun, get it over with and hopefully he'd leave you alone. That was what you were praying for, but putting into consideration, he might just not have that kind of mercy.

Heeseung lived in the same secluded town as you, and people adored him, who would believe you? Especially with a bold claim that stated he was a wolf in human disguise. They would gaslight you into thinking you were losing your marbles. Mother wouldn't believe you either, there was no such things as shape-shifters nor magic. Made up, no proof.

Pushing it inside of your backside, the more it streched, the more pain you felt. That big of a jump could hurt you, but that was the least of his concerns.

"Little red, should've listen to your mother. Got caught up in such an embarrasing situation, you wouldn't want her to find out, now would you? To see her little boy taking my cock so well, a natural born slut he is." His ears twitching and tail wagging as he spoke, the tone that toyed with your fucked up state, your eyes rolling back into your skull as his big size digged into you from behind.

You tried to fight the feeling, only to find yourself zoning out as the painfully nice sensation seeping all over you. He leaned down to your level, licking and pressing his razor-edged teeth against the shell of your ears.

"I'll break into your house, eat all your food, and then fuck you until you will only think of me every time you step foot into these woods." He told, slamming his cock into you. Destroying you bits by bits with his deep and hard thrusts. Holding both your wrists in his big hand behind your back, not giving you a single chance to fight. You didn't have the strength or mental stability to fight back anyways.

He groaned, your fleshy inside hugging his cock so tight. Your guts felt all jumbled up, with his seeds filling you up full, even dripping out to the ground. Your entire body twitched, having a small episode to finally cool down after having Heeseung play with your body as he wished.

You held your red coat that mother made for you, he was nice enough to keep it in on piece unlike the rest of your clothing. Covering your bare figure as you stared at the big bad wolf in front of your very eyes.

He grinned in a devious way, having intentions scattered on his inhuman expression. "Don't let me find you again, I won't so nice like this time. Run along now."

You held your coat together as tight as your weak and scratched hands could, putting your legs through pain once more. You see him in the corners of your eyes, silently admiring you from a distant, slowly fading away from your sight.

You should start listening to mother more, she warned you, didn't she? How would you explained to her when you get back? The wolf already got close enough, and he'd only get much closer if you let yourself wander next time.

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 11 months

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The joke demon is here

And remember that Exsotica in the red light district that people make wild rumors that the most beautiful and enchanting oran is a kind yokai or something

Liked it started by one of the low rank ladies and as they where getting harassed by a costumer Exsotica open the sliding door without her veil/hat as it a rare for them to do and it scared the costumer out and made sure they are alright while giving them her ready made remedies out of her kimono sleeves; due to Exsotica keep on getting gifts she something share or give to the other girls ( Daki gets some nice hair ornaments and silks to be safe )

Some of the kids or servants who works around the area sometimes sneek to an area that the rumored Exsotica tends to go when she have free time and say if you hear her sing with bunch of cats with her you get good luck, say a poor traveler who hear her sing as they are there to get medicine for a love one and they got it the same day, or maybe someone hear her sing and they gotten some money bonus as they where struggling

Exotica | Rumors

Rumors are bound to spread when you’re the talk of the town

Both the girls and the consumers that continue to fight for the chance to so much as get a glance at you

The girls may start it first, purposely spreading your medicinal and business prowess where many will hear

Is it kind of scummy

Yes

But it certainly helps when you happen to solve these problems

You can’t fix everything and the rumors of you being a yokai help with that

“Oh, Exotica must have been punishing you for something!”

But I doubt the girls would genuinely believe this

Having access to you directly certainly changes their view of you

Some may think you’re a descendant or a reincarnation of some benevolent yokai

But for the most part, they gather that you’re just an immaculate human

Because despite your fame and accomplishments they see you’re humanity

The corners you continue to bang your hip against

Or the flowers you like so much triggering allergies

They see you for you

Admiring the things that you do even when no one is watching

But for those who look from the outside

You can be anything yokai, angel, demon

Whether fantasizing about your singing, your dancing, painting, heck even your accounting

Your hobbies are a blessing for both those in the know and the ones who are left fantasizing from afar:

Rukia listened. Something she couldn’t help but do in a place as busy as the Yukaku District. It was exhausting to constantly hear every creak, every whisper, every scream while she was doing her job. The glorious occupation of being a handmaiden for The Exotica! It meant many things including hearing the various rumors and gossip stemming from the house you are in.

“Did you hear Exotica gave that one guest a cure for their illness.”

“But that couldn’t be the medicine they produce? Its supposed to be a minor assistant in creating some much needed antibodies.”

“Shuuush! You’re so boring! Can’t you just let it be?It just makes people more eager to visit.”

“Why you–”

Hearing the girls giggle as they walked through the hallways Rukia also could hear the gasp of a client. Before watching the man scurry out the house, no doubt to share whatever he took from that. She shook her head continuing on her route to the linen closet, earlier she had been tasked with changing Exotica’s sheets. It was an honor to do something like this, especially since so many degenerates were willing to pay for them.

Passing by the various rooms tending to the guests that bled into the early morning, the whispers of your name were just about everything she could pick up. It was a normal occurrence that even guests who would pay for others would still ask about you, it was what exalted your name all the more.

But it didn’t compare to seeing the real thing. The real (Y/n) behind Exotica being just as fulfilling. Speaking of, Rukia arrived to your room which was meant to be unoccupied only to find her master humming in the silence of the room. At a time where you should be preparing to rest you were humming. Letting your head sway to an unfamiliar tune just letting yourself run on the tired musings to let you go.

Rukia decided she’ll stagger her steps if only to give you the moment to be yourself.

It's her greatest honor...to keep you happy.

#yanderes x exotica #yandere kny x poc reader #poc reader #yandere demon slayer x exotica #yandere kny exotica #yandere x exotica #yandere x reader #yandere x you #lovelyyandereaddictionpoint #yanderexrea #yandere demon slayer #yandere kny #yandere kimetsu no yaiba #yandere demon slayer x reader #yandere kimetsu no yaiba x reader #yanderes x exotica reader

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hey-its-roseaurum · 21 days

Text

Guilty until Proven Innocent-Part I

A/N: Hey everyone. Thank you for taking the time to look at this story. This is for a collaboration with @lainiespicewrites. She is an excellent writer and I figured it was my turn to stretch my writing muscles and put something out into the world. This is my first Henry Cavill fic, so please don't be too harsh. Anyways, enjoy!

Synopsis: After recent murders in town, You (Olivia) decide to train with Edith in the art of self-defense. In the middle of training, you got a mysterious knock on the door. Sherlock walks in, looking for assistance with his latest case. He offers you to partake in a partnership to help him in his latest case? Do you take it?

Warnings: mentions of death

“You’re progressing nicely Olivia.” Edith smiled from above me, her elbow pinning me to the floor mat. There wasn’t a hint of sweat along her forehead. She had taken me down in less than a minute. The worst part was I thought I was going to land a hit on her this time.

”I’m beginning to think that you’re just saying that to soothe my pride”. I rasped out. She had eased her hold on me and stood up, extending a hand.

”Nonsense. Look how far you’ve come since you first stepped in these doors. Pretty soon you’ll be able to hold your ground with me.” She exclaimed as I grabbed her hand and hoisted myself up. My back had long since started throbbing.

For the past few weeks, I have been meeting Edith at her office to train and learn self-defense. Ever since the first girl went missing and was later found dead in the street I hadn’t been able to sleep soundly. There were constant, nagging thoughts that made me question if I was going to be the next victim. It had only gotten worse when they found the next girl a week later in the middle of an alleyway that I frequently visited. Her throat had been cut.

In London, it was ill-advised for a woman, especially of noble birth, to consider something as trivial as self-defense. Women are supposed to be soft, elegant, and passive. All of the trouble and responsibility in making decisions was for the men.

Being passive and soft didn’t save those girls from their cruel end.

And I wasn’t going to let myself become like them. I refuse to be the next girl that falls victim to this. So I went to my dear friend Enola at her detective agency and inquired about a solution to my predicament. She sent me over to Edith and had me start training the next day. I’ve been training every day since then.

I’m still not really good at it.

”Did you say the same thing when you were teaching Enola?” I inquired as I dusted myself off. Edith only shook her head.

”Not exactly. Her response was more witty, thanks to her mother.” Eudoria Holmes, the mother, the fire starter as people liked to call her. I’ve seen her wanted poster splayed all across London. But I didn’t see her as a criminal. I saw her as the woman who saved my life six months ago.

That morning had been cold and bitter. I remember feeling my fingers grow numb while I huddled against a mailbox. Its red paint had chipped away at its base, leaving rust behind.

Which was ironic and poetic now that I think back on it. And let me explain why.

It all started when my father had recently passed from a sickness that left my mother and me penniless. With no man in the house and no money to our name, we were cast out of society. My mother and I were thrown out and the estate that I called my home. It was sold to another noble family in the south.

We lived off the street after that. My mother, using what knowledge she had of needlework, had acquired a job as an assisted seamstress. I was left to salvage whatever pity people gave me and half-rotten food from dumpsters.

Eventually, we were able to afford a small cottage on the outskirts of town. It was small, run-down, and often had a damp smell to it. Mother didn’t like to be there for a long period. She claimed it was because she was so busy with her duties to the seamstress that she didn’t have time to spend there. I think it was because she missed her life at the estate and living in this small broken cottage was too much for her to bear.

That morning six months ago I decided to go into town to fill my water bucket and get bread before it got too crowded. When I got there, I sat down by the mailbox to wait for the bakery to open. I was particularly annoyed when I saw a lot of people around this early in the morning.

I was watching a man get onto a carriage when something shifted from the corner of my eye. It had been a man, or what I thought was a man walking towards me with a package in their hand. When we made eye contact I didn’t think anything of it. I just watched them and noted how stiff they walked. They placed the package in the slot of the mailbox. Before I knew it, I was grabbed by the elbow, hoisted upright, and pulled away from the mailbox.

That mailbox exploded, releasing a whirlwind of fliers into the air.

The two of us had run from the police. I was forced to since they refused to let go of my hand. We ran until this stranger knew that they weren't being followed.

When things settled down, the man revealed that they were a woman in disguise. She introduced herself as Eudoria Holmes and then proceeded to lecture me about being near explosives as if she were my own mother. All I had wanted to do was bite back, to lecture her on how she shouldn’t be putting explosives where there were people.

Instead, I broke down, not from her lecturing but because of something I couldn’t quite place. All I knew was that I was waiting for a soggy piece of bread and nearly got blown up.

In the end, I told her everything. I told her my past, my current situation, and why I was even in town in the first place. One thing kind of led to another. The next thing I knew I was sitting in Eudoria’s house with a cup of tea in my hand.

I stayed in that damp cottage less and less as time passed and more at Eudoria’s warm, often chaotic home. That’s where I became friends with Enola, had briefly met her two brothers Sherlock and Mycroft, and felt somewhat happy.

I don’t know why she pulled me away from that mailbox. The one time I asked her she said she saw something in me, some sort of fire in my eye. She didn’t want it to go out along with the mailbox.

I didn’t believe her, but I couldn’t tell that to her.

“So what you’re trying to say is that I still have a long way to go,” I asked as my brain jumped back to the present. I stepped away from the mat and made my way into her office.

”What I’m saying is you’re doing better than you think you are. You just began learning. Give yourself a little credit.” Following me, she made her way to the table by the window. A stack of teacups were messily stacked up to one side. She grabbed two, placed them on saucers, and poured liquid into both.

“I know. I’m just…worried. It’s been a week since the last victim was found and the police still haven’t found the suspect.” I let out a sigh and sipped some of my tea. I needed a moment to choose my words carefully. “I just want to be…prepared.”

A heavy pause filled the air before either of us spoke.

”Olivia…there’s more to that, isn’t there?” Edith’s words were soft and gentle.

“I mean I-“. My response was sharply cut short.

A knock pulled our attention away from our conversation and to the door. A tall man entered from the training room and to Edith’s office. I couldn’t place if he looked tall because of his size, or because of the giant top hat sitting snugly on top of his head. Dark wavy strands of hair peaked through from under his hat.

”Have you any sense what time it is?” Edith interrogated, crossing her arms. The man took off his hat, revealing thick brown locks. His sculpted jawline and nose complimented the hair. Blue, mesmerizing eyes glanced around, investigating.

But the feature that I recognized right away from him was his shoulders. I knew those shoulders.

”Hello, Edith” His attention briefly shot to me “Olivia” I curtly nodded, averting my eyes.

”Good evening Mr. Holmes.” I responded softly. “With what do we owe the pleasure of your company?” Holmes. Sherlock Holmes. One of Enola’s older brothers. One of the greatest detectives I’ve ever seen.

”There’s no need for formalities Olivia.” I felt something warm begin to grow on my cheeks at his response. He’s only being polite Olivia. We are only acquaintances because of Enola and Eudoria. He doesn’t like you like that.

Or does he?

I’m not sure.

Sherlock Holmes is a difficult man to understand.

“What are you here for Sherlock?” Edith asked again, harsher this time. Her tone quickly pulled me back to the present and away from my thoughts.

Sherlock cleared his throat, his blue eyes revealing some sort of inner turmoil within himself. It was an unusual amount of emotion that I was not used to seeing. I expected it with Mycroft, he practically wore his emotions on his face at all times. Sherlock never did. He’s always been composed, and proper. Before me now he still was, but a layer of some sort had been chipped away.

”I….need your help.” He struggled to say the words like it was almost painful to him. A moment of silence clung in the air.

”Is it about Enola? Did she get herself into trouble?” There was a hint of concern in Edith’s voice when she begged the questions. The only response he gave was a small shake of his head. I watched as realization flashed on her face.

”There’s something about this case-“.

”That deduction cannot solve?” Edith finished his thought. He slightly nodded, setting his hat down on her desk. That was my cue. I softly placed my teacup down and made my way to the table by the window. I began making some tea for Sherlock while listening to the conversation.

”I may need your…skills to get information from a place I cannot enter.”

“What kind of place?” He listed off a name that I didn’t recognize. Edith’s face slightly reddened.

”A showgirl theatre?! You cannot ask me such a thing Sherlock, no matter how close we are.” My eyebrows raised as I grabbed a cup and saucer and poured some tea into the cup.

“I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t have another option. A woman’s life is at stake.” His tone was calm, but there was something else there.

”But going into this with the possibility of getting murdered is not something I’m comfortable with. Woman’s freedom and rights is one thing, going after a serial killer is a whole other matter entirely”

”Edith, I-“. I cut them off.

”I’ll do it. I’ll go instead of you.” In their arguing, I had made my way back to the two of them, Sherlock's tea in hand. I had left mine behind.

”Olivia, do you know what kind of place that is, what situations you can get into. You’re nowhere near ready to hold your ground”. What she said was like a punch to the gut.

I knew I wasn’t ready, we had that same conversation not thirty minutes ago. But I knew that if Edith went and something bad had happened to her Enola and Eudoria would be devastated. I was different. If I went and something happened to me, Edith would still be here training more girls like me.

”Who else is going to do it? Enola? She’s not expendable. I am. And Edith, what about the other girls you train?” I took a breath, the stubbornness in me growing. “Besides, I know these streets better than anyone. I’ve lived in them. I know where to go in case I’m being followed. And because of the way I look,”. I paused briefly looking down at myself, at my curvy, plump figure. “No one would suspect me. They would just see me as a showgirl trying to make ends meet. I can blend in, go undercover, and get the information that he needs in order to catch this murderer.”

A heavy pause hung between the three of us.

I let what I said sink into the two of them. I know that Edith is fighting with herself on whether she can let me go. She believes that I am her responsibility, and I kind of was while Eudoria was undercover. But since starting to learn to defend myself I told myself that I couldn’t sit and wait. Sitting and worrying about who the next victim is going to drive me crazy. If I can help and make a difference, then maybe the suspect will be caught before there’s more tragedy.

”I promise I won’t let anything bad happen to her.” Sherlock’s voice broke the silence and my inner thoughts. “You have my word.” His eyes met mine at his. I felt something else there besides the promise. Edith sighed, rubbing her temples with both her index fingers.

“Okay, Sherlock. Just…make sure she comes back in one piece.” Edith finally concurred. “You’re going to have to speak to your mother if you don’t.”

A smile tugged at my lips at the agreement. I finally raised the cup of tea, offering it to him.

”When do we start?”

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A/N: Thank you so much for reading. If you want to read @lainiespicewrites story about Paul Atreides from the Dune Sage, here is her link: https://www.tumblr.com/lainiespicewrites/747032352877903872/the-atreides-era?source=share

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spaloonbabooguuscooties · 4 months

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hey @wickedsick , merry (A Little Belated ) Christmas !!! (: i was your secret santa!

sorry i saw the prompt ‘elka realizes she likes girls’ & Franke and i blacked out and i died and when i was resuscitated this was on my screen . 😞

i think it takes a few years before it Really sinks in for elker doom . shes stubborn that way i think but shes getting there (:

edit: CANT believe i almost forgot; SUPER HUGE THANKS TO @kibasniper / @kibasniper111 FOR HOSTING i had a blast!!

#psychonautssecretsanta2023 #elka doom #franke athens #ill paint the town red #psychonauts

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carcarcraziiv2 · 4 months

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The Woman with the Pink Hair (P. 1, 2, 3)

Hello my friends! I bring to you The Woman with the Pink Hair! This is a Vi x Fem! Reader fanfiction.

I will post this gradually, maybe once or twice a week until it is fully out! (If you are impatient, you can view it on my Wattpad-> @DatBishCar)

Please note that this is the first piece I wrote after a HEFTY (I mean years long) hiatus from writing.

P.S. Lowkey I KNOW there's a bunch of shit I could fix in here to make it better due to my practice over the past year or so, but I just... I'm so lazy rn LOL. Anyhoooooo....

ALSO- here are the TW for you lovelies! (This is for the WHOLE SERIES)-

Violence, mental illness, oral sex, dominant tendencies, torture, kidnapping, plotting?... lowkey there's probably more but you should get the gist here, AS ALWAYS ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK ILY<3

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PART ONE: INTRODUCTIONS-

Staring at the wall. You often found yourself staring at the wall while you were bored, zoning out thinking about things. How lonely your life had gotten, while at the same time it is better than it has been in a while. You had your freedoms to go do what you wanted - walk, paint, draw, listen to music. As you did those things you constantly seeked inspiration from the little bits and pieces that showed themselves to you in every crack and crevice.

You enjoyed finding the positives in things that didn't always seem positive. Hell, you were living in an old shack you rented from a grungy man who you weren't sure even actually owned the place. He did, however, have the keys.

Deciding you needed some fresh air, as fresh as it can be in the undercity, you gather yourself to head out for a stroll through the dark streets and into the markets and shops. You enjoyed people watching, perhaps you would run into someone interesting. You grabbed your jacket, a purple and black lots of pockets kind of deal, and your beanie and put them on. Your medium length hair was in a bun on the lower part of your head, and you had pieces of hair flowing down in front of your face on either side. You liked the wispy look of it.

You quickly found yourself in the center of the town after a few turns and blocks that you had memorized by heart. The place was always semi crowded. People doing grungy things, illegal things - but in your eyes, you saw beauty. You saw people smiling, laughing with their friends. Even as there were people who looked at you with an evil glint in their eye as you walked past, you were not afraid. You knew this place like the back of your hand, you grew up here after all.

After reaching one of your favorite places to eat, you walked to the counter and ordered some soup. Honestly, there was no telling what ingredients were in it but you trusted the chef as they always made delicious things. A few minutes pass, and you grabbed your brown, watery looking stew and headed over to a table nearby. There was no one sitting there, and the furniture was mostly clean unlike some of the surrounding options which were covered in trash, dirt and spilled food. As you sat, you looked over to the large red headed woman who cooked and served the food.

"Thank you!"

"You're welcome, honey," she replied with a warm smile. She was kind of like family to you, since you didn't really have any of your own. In fact, a lot of the shopkeepers and people who constanted the area were as such. You rarely saw people you didn't know or hadn't at least met once.

The soup was warm, salty, and amazing as usual. You finished every last bite and took the common decency to return the silverware and bowl to the counter, rather than having them come grab it from the table. You liked helping them out whenever you could, as they would do the same for you. Turning around, you looked about. Still seeking inspiration, you were torn as to whether or not to just go home. You did have to work in the morning but were unsure as to how much you actually cared about getting rest beforehand. Scanning your surroundings from right to left, you looked at all the people, until you saw someone unfamiliar leaning against a wall, hood down, with bits of pink hair peeking out from beneath it.

You were intrigued.

Gazing at the person standing there, your creative curiosity and interest peaked. You wanted to know what they looked like, and luckily right as the thought crossed your mind someone approached the woman, and she took her hood down.

She looked tired, worn, beaten and bruised. Your heart hurt thinking about anyone going through the things that would result in looking such a way. Behind all of that surface area, you saw beautiful features, however, and felt your heart race a little bit as the woman scanned the area while chatting. You were nervous she would catch you staring, so you pretended to look down quickly.

The woman was becoming more agitated speaking with the person in front of her, and suddenly pushed them away. She started walking quickly away from you.

Oh no... you thought. You did not want to lose this person, as creepy as that sounds. You decided to follow them only for a few minutes. Sometimes strangers led you to streets and places you would have never gone to yourself. You weren't only following her to be creepy.

You jumped up and started walking in the same direction as the woman. She was fast, so you had to speed walk a little bit. You took a few turns and short stops, all at places you had been before and studied before. Although you were interested in her, you decided that you would turn around and head home.

Right before you turned heel, the woman turned down a narrow dark alleyway. Ok... you thought. Now what is she doing? You waited a few moments before turning, too. You didn't want her to see you and recognize you. She looked like she might get a little angry about that.

Very quickly, you realized you had made a mistake. Three large men appeared from the shadows in front of the woman. And she stopped, looked up to the sky, and sighed loudly. You took the opportunity to hide behind a stack of boxes that were next to a dumpster on the left side of the alleyway. You peeked out from behind them and watched the confrontation ensue.

"What do you need, boys?" The woman said, stepping over to lean on the wall next to her, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it.

"We saw a pretty girl like you, and decided we needed to have you. What'ya say, sweets?" One man said. His voice was gravely, low, and you swore you could smell him from where you were. The other two men were sneering behind him, adjusting their waste bands.

The woman laughed. And she laughed loudly. Your eyes widened at the sound, it was like a sweet music, even in this scenario.

"You don't know what you're about to do, dirtbag," the woman said while laughing. The man's expression quickly changed to one of anger, and he started approaching her. "I wouldn't do that, if I were you," She warned. The man laughed slightly and kept approaching, to which the woman responded-

"Idiot".

---- Vi's POV ----

Vi sneered at the man coming at her. She had a rush of adrenaline from the argument she had with the junky at the markets earlier already and needed to get rid of the urges she had to punch something. She decided these guys would do the trick.

As the man approached, Vi took the cigarette out of her mouth and flicked it at him. He jerked back. Really? Afraid to get burned? That should be the least of your worries. As he jerked back, she grabbed him by the front of his coat and head butted him, wasting no time while he was in shock to bring her right fist up and slam it into his face.

"By the way, the name is Vi."

The other two men started to approach her, and she gave them a look that said "really?". They came to her from opposite sides, and she easily grabbed both of their backs, took a step backward and slammed their heads into each other. The men both collapsed to the ground rubbing their heads and yelling at one another.

The first man was starting to get up off the ground, but this time he looked afraid. Vi gave him a look that made him tremble and told him "Get the fuck out of here. You and these two dumbasses. I don't want to see you causing trouble to anyone again. Got it?" They hesitated, "I said get the FUCK out of here!" She yelled this time. The men got up and ran away like little children. Pathetic.

Vi turned around and saw someone staring at her from behind a dumpster. It was that girl from the market, the one that caught her eye. She had noticed her following her but didn't think she still was at this point. Vi grew angry, her adrenaline still running high through her veins.

---- Your POV ----

As the fight finished up, you were holey prepared to turn tail and book it out of here. You decided you were following someone really dangerous and became scared. That is right about the moment when the woman turned around and looked right at you, rage in her eyes.

You stumbled backwards, turning and trying to run away. "Fuck" you muttered as you slipped immediately after trying to start running. You looked backward for a brief moment as you stood, and realized she was right behind you. The woman shoved you roughly into the wall behind you. Her hand on your neck.

"WHO are you? WHY are you following me? WHO are you working for?" The woman yelled in your face. Although you were afraid, short of breath and absolutely dreading what was to come you were enamored by her beauty. "Hello?!" She broke you out of your trance, "I asked you a question!"

"N- n- no one! I'm not working for anyone" you stammered, your voice weak from the vice like grip she had on your neck.

"Liar," she said calmly, her grip tightening ever so slightly on your neck. You felt pressure in your cheeks and above your eyes, and you became truly afraid that you may die.

"I- I'm no- not lying," you struggled to say. "I just tho- thought you looked go- good so I followed you to get inspi- inspiration for my art."

Her grip loosened ever so slightly. You sensed she could tell you were afraid. Maybe she could tell you were not lying, but you were unsure. You really couldn't trust strangers down here. She shoved her finger in your face, and bit her teeth together. Through this, she said -

"Don't fucking follow me again. That is creepy as hell." She released you and you fell to the ground, rubbing your neck.

"I- I won't!" you promised, looking up. But realization quickly hit that she was already gone, as you saw her walking the rest of the alleyway past where she beat those men, with her hood up and hands in her pockets.

You took the opportunity, got up, and ran your ass all the way home. You heart was beating very quickly, and you were still terrified. Hyper aware of everything around you. The wind making the tendrils of your hair fly next to your face as you ran.

Finally, you got home and got inside, collapsing on the ground from exhaustion.

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PART TWO: Ubiquity

The next few weeks, you continued on with your life. Going on walks, working, eating, and drawing. Drawing someone who you could not get out of your head. The woman with the pink hair. After your encounter, you swore you saw her everywhere. Places you had never seen her before.

One day, she was at the market getting food from your favorite place. She looked like she liked the woman who had previously given you your soup. She was smiling, and you noticed her put down a gracious tip onto the counter before collecting her food. You stayed very far back before cowering and going back home.

Another day, she came into your work. You didn't think she was looking for anything in particular, she was just browsing, probably bored. You watched from the back-room door as she fumbled with some of the little figurines you had placed out and watched her put them back down as if they were so fragile, she might break them by breathing on them.

On this particular day, you headed to work. You were tired and worn out from the last weeks' worth of work already but still had today before you finally got a day off. You worked in a small nick-nack shop that a lot of people who created gadgets frequented. You decided to stop and grab some coffee at the warn down coffee stand out front of the shop you worked. The stand was musty, creaky, and downright shouldn't even exist anymore. But what are you to do when you are so limited to recourses as you are down here?

"Hi, can I have a coffee, something sweet?" You smiled at the barista. They did not smile back.

"2 dollars." They stated. They were tall, skinny and looked as if they were addicted to... something. You handed them the money and they gave you your coffee, immediately turning away to attend to the next customer. You started taking a sip, it was bitter, and you let out a hiss. Slowly turning to your left, you jumped and let out a little yelp.

It was the woman. She was standing beside you against the wall, staring at you as if she was pondering something. Her eyebrows were furrowed, and she took a drag off her cigarette.

"You still following me?" She smirked. Your eyes widened and you felt your heart beating a thousand beats per minute. She was wearing the same getup. A red jacket that looked warn. Her tired look was no longer, but she did look wary and had a few scratches, including one on her lips.

Her beautiful pink lips.

"Hey, my eyes are up here," she snorted. You gasped.

"Oh, shit. Sorry... No, I am not following you. Trust me I don't want to get strangled again." You said way too quickly. A few people glanced over at the two of you, and you lowered your head. You could feel your cheeks becoming red.

"Then why are you everywhere I go? I have seen you at least 3 places besides the first time we encountered one another. Who are you?"

"Well like I said, I am not following you," you stated. You felt a little frustrated that it wasn't getting through her head. "And I don't appreciate you accusing me of such!"

She laughed. That same beautiful laugh she had right before she beat the shit out of three huge men.

"It wouldn't be the first time, weirdo. Now, I am not going to hurt you again. Trust me. I was in a fit of rage and... yeah. Just can you trust me on that?" She looked genuine. You felt yourself loosen up a bit. "What is your name? I'm Vi," she reached her hand out towards you.

"I'm (y/n). And I guess I can," you stated hesitantly. You reached your hand out and grasped hers. It was calloused and hard against your soft one.

"So, you're really an artist?" She asked, sitting down on a bench across the walkway. You followed, and sat next to her, looking at your wristwatch. You had about 30 minutes until you had to go in to work behind the coffee shop.

"Um... yes. It's a hobby," you said shyly. You brushed a loose piece of hair back behind your ear and looked over at her. "And you're a street fighter?" You said raising your eyebrow.

She laughed again. You couldn't help but smile too.

"Well, technically, I guess you could call it that. I really only fight when I have to, or if I am in the mood to do so. I am the kind of person who just goes with the flow, I guess. I have no real goal right now...". You noticed that she was becoming saddened, but not enough to fully show it through her tough face. She stretched her legs out and laid back against the back of the bench and looked up at the sky. You noticed a few features you hadn't previously. She had a tattoo on her cheek that read VI and a gear tattoo on the side of her neck. She had scars, a lot of them. You wondered where she got them but put the pieces together and assumed they were probably from fights.

"Do you fight a lot?" You blurted out, unsure if the question would offend, anger or sadden her. She looked at you dead in the eyes with her sky-blue ones, serious as can be.

"Yes."

She was so mysterious. You wondered about her life, her story. You wanted to know more about her but there was still and underlying fear and feeling of uneasiness around her simply because of how the two of you first interacted. You rubbed your neck as you remembered the happening.

"I am sorry for what I did to you before. It was out of line. I shouldn't have assumed you were some person who was hired to go after me." Vi reached up and put her hand on your shoulder for a split second. You felt yourself get warm all over and blushed.

"Um, I guess it's okay?" You shrugged. You weren't actually okay with it, but you didn't want it to be the reason why you two wouldn't talk again. You wanted to talk to her again, so you gathered yourself and in a brief confidence asked, "Do you want to hangout sometime? Like we can get coffee or food or something?"

She looked taken aback, and you immediately began trying to remedy the situation. You were embarrassed. "I- I'm sorry it's okay if you don't want to I totally under-"

"(y/n), Its okay. I would like that." She stopped you and stated. You smiled coyly and looked down at your coffee, then back up at her.

"Okay, cool. Meet me here tomorrow, same time?" You got up. "I have to go to work, actually. Like right there. I am a few minutes late..." You couldn't believe that 35 minutes had already passed by and knew the boss man was not going to be happy that you were late. You said your goodbyes and headed into the shop.

You were right, the man was not happy.

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PART THREE: Awkward Encounters

You and Vi had plans to meet the next day. On one hand you were giddy with excitement. On the other, you were nervous. Very nervous. You weren't entirely sure you could trust the temperament of this woman. As you laid in bed, you had thoughts of what the day ahead would look like. What kind of interest did Vi have with you? You were certain you had interest in her, but you didn't know what kind of interest it was. You imagined the two of you in different scenarios, such as friendship, or as lovers. Friendship seemed amazing, but lovers felt even better. You smiled at yourself and rolled over. Either way, you decided you were going to have a good time.

--THE NEXT DAY--

Waking up energized, you decided since it was your day off, you would try to do as much as possible. If Vi was up to it, perhaps she could tag along. You got up in the morning from your bed and comfortable plaid duvet to go shower. In the shower, you washed your hair as well as wash and shaved your body. The water was warm as it caressed your figure. You imagined it was Vi.

What am I thinking? You contemplated. You two had only just met and it was a strange encounter to say the least. You shook your head in dismay, blushing at the thoughts you were dismissing. You hopped out of the shower and grabbed one of the towels right outside the curtain. You always laid the towel on the toilet seat so it would be easier to get to. Stepping out of the shower, you stood in front of the mirror above the sink. You were a tidy person, but today it was a little bit messy in there.

Taking a small hand towel, you swiped the glass on the mirror so you could see your reflection. Although you looked tired, you still felt energetic. You were too giddy to feel tired. You decided today you were going to put on a little bit of makeup, just mascara and eyeshadow. Walking out of your bathroom and back into your room, the towel draped across your midriff, you looked in the closet to pick out an outfit.

Deciding on black jeans, a baggy brown knit sweater, and your warn old brown boots you tossed them on. The sweater was warm, which was perfect for this time of year in the Undercity. You got everything on, tossed on a few rings on your fingers, and headed to the door. beside the door was a coat rack, which you grabbed your oversized black leather jacket off of and threw on. You smiled as you walked outside and took a deep breath of air.

Your heart was racing, but this time it was from excitement. Never had you thought you would be so brave as to ask someone you had just met (who admittedly had almost killed you) to hangout. You rolled your eyes at yourself and dismissed the thoughts from coming back. You refused to let that ruin your day or come back up ever again.

You made your way down the street and your usual route to the coffee shop in front of your work. As you approached, you had hoped Vi would be there early, but she was nowhere to be seen. It was 5 minutes before your set meeting time, but you were not worried. You ordered yourself and Vi a coffee at the stand and sat at the bench you both had your first meaningful conversation at. Taking a sip, you looked around and took in the area, hoping to remember every last detail that you may not have already memorized.

You looked down at your watch and realized time had already passed. 10 minutes, actually. You were getting worried that she wouldn't show up. After another 5 minutes, you decided to get up and walk into the shop you were employed at. The shop keep looked confused why you were there, but you said-

"Don't worry, I am just visiting. I rarely get to come in here as a customer."

"Oh, okay." he smiled slightly. He seemed to be in a better mood, but then you bumped into a shelf beside you. You jerked yourself to the right to correct it and ensure nothing fell off. "Just don't break anything," he sighed, rolling his eyes. He was a big man, not fat but muscular. He seemed like he could handle himself in a bar fight if he had to.

"I promise I will not break anything," you laughed slightly. You turned your back to the man and back towards the window out front, and you saw her.

She was beautiful, sitting there on the bench on the same side she had last. Her fingers were tapping the back of it and she was looking around nervously. You decided to set down the figurine you had in your hand and rushed outside. You were relieved she actually came.

"Vi!" you smiled, rushing over to her. She smiled back and began to stand, when you felt someone run into you, knocking you to the ground. You were shaken, and looked up towards the direction the person was going. "S-Sorry!" you hollered to the person, but they kept going.

"Watch it, Asshole!" Vi yelled in their direction, coming over to you to help you get up. Luckily, you had already gotten rid of the coffees as they had gotten cold. You stood and brushed yourself off, thanking the world silently for the ground not being wet today. Sighing, you turned to Vi and embraced her in a hug.

"I am so glad you made it," you smiled, releasing her. She had not returned the embrace, but you were okay with that. Not everyone is a hugger and she appeared shocked.

"Oh, uh yeah. Sorry about that. I had some things I had to take care of," she muttered, appearing to blush and took her hand through her hair. As she did this, you couldn't help but watch the muscles in her arm flex, as she was only wearing a t-shirt. She cleared her throat, and your eyes darted back over to her face.

"So, um, are you hungry?" you quickly changed the subject. She nodded, and you started walking. She followed.

The two of you walked side by side for quite some ways and decided amongst yourselves to go to one of Vi's favorite places. You had never been there before, but you had walked by it many times. You were in awe at the fact that you had not ever seen Vi before. You walked inside the establishment with her. It was large and smelled of drink. You noticed a decrepit old bar towards the back, and wooden tables all around. There were a few people in there, but not many. Vi walked to the back and sat at the bar. Sighing, as she looked around.

"You know," she started, "My dad used to own this place. He died trying to protect my family." A pained expression crossed her face. You frowned.

"Oh, I am so sorry..." you weren't the best at comforting people and looked down at your hands. Luckily, Vi decided she wanted to change the subject and called the bartender over, ordering you both a drink. You didn't normally drink, but today you were willing to allow it. After all, you did decide you wanted to have fun.

After a few rounds, you both and really let loose a lot. You were laughing with each other and had gotten to know more about each other's lives and interests.

"...And then!" Vi laughed as she was finishing her story, "He fell on his ass into the puddle, right beside us!" You grimaced and laughed with her. She had just told you about a fight she had gotten into. It seemed to be a lot of the talking points she had, but you didn't mind. Actually, it impressed you how confident she was in herself.

In your tipsy state, you leaned forward, putting your hand on her thigh to keep your balance. She looked down at your hand, and back up at you.

"I am sorry for following you," you slurred. "I thought you were so beautiful... I wanted to see what you were about..." blushing, you turned away, but your hand still laid on her thigh. You felt a warmth over your hand and looked back over. Vi had placed hers there, on top of yours. Butterflies fluttered throughout your stomach.

"(Y/N), it's okay. Really." The two of you had gotten closer, without even realizing it. "To be honest, I saw you at the market before I even started walking. You were looking down at your hands, but I could tell you were pretty. I almost came over to you, but I chickened out."

Your eyes widened, and you blushed profusely. You leaned towards her slightly. You weren't even sure she was interested in women, but you didn't care. You were really really hoping she was. Suddenly, Vi removed her hand from on top of yours, and lightly placed it on the back of your neck. She looked you in the eyes, and you tilted your head ever so slightly looking back into hers. She leaned in, pulling you closer gently, and pressed her lips against yours. You leaned into the kiss and melted. Her lips felt like heaven against yours. They were soft, supple, and warm.

As she pulled away, you felt your hand absent-mindedly reach up and caress your mouth. You were blushing even harder than before and looked at her. She was smiling a huge face splitting smile. She looked proud.

"Wow," she stated.

"Wow," you repeated back.

"Bet ya weren't expecting that, were you?"

"No, but I liked it. Did... did you?" you asked nervously.

"I wouldn't have done it if I didn't want to." She giggled. You smiled and turned back towards the bar, twirling your finger around the straw in the glass. You wanted another, and so did she. You knew because soon there were two new drinks in front of you both.

You looked over at Vi. She was just finishing a sip of her drink and looked over at you as she set it down.

"Do you want to come to my house tomorrow and see some of my art? I already saw you fight, so I figured it would be fair if I showed you some of the things I have done," you asked sheepishly. She smiled, but this time it was sly. Like someone looking at something they wanted to eat, to devour.

"Absolutely."

The two of you finished your drinks. The day was nearly over, and you hadn't done any of the things that you had planned. You were okay with it. In fact, you wouldn't trade how this day went for anything. Before leaving the establishment, Vi offered to walk you home. You had a feeling she wanted to keep you safe, and you appreciated it even though were not afraid. This also made it easier for her to find your home the next day, so she could come look at your art.

You continued talking to one another as you walked back to your house. She had her hands in her pockets, and you had yours in your own. The streets were dark and there were hardly any people out, as most of the shops had closed.

Approaching the old shack of a house you called home, Vi let out a whistle and turned to you.

"Quite the place you got here, huh?" She grinned, teasing you.

"Hey, its home to me alright? Can only do so much down here." You reached up and lightly smacked her arm. Before you could lower your hand, she grabbed your wrist and pulled you close to her. So close, both of you were touching bodies. Vi was taller than you, and looked down at you slightly, as you looked up at her. She smiled and planted another kiss on you. This one more passionate, inviting. You could feel her warmth enveloping you as her arms held you.

Releasing from the kiss, you tried to stammer out a goodbye, but Vi had already started walking away.

"See you tomorrow, sweet stuff!" She said, waving as she walked backwards. She had a huge grin on her face.

"O-Okay! See you tomorrow!" You smiled back. You turned around and got inside, shut the door and leaned against it. You did a little happy dance in your spot.

Wow... you thought. That was amazing.

PLEASE LIKE AND COMMENT IF YOU ENJOY :D Drop a follow if you wanna stay updated on these! There are TEN more parts in the series! Oml...... lol <3 I hope you enjoyed so far!

#Vi Arcane x Reader #vi x fem reader #Arcane x Reader #Arcane Fanfic #League of Legends Fanfic #vi arcane #vi fanfic #vi x reader #vi league of legends

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polarisbibliotheque · 7 months

Text

Nemesis (Vergil x Reader) - Chapter 7

Nemesis

Pairing: Vergil x Reader

Summary: The Abyss opening is a rare occurrence. In his youth, Vergil wanted to harness its power, but never thought he would meet his greatest adversary along the way. Years later, the Abyss is once again open and that might call for some rather unlikely alliances.

Age restriction: 18+ - there’s a lot of blood, violence, cursing and all those things people want to forbid younger audiences of seeing. Also, cosmic horror is a thing here. Procceed with caution

Special Credits: Our dear Ovid is a character created by @furyeclipse and, even when they don’t show up, I’m crediting and thanking forever ^^

You can check out Fury’s writing (which I highly recommend) on this link: Fury’s Ao3

Author's notes: I TOLD YOU GUYS I HAD A NEW CHAPTER READY *party ensues* hahahaha jokes aside, I hope you like this one. I'm very happy to have Dante on the bandwagon :3

Also, 7 is my lucky number and I'm all happy like "hohoho of course chapter 7 had to be Dante's highlight, 7 is always the best" as if I'm not the one writing this thing. Your pocket writer is a goof.

Thanks a lot for waiting so long and I hope you guys enjoy it!! A lot more to come and I don't regret the feels ;)

Chapter 7

“Two strawberry sundaes, extra berries.”

The barwoman stared deeply into Dante’s eyes, questioning everything about that man. He didn’t have the scent of a full human, but there was something not so quite demonic about him. Nevertheless, the way he dressed, the way he carried himself and the imminent threat in his eyes was directly opposite to his request.

“Well, sorry, darling. Over here, we have only things for grown-ups.” Her answer, though, was mellow and alluring, the same way her whole posture seemed so inviting and hypnotic as she leaned on the counter. “I do have some berries, but they come with a price.”

“Oh, really? And what would be that price then?” Dante leaned a little on the counter, but his arm never left your shoulders. You were actually starting to question why he seemed so protective over someone he had just met.

“The strongest drink on the house, sided by the rarest and most delicious berries you and your babe will ever see.” She looked at you, winking at both of your interests. “Not from this world, definitely forbidden but… Deeply alluring.”

“The taste of sin, then.” As you spoke, she let out a singsong laugh – beautiful albeit threatening. “I’ll have it.”

“Yeah, I’m in as well. Make it two.”

“You won’t regret it, darlings.” The woman winked once again, leaving to prepare your drinks.

You leaned by Dante’s side, still protected by his arm. You had a perfect view of the entire club: dancers of all genders entertained the guests, the lights bled in all tones of red and pink, sometimes broken by a deep blue or a tinge of purple; satin couches adorned with gold painted wood made everyone comfortable and tables looked like marble. The bar was made of a patchwork of mirrors, reflecting its guests and preparing their sins.

You had to admit, it was quite a nice place. Dante said the Love Planet was the best in town, but if they weren’t smart, they would soon be surpassed by The Devil’s Den.

The only issue was the people who seemed to go there: the scent of demons was quite strong, even to your human nose – for Dante, it was almost as bad as the first layer of Hell. Not all demons looked menacing, but many of them had ill intentions in their eyes. A few humans were clearly unsuspecting guests of demons who lured them in, not knowing where they were getting themselves into or what fate held in their future.

You were certain none of those people would leave that place alive.

“The humans seem to be quite clueless.” You finally said, winning a nod from Dante.

“Yeah, somethin’s going on here…” He muttered back, scanning the club as you did. He counted at least five humans among all those people – not much, but if he was there to save a single life, he wouldn’t hesitate to do so. “The ones with human guests are more powerful than the others.”

“How do you know that?”

“See how they’re behavin’?” Dante leaned into you, pointing at some of the people with guests. The other demons didn’t dare get close or even look at the humans who were there as per invitation – they looked, carrying lust in their eyes, but they wouldn’t act upon their desires. And that was very uncharacteristic of demons. “They do that ‘cause of hierarchy. They won’t dare touch something owned by a powerful demon…”

“Unless they are more powerful than the demon who possesses it.” You nodded slowly as Dante eyed you with interest and a fun sense of pride in his stare. “Codex Daemonica. Everything I know about demons comes from the encyclopedia.”

“Ha! Now that’s new!” He had a sudden fun smile on his lips, as if he had just heard a name no one mentioned in years. “Gotta agree with ya, it’s the best way to learn for the first time.”

“Oh, you know the Codex then?” You giggled, quite interested in that. When you mentioned to Lady, she had never heard of it – and it didn’t seem to be something common among devil hunters.

“Of course. By heart, babe.” Dante let out a small laugh; his eyes going back to scanning the club. “But, it doesn’t beat workin’ on the field. Bein’ book smart can only get you so far when fightin’ demons.”

“I would drink to that if our drinks were already here.” You agreed solemnly, knowing he was right. The Codex gave you a lot of information, but fighting a demon for the first time in real life was always a lot more different. You could know everything about the creatures you were up against: it seemed like your brain blanked out and the only thing left was a raw instinct of survival.

You were brought from your thoughts as a demon leaned on the counter a little close to you and Dante pulled you even closer. You didn’t argue, patiently waiting the demon leave with a couple of drinks and Dante’s arm around your shoulders relax a little.

“Sorry ‘bout that, but I don’t want those things to know you’re a human. It can make our job a lil’ more difficult than it already is.” Dante winked at you, making you furrow your brows.

“Why wouldn’t they…?” But as soon as you were asking, you finally noticed something different in his eyes. It was always there, but you ignored it as he was easy to be around – and he was Lady’s friend. “Are you… A demon too…?”

“Eh, not really…” Dante’s answer was a little dragged, somewhat uncomfortable – for the first time in that evening. You furrowed your brows even further. “Half-half. But it’s enough to mask your scent.”

Half demon – that was interesting. During all your time hunting, you had never heard of a half human half demon being before. Looking into his eyes, though, you could see Dante wasn’t lying: there was something of threatening in there, sure, but there was a humanity you couldn’t always find even in the eyes of humans.

“That is enough for me.” Your answer was quiet but set in stone. Once more, Dante looked at you, remembering of someone his heart would miss every single day. Someone who doomed himself to where their father was born.

“Here you go, darlings.” The barwoman came back before he could say anything, though, slipping your glasses in the counter and making your hands meet the dark magenta drinks adorned with berries of all kinds. “Enjoy.”

You and Dante exchanged a look, as if asking each other if it was safe to drink. You giggled a bit, taking the glass between your fingers – but Dante was faster and took a sip before you could even think about doing so.

“Hmmm, Hell Berries. They’ll give you a rush of heat, but they’re safe.” He nodded as you smiled in return. Who would’ve known? Dante drank it before you did so he could see if it was safe for a human or not. Demons could be kind too.

“Ooof, they’re strong. And quite tart.” You let it down your throat, allowing a tiny laugh right after. “I like it.”

Dante smiled in return, taking another sip. He figured you would. Vergil used to like it when they were kids too.

“Well, well, I think all of us are excited for tonight, right?” Someone stepped on the main stage, with all the lights focusing on them. A devilish smile adorned the red lips, exuberant clothes with the chest almost uncovered, short hair slicked back, drawing attention to the pair of vixen golden eyes. “After all, it is time, my darling friends. Today, oh today, she will rise and take this world alongside us!”

You glanced Dante, seeing as he threw the very same look at you. Both of you had one eyebrow raised, wondering the same thing: who was she?

“But of course, to do so, we will need a few friends from the audience! C’mon, don’t be shy!”

Of course, as you and Dante expected, the dancers started gathering the very few humans present in that hellhole – leading them to the stage. They had only smiles and happiness upon being invited to participate, but as the hunters you were, there was only suspicion in your hearts. Slowly, you both left your place at the bar and made your way to the stage – ready to fight when the situation called for it.

“So many beautiful specimens today, she will be so proud…!” The phrase was crowned with a breathless sigh. “The best of the best, I have to say, we will all be wonderfully rewarded!”

As you walked alongside Dante, no demon dared touch you. You noticed the man in the red coat by your side barely seemed to notice – seemed – but it was very obvious no one wanted to get in your way.

“Who do you think is she…?” You muttered to Dante as soon as you stopped in front of the stage.

“No idea…” He shrugged, as his eyes turned into ice cold skies. They reminded you of something, but you couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was. “It has to be someone strong… And who likes this.”

The humans on stage were being handcuffed on the stage poles, while the dancers made it all a delightful show – not only for the demons, but the humans as well. All creatures in the club were enjoying themselves, you had no doubt – and maybe, just maybe, the demons wanted to have a night of pleasure instead of murder. You and Dante could be wrong.

After all, you could list a few demons from the Codex who were summoned with orgies, so… You never knew.

“But then why would people disappear…?” The question was more for yourself. Not used to hunting with someone else, you wouldn’t really stop murmuring to yourself.

Dante just glanced back at you. The way you carried yourself, the way your brows furrowed while keeping a serious gaze on stage, stoic and proud… It made his heart ache. You murmured the main questions after having a storm of deep thoughts in your mind, just like his brother used to do.

“Oh! No! Don’t cry! You will love it, I promise!” Both of your thoughts were interrupted by the velvety voice on stage – the demon clearly enjoying themselves while brandishing a glistening dagger, already lightly running it on a victim’s neck: the crimson blood slowly making the demons let their animalistic side out. “You’ll enjoy everything for your blood offering, my darling!”

The loud crack of a shot cut through the laughs and silenced the room – the dagger, flying away from the demon’s hand, who just stared back at you both in utter shock.

“You know, there’s a thing between humans called consent.” Dante’s voice finally raised from the back of his warm gun; his cold blue eyes glancing at you with some amusement. “Isn’t that so, y/n?”

“Consent and boundaries. I think murder is usually out of people’s pleasure lists.” You crossed your arms, raising your head with pride, still staring at the demons on stage. The more Dante looked at you, the more he saw what he had lost. “Usually.”

“Eh. I’m not countin’ the sick ones.” He shook his head, gracing you with a slight smile hidden in the corner of his lips.

“Well, if you both want your fifteen minutes of fame, we can surely have some space for you here.” The stage demon had rage in their reddish eyes, annoyance being a very mild word for their feelings at the moment. “She will not be impeded by human hunters like you.”

And you now had a problem in your hands: all inhuman beating hearts in the club were ready to tear yours and Dante’s apart. You finally had your sword ready and Dante held the hilt of the Rebellion – its skull showing its fangs at the demons, ready to claim their blood.

With that sight, the stage demon narrowed their eyes at Dante, carefully analyzing as you started defending against the demons ready to slash your throats. You, no doubt a human, fought with grace and viciousness, carrying a style that few beings would – even among demons, you were too precise, technical and, at the same time, fluid when killing. Dante, in the other hand, favored heavy attacks, using all the strength he needed to wield a heavy sword like Rebellion… A sword that no human could carry with such ease. Even so, you both seemed to have a coordination as if you had fought side by side multiple times – a connection that made him complement your gaps as you balanced his faults; something so utterly human.

A human heart beating with demon blood. And when a demon managed to scrape Dante’s face – something that only happened when he put himself in the way of a blow that was meant for you, even if it would just hurt and not kill – there were any doubts left.

“The son of Sparda…!” The stage demon gasped, widening their red eyes.

Those whispered words felt like an incantation that made some demons stop and stare in awe, as others ran in despair and the rest seemed to be even more bloodthirsty while laughing in a frenzy.

You furrowed your brows, finishing a demon and spilling its blood on your face, while turning your gaze back to the stage to understand what in the hell that demon was talking about.

And their red eyes were locked on Dante – while the man just beheaded a demon who tried to take your life as you tried to make sense of what was going on. As he swinged his sword to get rid of the excess of blood, you saw Dante’s teeth slightly elongated in fangs, his eyes filled with a spark you had only seen once.

“Took your time.” His comment was in a sneer of pure condescendence, confirming what the demon had just said.

Your head spun while you were plunged back into battle by a creature who jumped right at your neck. So, Sparda was real. It meant the legend of him closing the gates of Hell were also real. You never really doubted his existence, but you doubted the rest of the legend – his adoration for humans, his love for a human woman, something that resulted in children of their own: half human, half demon.

Half-half. Just like Dante.

“Hey, y/n! Can you get those people off the stage?” Dante looked at you from over his shoulder, holding back a demon who had its fangs locked around the blade of the Rebellion.

“Sure! What about you?” Your head was spinning, yes. You had a lot to talk about after that fight – but, right now, you had to finish your job.

“I’ll hold these sorry fucks back!” With that, he pushed the demon back and buried his sword on its throat – the floor and his clothes now stained with dark red blood. “Can you handle it alone?”

“I was about to ask you the same.” Your answer was murmured in a dark tone, while you barely looked back at him. In a matter of fact, your eyes were fixed on the demons between you and the stage.

Dante glanced quickly to respond, but his words found draught. You held your sword with both of your hands, bending your knees while your eyes analyzed your enemies like prey. As quickly as your human pace could, you ran through the demons, slaughtering them without blinking and with no hesitation – quickly reaching the stage and swinging the blood off your sword as you went up the stairs with a calm but harsh pace, head held high as the stage demon stumbled back with your approach.

Dante had only seen one person fighting like that in his whole life – not even Trish had those mannerisms.

“You stay back, filthy human!” Now the stage demon wasn’t so sure if they could survive an encounter with you. Your face was smeared with blood, your eyes as cold as ice. “I will not allow you to destroy everything we’ve worked so hard…!”

“What interests me the most…” Your tone was calm, your eyes permanently trained in the demon’s red stare; head held high with a tint of arrogance while you cleaned your sword from the dark demon blood. “Is that any blood would be enough for this kind of ritual. But you, demons, always have a thirst for human blood, don’t you…?”

Your calmness was petrifying. In all its life, the demon never had to deal with a human like you. They were used to emotion controlled humans – something so characteristic of that species – but there you were, acting like a cold-blooded hunter and killer. It was scary. A lot more than the demon thought it would be.

You took the demon’s shock as an opportunity to set free the humans closest to you. Cutting down the chains of the first two, they cried as they saw themselves saved from the horrible fate they thought would be their doom – if the tears were from terror or joy, you wouldn’t know.

Before you could finish what you were set out to do, though, the stage demon ran towards you with rage in their blood red eyes. Grabbing the closest victim you let go, you placed your sword in their hands.

“Use this to free the others. When you’re done, throw it back to me, got it?”

The human couldn’t even say no. They shook their head frantically, holding the heavy sword with both hands, questioning how you managed to make it seem so effortless. With tears in their eyes, the human ran with their mission to accomplish, while you got ready with your hands close to your face.

Before Dante could do anything else, you sucker-punched the stage demon right in the face, making it stumble back in awe.

“C’mon, babe.” You had a smirk in your lips, while making a few moves of martial arts, taunting the demon who now didn’t know if they ran from you or killed you with their bare teeth.

The fistfight didn’t last long, though. With that diversion, the demon didn’t even care about the human setting the other victims free – making it so easy for them to run away. As they got down the stage, Dante made sure he would be able to protect the humans, holding back the demons who were in a frenzy with the thought of losing their sacrifices.

“Through the back! Go!” Dante screamed over his shoulder, eyes tinged with a slight red glow. The victims didn’t even think twice: running towards the door Dante signaled before, soon they were all free.

Your sword laid on stage close to your feet – but not close enough for you to easily catch it. Seeing this, the stage demon made sure you wouldn’t be able to get it back. As you struggled, Dante was finally done with the demons from the club – the others, having ran away from all that carnage – running towards the stage without thinking twice.

“Hey, y/n! Catch!”

As you heard him scream, you punched the demon once again so you had an opportunity to turn around and catch whatever it was that Dante threw at you – and as you did, you saw the glistening silver of one of his guns flying towards you.

Catching Ivory in the air, you locked and loaded as Dante stopped right by your side – aiming Ebony just as you did with its counterpart.

“Jackpot.” He had a slight smile on his lips, grave voice declaring it was all over. The stage demon found their end as you both shot in unison.

It had been such a long time since Dante did that with someone else by his side.

To be continued...

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echantedtoon · 1 month

Text

Until Death Do You Vow Ch2 A Saving Plan

(EDIT: None of the things in the beginning of this chapter is cannon to The Groom of Gallagher Mansion. It's just made up for the story for Y/n's college scenes.

Warnings for mentioned murder, death, and illness.)

"Class, turn to page one hundred and thirty two. Today we'll be reviewing the foundation of our town and the roll it had in the battle of-"

The sounds of many pages turning in the large room as at least fifty students turned to the appropriate places in their textbooks. Others took out note books lined with lots of notes from previous lessons with room for future ones. Pencils and erasers at the ready for the task ahead of taking down important information. Highlighters in bright yellow ready to highlight any very important details hidden in the professor's speeches. Lights dim as the first slides showed in time with the words the professor spoke.

"Now this here is General Markus G. Tuttle. He was one of the founding fathers of our city and first established it with five other men back in sixteen hundreds under the orders of the current reigning monarch of the time."

The current slide showed up a picture of an old painting taken at the city's local museum. It's old pain chipping away but still held together enough to show the picture of a man in his late fifties in a war uniform. The professor looked up at the slide before adjusting his glasses and looking back at the younger crowd.

"Who here can tell me who the reigning monarchs were?" Murmurs and coughs were circulated around until one hand raised up in the very back row. He pointed at it after a moment of straining his eyes to see around the dimly lit room. "Yes. You, Y/n!"

"The reigning monarchy during that time was lead by King Cedric Roland Jackson Snider the Forth and his wife Queen Stacia Emily Snider." Your hand slowly lowered after your answer and the professor nodded in approval.

"Excellent! Yes! Both King and Queen during that time funded their exhibition out to the area where our town would first be established. Who can tell me what the original purpose of the exhibition was?" Again unsure looks were given around until once more your hand raised in answer. "Miss Y/n?"

"The original exhibition was to survey the area and establish a trading route halfway through the path leading to the next country, but the fertile grounds and booming wildlife changed their minds into establishing a large farming and hunting community instead."

"Right you are! Yes! The booming wildlife untouched by most of mankind is what drew them to that idea when first coming to the area! After discovering most of the untouched riches that lay within the surrounding forests and the nutrients in the ground, General Markus Tuttle had it in his mind to return and convince the reigning monarchy into establishing a community and improving the agriculture of the country's economy. Now who can tell me the original name of the town?" You waited to see if someone else would raise their hand and someone else did. A boy in the very front row. "Yes, Charlie!"

You didn't bother interrupting and only listened to the professor continue his lesson and turn to the next slide which was a picture of some old relics from the same time as the founding of the town. You busied yourself by writing down words in the notebook you always took with you during these classes. The words forever being inscribed upon the surface of the paper with ink- Something poked your arm making you pause.

"Psst. Hey, Bud. I gotta tell you something."

Tired f/c eyes deadpanned looked at the mitchmatched eyes of the man sitting next to you blinking behind glasses. A head of red hair met you as he again poked your upper arm.

"What, Taylor?," you whisper hissed back to him voice low to avoid drawing attention. "I'm trying to take notes here. You should be taking notes too! You have no idea if this'll be on the finals!"

Taylor, your best friend and dorm buddy, didn't seemed phased by your words in the slightest and only whispered back. "We need to talk about the OHSIC. It's important!"

"We're having a meeting anyways tonight. You can wait until then."

"WHAT?! BUT THAT'S STILL HOURS AWAY-"

"Mr. Potts." The professor gave a look of silent disapproval as the lesson paused. A good few heads also turned to stare at the seemingly frozen red head next to you suddenly in the spotlight. "Is there something so important that you have to disrupt my lesson? If so please share it with the class."

In an instant Taylor's face went an embarrassed red and he shook his head no. "N-NO! I was just-...Uh. A-Asking to borrow a pencil! Yeah!"

The professor narrowed his heads. "Well then next time ask quietly or better. Next time actually come prepared and not disrupt the class. Now then. " He turned back to the board. "As I was saying, most of the earliest population consisted of farmers and their families and their farm hands and their families. However there was a couple dozen larger plantations usually owned by the wealthier families of the time. One of the most famous ones being-"

Taylor gave a sigh of relief as the faces of their classmates turned away from them and focused back onto the lesson the professor was giving.

"I told you. Just wait until all our classes are finished and we'll talk at the weekly meeting. Ok?" You looked back to the notebook after giving Taylor a quick reassuring pat on the hand.

His cheeks turned back to the faint color of pink before he pulled his hands back and looked away. "F-Fine. But don't take too long."

You only smiled at his pouty tone. You were used to it by now though. It's just how Taylor was ever since you both met two years ago in your first year of college. You both just happened to be taking the same classes as each other two of them being Local History and Folklore Studies, also known as Folkloristics. It was the study of all aspects of culture, particularly material culture or the products of a society. Or in other words local folklore, myths, and legends. And in this city there was certainly quite a lot. You weren't sure why but you were always fascinated by the paranormal and fantasy sides of things. You supposed that's what drew you both together as friends. Granted Taylor was WAY more into the cryptozoology parts than you were but it was still a thing you two could bond over. Local History and Folklore Studies were the best ways to find out about any spooky happenings that were around the city and a way for you to study for that job you wanted. You were hoping to get a job ast the local museum and become a writer on the side. What better way to achieve both your passions? Which was also why you took the Language Art classes the University offered.

But you weren't expecting to make a friend in Taylor but it was easier when you both realized you had a lot in common and you saw each other so often. Taylor may have been eccentric, quote 'nerdy', and over passionate about everything he was passionate about but he was honestly one of the easiest guys to talk to you've met.

Other than Ia-.....

Anyways- It was sorta hard not to be friends with him and hang out with him especially when you both stayed in the same dorm building on campus. It was halfway through the first year of college that he made his club and by the second year you agreed to joining after he practically begged you to. It was a pleasant distraction after all you've been through, and you could rely on Taylor to at least be there for you. Even if he could be a lot, he was a good friend you could count on.

The rest of the classes were spent on collecting notes as usual with each one but you noticed that Taylor seemed more anxious and impatient about something the more time had passed. Guess whatever it was was eating at him a lot. So when you're last class ended for the day and you gathered your things, it shouldn't have surprised you when Taylor grabbed your arm practically dragging you behind him pushing past people and giving you both dirty looks as he pushed through the crowds.

"Taylor! What the heck?! You dug in your heels and yanked your hand from his with a frown. "What are you trying to do? Pull my arm outta socket?"

"Y/n, class is over! You gotta-"

"Stop by my dorm room and put my books away!" You frowned. "Not to mention I left the notes for the next meeting on my desk."

"That can wait! We gotta talk NOW!! It's a matter of life and death for the club!"

Your brow rose. "I doubt that but fine. I'm gonna go put my stuff away and grab the notes. Just go and I'll meet you at the library as usual." You turned away and began walking.

"I- You- BUT- ...RRRRRR!!" He gripped his head before stomping off making you roll your eyes at his antics.

Always so dramatic about things. You were sure whatever it was it wasn't as bad as he was making it out to be-

"THEY'RE GONNA SHUT DOWN THE OHSIC!!!"

Ok. Maybe you were mistaken.

You had just arrived with the small notebook you set aside just for OHSIC meetings and you were just expecting to go over your failed attempt to pull in more members by handing out homemade flyers and go over more ways to get members when Taylor grabbed you by the shoulders when you first stepped foot in the University library. His panicked voice echoed in your face.

...You blinked. "What?"

"The Union Chairman said he's going to take away all the funding and space for the club because we haven't been retaining members!" Hr finally let go of you and began to pace as you blinked shaking your head. "'The space is being utterly wasted on us'. Can you believe that stupid pig faced jerk?!"

"Taylor, keep it down. We're in the library. Do you want us to get kicked out of here too?"

Your frown seemed to cut through his rambles because he sighed and rubbed his face. "No. Sorry I guess. B-But we gotta do something!"

"Ok. Time out!" You held up your hands in a 'T' shape making Taylor once again as a hand pointed at him. "Back up to the beginning. What's going on?"

Taylor blinked before groaning which turned into a sigh. "This morning. I-I got called into a meeting with the Union Chairman." He motioned his hands around with a scowl. "He basically said he's going to shut down the club if we don't get members soon and FAST!"

Your face contorted into one of shock . Well you couldn't say you were too surprised by the outcome. The club has had trouble retaining membership for a while now with the only consistent members being Taylor who was the founder and you being the vice president of only because you were the only other member who showed up. Mostly only because it was a good distraction for what happened two years ago (even if you had gotten over it by now) and because you felt bad for Taylor putting in so much work into the club.

"Really? I wasn't expecting it to happen this soon. I thought they would've waited at least until this Christmas break before deciding to drop funding."

"You knew this would happen?!"

"Not so soon but eventually. The club's been in in hot water for a while now Taylor."

He growled again running his hands over his face and messy red locks screwing up his glasses. "They said they wanted to use our space for the JUGGLING CLUB!! THE JUGGLING CLUB!! Can you believe that?!"

You rose a brow at Taylor's logic. By his logic clowns juggle things. Clown are scary and evil. Therefore by default the juggling club was scary and evil. Maybe that's what had gotten to him the most and made him so angry? Either way you just shook your head and sighed.

"Well the whole point of today's meeting was to figure out new ways to get new members anyways." You lightly waved the notebook in your hands. "So do you want to start the meeting now and see if we can figure something out?"

He lit up fixing his glasses and turning. "Right then! Vice prez, let's get brainstorming!" You rolled your eyes and followed Taylor to a hidden table in the back between a few shelves where he sat down. "Alright! Roll call! Say here if you're present!"

"Taylor, we're the only ones here. *sigh* But here."

"Here! All members of the OSHIC are accounted for. As club president I dub this meeting started! Now that's out of the way, it's time to get down to business!" He pointed at you . "We need to start finding new members to save the club fast! Any ideas?"

"Not a single one." You dropped the notebook on the table and gestured to it. "We've tried everything and nothing's worked. At least nothing long term. I've written it all down here and we've been through it over and over again."

He groaned slumping over to press his face against the table. "Great. This is just what we wanted today....What if we put an ad on the University's web page?"

"We tried that. Ten times in the last two years." Taylor groaned muffled by the table again. "What if we do a ghost story contest? Maybe that might attract a few people from the writing classes."

"Not a bad idea but what would we use as a prize? Between us both we both got like twenty bucks to spare and I don't think hand me down furniture and broke college kid ramen is a very enticing prize."

It was your turn to sigh. He was right about that part. "It's too bad we don't just have something cool like a magic wand like Cinderella's fairy godmother or something really cool like some alien tech. We'd be getting hundreds of members and some money offers too. But that only happens in movies."

"Yeah...Hey. Wait a sec." Taylor's head lifted up from the wooden table as his eyes widened, glasses crooked. "That's it!" You jumped as he suddenly leaned back up smacking his hands onto the table. "That is it!"

"Uh...What is?"

"Most of the people leave the club because it's not enticing enough or they get bored, but if we can actually get some actual proof that the paranormal exists then that'll make more people more interested!"

Your brows rose again. "Uh huh. And how exactly are we supposed to do that? We haven't actually been able to get anything besides some muffled audio recordings from the ghost investigations you had us do. And even that won't be convincing to most people."

Taylor laughed awkwardly looking away nervously. "Ahaha. Rrriiiight. *Ahem* Anyways-" he quickly changed the subject. "This town's huge! There's gotta be at least ONE paranormal hotspot that we can take advantage of! All we gotta do is find one and get some proof and BINGO!! CLUB'S SAVED!!"

"That's your plan?"

He placed one hand on his hip frowning. "You got any better ideas?"

"Touche. But how are we going to get proof? It's not like we can just waltz into the woods and ask Bigfoot and the forest elves to pose for us."

Despite chuckling at your words Taylor spoke with a serious voice. "We'll just have to do a little research! And lucky for us we're in the best sort of lace for studying!" He gestured to the walls around him as if to answer his own words. "C'mon! There's not a moment to lose! I'll check out the computers and see if there's anything interesting we missed! You scan the shelves!"

Your face deadpanned as he was already standing up to make his way to the nearest computer. Of course you'd get the harder job. You sighed and with a roll of your eyes you stood up to go browse the shelves. By now you already knew where most of ghost stories and haunted history books were so it was so easy to walk over towards the shelf and pulled out the first book that might be useful in your search titled 'Real Hauntings and Unsolved Murders'. Cue ten minutes later of you flipping through the pages as Taylor was... somewhere around here also assumedly researching.

"... Hey! There's a bus station where someone was murdered twenty years ago. They say his face was pale and looked like he saw the devil himself before he died." You called out looking up at the rows of shelves. "You wanna try and have a seance there? Maybe we can conjure something up."

There was a moment before Taylor leaned back in his chair to poke his head out three shelves down from you. His nose crinkled as he shook his head. "Nah. It'd be weird if we just lit candles up and used a ouija board at a public bus stop. Someone might even call the police and get us in trouble. Besides it's too noisy and crowded there. Even if we did get anything it'd be hard to make out from the noise mess." His head disappeared and you sighed.

Unfortunately he did have another good point. Back to the books. You skimmed through the rest of the book which was mostly uninteresting old murders and legendary ghost stories from around the world which weren't helpful to you. So you placed it back and picked up another book titled 'Cryptids of The Century.' You flipped through the first chapter talking about the author and her experiences before skimming the stories told.

"..Taylor!"

"Yeah?," his voice called back to you.

"You remember that old pond that used to be by the park?"

"Yeah?"

"They say a siren lives there. You wanna try and see if we can get anything from there?"

Another small pause. "Didn't they drain the pond and fill it in to expand the park's playground on top of it?"

You wanted to smack your face. Instead you sighed. "Right. I forgot about that. I'll keep looking. Any luck on your end?"

"No dice," he called back, "I've been scanning through every search pop up in our area but most of it are things we already checked out, proven to be fake, or don't have enough backing to be worth the effort. UGH! I didn't think finding at least one good haunting experience would be this hard!"

"Keep looking, Taylor. I'm sure we'll find something." You looked back to the book. "Even if we gotta dig through the boring haunts, we'll find something to use."

There was more silence as you flipped through a few pages talking about an alleged unicorn sighting from over a hundred years ago when Taylor hummed again loudly in thought.

"Boring haunts. Hey. I think you might have something there!" You looked up from the book but didn't see him. "It just crossed my mind!"

"What did?"

The sounds of a chair scraping could be heard before Taylor appeared standing up and smiling excitedly. "Something we've never done before!" Your face looked even more confused so he continued to explain excitedly holding up his hands. "Okay, okay. Here's the plan! You know that old house way out there on the corner of town? That old Gallagher place where all those deaths and murders happened ages ago?"

You paused for a long moment before you understand what he was talking about. "Wait. You mean the old Gallagher Mansion?"

He nodded excitedly with a bright smile. "Don't you see? We've never checked it out! We all thought it was too boring. Too bland. Too.. vanilla. But no! Maybe we made a mistake trying to find new things when we've left the biggest stone in town unturned!"

You hummed again at his words before staring down at the book you still held in deep thought. That... wasn't a too bad of an idea. You both really hadn't been there before as everyone knew it's reputation quite well around here. It's a hot spot for college dorks to drink and hope no one notice, an occasional haunted house for paranormal investigators, and home to a few basic ghost stories a lot of the older locals take pride in. Heritage and horror in one neat package. Other times it was an attraction for the tourists' haunted tours during Halloween but mostly it was just one of the older abandoned houses around here. There was a few but most were in the woods where the forest drew over the abandoned parts of the earlier town.

"That's an idea I'll give ya that." The book closed before you pointed at him. "But there's been TONS of investigations done there and no one's really proven anything's there. Plus people use that old place for parties all the time and no one's really came back with ghost encounters. Even if they did, it just could've easily been a hallucination from the booze they always have at those parties."

"I know but isn't it worth at least one shot?" He countered back. "We've never even tried to see the place before and who knows. Maybe the ghosts never revealed themselves to anyone partying because they don't like it. Would you want to talk to a whole bunch of drunk college jocks if you were a ghost?"

"Probably not. But I guess that's a fair enough point. There's no harm by looking at it I guess."

Taylor happily lit up with a wide grin and held up a hand. "Right then! Vice Prez, tonight we're hitting the books! Research like your life depends on it!"

You sighed placing your book back on the shelf. It'd be a long night you could see. "You're lucky you're my friend. Go look up the mansion on the computer, I think I already know the book I need."

"Right! This will be what saves the club! I just know it!"

You rolled your eyes as Taylor disappeared again and went to pull out the book you needed. A book titled 'Unusual Murders and Mysteries.' You remembered there was two whole big chapters dedicated to the Gallagher Mansion when you skimmed through it once trying to research good ghost hunting spots for the club. You opened it up and turned the pages until they got to the parts you needed. Stopping and carefully beginning to read the words written there. Meanwhile Taylor typed away at the keyboard quickly. You just turned the first page when Taylor shouted again.

"Eureka! I found them!" Taylor's shout caught your attention enough to walk over and peep around the shelf at his smiling face. He smiled at you before looking back to the bright screen where a web page was open to a black and white old photo of a grand mansion and the article under it. "According to this...The Gallaghers were a well off military family from Europe who came to America in the mid eighteen hundreds." He scrolled down more giving you the summery of the large article before stopping on another article next to two old black and white photos of an older couple. "Archibald Gallagher, the family patriarch, found success as a cornmeal Barron. He married a woman named Mildred and together they had a total of.." He paused again to scroll down more until he stopped on a bigger black and white photo. It was the older couple again and seven younger men and women whom looked about your's and Taylor's age. "Seven children."

"Wow. Quite the large family." You commented looking at the large family portrait.

Taylor shrugged. "It was normal during those days to have large families. But all of the Gallaghers were quite exceptional except for-"

"Elias right? That's the ghost that's rumored to haunt the mansion."

Taylor nodded. "He would be.." His eyes squinted at the old family Portrait before pointing out one person that stood behind who you assumed to be one of his sisters sitting in a chair and between two tall men who must've been his brothers. You could barely make him out from the crowded photo. "That one there. Elias was born the black sheep of his family. All of his other other siblings were born healthy and strong, but Elias's birth came with a lot of complications."

"He was bedridden for most of his childhood right?"

Again Taylor nodded. "Pretty much the epitome of the sickly Victorian child trope."

You frowned. "I don't think it should be talked about like that."

He shrugged before moving onto the next paragraph of the article. "They all died under mysterious circumstances other than Elias who's death was arguably the most normal out of all the family deaths if you can count murder normal."

"How though?"

"Well a lot of rumors say it's cuz of a curse, but nobody can agree why they were cursed to begin with. The eldest died in a freak accident involving a horse and from there it's a chain reaction of freak accidents in short susession, completely unrelated to the previous deaths but without fail it would kill the next eldest child like a couple of dominoes hitting them in some pretty gruesome ways." Taylor looked almost pitiful at the dates of deaths and the causes of the deaths listed next to the names of each Gallagher family member.

"That's got to be so hard on the family dealing with so much tragedy."

"I don't think Archibald and Mildred were too happy to write Elias down as their sole heir after his brothers and sisters all passed on but somehow he managed to dodge the curse. At least until his own death when he was murdered but he still managed to outlive his parents too." He squinted at more of the deaths listed in the article. "Also not too long after rewriting the will both of them died during a bridge collapse on what was supposed to be a calm carriage ride. Same energy as scented candles setting fire to your apartment."

"That part about him surviving for so long is a big strange." You hummed. "Why would the curse skip the youngest sibling and go after his parents only to then come back for him?"

"There was and still is speculation about Elias spinning elaborate murder schemes to take down his family but here's the thing." Taylor rubbed his chin in thought. "Elias had few people to write too and even fewer people who'd write back. According to this, Elias became a permanent shut in after becoming head of the entire Gallagher Estate. I'd probably do that too if it was me."

You nodded in agreement. "Who wouldn't after something like that happened to you? But..Elias was killed himself wasn't he?"

"Yep! Murdered."

"By who?"

"That would be.." Taylor scrolled down more. "Gerald and Violet Dupont. According to this, Gerald Dupont was the Gallagher's groundskeeper and after the death of the rest of his family he introduced Elias to his sister, Violet Dupont, as a fellow heiress without a partner. You can guess what happened after that."

"The whole courting thing, proposing, and a romantic fairytale wedding right?'

He waved a hand. "Everything but the wedding part. According to these old newspaper clippings-" He again gestured to the screen. "Elias died the night before his wedding ceremony while the Duoonts were caught red handed tearing the mansion apart looking for the family's fortune."

"Wait. I know this part." Taylor looked up at you as you flipped through the still open book in your hands. "He was found with his head decapitated from his body using an axe and the Duponts were arrested on charges of murder. Without anyone else to claim the property it was soon abandoned after Elias's burial."

"What a way to go huh?"

You nodded. "And selfish. To murder just to steal a poor man's family legacy. They must've taken advantage of his own grief."

Taylor nodded before looking back at the screens. "Which is why besides ghost hunting, we'll also see if we can find out where the fortune is. Treasure hunting isn't our primary goal but it's still worth looking out for."

You nodded. "Good idea. Even if we don't find any ghosts, finding a legendary fortune would also make us famous but are you sure there's even any treasure? I mean wouldn't someone have found it by now?"

"All these old newspaper clippings keep mentioning how big the inheritance was but some assets were never accounted for in the banks. Rumor has it that the Gallaghers kept some of it hidden on the estate."

"Alright but those are just rumors. That doesn't really mean there's a treasure and that doesn't necessarily mean there's a ghost either."

Taylor hummed. "Maybe but we have to try."

"That's another thing." The book closed with a thud and pointed at him. "If no one's ever seen the ghost, or at least recently-" The rumors had to have started from somewhere. So there might've been a ghost at one point or a long time ago someone THOUGHT they saw the ghost of Elias Gallagher. "-how are we going to get him to show up for us? No other investigation has ever been successful and no one else has claimed to see him."

Taylor legitimately looked shocked at the revelation before again he hummed and a hand rubbed his chin. "That's... Actually a fair point. Even if he's there he might just want to be left alone and not talk to anyone."

"So there's no way we could get him to talk even if he supposedly was there? Great. That's another dead end." You turned to leave but stopped when Taylor's hand grabbed yours.

"Wait a sec. ... Maybe it's not WHY. Maybe it's a matter of how and when!" He turned to you as you blinked confused. "Think. Why would Elias want to talk to anyone? Drunk people party in his home and investigators usually come demanding he show himself. So maybe it's just how we go about trying to communicate with him, and when. And it just so happens that this week happens to be one of the best days to do a ghost hunt! What's the last day of this week?"

"Um...Friday?"

"Friday THE THIRTEENTH!," Taylor corrected you with a bright smile. "Paranormal activity increases more on Friday the Thirteenth more than any other day of the year except for Halloween! And not only that! This Friday the Thirteenth is supposed to be a blood moon! Which also increases paranormal activity. And on top of BOTH of those it's also gonna be a FULL MOON too! How lucky can we get? The moon being in its fullest cycle is said to increase in power. This is like the best combination possible!"

You blinked at him before slowly nodding. "Ok. That's all really good conditions. But even with all of that and even if we ask him really nicely, all that stuff still doesn't guarantee anything. If that was true then that crew who did the investigation on All Hallows Eve, which is arguably more powerful than Friday the Thirteenth, would've gotten something."

Again Taylor hummed in thought looking you over, then back to the computer screen, then back to you gears whirling in his head. Before he smiled very widely and in a way you didn't like. "Oh I think I have an idea. Get ready, Bud! We're gonna investigate the old dump! I just know there's something we can find in there. It's our last hope!"

#Until Death Do You Vow #the groom of gallagher mansion #thegroomofgallaghermansion #taylor potts x reader #taylor potts #elias gallagher #elias gallagher x reader #tgogm

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cowboygenesis · 2 months

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one: redanian ale | geralt x reader

part 1 of the "threads of fate" series: masterlist.

pairing: geralt x reader

chapter warnings: blood, animal death, mild gore

word count: 3.9k

series summary: geralt begrudgingly accepts a monster contract issued to him by a strange girl, thinking it to be an opportunity for some quick coin. nothing goes as planned.

notes: i haven't posted a reader insert since middle school, but since ive been getting into the witcher again recently i thought this would be a fun project :) ill try my best to keep everything canon, especially pre-existing characters, but some things will be made up! additionally, the reader is written to be afab. keep that in mind since there will be smut in the future chapters...

Geralt stepped down the element-worn cobblestone road with a quiet huff, Roach trailing alongside the man’s figure with a seemingly matched sense of fervor.

The homes of the outskirts lined up in tight rows, alternating between maintained and otherwise decrepit wooden skeletons of a once lively hearth. Every stained-glass window emanated a warm light from within, casting onto the solemn sidewalk that led into the main square. Similar structures surrounded the tiled area, adorned with wooden plaques representing various businesses: a butcher, blacksmith, herbalist; something typical of towns on the continent.

It was a chilly afternoon, and the amber treeline of the backdrop was a colorful testament to the arrival of autumn’s harvest. The edge of the cracked pavement carried a lively array of wildflowers, growing sparsely out of the famously fertile earth of the region. It was strange, seeing such an abundant land give birth to such impoverished people. They swarmed the town in a hurry, cloaked in rags and somber faces, occasionally turning to gaze up at the flaxen-haired man with abhorrence, hatred, and curiosity.

Their sunken features flooded the street in the silent mayhem of impotence, weathered muscles bravely carrying the weight of their harvest into the beating heart of the city.

Coarse linen bags lined the trunks of carts for the lucky few being able to afford such transportation, others tried their strength at stacking the burden on their dominant shoulder. A permanent slouch was often a good way to identify the economically wounded. He furrowed his brow at the thought.

The cool air nipped gently at Geralt’s nose, fingers numb as they tightened around the leather horse reigns. His pace quickened, strides bold and purposeful as he spotted the centerpiece of town above the bobbing crowd ahead.

The cobblestone smoothed below his feet, transitioning into a sleek brick that led into the hexagonal center of town. People swarmed out of the tight street and quickly dispersed along various stalls lining the courtyard, allowing Geralt’s lungs to expand with fresh breath once more.

His eyes scanned along the walls, noting the uniform architecture of homes surrounding the plaza. Up ahead, sticking out like a not-so-sore thumb, stood the main attraction of the town. Its broad structure spanned significantly further than any surrounding shop, walls towering high into the third floor.

The off-white plaster was embellished with masterfully painted embroidery: a composition of roosters, red flowers, and various greenery; a traditional kind of adornment in these parts.

Unlike the other businesses, this particular building adorned a shiny, metallic plaque by the heavy-set doorway. It was written in a foreign language, carved into the slate in mechanically-even letters. Geralt approached this unfamiliar sign, fastening Roach to the wooden fencing to the side and leaving her with a soft pat on the muzzle. She neighed in response, a sound debatably considered sentient and acknowledging.

“Won’t be long, girl,” He reassured with a half-smile, adjusting his harness before stepping through the doorway.

The tavern air was drastically different from the outside world, hitting his complexion with a soothing warmth as the soft scent of baked goods and freshly poured ale filled his nostrils. The sensation scored a subtle smile from the witcher, hand swiftly unclasping the twinned holster of his weaponry.

He hummed lowly, scanning the crowd of people in sight: drinking, singing, dancing; warm bodies moving in rhythm to the upbeat ballad of a female bard taking center stage with her polished flute. A song about a lost love, druids, bloodshed. Geralt had recognized it from one of Jaskier’s performances, noting how polarizing the tune sounded with a change of instrument.

He continued walking alongside the wall, finally deciding to take a booth seat near the tinted windows of the northern wall. He propped his equipment against the table, positioning himself closest to the wall. The stained glass poured a soft light onto the scratched surface of his table, outlining every crevice and mug stain with a brilliant azure.

“Welcome to ‘the Manticore’, may I take your order?” Came a quiet voice, somehow bleeding into the chaos of the bustling tavern despite coming from his immediate right. Geralt turned his gaze towards it, eyes met with a pair of rheumy eyes.

A doe.

So was the witcher’s immediate thought at the sight of the skittish-looking servicewoman taking his order.

Her skin looked pallid, almost greyish in the soft light of the candlelight, cheeks pudgy yet somehow betraying her otherwise ghastly appearance. The subtle spread of freckles on her cheeks was the only memory of livelihood in the sunlight, spreading to her temples and ending in a single mole above the girl’s untamed brows. They were thick, straight, and resembling a man’s with how unkempt they appeared.

She held her fists firmly against the dip of her hips and her spine declined forward, giving the woman a folded, relaxed posture; a strange mix of confidence merging with a subtle sense of doubt reflected her apparent social abstinence.

“Redanian ale,” He spoke back, arm extending to rest on the plush couch, gaze wandering.

He first took note of the woman’s boots, how worn the leather seemed with the dried mud still clinging to the nooks and crannies of the laces. Her worn, moss-green blouse shamelessly revealed a perched bosom, held up artificially by the corset hugging her waist snuggly, perhaps uncomfortably.

Finally, he caught the attention of the silver amulet that lay comfortably against the flushed skin of her chest, embellished with a large, iridescent crystal sat in the middle. An opal, maybe a moonstone. It felt out of the ordinary, gleaming with a bright light that seemed to come from within the stone itself.

“You should be wary with that kind of necklace in your ownership,” Geralt warned under his breath, chin dipping to subtly signal towards the girl’s jewelry.

Her eyebrows furrowed at the comment, though her gaze instinctively followed his own. She brought a hand up to toy with the pendant, letting the metal move between her fingertips as if it were her first time seeing it.

“Oh, this old thing?” She questioned, a hint of apprehension lacing her voice as she held up the amulet, “It’s a fake, just a trinket I keep around,”

Despite her reassurance, the witcher’s comment seemed to have fuelled the baseline suspicion a barmaid would hold towards most customers. Simultaneously, she seemed genuinely inquisitive about the man’s opinion, her brow perched high on her forehead.

Her pinky traced along the side of the silver base, running down an array of intricate engravings carved into the metal by hand.

“Looks expensive. Different kinds of folk hang around these parts, you’d know best,” Geralt continued, tone flat yet assertive.

He never once meant to threaten the girl but rather tried offering a kind piece of advice based on his own experiences with such riches. Her prideful display of such an eye-catching jewel could land her in more trouble than she could have expected. His curiosity threw her demeanor off, eyes trailing to her feet. A moment passed without contact, then another.

“That’ll be it, girl,” he hummed, attempting to brush her presence off with a final word to the conversation. She shook her head left to right, almost like exiting a trance, and nodded at him hurriedly. Her nose tinged rouge. She turned heel, boots squeaking as she made her way through the boisterous crowd and back towards the bar.

The man allowed his gaze to linger on the girl until she disappeared into the sea of other bodies, huffing at the comfortable feeling of solitude once again. He let himself sink into the seat below. His eyes turned to study the crevices of the oak table he resided at, keen eyes suddenly focusing on something in the distance.

A raven-haired man sat hunched down at an adjacent booth, head clad in a pristine cloak that clasped off at his chest. The witcher stared back in an unspoken manner of competition, his watchful gaze scanning each visual intricacy the man had to offer. The pigment in his robes was intense and rich, an exotic indigo staining the thick linen, lined with silver thread that connected at the neck with a metallic amulet. It might have been adorned with small studs and jewels, from his position Geralt could not tell for certain.

His pale hands perched atop a leather-bound book surrounded by scattered cards, at least two decks. The fingers were scrawny, bony, wrapped in intricate rings that reflected the same blue light of the stained glass. His eyes bored into Geralt with a certain might, pools of sapphires flickering with candlelight.

They both lingered that way endlessly, both trying to intimidate the other into looking down, a gentle admit of defeat. The man smiled.

“And… there we go,” Came that one quiet voice again, accompanied by the dull tap of a glass mug placed firmly on the table. “Can I get you anything else?” it continued as Geralt made a last-ditch effort to squint at the cloaked man in the back of the room. He seemed satiated by this exchange, quickly returning to shuffling a fresh deck of cards sitting just beside his ale.

“…Hello?” The doe-eyed girl waved her hand to Geralt with a confused look on her sunken face, thick eyebrows furrowing with a twitch of her upper lip.

He turned his gaze towards her, quickly noticing the sudden emptiness around her chest— the amulet was gone. She must have taken his words to heart, or perhaps, more unfortunately, found them to be a kind of veiled threat towards her well-being. The skin of her chest was reddened, maybe hot to the touch.

“You’re a witcher, aren’t you?” She said matter-of-factly. Geralt raised an eyebrow at the sudden inquiry, otherwise maintaining his demeanor. It wasn’t so unusual.

“That’s right,” he replied tactfully, fingers tracing the handle of his mug before gripping it tightly and taking a hefty swig. The alcohol hit his throat with a delicious burn, trailing down the throat and leaving a tinge of plums and spice in its wake.

With a look as infamous as his, Geralt was undeniably used to being spotted out, even in the smallest of hamlets such as Posada. He didn’t mind the musings of others, as most of his encounters happened to be quite harmless and an inconvenience more than anything. He decided to enjoy his drink in peace and allow the girl to ask any questions she might be curious about. If he got lucky, the conversation could score him a new contract; Gods knew that was the kind of excuse he needed to occupy himself for the upcoming days.

“My, my…” The woman whispered, eyes widening a fraction as her fingers began skimming the edge of her apron in contemplation. There was an air of anticipation surrounding her, as if eager to ask about his dangerous lifestyle but abstaining for the fear of rejection. Same old.

“That makes you a frequent traveler, doesn’t it?” She piped up squeakily, clearing her throat after.

“Somewhat,” Geralt replied dryly, aiding his parched tongue with another swig of the drink. Exactly what he ordered, surprisingly. The girl didn’t bother cheating her way out of extra coin.

“And why do you find yourself in Posada, witcher?” the girl questioned, bright-eyed. Her hips twisted towards him, legs shuffling back and gently resting against the frame of the booth opposite to him. Geralt huffed, placing his ale firmly on the oak below. His face remained in its neutrality.

“Not staying long,” he mumbled with a backhand to his upper lip, cleaning the wetness from it with a smooth swipe. He spotted the barmaid’s coy gaze looking down as she swiftly positioned herself on the seat. When she looked up again, their eyes met.

There was a scar on her temple, kissing the hairline of the frizzed locks growing there. It looked well-healed with time, the weathered strip of skin standing out with the raised edges of its pale, pearlescent grove.

“Just for a rest I assume, then?” she smiled softly, the scar curving with the movement of her muscles. Geralt nodded. Her gaze seemed to falter at that but sharpened a mere second later.

“Just a drink, not much else to get done around here,” he spoke lowly, taking a knowing glance around the tavern; townsfolk swarming the bar in rugged clothing, some barefoot, all baring sunken faces. “Seems like it’s not monsters your town needs helping with,” he scoffed.

The barmaid’s eyes followed Geralt’s gaze, but she seemed to refrain from commenting. Her bony fingers clamped into loose fists before dropping to her lap. She moistened her lower lip with a slow flick of the tongue, shoulders rising and falling with each breath. She stayed silent for a moment, contemplative, then suddenly perked up with a furrowed brow.

“We’ve got monsters, witcher,” the girl mumbled. Geralt’s brow twitched at the comment, but he gave her a nod in recognition. She nodded back. “Something’s been killing off the townsfolk in the night when they go foraging,”

“Foraging? Why at night?” he questioned.

“For Mooncaps. They fluoresce in the dark and so are easier to spot that way; we use them for skin salves, tea, that kind of thing,” the girl explained, “They grow in the woods.”

“Mooncaps…” the man acknowledged, “And the foragers, how certain are you that they haven’t just lost their way back?” Geralt pressed on, fingers tensing around the handle of his mug.

“Rescue teams have been sent out before, but they never come back,” the girl said, “Sylvanus was the only one to make it home in one piece. After the fifth expedition, there were no more volunteers left. We didn’t want to risk any more casualties, you know? I grew up there, too. But I don’t dare go back now, not after I’ve heard the rumors,” she continued.

“Sylvanus?” Geralt interrupted, feeling the name out on his tongue. It sounded foreign to the land, but unfamiliar to him personally. The barmaid nodded.

“He’s this witch-hunter from Temeria. Well, that’s what he says, anyway,” she breathed out, eyes squinting, “He’s not from around here, you’d from the things he wears. Nice things, well-fit and expensive. Arrived one night and asked for the largest room we had, room seven. That must’ve been a whole month ago by now,”

Geralt’s eyebrows furrowed, gaze focusing on the table he had been examining beforehand. Nothing. The cloaked figure was gone, leaving behind a vacant table and that deck of cards.

“We’ve got spare rooms, plenty of them. I could arrange one for you if you’d like, maybe a hot bath to go with it,” the barmaid piqued in with the same smile, soft and genuine as her gaze seemed to bore into the witcher’s own eyes. She pursed her lips, anticipating an answer, perhaps one in favor of her declaration.

Geralt used a gloved finger to tap the wooden surface of the table, the rest of his body remaining perfectly still. “I’ll camp out,” he declared, hand raising his mug as the last drops of ale trickled down his throat. He still felt parched.

“As you wish,” the girl nodded, a glint in her eye as she reciprocated with a polite smile. Her arms stretched across the padding of her seat, relaxing her muscles before she swiftly stood up. Her hand grabbed onto the upper rim of the empty mug, removing it from the table with a huff.

“It’s on the house. Thank you for helping out,” she added quietly, smiling.

“Hold your appreciation, girl. I haven’t done anything to earn it just yet,” Geralt replied, earning a soft chuckle from the woman. It was airy and warm. Her half-lidded gaze met his own.

“You’ve offered your kindness, it’s all I could ask for these days,” she replied quaintly, taking a few steps back while her fingers tampered with the iron handle of the mug. She looked down briefly, then back up. Her smile had disappeared.

“Geralt,” he responded half-mindedly, out of habit. He assessed the name she had given him carefully, letting it echo in his mind.

“Farewell, then, Geralt,” she giggled once more, sounding somewhat bubbly at the reveal. Her smile stretched wider this time, revealing a pair of dimples adorning each flushed cheek with a shallow grove. She nibbled at her bottom lip, breathing in deeply before turning away, yet she held her gaze with his, somewhat determined to keep the witcher’s attention. She whipped around, her overskirt twirling gracefully around her hips before she leaped away. Geralt caught one last glance of her locks before she disappeared into the crowd again.

He breathed out, eyes closed tightly. His meeting with Ciri would have to wait another day while he took care of the monster plaguing this off-road town. He imagined it to be a Noonwraith, maybe a Werewolf in the worst case. It would be dirty work, but quick, and perhaps the town could spare a decent amount of coin for putting an end to their unfortunate endeavors.

The man stood up with a grunt, eyes scanning the crowds of clientele once again. His mind tried focusing on a certain head of raven-black hair amongst the sea of bodies, but his efforts were fruitless. The witch-hunter was gone, or at the very least in hiding… perhaps somewhere nearby. Geralt recalled the barmaid’s testimony, how she confessed they had rented the man a room just a few nights back.

The witcher’s eyes shifted to the broad staircase at the edge of the room, oddly empty and lit dimly by candlelight adorning the wall. He walked over in a few smooth strides, eyes narrowed and focused. He set his boot on the first stair, hearing it creak pathetically under his boot. He climbed another, another, continuing til the very top.

The gleeful tune of the lute sounded muffled and dull at this level, reverberating through the walls and getting eerily distorted in the process. Geralt lurked down the hallway, passing wooden doors adorned with handmade numbers and watching for light seeping through the gap where the planks met the floor.

He stopped suddenly, faced with number ‘7’. His gloved hand reached to grip the doorknob slowly, but with a firm squeeze, he twisted. To his surprise, it was open.

He stepped in, nose catching the vivid aroma of rosemary and myrrh. It carried in the air heavily, a thin stripe of smoke weaving through the air and connecting at the tip of an incense stick sat on a desk to his left. It was messy, clattered with books and one-off documents stained with slim rings of plum and violet.

“There you are,” came a gravely, monotonous sound. Geralt turned to face it, his eyes met with sapphire ones. They were bulbous, almost too large for the socket, threatening to pop out at any moment. The intensity made the witcher stay put. “Geralt of Rivia!” the man exclaimed theatrically, arms extending wide as he made his way from the bedside mirror. Geralt realized he hadn’t noticed the man when he entered.

“And you are?” the witcher asked firmly.

“You know my name,” the man replied, a smile adorning his lips. There was a thick scar running across them, connecting to his right brow.

“Sylvanus, is it?” Geralt replied, deciding to back into the doorway with his backside. Hearing the hinges squeal as they shut, Sylvanus seemed to relax. His mulberry cloak fluttered as he moved closer, head low. The whites of his eyes were glazed, shimmering like tiles of water. “There’s a monster roaming the woods, I’ve been told you know of it,”

“Certainly, yes,” He replied diplomatically, moving soundlessly to take a seat by the cluttered desk. The incense was shriveled now, copper tray piled with ash. “You’d like to know of this beastie? It was relentless. Ghastly and pale and crimson, drenched in innocent blood. Female in appearance and winged, like succubi,” Sylvanus explained, hands flailing wildly as he recalled the creature’s looks. His tone was low. “It is quite a miracle I made it out with all my limbs still intact,” Sylvanus sighed amongst dramatics.

“It seems we’re dealing with a harpy,” Geralt replied with a nod, hands now placed firmly on his hips as he watched the man before him go dark in the face. His eyebrows furrowed, eyes still bulging as he approached in a swift stride. He pointed a long finger at the witcher’s chest, gaze holding his fervently.

“That is no ordinary harpy, witcher,” the man hissed, offended at the mere suggestion of it. “I’ve seen nothing like it. This is no ordinary occurrence, I’ve come to realize…” Sylvanus carried on, retracting his arm that slivered under his cloak like a snake returning to its lair.

“This town, you’ll learn to know, is cursed. Plagued,” he finished slyly, almost hostile in his manner.

Geralt sighed at the man’s warnings, eyeing his lowly figure as it trailed back to the padded armchair by the desk. His snake-like arm slid out once more, thin and splotchy. It grabbed a match, striking it quickly against the table’s surface to illicit a pale flame that he used to light a fresh incense stick with. The room became smokey within seconds, a thin veil of grey dancing in the light breeze of the window open ajar. When he was done, Sylvanus tossed the match to a pile of similarly decrepit ones.

“If you want to know how I survived, well,” he trailed, “the beastie is weak to light. It fears daytime, sunlight, fire… anything that burns,”

“How did you find out?” Geralt questioned,

“Trial and error,” Sylvanus shrugged with a grin, eyes squinting. He slumped into the chair, tossing and turning until he seemed comfortable. “It only comes out on moonless nights, that’s when it goes out to feed,” he added. Geralt nodded, stopping for a beat to let the man continue on his tirade, but there was nothing else he wanted to say. His focus had now shifted to an opened book on the desk, his fingers skimming through the pages feverishly.

Geralt cleared his throat, eyeing the man once more before turning around to leave. “Thanks for the info,”

“Don’t make yourself allies in Posada, Geralt,” a voice called out behind him, deep and dark. “It might just turn on you,”

Geralt halted. He nodded, head tilting but not enough to catch the man’s figure again. The witcher shuffled away silently, shutting the door behind him with a ‘click’ of the hinges. A soft shuffling came from within, cloth rubbing against cloth and stacks of papers being ripped frantically, in a strange hurry. The flaxen-haired man let the commotion unfold without interruption.

He spotted an ornate window peeking outside, his eyes squinting at the bright lights of the colors flickering around the main square. It was getting late, and he would have to make camp soon. His feet stomped down the flight of stairs, faded music coming back in full effect.

He took note of the blonde-headed bard singing her heart out, and the slowly declining yet continuously vast crowd of townsfolk swarming the vivid scene. His gaze trailed to the bar instinctively, hovering over about a dozen heads that he knew instantly didn’t include the one he sought out.

A soft breath escaped his chapped lips, hands swiftly reaching for the cover of his cape’s hood. As the warmth of the tavern slowly faded from his body, Geralt felt his fingers ache in the cold of the night.

#geralt x reader #geralt x you #x reader #reader insert #fanfiction #ao3 #geralt of rivia #geralt z rivii #the witcher #my writing #cowboygenesis #smut #eventual smut #slow burn #magic #oneshots #writers on tumblr #ao3 writer

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apalestar · 4 months

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@never-surrender sent It wasn't often that Halsin got the chance to leave the Grove and bask in the beauty the great oak father provided in the forests around, but when he does, he took full advantage. He expected a chance to unwind, to have alone time. What he DIDNT expect was to run into somebody else hunting either. "Apologies my friend. I didn't realize there were others hunting in the area.." he didn't mention the man looked ill fitted for hunting.

Oh shit.

Caught in the midst of a vulnerable moment of blood induced euphoria. The stag’s blood smeared across his chin from his feeding. Back presented to this intrusion to his meal. Were his heart capable, it would be beating rabbit fast in his chest. Perhaps rightfully so, people did terrible things to vampires. Stakes. Beheadings. Any sort of not so pretty death awaited his kind. He had reason to be fearful.

Astarion was particularly keen to remain alive. Now his mind was clear. His eyes no longer gleamed blood red-orange in his master’s compulsions. From Baldur’s Gate he fled. Ran and ran until hunger drove him to hunt. To replenish lost resources. The stag one of two meals he imbibed since his departure. Quickly, his hand swiped away at the crimson on his face. The sleeve of his ruined attire soaked the remainder. A facade of normality for the man who found him. He repressed the instinct to lash out with his stolen dagger coated in the creature’s blood. Without an idea if the man was alone, a preemptive strike seemed a terribly rash decision.

He stood, brushing the dirt from his pants. A pivot on his heel to finally determine the identity of his interloper. An elf. A large one at that dressed rather curiously. A wood elf? He spotted them as occasional visitors to the Gate. Were he under Cazador still; a perfect target.

As for him? The road had not been kind to the garments he was adorned in whilst escaping. The gold embroidery unraveling in places. His sleeves frayed at the edges. His pants torn where brambles and thorns snagged and ripped. What a sight he must make like a completely desperate vagabond. A part he hoped to play to the fullest extent. He painted his expression with a curve of a smile on his lips. “Yes, well, no harm done as you can tell. I doubt his brethren are still around.”

The stag was practically mutilated from how he butchered the whole hunt. Fell it by jumping from a tree onto its back. Not his wisest idea, but he was starving. “You came from a nearby town?” He inquired.

Without a map to guide him, Astarion had no way of knowing where he was let alone how close to any kind of civilization.

#never-surrender #verse: a ring of fortune #starter > a new traveling companion #queue #// Best hunter ever. Mutilated corpse.#// hunting deer with a dagger like an idiot

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deathisararemercy · 1 year

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Sacrifice

Death x Reader

The center of town was where the real party was at. A small scaffold was set up in the plaza. White lilies were set in baskets around it in dazzling grandeur. On the scaffold was a grand table, set with a brilliant spread. Only one person was seated at it. Out of all the people in the town, they were the only person dressed head-to-toe in black. Muerte couldn’t see their face as a veil covered it, but he could tell their head was bent as they picked at their final meal. This year’s sacrifice.

A/N: I always write these when I'm sleepy, y'know? Not just the fics but also the author's notes in general. I think writing the notes are my favorite part. Do people even read these? Tweedledee-tweedledum- alright. Let's get into it, shall we? This is actually a lot cuter than what the title would suggest, but it also has such an ending with some different interpretations. This is a tiny tiny bit Halloween-y and out of season, but I swear I'll try to write something for Valentine's Day. That fic will definitely be cute and fluffy, I promise.

The fire was dying out.

Not that it mattered much anyway. He was Death; things like the cold, rain, or snow didn’t affect him. Building this campfire at the edge of the dark wood was wholly unnecessary. It was probably going to attract unwanted attention to himself. But watching the dancing sparks from the campfire was a nice distraction from seeing whatever it was that was going on in the town just down the hill. He could feel it in the air and the way the stars glared down at him. Muerte wrinkled his nose. The air smelled sour like rotten onions and inevitable death. But also lamb. He liked lamb.

He stomped out the dying embers of the fire and checked that the area was all nice and clean. The wind hummed a bit. He whistled in response. Satisfied, the wolf drew his hood and began the walk into town.

For what must have been a century now, the villagers of this village held a festival to “keep Death at bay” every year due to a horrible plague that once passed through the town. It had been an awful year with a poor harvest and horrible disease. Muerte could still remember the exhilarating smell of their constant fear. He never experienced anything like it; it was like walking through an electrifying haze for days that left him in a constant state of adrenaline. Despite that, he felt guilty each time he had to take a life during his stay. And there were many.

He was silent and solemn each time he arrived at someone’s deathbed, trying to be gentle. But the way the families screamed and begged, their wails and sobs as he grimly cut the cord tethering their loved ones’ spirits to the mortal realm, haunted him long after he left the town. The spirits had hated him too, pleading for him to send them back, just so they could live a little longer, just so they could say goodbye, and cursing him when he said he could not.

But Death is a promise, not a bargain to be made.

And the villagers had been terrified of El Lobo Muerte ever since.

Since then, each year, they’d put up torches that would burn all through the night and offer one person as a sacrifice, leaving them in the center of the largest field. One hundred years later, the festival was more of a celebration to keep away illness for the coming year and dress up in costume. Little decorations would be pasted up like wolves and skulls. Sickles would be painted red and hung up next to the fields of crops.

In reality, Muerte couldn't control when people died. He was just there to release the dead from the mortal realm and send them on their way to the spirit world. But it was cute, seeing the little paper skulls they pasted up, the decorated gourds, and- oh that smelled good. They were selling chopped pieces of lamb on skewers this year. His red eyes darted to the stall where they were selling them. A small crowd had gathered there. He’d come back and buy two later.

This year’s sacrifice.

Muerte leaned against a stall, watching them try to take another bite of food before pushing away their plate. They grabbed a golden chalice and took a long drink.

“Steeling your nerves. Interesting.’’

“What?”

The wolf looked around. He was leaning right against another lamb stall. This one was selling mini-pies. The cook looked up at him in confusion, not fear. Well, it looked like even after just a century, no one bothered to tell anyone what Death looked like.

The wolf grinned, baring his teeth. “Oh, it’s nothing. Say,’’ he leaned down to take a peek at the wares. “Could I have two of those please?”

==x==x==

The procession began at eleven bells. The town suddenly fell silent and solemn as a committee of hooded figures approached the scaffold. The sacrifice trembled as they rose, whether it be from fear, fatigue, or drink Muerte didn’t know. When they reached the bottom of the scaffold, a bouquet of lilies was procured for them by one of the hooded figures. The figures then surrounded the sacrifice until Death could barely see the top of their head. And then, they began to walk.

The crowd parted silently as the hooded figures led the sacrifice out of the village, closing the gap as the procession left. Their pace was horribly slow, but they did need to fill up an hour of time. Muerte followed the procession from a distance.

When they reached the edge of town, where the crowds were thin, the light grew dim, and the stars seemed a bit brighter, one of the hooded figures spoke. “This is the final time you will step foot in this village. Once you leave the light, you are to be led into the dark. With your back to the light, you walk into the cold embrace of death in order for the light to continue to burn bright for all those you leave behind.”

With that, the sacrifice was blindfolded, their veil covered their face again, and their hands were bound. They linked arms with one of the hooded figures and the small procession continued to the village’s largest field. The moon was full and beautiful, and the winds hummed a little tune. The wolf whistled quietly in response.

Muerte walked softly and silently, undetected by the mortals. His eyes glowed red as he tried to see further in the dark. The figures were just leaving the sacrifice there. No final words, no last requests. The figures led them to the center of the field, cleared away except for a cut tree stump, on which they seated the sacrifice. Then they just…left.

Something in Muerte’s chest twisted, his lip curling in disgust as he watched them leave the poor sacrifice alone. In the distance, the village bell tower rang twelve bells. He could faintly hear the person hold their breath expectantly. That was his cue.

“Well, well,” the wolf smirked as he pushed away the crops and stood in the clearing. “If it isn’t this year’s little lamb.” The person stood up suddenly, hopelessly trying to see the wolf in the dark. “Relax,” he chuckled, “I’m not going to eat you.”

“But-”

“Here.” He swiftly removed their veil and blindfold. The wolf suddenly hesitated. Those terrified eyes were…prettier than he expected. If he looked at them any longer, he just might-

Muerte spun them around, grabbing their shoulder so that they wouldn’t trip and fall. Their body was small and warm beneath his cold paws and firm grip. Could he just think clearly for one-

He drew one of his sickles and slashed the rope binding their wrists together. The villager yelped at the sudden release before righting themself. They turned around, and Death focused on staring at the point just between their eyebrows. Their eyebrows knit together as they examined him in the moonlight. Adorable.

“Are you…Death?”

“Yes. Yes, I am. And you are?”

They hesitated before giving their name. “My, my, my. What a beautiful name.”

“It’s the same as any other name,” they scoffed. He could see the faintest flicker of a smile flash across their face.

“Well, it’s the name of the person this town foolishly gave up this year. So I think it’s fairly important. Lamb?”

“Yes?”

The wolf howled in laughter, echoing through the silent night. If there was another villager out there, they’d surely be terrified. Muerte reached under his poncho and pulled out the pies, wrapped up in cloth. “I was asking if you wanted a lamb pie, cordero.”

Their face reddened. They snatched one of the pies away and turned their back towards him. “I- I knew that! I was just saying ‘yes’ as in ‘yes! I’d like a pie!’ you stupid lobo.”

Muerte placed a hand on his chest, gasping. “You dare call Death a stupid wolf! You better watch what you say. You never know what will be your final words.” The villager cast a glance back over their shoulder, gaze meeting Death’s. The two of them laughed.

Muerte sat down on the ground next to the stump. The villager stared at the stump before deciding to sit on the ground next to the wolf. They each ate their pies in silence, chewing thoughtfully. The wolf finished first, licking his lips. “You all outdo yourselves every year. That was delicious.”

The villager smiled, wiping their mouth with the back of their hand. “Thanks. We try to make it nice for you.”

Leaning his head on his hand, the wolf shrugged. “At this point, it’s less about me and just having a nice new year. But you know, I enjoy seeing all the cute costumes. A little kid dressed up like that Puss in Boots, running up to me with a stick sword.” His eyes narrowed suddenly, looking at the villager’s face. “Hang on.” They stiffened. He leaned in closer, close enough to smell them and feel them breathe. “You have something…right…there.” He gently wiped away a stray crumb of pie from their face.

“O-oh. Thank you!”

Was that pushing it? He narrowed his eyes again as he looked between that beautiful face and the crumb stuck to his fur. He licked his paw clean, eyes trained on the villager. Their face reddened again. He could feel them trembling a bit, though Muerte was fairly certain it wasn’t from fear.

“Say,” he began slowly, testing the words out, “Do you think I really eat people?”

They were startled and hurriedly responded, “No, of course not! At least…I hope not.”

“Well your prayers have been answered,” Muerte said, rising to his feet. The villager quickly followed. “I don’t really eat people. Neither does that Big Bad Wolf people tend to confuse me with.”

“But the others,” they said slowly, “the others from the previous years. What happened to them?”

The wolf shrugged. “I always bring food because I know they’ll barely be able to eat anything from the nerves. Then, I take them wherever they want to go, that isn’t this village.”

Their eyes widened. “You can do that?”

“Mm, yes. Granted, not everyone likes the way I travel. And the universe isn’t particularly keen on me doing this. But I don’t kill anyone. And they usually survive the trip.”

“‘Usually’?”

“I’m joking, cordero pequeño.” Muerte grinned. “So what will it be? Where would you like to go?”

The little lamb paused. “I…I don’t know.”

“Come on. You can go anywhere in the world. Just say the word.”

“I think I just want to be able to see you again.”

That took Death aback. He blinked rapidly. “What?”

“Was it weird? Sorry, I just- Listen. I want to see you again.” The mortal gestured around the field, ethereal under the moonlight. “I know I said I don’t think you eat people, but I also didn’t really expect to be alive past midnight. I don’t know where I want to go or what I want to do. But,” they added, stepping slowly towards the wolf, “now I think I want to get to know you more. You’re a pretty funny guy, Lobo Muerte.”

His heart fluttered in his chest. Well, mierda. The moonlight was caught in their hair, and they smelled sweet and full of life. Muerte bent down, reaching behind the stump to pick up the discarded bouquet of lilies. Quickly before it could wilt under his touch, he pressed one flower to the mortal’s chest. He smiled softly, tapping the tip of their nose. “We’ll find a place for you. And I'll be sure to visit before your time comes for real. I’d like to see you again too. Is that alright?”

They grinned. “Yes, of course.”

“Alright then.” The wolf unsheathed his scythes and thrust them upwards, cutting through the air. A shimmering door of light opened in front of the two. He smiled seeing the wonder on their face. “Let’s go.” And he whistled as they went.

#puss in boots #puss in boots death #death x reader #puss in boots muerte #muerte x reader #the last wish #x reader #.writing

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