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that-gay-guy-from-hell · 10 months

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Sweet Serenade: Vergil x G/N Reader

MINORS DNI GO AWAY >:[ SERIOUSLY-- *grabs a broom and sweeps at you* SHOO

SUMMARY: Ever since you met the blue devil you’d loved to listen to him; be it a small noise or a loud shout, you always listened. Tonight, you found yourself home alone with him and begin to hear a different noise; one that you realize you aren’t supposed to be hearing.

BEGINNING NOTES: ♭ Top/Dom Vergil x (implied) Bottom/Sub G/N Reader ♮Unestablished relationship. ♯Everyone else can tell you are into each other. The two of you have gone “out” before; even though that’s not what either of you called it, it is what both of you wanted. ♮You live at the DMC with Dante and Vergil. ♭Smut--Vergil masturbation voyeuristic reader ♮Vergil enjoys the idea of the reader consensually submitting to him (I don’t want it to come across wrong) (The song is a link to a YouTube video of it if you want to listen)

The Devil May Cry was alive and bustling as per usual these days. There was never a dull moment not since the twins’ reunion and return from Hell. Although the happier and more welcoming atmosphere was a nice change of pace, you couldn’t help but miss the peaceful quiet times. Tonight was one of those nights.

The last contract was large enough that the whole shop got involved which resulted in an enormous payout. So, the crew decided to go out drinking to celebrate--Most of the crew anyway.

Nero was hesitant to join, not being one for social outings--like father, like son. However, Nico wasn’t taking no for an answer and was currently shoving Nero--quite literally--out the back door. Lady and Trish had already moved to the garage and were chatting. Then, of course, there were the Sparda twins; Vergil and Dante. The younger sibling had been nagging his brother for over ten minutes.

“Come on,” Dante playfully poked at Vergil’s shoulder for the umpteenth time tonight, staring at him like a kicked puppy dog, “Pleaseeee--”

“Dante.” Vergil sighed as he stood up, shutting his book with a loud thump, “For the last time, I am not going to your stupid bar and that’s final.”

The younger twin pouted slightly and let out an exaggerated exhale, “You’re so boring in your old age, Verge; you gotta learn to live a little,” Dante turned his attention to you and flashed a wide toothy grin, “You’re coming with right?”

You pursed your lips and shook your head ‘No’.

The red devil dramatically groaned and slumped forwards.

You gently patted his back, “Sorry, I'm just too beat to join in.”

Dante looked up at you and stuck his bottom lip out in a pout.

A warm smile tugged at your lips as you ruffled the red devil’s hair, “Maybe next time.”

“Promise..?”

“If that’s what you want, sure.”

He stood back up fully, a small smile tugging at his lips, “You’d best believe I’m gonna hold you to that, babe~!” He winked at you as he grabbed his coat from the back of the desk chair, sliding it on, “Just don’t go breaking the old man, alright? Kinda need him in the morning for a contract.”

“Huh-!?” Your eyes widened as you realized what he meant.

Vergil rolled his eyes and moved to stand beside you, just a few centimeters away from your side, “Is that a hint of jealousy I hear, Dante?” He folded his arms and leaned back a bit.

“And if it is?” Dante raised a brow at his sibling.

“Tch,” Vergil’s gaze thinned, “As if they would have such low standards.”

“Careful there Verge might insult yourself since we are twins.”

“Perhaps, but we--”

The sound of Nero shouting and a loud thud caught everyone’s attention--it seems Nero finally gave in, or rather gave out, and fell face-first into the concrete of the garage. Nico stared down at the young man from the doorway before turning to the three of you, a semi-irritated tone to her voice, “We’re gonna leave your old asses if y’all don’t get a move on!”

Dante sighed and walked towards the door, “Sorry, only one ‘old ass’ is leaving tonight.”

Nico said something unintelligible as Dante shut the door, leaving Vergil and you alone.

The blue devil sighed quietly before addressing you, “I am going to retire for the night,” he moved toward the stairs. Once at the bottom of the stairs, he paused for a moment with parted lips, as if he were going to say something; however, he said nothing, shut his mouth, and ascended the stairs, disappearing into his room.

You sighed through your nose. Part of you had hoped Vergil might want to spend some time together, but that was wishful thinking. He’s not the “hanging out” type, even if the two of you spend most of your waking hours together. Deciding to do the same as the blue devil, you turned off the shop’s lights and headed to your room.

The floorboards creaked as you entered your cozy abode and flipped on the lights. With a slight bounce, you flopped onto your bed with a loud sigh. Your room was the smallest of the three make-shift bedrooms of the Devil May Cry and shared a wall with a certain blue devil’s room. Through the thin walls, you could hear the faint sound of Schubert’s music from Vergil’s record player. Admittedly, you didn’t care much for classical music but that slowly changed when the eldest twin moved in. His music selection was so different than Dante’s; it was calmer, relaxing, and gentle, all of which were something you found reflected the man’s inner-self--even if Vergil doesn’t seem the temperate type. Tonight’s selection was no different. Currently, the record was playing one of your favorites “Serenade”.

A small smile tugged at your lips as you listened to the violins' crescendos and decrescendos; how each phrase changed and grew. You allowed yourself to relax into your bedding as you slowly began to drift off. However, just as you closed your eyes, a small stifled grunt came from the other side of the wall and piqued your curiosity. Then, a growl followed by a visceral groan emanated from the other room. Although you knew it was intruding--and downright voyeuristic--you couldn’t help but get up and set your ear against the shared bedroom wall, listening intently.

Vergil had planned on reading and going to bed when he headed upstairs. Wishing to enjoy the few fleeting moments of peace within the walls of the shop. However, Vergil couldn’t get the teasing remark from Dante out of his head--the idea of Vergil making love with you.

As he read the same page over and over, Vergil found his thoughts devolving into more and more sinful ideas. He wondered what sounds you'd make when he ate at your body; what lascivious mewls and whimpers would you make? Would you enjoy it? How would you react to him holding you impossibly close as your bodies are neatly and sensually interwoven, connected together in an act of heated passion and lust? The endless amount of devilish sexual amusement he’d get from spearing your innards and watching you come undone under him. Your loud pleading cries from his overstimulating touch as Vergil plays with you long into the night and morning, not wanting to pass up this rare moment of privacy.

Admittedly he wasn't sure if you were into him as much as he is to you; however, that didn't stop the growing heat from spreading throughout his body. With an irritated huff, Vergil shut his book and grumbled to himself. He wasn’t typically one for masturbation and had mostly only partaken of such sinful delights in his youth.

Perhaps just one time wouldn’t be too bad, right?

The blue devil carefully set his book down, still debating if he really was going to do this. However, an overwhelming throbbing in his pants answered the question for him. He bit his lip as he closed his eyes, allowing his mind to indulge such degenerative thoughts; thoughts of what he wanted to do to you.

He palmed his hard-on through his jeans, imagining it was your hand instead. The slow sound of his belt being unbuckled, the snap of the button of his fly, the smooth sound of the zipper coming undone; all of this he imagined was your doing. Despite his distaste for such joys of the flesh, he did keep a bottle of lube in his bedside drawer just in case he’d ever need it--and tonight was one of those times.

Setting the bottle on the tabletop, he closed his eyes and ghosted his fingertips against his aching tent. A shiver ran up his spine as he released his cock from its fabric confines. He opened his eyes for a split second to grab the bottle of lube and put some in his palm before quickly closing his eyes again; not wanting to break his fantasy.

It started slow, almost painfully slow, as he bit his lip. He was fantasizing about the wet feeling from the lube being instead caused by your cute little mouth being wrapped around his cock. A small groan left his lips as he continued to fall further and further into this fictitious scenario. What he wouldn’t give just to fuck your mouth at least once. As he continued, his lack of practice became more and more evident as his hand moved in uneven and unsteady strokes. A sudden intense hot feeling spread throughout his body causing him to grow uncomfortable. He knew exactly what it was; he was losing himself, being much too engrossed in his pathetic devilish desires, practically egging on an accidental Trigger.

Quickly, he opened his eyes and shot up from the mattress, tossing his vest off to the side. Using one hand to hold himself up from the mattress, he continued to pleasure himself. His brow twitched as he closed his eyes again. In his mind, he toyed with the idea of you being pinned underneath him; completely submissive and powerless. A small growl came from his throat as he began to lose focus on staying quiet. The sight of you breathless and staring back at him with half-lidded eyes made his cock ache and his mind reeling.

Again he began to feel the hot feeling consuming his limbs, he needed to let his skin breathe--he needed to undress more. As he fumbled with the shirt buttons, he leaned upwards. Almost instantly getting frustrated with the small plastic clasps, he ripped his shirt from his body--shredding it--and tossed it off in a random direction. Vergil leaned back over the bedding, his hand that was supporting his weight had balled up the sheets; tearing it with his nails. The blue devil bit his lip again as his pace became even faster, however, this did little to deter the loud carnal snarling that he was making.

Vergil leaned further forwards, placing his forehead on the, now disheveled bedding. In his mind he was laying his head against yours, enjoying the feeling of your hot skin against his. The feeling of your hands within his hair and your legs wrapped around his middle, pulling him closer and further into your hole. A thin layer of sweat adorned his body and his hair had fallen forwards. A mixture of spit and a small amount of blood was dripping from his lips and onto the bed. His breathing was heavy, uneven, and filled with a disgusting amount of lust; a side of himself that Vergil, not only tries to hide from the outside world but, despises. However, he couldn’t be bothered to think about how unrefined and how feral he probably sounded and looked, the only thoughts to be had were ones about you.

As he approached his orgasm he began to whimper your name quietly to himself, wishing he had the courage to ask you out and to ask for you to give yourself to him--every bit of yourself to him. He began to rock forwards, bucking his hips into his hand. A greedy possessive feeling filled his heart, he wants to hide you away from the world, to keep you all to himself. A snarl left his lips at the thought of anyone else being able to have you, to take you from him. Vergil didn’t care how insane he sounds or how dangerous that kind of mindset is; he’s had everything taken from him his entire life and he will not allow anyone to take you from him. With each passing moment, he got louder and called your name more and more frantically.

When Vergil hit his peak, he leaned upwards and threw his head back. A loud thunderous growl and an almost whimpering moan came from him as his body twitched in ecstasy. Lots of smooth white ropes decorated his bedding as he opened his eyes to stare at the dark room’s ceiling above him, he felt several tears running down his face. Using the thumb of the hand still wrapped around his cock, he played with his tip, sending a jolt through his body; despite finding release, he was still just as worked up as before--perhaps even worse than before.

That’s when a set of knocks at his door made him freeze.

Was Dante back already? Or what if you had--

“Vergil?” It was you.

He panicked; despite not being clean, shoved his cock back into his boxers and jeans. Unable to find his shirt from earlier, he grabbed a random t-shirt from his dresser and slid it on so fast he failed to notice that it was backwards. Using the sweat from his brow, he slicked back his hair in hopes it would stay long enough for him to answer the door.

When he opened the door his words were discombobulated as he stumbled through his thoughts, “What?”

You said nothing but instead shyly looked away from him, your shoulders tensed up and you pursed your lips. That’s when Vergil noticed.

The strong unmistakable scent of arousal that was coming from you. You were just as, if not more, horny. Admittedly, he wanted nothing more than to pin you to the ground and take you right then and there; but he found himself hesitant.

With a very shy voice, you mumbled to him, “You alright? The record has been skipping for a while now and…” Your voice trailed off, unable to look him in the eye.

As he spoke a dark husky sultry tone came from him, a voice you’d never heard him use before, “Oh? Has it now?”

You nodded, “Yeah, I can hear it from my room…”

He smirked and turned you to face him, “It is quite invasive to be listening to others, Love.” His eyes met yours, “Especially if you were enjoying yourself to it.”

Your eyes went wide.

Vergil chuckled lowly, “I can tell from your heart that you either just ran a mile or were having a good time,” he leaned in closer, “and I can smell it on your hands, Voyeur.”

A set of sputtering unintelligible noises came from you, your face becoming flushed and Vergil enjoying the sight.

He stood back up and turned to face inside the room, “Now, why don’t you come in for a moment? I’ll remove the record after all,” He looked over his shoulder, “I’d much rather listen to your serenade instead.”

ENDING NOTES: ♯This has been sitting in my WIPs half-finished for a while so I wanted to finish it up; sorry if the ending is a bit weird, wasn't sure how to end it lmao ♮Fun fact: the beginning part (right up until overhearing Vergil) was the original start to “As You Wish (Part 1)” lol ♭“That Unwanted Animal” By The Amazing Devil really was a good inspiration for this fic. I’d highly recommend giving their music a listen “The Horror and The Wild” is a REALLY good album lol

If you like this please consider checking this on my AO3. There are extra chapters and my H/Cs over there, so please consider checking them out! Comments, Likes/Kudos, and shares are always appreciated! Thanks so much for reading!! :)))

MASTER LIST FOR TUMBLR

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sugarmapl · 10 months

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bubble (cytham)

another repost from ao3 while the site is down!!

Summary:

Someone makes a pass at the General Mahamatra. Alhaitham doesn’t know why it bothers him more than it should.

{Fluff and humor, feelings realization - rated T}

—

One comment was enough to make Alhaitham annoyed. Two was enough to severely grate on his nerves. By the third comment, Alhaitham had enough.

The evening had started innocently enough. Alhaitham was meeting his friends(?), colleagues(?), acquaintances(?), at their usual after-work hangout spot. How exactly this had come to be routine for them, he had no idea. Though he’s sure Kaveh was behind it.

Regardless, he had gotten to the bar slightly earlier than the others for a change. Typically, his work as Acting Grand Sage kept him at the Akademiya until the late hours of the night, and he was usually the last of their little group to arrive. Cyno was often similar, his job as the General Mahamatra granting him little down time.

However, the General had actually taken a rare day off, so he arrived not long after Alhaitham. The two of them sat at their usual table while waiting for Kaveh and Tighnari to show up. The forest ranger had to come all the way from Avidya Forest, and who knows what Kaveh was up to at this hour. Not to mention the architect had a terrible sense of time, often disrupting Alhaitham in the middle of the night with his senseless construction projects.

And so, Alhaitham and Cyno sat in relative silence for a while. Rather than being awkward, it was actually quite comfortable. Personally, Alhaitham preferred the quiet to idle chit-chat, and Cyno appeared to be much of the same mind. At the moment, the General was shuffling through his Genius Invocation TCG deck, likely preparing to play a few rounds once the others arrived.

Alhaitham merely read a book that he had brought with him for these exact kinds of situations. It was a rather interesting in-depth analysis of puzzle-based pressure mechanisms and how they related to the ancient runes of the desert. It was penned by a respected Akademiya scholar by the name of Faruzan, and Alhaitham had to admit that her work was indeed intriguing.

However intriguing it might have been, though, it didn’t stop Alhaitham from glancing up to catch a glimpse of the General Mahamatra every few moments. Normally, he didn’t consider himself someone who was focused on outward appearances, but today seemed to be the exception.

Since the General Mahamatra refrained from working that day, he was dressed a bit more casually than how one might be used to seeing him. Cyno’s typical outfit was covered by his signature black cloak, and his headpiece was noticeably absent. In fact, the General had his long, white hair tied up into a ponytail, but his messy, short bangs still loosely framed his face. It was… pretty.

He likely wore that particular hairstyle because of the harsh heat that had battered Sumeru that day. Alhaitham wondered if he wore it that way often when he was home alone after work. Due to his hair being tied up, even more emphasis was placed upon the black choker creeping out from under Cyno’s cloak, wrapped deliciously tight around his smooth, tanned neck.

Alhaitham once again found his gaze lingering there for a bit too long. He quickly snapped out of it, clearing his throat and turning back to his book. Cyno continued to admire his cards, quite proud of the deck he had come up with, completely oblivious to the various stares he was getting. It seemed the General’s current appearance had peaked more than just Alhaitham’s interest. That’s when they heard the first remark.

“Hey sweetheart, can I buy you a drink?” a man called from his seat at the bartop.

Immediately, Alhaitham felt his mood shift for the worse. This guy really had the nerve to refer to the General Mahamatra with such a condescending term? Although, it was unlikely this man knew Cyno’s true identity, but still. Alhaitham wasn’t the most well-versed in social situations, but wasn’t calling out to someone in that way at least considered rude?

Cyno, on the other hand, didn’t appear to realize that he was the one being addressed at all initially. He was so focused on his cards that it took him a moment before he looked up in confusion. The guy at the bar was smiling at him, but the sleaziness of the offer was written all over his face. Once he understood what had happened, it only took Cyno a second to utter a quick “No thanks.” before turning back to his deck.

The man seemed put-off by the blunt rejection, frowning slightly but otherwise saying nothing. Alhaitham was even more displeased. He shouldn’t be bothered by such a trivial thing. Cyno himself wasn’t even worked up about it, so why did it annoy Alhaitham so much? Whatever. If Cyno was going to be polite and unbothered about it, he supposed he would let it go for now as well.

He turned back to his book, and the comfortable silence from before overtook their table. It was nice, being in their own little bubble like this. Too bad it was popped once again not much later. Apparently, the guy had yet to take the hint, and after stewing in the rejection for a bit, decided to try again.

“Come on, princess, don’t be such a killjoy. Join me for a drink, and I promise I can show you a good time.”

Cyno sighed with mild irritation, but otherwise remained calm. He put his cards down before turning to face the man fully.

“Perhaps I wasn’t clear enough. I have no intention of joining you, so you may continue to enjoy the evening alone,” he responded before turning away again.

Even when dealing with such a rude dickhead, the General Mahamatra had remained calm and composed. Alhaitham, on the other hand, was internally seething, though he wasn’t sure why. The grip on his book was getting tighter and tighter, the pages wrinkling slightly under his fingers. The guy should’ve been getting under Cyno’s skin, not Alhaitham’s. Besides, it wasn’t like the General couldn’t handle himself. But every time the man opened his mouth, it made the scribe’s blood boil.

It seemed that the man at the bar was also unhappy, though for an entirely different reason. He had just been rejected not once, but twice, and pretty publicly at that. Not to mention, Cyno’s last response had included a little dig at the man, which likely bruised the guy’s ego. In retaliation, the man began turning to the patrons beside him and complaining loudly.

“Stuck up bitch. Thinks just ‘cause he’s got a pretty face, he’s hot shit. Pffft. I can find garbage like him on any street corner, probably with a tighter hole, too. Bet his is all worn out, damn slut.”

Alhaitham had to snap his book shut to keep from tearing out the pages. Or worse, hurling it at the guy’s head. Cyno was just sitting there like he hadn’t heard a thing, though there’s no way he missed it with the way the man was practically yelling. The scribe was never one to resort to violence, but even he was at his breaking point. Clearly, the civilized way wasn’t working.

“You’re not going to do anything?” Alhaitham couldn’t help but ask.

It was unlike him to get so emotional, and it was clearly seeping into his voice the way it came out strained. Thankfully, Cyno didn’t comment on it, instead thinking about his question seriously.

“What could I do? He’s probably drunk,” he answered.

“Inebriation is hardly an excuse for causing a commotion in public,” Alhaitham countered bitterly.

“True, but it would also be quite unbecoming of the General Mahamatra to engage in a petty bar fight,” Cyno reasoned.

“Petty? I would hardly call the insults being hurled your way a petty reason,” the other scoffed.

Cyno didn’t say anything for a moment, staring at Alhaitham with such intensity it made the scribe a little uneasy. His deep crimson eyes were probing his expression for something, and Alhaitham wondered what kind of face he must be making to warrant this level of attention.

“Does it bother you?” Cyno finally asked.

“Of course.”

Alhaitham had answered without thinking, the response slipping past his lips before he had time to catch it. Cyno latched onto it quickly, perking up slightly despite the horrible man still shouting disgusting things about him in the background.

“Why?”

The Acting Grand Sage wasn’t sure how to respond to that, because he didn’t even know the answer himself. Why did he care so much? Obviously, to an outsider, the pair could be considered friends, but Alhaitham had never referred to them as such. In fact, he often vehemently denied it during their usual meetups.

He had no need for friends. They only brought distractions, and clutter, and noise, if Kaveh was anything to go by. Did he feel that he and Cyno were now friends? Had they somehow developed their relationship to that point without Alhaitham realizing? No, the word “friends” didn’t sound quite right after all.

Though, it was true that he never really found himself becoming annoyed with Cyno the way he would with the others. He didn’t mind bumping into the General Mahamatra at the Akademiya, either. He also didn’t mind spending time with Cyno despite his preference for solitude, like the way they had been sitting in comfortable silence up until it was disrupted by outside forces. They were both quiet, and he enjoyed simply basking in the other’s presence while they each did their own thing. Plus, the General Mahamatra wasn't bad to look at…

Wait…

There’s no way. How had he not realized something so obvious sooner? Was Alhaitham so out of touch with his own feelings that he had allowed something as juvenile as a crush to sneak up on him? Oh no, this was bad. It had already evolved way past familiar territory. This was uncharted waters now. Since when had indifference towards Cyno grown into like, and then into caring? He didn’t even dare to think beyond that.

Subconsciously, he felt his face heat up just a tiny bit at the realization before he quickly schooled his expression. Cyno had been staring at him all the while, and Alhaitham noticed there was now a slight smirk where there was once neutrality. Still, Alhaitham being Alhaitham, he couldn’t make the conclusion of his musings obvious.

“I just think that it’s grating on the ears to listen to such idiocy. He should count himself lucky that the Akademiya does not consider stupidity a crime,” he finally answered.

“Right,” Cyno agreed, still smirking. “Though it is a shame, I am actually quite thirsty. Too bad no one less stupid has offered me a drink.”

Alhaitham cleared his throat slightly before standing up. “I was actually about to fetch myself something anyway. I suppose I could grab you one as well, if you’d like.”

“How generous. I’ll have to accept.”

Alhaitham went to grab them some drinks from the bar. However, as he ordered, he leaned in a little bit closer to whisper something to the barkeep, who nodded. Soon after, some matra arrived and quickly escorted the drunken man out of the bar for “disturbing the peace”. Cyno shot Alhaitham a knowing look from across the table, but didn’t say anything. Instead, he took a long sip out of the drink that was bought for him by the scribe.

The two fell back into their comfortable bubble. Only this time, they were engaged in a game of Genius Invocation TCG. Though hardly any words were exchanged, the General Mahamatra and the Acting Grand Sage were content. If they greatly enjoyed the time together before their other two companions arrived, no one had to know.

#genshin impact #genshin fanfic #fanfic #cytham #haino #cyno #alhaitham #reposted from ao3

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voltstone · 4 months

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Enid: Hey We— Enid: Wednesday, what are you doing? Wednesday: I’m critiquing your stories. Enid: My… Wednesday: Word of advice, you can use the character’s names more often. There’s no need to constantly replace them with ‘the singer’ or 'the idol’. Enid: Wednesday. Where did you find these…? Wednesday: … Wednesday: You are registered to an archive as…pasteldogenjoyer. I was intrigued to see you have been working on your writing. It has gotten better. Enid: Really?!

#volt's shit #reposted from last account #wednesday 2022 #wednesday netflix #wednesday show #wednesday addams #enid sinclair #wenclair #ao3 #mild stalking on a computer that is not wednesday's #but yes enid then hooks wednesday up with an ao3 account #and directs her to original stories #but manages to find frankenstein fanfiction too #if this looks familiar it's because i yoinked it from my last (dead) account

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flywolfwriting · 20 hours

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Throw Me in the Deep End

Charlie was proud to say she was not afraid of the dark. It certainly impressed the other seven-year-olds in her class, and her parents always told her how proud they were that she had conquered that fear so young. That she was so brave for sleeping without a night light.

It was even mostly true. She could sleep in her own room, and could sneak about the manor in the middle of the night without her heart in her throat, but sometimes it still quickened, and if she looked out the windows her breath caught. She was still only seven, after all, and it was a big, scary world beyond the safety of the manor walls.

It took her time to settle into their New Orleans holiday home. She learned the creaking of the walls and the whispering of the wind, grew accustomed to the way shadows cloaked her temporary bedroom. She kept the curtains open for just that small glimmer of moonlight and buried her head under her blankets to keep from looking outside.

She didn't say anything to her parents, though, not even when her mom woke her before sunrise to take her on an early-morning walk. They drove for ages with Charlie napping in the backseat, until her mom pulled over and told her they'd arrived. Charlie hugged close to her, but put on a brave face when Lilith led her into the bayou. She protested only a little when directed to stay put for a moment, her plea cut off with a firm, "You're mommy's brave little girl, aren't you?"

Charlie wanted so badly to be so she nodded and did as asked. She watched her mother disappear into the darkness and waited.

And waited.

And kept waiting.

The song of the bayou played around Charlie and her trembling fingers clutched the hem of her shirt tightly as she tried not to imagine glowing eyes creeping closer around her, silent tears streaking her cheeks.

Finally she could take it no more and with a sob she raced back the way they'd come.

"Mommy!"

—---------------------

Alastor loved nights like this, when the shadows clung to him like cobwebs and the crescent moon offered just enough light to avoid stepping into the alligator-infested waters. He could see the glint of their eyes watching as he dumped the duffle bag and opened it. They moved closer but didn't creep onto the small finger of land he stood on. They simply waited, and when he threw the first limb into the water they struck, the still bayou turning into churning bodies fighting for meat.

Alastor threw the next piece, quietly humming as he watched them feed. This was almost the best part, second only to the moment blood welled under his fingers and his victim realized they were about to die. He kept the best cuts to himself, of course, but the gators seemed to appreciate his treats all the same.

When he finished he loaded the bag with soil before tossing it in, tucked his gloves back into his pocket, and set off with a spring in his step.

That was when he heard the sob.

Alastor froze, listening carefully. The bayou was full of strange sounds but he had learned them all, knew each creak of wood, the splash of an alligator sliding into the water, the hum of every insect. He slipped into the shadow between the trees and waited, his knife at the ready. They weren't truly deep within the bayou itself; he couldn't risk the noise of a boat. It was plausible someone had followed him.

What came next was a greater shock: a child, a little girl, stumbling into view.

No, they weren't deep, but dawn had yet to crack the sky and they weren't near any roads.

Alastor resisted a sigh and tucked his knife back into its sheath against his thigh and stepped out.

The girl let out a short scream and fled.

“Wait-” Alastor called, then took off after her. He couldn't see her anymore but he heard her footsteps, another short scream, and the expected splash as she fell into the water.

And then a more familiar kind of splash.

#Hazbin Hotel #Alastor #charlie morningstar #lucifer morningstar #RadioApple #Slow burn #ao3 #flywolf33 #flywolfwriting #my fic #please don't repost to another site #fanfic #Human au #found family #hazbin hotel rosie #serial killer Alastor #title from Deep End by I Prevail

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kiyoobi · 2 years

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contrary to popular belief: your boss isn't that scary.

sure you've seen Kuroo in a screaming match, utterly pissed that investors were almost dropped due to the negligence of his partners. you've seen him serious, politely asking you to leave his office so that he can fire the worker who harassed nearly every woman in the office. hell, you've even been late a few times and had seen his annoyance directed towards you and that made your heart skittish.

but despite all of that, none of those scary times can wipe away the image you see now: kuroo passed out on his desk with his cheek pressed against his lunch.

"Kuroo," you say his name first in hopes he wakes up but then resort to tapping his hand. "Kuroo." It takes a gentle push against his shoulder for him to whip wide awake, sleepily groaning and his eyes blinking away as he gains his surroundings.

you can't hold back your surprised laugh when you see his lunch smeared against his cheek, "You have a little..." Politely you gesture towards your own cheek, hoping he mirrors you.

Tiredly he rolls his eyes at himself, using a crumpled napkin to wipe only a fraction of his bento off his face. You put your things down and grab a fresh napkin, ignoring all your instincts to just pretend he got all the food off his cheek. "You're still wearing your lunch," you laugh.

Before you can think, you wipe the rest off his face. Your hand gently holds his face still, his skin a lot softer than you expected underneath your fingers. You make the mistake of looking up into his hazel eyes, your heart skipping when you find that he's already been staring at you. It's a second too late when you realize how intimate this is as his cheeks start to turn red. You've never seen him blush, never in all your years of working under him- with him.

"Sorry," you pull away too quickly now that your own face is starting to grow warm. "I- um, the..." Your mind blanks and you screw your eyes shut as you try to remember why you're here in the first place. "Charity events had been confirmed, they sent over the final list of approved teams and athletes for you to contact." Quickly you hand over the paperwork and purposely stare down at the wood grain of his desk.

"Thanks," Kuroo quietly flips through the names. He mumbles comments under his breath, and when you sneak a glance at him you wonder if he's aware his fingers are still pressed against where you had touched him.

After some few, long, awkward moments, Kuroo glances at his watch and looks at you for the first time since you accidentally caressed him. He's always…. liked you. You never seemed to be scared of his title, of anyone's higher position really. You're reliable, brave, funny, hardworking. Distracting.

He's found himself thinking more and more about you lately. Kuroo even has started to bring you back drinks from his out of his office meetings, not sure why he felt so pleased with himself when you happily and gratefully take the warm chai. He takes you out to lunch when he's noticed you're usually too busy to remember to eat, he worries over you when you take the train home and waits for that text that says you've made it home safely.

"It's my birthday,” he dumbly blurts out.

"I know," you say with a small smile and his cheeks fucking start to blush again. "Happy birthday, Kuroo."

"Tetsurou." he's quick to correct. "You've- We've worked together long enough, right?" Yes, but that doesn't mean you break the Boss v. Worker societal rules-

"Happy birthday, Tetsurou." Your voice is shy, it's rarely ever that way and now his cheeks are burning.

"Do-" He doesn't even know what he's asking. He just knows that it's getting closer to his out time in this office and soon you'll clock out too. "A few of my close friends are taking me out tonight. It should be pretty lowkey." Kuroo starts to remember, though, that "lowkey" wasn't the right word for Bokuto. "I- well, it's lowkey for us. We've known each other since we were just kids in high school, they're a bit much though. You don't have to come, it- you're probably tired from work actually, never mind. I shouldn't have assumed you didn't even have plans already though-”

Another first. You blink at Kuroo- Tetsurou- as you watch him stammer and blush, wondering where the cool and confident Boss Kuroo you've worked with all this time is hiding.

"That sounds like fun," you break his misery and offer another kind smile, unknowingly making his heart skip again. "I just have some Excel sheets to fix up and then I'm all set for tonight."

"Okay, he breathes out and watches you quietly close the door behind you as you leave. A smile grows across his face, his belly twists with excitement, and his blush never does fade away.

“Okay!" Kuroo cheers to himself. Now he has to try to not embarrass himself in front of you for the rest of his night…

-(-)-

a/n: ahhh i originally posted this from my old blog on kuroo's actual birthday. i forgot i even wrote this, i wasn't able to save it before deactivating my old blog and by chance came across it again. so yay!

ao3 link <3

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gauloiseblue · 5 months

Text

Keep Your Eyes On Me

[Giorno Giovanna × Reader]

Never in your wildest dreams did you think you could paint someone as magnificent as Giorno, but it happened just like that. It all started from a small talk about the weather and the lovely sight of his private garden. But as soon as you talked about the progress in your project, he immediately proposed something you wouldn't expect.

"If you really need a model for your painting, you could've just asked me."

You snapped your head towards him at lightning speed.

"For real?" You asked, and he nodded without hesitation. "I mean—isn't that dangerous? I might end up exposing your identity! Because it's gonna be exhibited in the gallery and—and since your face would be on my painting—" You stammered as you tried to explain, "Someone might recognize you, and—"

"Hey, calm down. You think too much." He said with an amused grin, "No one has ever seen my face, except for the few people I trust."

He tilts his head when you squint at him, “I doubt that.”

“You can change my hair color, or alter my face a little bit if you’re still unsure.” He suggested, “Like I said earlier, I don’t mind becoming your muse.”

An amused snort came out from you louder than you intended, “That’s a bold choice of word, Gio.”

“But you always whine about not having a muse.”

“Well,” You scratched your nose, “What I mean by that is having an ordinary person as my muse, not the legitimate Don of passione.”

“I don’t see what’s wrong with that.” He raised his brow, and an exasperated sigh left your mouth.

“That’s not it…” You mumble while your head’s down, not looking at his direction, “It’s just that… I’m worried about your safety, Gio. I don’t need to be a part of the mafia to know that everyone wants you dead. Not everyone, but you get my point.” You corrected, “I don’t want to accidentally put you in danger, y’know?”

For a moment, the conversation went cold. He didn’t say anything, and you didn’t look at him. But then you hear footsteps, and a hand slips onto your cheek as he cups your face. “You really have the tendency to make me work for it.” He retorted gently, “I offered myself to be your model because I know you want me. But it’s not your job to worry about me, (Y/N). I want you to finish your project first, before you decide what to do with the painting.” He smiles, “Capisce?”

Although you didn’t get cold feet, it seemed like Giorno thought otherwise. Because he holds you still when you step away, and his grip is firm on your waist.

“Alright, alright.” You compromise, “I’ll do it, okay? I’m gonna take my stuff first, so can you please let me go for a sec?”

—

The painting equipment you bring is quite heavy, but you refuse to let his man carry them for you. You’ve surveyed the ideal place for the background, and you quickly set up the easel. While you set down your brushes and color paints, you watch the men arrange a long sofa by the window. With the instruction from the Don himself.

“So you’re gonna lay down?” You asked.

“You expect me to stand for hours?”

“No, but I thought I told you to sit on a chair.”

“It wouldn’t look as good.”

You roll your eyes, “I guess beggars cannot choose.”

He grinned as he dismissed his men, “I would take my clothes off if you wish to paint nude—”

You quickly clear your throat, loud enough until it sounds very constrained. Even though his men keep a straight face, you know they heard him. You glare at him, and he just chuckles in return.

“Shall we begin? You can lay down now.” You told him as you squeezed out the paint, “Make sure everything’s comfortable enough for you.”

“I’ll be more comfortable if you lay beside me.”

“Giorno.” You called him with a frown, which only made him smirk. He doesn’t speak much as he gets on the sofa, and leans comfortably against the armrest. You pick up the medium-sized brush and dip into the green color. You glance toward him, and begin to sketch on the white canvas.

“Hold on.” He said as he unbuttoned his vest, and slid them off his shoulders. You see him throw the black garment away carelessly, before he loosen up a few buttons of his shirt.

“Dio mio, Gio.” You uttered as you put down your palette. “Can’t you at least not throw it to the floor? It’s gonna get dirty.”

“It’s gonna be laundered anyway.” He replied while he rolled his sleeves, and you just scowled as you picked it up.

“Stronzo.” You mumbled as you dusted off the vest, and went back to your place. You drape the thing onto your chair, before you pick up where you left off.

The green color quickly spreads on the canvas as you map out the scene. You use the blue to sketch out the window, and the soft yellow for the sofa. Your eyes dart to him while you paint, and you hate to admit that he made the right choice to get rid of the vest. He fits perfectly into the picture.

You wonder if you ever see him as relaxed as this before. Although you knew him close enough, he still used his refined manner around you. As you draw the black line, you wonder where his attitude goes.

The brush is quickly switched with a bigger one, and you mix some dye until it resembles the color of the wall. You paint most of the canvas with the new color, and add the shadows and light. You look out the window, and find the sky’s clear. You’re gonna need a lot of blues.

As you work on the details, your eyes inadvertently fall on him. He’s also looking at you, with his cheek resting on his palm.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?” He asked.

“Like that… like you’re gonna…” You pressed your lips tightly before you shook your head, “Nevermind.”

You turn your gaze away as you focus on your work. The shadows are roughly placed, and you move on to the greenery.

“You know,” He began to speak as you painted, “I’ve had my portrait done a few times before, but you’re the first one who insists on doing it in my garden.”

“Why? You missed your office already?” You sneered.

“No, but I do miss my whiskey.”

Your brows furrowed, “You don’t drink liquor.”

“I don’t drink when I’m working.”

“Huh.” You replied nonchalantly, “Of course, this is just a picnic for you."

He chuckles, “I wouldn’t consider this as a picnic, there’s no wine and cheese platter for us.”

“Us?” You narrowed your eyes, “This isn’t a date, Gio.”

“I know.” He stated, “It’s just a proposal.”

You feel your blood rushes to your face, and you turn away from him. You can’t think of anything as the reply, so you settle with silence. It didn’t surprise you when he openly flirts with you, and you usually just shrug it off. But this time, you can’t ignore him at all, not when he sounds so serious.

The window on the canvas slowly takes shapes, and provides a good background for the plants. You spend the next hour perfecting the tall foliage, without sparing another glance at him. But you don’t have to look to know that his eyes are glued on you.

As you finish the basic lines of the potted plants, you proceed to draw the long sofa. You keep your head down as you blend the faded cream color, and put them on top of the yellow.

“I think I’ll be working on the background detail now,” You announced without taking your eyes off the canvas, “You can take a break Gio, feel free if you want to leave.”

“I’ll stay.”

You bit your lip, he’s going to be a hell of distraction.

Humans can acknowledge if something’s watching them, and you curse your ancestor for passing down that ability. Even when you try to ignore it, it keeps screaming at the back of your head. Because not only does he keep his eyes on you, the intensity of his gaze also sets your alarm off.

He never looked at you like this before, right? Or have you been ignoring the signs? His friends always teased you, saying that you wouldn't be a great detective. But you're never good at reading someone's thoughts, let alone his mind. God knows what's going on inside his head.

If someone matches up the painter's apathy against the Don's preservation, it's gonna take a long time to know who's the winner. But this time, the answer seems to be clearer. And when your eyes met, you realized how terrifying his stubbornness can be.

"Gio," You mused, "Don't look at me like that…"

His lips spread into a half smile, "Like what?"

You grip your brush tightly, you don't have the courage to speak up your mind. It would be silly to ask the most feared Don about what he wants, because he has been declaring it loud and clear.

"(Y/N)." He called you softly, but as tenderly as it was, he still made your heart race, "Did I make you uncomfortable?"

"I don't know." You looked away, "I just… don't want to get the wrong idea."

His smile grew wider, until the lines around his lips became prominent, "Come here, (Y/N)." He stretches his hand toward you, "I'll let you find out."

There's no need to confirm your suspicion, because the words he just said is a confession itself. You look at him and realize that he doesn't hide his infatuation. And you know better than approaching him without thinking. Because if you do that, it can only mean you reciprocate his feelings.

But do you love him? You asked. Despite the path that he chose, and the fact that you'd be plagued by constant worry about his safety. Will you still love him? Even when you know the misfortune will follow the two of you to the end?

Yes. Yes you would.

You gently put down your palette, and wipe your hands on your handkerchief. You've been repressing your own feelings for so long, but you won't hide anymore. Once you make it to his side, he'll know that you love him. There's no turning back.

He sits on the edge of the sofa by the time you walk to his side. When you stop right in front of him, he reaches for your hand and pulls you closer.

"Won't you regret it?" You muttered while he wrapped his arms around you, "I'm just a mere painter."

"And yet,” He tugs your hands and kisses them tenderly, “You could bring me to my knees.”

You blushed when he placed another kiss on your wrist, “Giorno—”

His head perks up, and you reach out to cup his face. He doesn’t resist when you lean forward, bringing your face closer to him. For a moment, you wonder why the thought of kissing him never crossed your mind before. He looks so… inviting.

He puts his hands on your waist as you press your lips against him. You taste his hunger on your tongue, and he guides your hand to his shoulder. You utter a small squeak when he hooks his arm around you and brings you down to the sofa.

The soft cushion puffs out under the sudden weight of your body. You need a second to process what had just happened, before you see him leaning over you.

Before you had the chance to speak, he already kissed you again. You squeeze your eyes shut as you circle your arms around his neck. Having him so close to you makes you realize how many details you missed out about him. The subtle scent of his shirt, the softness of his hair, the warmth of his skin.

Maybe you’re overwhelmed by love, even adoration. But you swear when you look at him, he never looks as magnificent as he is now.

—

The chatter and the occasional clink of glass fill the room as you walk past the visitors. The exhibition is bustling with people, and the champagne flows endlessly. There’s a few acquaintances around, but you only greet them without a small talk.

Giorno promised you he’ll come, even though you’re strongly against it. You’re worried about him making an appearance in public, but he assured you it’s alright.

This might be the first time you’re feeling nervous in the exhibition. Not because of the display of your art, but rather the incoming arrival of your muse.

When you reach the section of your paintings, your tension drops as you see familiar faces. His friends are coming, and you know Giorno is safe when they’re around.

Bruno is the first to notice your presence, and he smiles as you walk closer.

“Ciao, (Y/N).” He lifts his glass of champagne, and you return the gesture.

“Ciao.” You grinned, “Glad you made it here.”

“I would never miss it, (Y/N).”

The rest of the crew greet you, as they give a short praise for your paintings. But not without commenting about the portrayal of their Don.

“What did you do to him? He doesn’t look scary at all.” Said Narancia, “I swear, he looks more terrifying than usual. I could never get used to seeing him like that.”

“That’s because he only smiles when you mess up something, Narancia.”

“I never thought I’d get to see him without his suit on. I mean, he looks like the kind of man who sleeps in two-piece.” Mista jested.

“Now you mention it,” Abbacchio chipped in, “Why did he agree to be your model?”

You shyly answer, “He’s the one who suggested it.”

“What?” Bruno stares at you wide-eyed, “He asked you to paint him?”

“Sort of.”

Abbacchio strokes his chin slowly, while keeping his eyes on you. “That explains the lack of formal clothes.” He sneered, “So, did he finally succeed?”

“Succeed on what?” You furrowed your brows.

He only sips his champagne as he looks past behind you. The others seem to do the same, and curiosity makes you turn your head.

To say that you didn't expect him to dress up to the nines for the event was half a lie. You know he loves to flaunt, but seeing him like this almost makes you drop your glass. Because not only does he catch everyone's eyes, he doesn't hide his magnetic charm at all.

"Amore." He tugs you close by your waist, and places a peck on your shoulder, then your lips. "Sorry I'm late."

"Gio." You hissed, "I told you—"

"Dio mio!" Narancia gasped as he pointed at the blond, "Did you just kiss her?"

Fugo grabs his head and pulls him away from the group, "Come on now, don't bother them."

The youngest member protested, but he couldn't get away and got dragged further. The rest of the crew just watch them leaving, before they shift their attention to you.

Mista is the first one who speaks, pointing out the obvious, "The two of you are dating?"

"Well," You instinctively rub the back of your neck, "Yeah."

Your lover leans closer to whisper to you, "You don't sound so sure."

"Sorry." You squeeze his hand. "I just don't know how to tell the news to you guys."

"But why?" Bruno's eyes crinkled as he smiles in amusement, "We've been waiting for this moment." His statement made Giorno chuckle, before he pressed a kiss on your crown.

"I miss the time when he didn't care about girls." The silver haired man groans when Bruno kicks on his ankle, "What was that for?" He grunted.

"Aren't you happy that they're finally together?" Mista playfully asked as he circled his arm around his neck, "You used to complain about them all the time."

You raise your brows, but the older man just shoves him away. Mista laughs when he receives the death glare from him.

"Now, now." Giorno spoke up at once, interrupting the early stages of their usual bickering, "If you'd excuse me, I have to go on a date with (Y/N)." He encloses your shoulders with his arm, "She promised to give me a tour around the exhibition."

Bruno gives him a small nod, "Sure," He then adds, "Have fun, you two."

You wish them a good night before Giorno drags you away almost immediately. The drink on your hand almost spilled out as you tried to follow his pace. After walking through the third of the gallery, he stops at the empty corner.

It doesn't take long before he pushes you to the closest wall, and starts kissing you like a hungry man. You voice your protests, but they only get squashed down by his lips. You don't know which, or whose paintings are being displayed beside you, but you hope you won't disturb them by accident.

The two of you finally part to catch a breath, and you just realize that two people just scurry away when they see you. A pang of embarrassment struck you as you're suddenly aware that you got caught making out with him—your own model—on the day of your works' exhibition.

"Didn't I tell you to be patient?"

You put a frown on your face when he softly chuckles. He doesn't seem to mind his manner, which effectively fuels your guilty desire further.

"I've waited for long enough." He expressed with a coy smile, "Don't you think I deserve fair compensation?"

#jjba #jojo part 5 #repost from ao3 #giorno giovanna #giorno x reader #fluff #love confessions

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kulai · 6 months

Text

REPOST! because i forgot to add tags since i was sleep deprived sawrry

based on ch.17 of chaos for the fly by @laylajeffany!! fed me wenclair for months and im still not halfway done. if you want a genuinely good long read, go check it out!! :DD (more under the cut)

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tsokomari · 2 years

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internal combustion | kuroo tetsurou

It’s no surprise that soulmates can hear each other’s thoughts, and Nekoma High’s resident volleyball captain finds it absolutely sexy and baffling that his soulmate often sings The Periodic Table Song in their head during Chemistry classes.

You, his beloved lab partner, never miss a second on any lyric that leaves your mind and lips. Just as you suck in a breath to prepare to mouth the song, Kuroo finds himself already gazing at you with a lazy smirk.

One thing he does notice and finds endearing, however, is when he realizes that you always stop at manganese, the 25th element. Which also happens to be the last element mentioned right before the chorus starts.

“… and Manganese! This is the Periodic Table, Noble Gas is stable, Halogens and Alkalai react aggressively, each period we’ll see new Outer Shells while Electrons are added moving to the right~”

Your thoughts suddenly stop, realizing that you don’t know the next lyrics after that. And so you simply nod your head once and write your final answer on that thin sheet of paper that will most likely determine if you’ll graduate this senior year or not.

“It’s Iron.” A small voice enters your mind, faint enough for you to realize that those words are not your own thoughts, but someone else’s. “The answer is Iron, right after Manganese.”

You’d recognize that voice anywhere. The only problem is, why now? Does he know? Surely he doesn’t know.

But then again, if he didn’t, then who would tell you the exact answer to number thirteen when the test is fifty items, and the time finishes at twenty minutes.

You turn your head to see the culprit, his eyes instantly meeting yours. You feel a blush grow on your cheeks from his stare. His test paper is flipped downwards, indicating he’s already done with the exam. What a showoff.

Afraid of getting in trouble, you communicate with him through your mind.

“How long have you known?”

Kuroo merely smirks and faces the front of the class. His arms stretched above him, this time, your ears hear his voice. “Finish your test first. Wouldn’t want you to fail the Chemistry exam when you’re sitting right next to me.”

You scoff and roll your eyes. “Wow, thank you, Tetsu.”

The exam goes by without much issue. You didn’t get a perfect score, but you are sheepish to admit that you wouldn’t get a grade above average if it wasn’t for Kuroo who’s been dropping hints and literal answers every once in a while for the past fifteen minutes.

Before you can step out of the lab doors, a hand stops you.

“Is there a specific reason why you keep singing The Periodic Table Song in your head every time we have classes in the lab?” Kuroo’s holding you by your backpack zipper.

“Ha, ha, very funny. I’ll have you know that I’m planning on taking an English major in college. There’s no need for me to memorize the whole table when I can just sing the song!”

“You never get past the chorus, and you made twenty mistakes on the second half of the exam. How effective is the song for you, really?”

You give his arm a teasing punch. “It’s my Chemistry Exam Emotional Support Song. Leave me be!”

He snorts to mask his laughter. “Alright, whatever you say.”

“I can’t believe I made an effort to carry all these textbooks when at the end of the day I might just fail the test if it weren’t for you… so… thanks. You really saved me back there.” You give him a sheepish smile.

Kuroo nods, heart a little happy to see you smiling at him. “It’s no problem.”

Truth be told, technically he helped you cheat on the exam. That’s everything that goes against his moral compass. But he felt something stir in his stomach when he saw you hauling all those Chemistry textbooks in your backpack in the early morning. And every tutoring session in the library with you has always hurt Kuroo, because he knows how much you work hard, and he knows how much your hard work doesn’t really coincide with Chemistry.

You come in silence as you both walk in the hallway. It’s annoying to realize that you can’t hear Kuroo’s thoughts now. He’s gotten good at keeping his mind at bay because if he didn’t then you would at least have a hunch. But you have so many questions to ask. You can’t risk asking him, not when there are ears everywhere.

“Keep thinking out loud and you’re going to internally combust.” With hands in his pockets, the middle blocker laughs, his eyes stay on the path you’re walking on, not meeting yours.

You could only snap your head to face him and give him a nasty glare. “Sorry for not being able to keep my cool. We’ve known each other since junior high and it never even dawned on me that you’re the one.”

The school bell rings, indicating that students can now finally free themselves from the chains and prison that is school. People pile up at the gate, and you are surprised to see Kuroo still walking beside you with an apologetic look on his face.

“Hey, look. You deserve some explanation.” His hand reaches the back of his neck, and a speck of subtle pink dust his cheeks. “I don’t have any club today. Can we talk about it over milk tea? It’s Wintermelon Latte… my treat this time.“

A smile makes its way to your face, a fake huff leaving your lips. “No, we pay for each other’s orders. It’s my thanks since you saved my ass in Chemistry back there.”

“We can do that on the next date. Just let me pamper you on this one.”

You laugh at him in disbelief. “That’s some confidence right there. What makes you think I’d accept you? Don’t you worry that I’d only exploit you for the free milk tea?”

“I’m the top student in all the Science Departments. No one else is gonna teach you Chemistry while showering you with affection.” Kuroo takes your heavy backpack and slings it over his shoulder. “I hate to break it to you, but from now on you’re stuck with me.”

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celosiaceo · 8 months

Text

Taste of Normalcy (You Can Always Find Me)

Originally posted on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46189747, minor edits have been made here

Tags: MC/reader’s gender unspecified, fluff, mild hurt, a lot of comfort, handholding, crying, hugging, overwhelmed MC/reader, first person POV, slight divergence from Leander’s red choice branch

Word count: ~2100

Fire.

A power so fascinating that it makes the head spin. The element that flickers with madness, waiting to spill destruction the second it can leave its bounds, but also one that offers comfort and solace, protection, and security. Does a moth know when it drifts toward a cozy lamp, and when it reaches deadly flames? Does it feel safe while hopelessly fluttering towards an open flame, fascinated with the radiating light and warmth seconds away from being devoured by it?

Where you decide that, despite being so overwhelmed by something small, you want too much of a good thing, regardless of your own reaction.

A hand was offered to me, holding out something I’ve always longed for, something I’ve wanted more than anything my entire life. Normalcy . The ability to free me from my bandage-made prison, to not hide away, to not feel like a flame about to burst onto dry branches with a single touch. Never could I have thought that my wretched, all-wrecking hands could ever feel the softness of another’s skin.

Even though I’d already felt Leander’s hand once prior, seeing him reach out once more made me dizzy, my chest tightening with a mix of exhilaration and anxiety at the memory of the first time this happened. My hand hovered over his own, now in disbelief and hesitation, before resting in his palm. Leander’s tender gaze fixed on my hand as he carefully unwinded the bandages. The glowing gold cracks on the soot-dark skin of my arm slowly came into view and got wrapped up by the warm air of the bar. The green eyes occasionally darted up to check on me, and Leander paused every such moment. A nervousness crept up my mind, but all of it disappeared with the sight of a soft smile and the feeling of a gentle squeeze over my monstrous hand.

“No one will notice”

For a moment Leander separated to tug his glove off with his teeth, and once again he held his hand out to me. “There you go. Hand holding on demand.” His lips curved upwards into a soft grin. “Whatever you want.” Leander’s next words soon followed in a whisper.

Perhaps it was because of the gin, but it was hard to focus. What do I want..? For a moment I stared down at my lap, thinking. But as I glanced up into the tender, slightly tired, and alcohol-softened emerald eyes I could barely stop my hand from reaching up to rest against Leander’s face instead. My arm trembled in the air, I felt my chest ache with a quickened heartbreak and my face heat up. “Can I touch your face..?” Despite not having a reason to, I felt a fear of having a knife stick into my back, the inviting light of the bar, the almost drowned-out lively chatter, Leander leaning in and reaching out for me so invitingly — it all felt too good to be real. But with the fear, there was undeniably desperation. A desperation for it to be true, and Leander probably saw it too.

Despite there being no reason for that, it was unexpected to me that he allowed me to go on. I hesitated, it felt like my hand was about to break an invisible barrier before would faintly graze Leander’s jaw. I still couldn’t let myself fully indulge in my own request, and it seems he noticed that also.

“That tickles. It’s fine, you can just…” Leander chuckled, eyes closing for a moment as he beamed. Instead of moving my hand away, he covered it with his own, angling it to press his cheek into my palm. I saw red dusting across his face, matching me now. The warmth surrounding my cursed hand, the kindness in the green gaze fixated on my face... A shiver ran down my spine, I felt a lump of emotions pressing at my throat, the tactility was so new, so pleasant, so addicting, but ever overwhelming…

Against the cold of my hand, his face was warm, even softer than his hand, but a fraction felt… different. Rougher, colder — the darker scar which trailed down from his cheek, to the side of his neck, to hiding under the collar of his clothes. As a blush pricked at my face all over, my fingers brushed Leander’s cheek in small circles. My lips quickly curved upwards into a smile, I saw that he was returning a reassuring dimpled smile of his own. Cautiously, I ran a finger down the rough scar. Leander shuddered, making me feel a momentary pinch of panic, and his earring jingled against my knuckles.

“You’re getting awfully bold...” Leander teased with a quiet laugh, his eyes darting away momentarily before returning to looking at my face with a lidded gaze. My pulse thumped in my ears, and my heart raced. It got harder to breathe, my head spun with jarring excitement as an almost suffocating warmth spread through me. My fingertips weren’t cold anymore, on the contrary, they were now warmer than usual. Leander slowly ran his fingers along my hand, both soothing and overwhelming me. By now I forgot we weren’t really alone, the chatter and the music in the Wick were completely drowned out by my pulse echoing in my ears. Despite my head spinning, despite feeling too hot in my own skin, I wanted to be even closer.

Even though I felt overcome by craving more, I pulled my hand back, as the hammering of my heart became too much to take. Almost instantly Leander’s smile fell to an expression of concern. I could barely hear anything through the pulsing pounding in my ears, but I could somehow make out Leander asking if I was alright, to which I mustered a nod. Without really thinking, I said something about being dizzy.

Just as quickly as before, Leander went back to giving me a gentle smile, his eyes crinkling before closing for a moment into a bright smile once again. “You’ve had a long day. You deserve some rest. Luckily, your room is just upstairs. Want me to walk you back?” As always, Leander’s first instinct was to offer me help, just like he always has done today. Again it started feeling like it was too good to be true, just now I was a moth that got burnt by a fire but still had a chance to move away to a safe distance.

And, just like a moth would, I hovered right back in to be consumed by the addicting light entirely.

With a hum of consideration, I slightly narrowed my eyes while bandaging my hand back up. As I got to catch my breath, the thumping subsided and my mind cleared up moment by moment. Looking back up at Leander with gratitude, hesitation, and a pinch of desperation , I gave a faint nod. “I… I’d be very grateful.. thank you.”

“Your wish is my command!” With a hearty laugh, Leander tucked his glove over his belt and hopped out of the booth to hold his hand out to me, which I gladly took while getting up myself. It’s not even that I felt that weak, not anymore, but the extra contact was something I couldn’t refuse.

As we walked up the creaky stairs, Leader held an arm around my shoulder, just in case, and matched my walking pace. While going up the steps I figured that I underestimated my fatigue, still, a pinch of guilt and embarrassment washed over me for having to slow the two of us down that much.

Soon enough we reached what was going to be my room for an uncertain amount of time. I turned the key in the lock, the wooden door creaked open to reveal a dark room. It was a relatively small room, but it had everything essential — a bed, closet, desk, bedside drawer, and door to what was probably an adjacent bathroom.

“There you are.” Leander patted my shoulder before pulling his arm away from my shoulder, and running it across my back. It dawned on me that I still haven’t thanked him for everything, most importantly for being this willing to help me find my cure, to be my solace. With a sigh I let my eyes fall closed, and the sensation of my heart racing came back again. I gathered my courage to turn to Leander and open my arms to initiate an embrace, and before I knew it I was surrounded by the now-familiar warmth once more.

I held my breath, and shortly I felt my whole body heat up, not just from the hug itself. I nestled my face in the crook of Leander’s neck as my now trembling arms wrapped around him in return. My eyes slowly fell closed as I tried to quietly breathe, keeping my racing heart at bay. I could feel the calming, slightly faster rhythm of Leander’s heart, despite its effect only more blood rushed to my cheeks to paint them red.

“Are you comfortable? We can stay like this as long as you’d like.” Leander’s gentle voice came out in a honey-sweet whisper. I nodded, but soon drifted into thought, as hard as that was. I’d like to stay like this for way longer than I could, as being surrounded by the welcoming warmth felt like my heart would burst out of my chest. I felt safe, I could tell that Leander was strong, but right now it felt guarding and secure instead of crushing and betraying.

Suddenly, tears pricked at my eyes. I squeezed them shut, my lip began to tremble as small drops squeezed through my eyes. I couldn’t possibly let Leander see me like that, so I hid my face, cheek pressed against his chest while my grip on his coat subconsciously tightened. His attempts to calm me down rang through my ears, but their effects were significantly smaller than I’d liked.

All hope I may have had to calm down disappeared like the green lilies earlier today when Leander’s hands slowly rubbed my back in circles to further lull me but ended up doing just the opposite. Though it was not from causing me any pain.

Why am I crying? I can’t show myself like this!

Despite my best efforts to keep the overwhelming happiness at bay, I felt dizzy again, a lump quickly forming in my throat. An evident tremble came through, I bit my quivering lip as a warm streak of tears streamed down my hot cheeks, soaking into the fabric of Leander’s clothes. My knees felt like they’d give out any moment, I barely noticed how Leander’s heart sped up a little before he pulled back to look at my face. His expression was painted with concern once again, he slightly leaned down to see me as I looked down at the floor, hands covering my face once we separated.

“There there, I’m right here for you, there’s nothing to worry about,” Leander reassured, his tone still quiet and soothing as he gently moved my hands away from my face. Closer to me than ever, I could see the details of the crinkles of his tired-looking lidded eyes, the dimples of his small smile, and the blush that still hasn’t left his face. With a sniffle and a shaky breath I nodded, trying to calm down, yet another pair of betraying tears slipped from my eyes.

My eyes only cracked open when I felt two bigger hands cup my face, thumbs brushing off my tears. I pushed a weak smile back, faintly leaning into the hands before sighing out, my breath still shaky. “Thank you… for everything.” I whispered; using a voice any louder would make it crack mid-word.

With an airy chuckle, Leanded reached one of his hands to pat my head. “There’s no need. I did say I’d do what I can to help, and I keep my word.” I finally managed to start calming down while Leander affectionately carded his hand through my hair, his expression welcoming and patient. He waited until I looked back up at him, giving a small nod before separating. Leander’s warmth lingered all over, it was indescribably comforting.

“I… I should get going, I need some rest after all…”

“Yes, I won’t disturb you, then. If anything troubles you, you know where to find me.”

“Good night, Leander.”

“Good night!”

Even as I went to my room and turned to close the door behind me, I could see Leander smiling with his eyes closed, waving me farewell for today. My heart soared as if we never parted in the first place.

#leander #touchstarved leander #touchstarved game #touchstarvedgame #leander x mc #leander x reader #touchstarved fic #reposting from my ao3 #wanted to show my writing progress (if theres been any fjjsjd)#hoping yall like this tbh… not sure how i feel about my older writing #i love this unhinged mans a lot #let’s pretend he really is just a sweetie for a moment<3

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cookiecomics · 5 months

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Losing my mind over this fanart from ATOTT Chapter 31 by @DollamyArt

#atott #art #fanart #gift #such amazing talent #reposting from twitter to change ao3 link #p5r #persona 5 royal #p5 #ren amamiya #okumura #akira kurusu

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sochawrites · 2 years

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In/sane

Michael Myers x reader

part 1

part 2 <- tumblr (Ao3)

Part of Silent Love collection

Had no specific Michael in mind.

You sat at the white table in the sterile dining hall. The food in front of you was getting cold, yet you couldn't eat. Michael was scheduled for transport to state prison in a few minutes, where he was meant to be put on death row. There was nothing you could do about it, not even say a proper goodbye, all thanks to doctor Samuel Loomis.

It's almost ironic how one moment you are tending to your lover's bullet wounds from his latest spree, and the other the bullets are flying through the air in a police raid. The doctor had finally hunted Micheal down, not that it was too hard, you lived in the old Myers house after all, but he finally had proof that he lived in there with you, so he called up the whole police department to help apprehend him. And you too.

A court took place, a very short one. There the doctor convinced the jury of the need to rid the earth of the evil The shape represents, and of your own insanity, as nobody believed you could have simply loved such a monster.

The two of you were taken to the Smiths Grove Sanitarium, as Loomis believed no prison could possibly keep Myers from escaping. So he had put the two of you in the same institute, in different wards, of course, so you would never see each other again, for he felt the need to torture Michael with your absence. So close, yet so far, the doctor always laughed in Michael's stone-cold face. He made sure that Michael knew that if he tried anything, be it hurting somebody, or escaping, you would be the one to take the consequences.

So the time went on, you were in the low-security ward, and Michael was practically only allowed to exist in the confinement of his cell. And you truly never saw each other, having two different schedules so you wouldn't meet even in the only canteen the sanitarium had. That is until one day a novice nurse made a little mistake.

You had just sat down with your food when Michael entered the room with two guards behind his back, immediately locking eyes with yours. He was instructed to sit down at one of the empty tables closer to the door, but he instead made his way over to you. The younger guard was about to stop him when he himself was stopped by the older one, who knew Michael from his previous stay, and knew what kind of asshole Loomis was to his patients.

Michael sat next to you, with you slightly leaning on him, holding his cuffed hand, tears running down your cheeks, and until the guards came with his food, softly whispering how much you missed him, how much you loved him, even how you wanted the good-for-nothing doctor to hurt like you were hurting each day without Michael. But you still had to eventually say goodbye.

So now you sat at the very same spot, looking melancholically out of the window that faced the entrance the prison bus was supposed to transport Michael from, hoping to see him one last time.

You could hear some screams closing in, but you paid them no mind, fearing you could miss your chance, thinking it was some new patient on a little rampage, that happened here all the time. At least until you heard the alarm. The guard in the room unholstered his gun and went to check the corridor. Some gunshots were heard, but then it was only the angry beeping. The door then smashed open, red and white all over, a hulking bloody figure standing on the other side. Michael!

You ran up to him, wrapping your arms and legs around Michael as tightly as you could, burying your face in the crook of his neck, not minding the blood splattered everywhere. Turning around, he laid his head on yours, but patted your back, for you to know you should let go. If you two were to run away, he would much rather not use you as a human shield.

With adrenaline rushing through your veins, you let Michael go first, letting him take care of any guards and obstacles along the way, while you hid behind the corners, somehow getting through the security and onto the parking lot. He rushed to a car that was just leaving, pulling the driver out and getting behind the driving wheel himself, you running around to sit on the passengers' side.

It was a race against time, one you had possibly won, as you passed the bus on the road. You couldn't go back to Haddonfield, and this car will soon be hunted by every cop in the state. You had to hitch a different one, and then get as far as possible.

#michael myers #michael myers x reader #micheal myers x reader #micheal myers #michael myers x y/n #michael myers x you #slashers #slasher x reader #halloween #repost from ao3 #Happy birthday to our murder boy!#reader insert

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that-gay-guy-from-hell · 1 year

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Stuck in a Rut: Dante x G/N Reader

NSFW ahead Minors DNI

Seriously go away, children Summary:Dante is going through his first rut with you being his mate. Things have been going fine; he’s been doing what he needs and you have been enjoying it. However, it is the last week of his season and he is having issues relieving his ‘itch’ for you.

Beginning Notes: Since I keep writing long stories; I decided to take a break and write something smaller. This isn’t super descriptive or anything, but I like it idk lmao I know that this is “unrealistic” and that like over like 7 inches or some shit would hurt you (and can kill you) just roll with it. ✨🩸✨ Bottom G/N Reader x Top Dante--written with Male in mind, but no describing words or terms used that indicate such. Basically, just smut with very minor fluff Monsterfucking; Devil Trigger, Sin Devil Trigger Knotting Overstimulation; reader tells him to stop but it is disingenuous Minor Mating/Breeding Kink Biting Very Minor choking Small blood warning

Over the past few weeks, Dante and you had been sharing your (or rather his) first rut together. Things were going fine, great actually. The devil had been able to satisfy himself within a few rounds every six or seven hours. When you had sex it was mindblowing and, afterwards, he would shower you with pure romantic affections that made your heart melt. Today, however, Dante was having a hard time fulfilling those inner unholy urges.

“Fuck- Dante~!” you felt the red devil manhandle you into a downward dog pose. A roasting grey-scaled hand pushed roughly down onto the back of your neck; forcing your head down and your hips up, “Wait-- Please--”

Without hesitation, Dante shoved himself back inside and let out a tumultuous growl. Loud squelching noises came from you with every thrust of his hips, courteous of the several previous rounds of lovemaking. The two of you had been slamming hips together for nearly an hour now and you were beyond sore. Your hands gripped violently at the disheveled bedding as you felt him pick up the pace once more.

Dante moved his hand from the back of your neck and the top of your head, yanking it backwards. Slowly, he kissed along your neckline and was doing his best not to bite down too hard into your soft flesh.

“Fuck,” you hissed at him, “bite me if that’s what-- Ah~!”

You didn’t have to tell him twice, he bit down harshly piercing your skin with his sharp teeth. The red devil’s thrusts had become short and rough as he set the side of his face against yours. Hot breath washed over your skin as you leaned back against him; hoping that meant he was finally reaching his final peak.

With a final hard slam, he came inside you once more; burying himself to the hilt. Because of how much Dante had been ramming your poor hole, it didn’t take much force to push his knot inside your body. Not only that but, you were full enough that his cum was already running out of your body.

The two of you sat breathing heavily as you mumbled to him, “Are you..?” you couldn’t even finish your sentence out of exhaustion.

Dante didn’t respond.

You exasperatedly face-planted into the bed, muffling your words, “Oh my god…”

The red devil’s voice was soft and ladened with a thick feeling of remorse as he whispered, “I’m sorry… We can stop if--”

With a loud huff, you turned your head slightly to unmuffle your voice, “Why don’t you just use it?”

“Wait--” Dante stiffened and sat upwards, pulling himself from your body--making you groan loudly, “You mean..?”

“Y-yes,” your hips dropped to lay flat on the bed and you shivered at the feeling of his seed gushing out of your body, “At this point, I don’t care.”

Dante stared down at you for a moment in thought, his cock still standing at full attention. Carefully, he flipped you over to face him and placed his hands flatly on the mattress beside your body, “You don’t know what you are asking me to do-- This will hurt,” admittedly, his cock was aching at you making such a naughty request.

“Dante,” you tiredly set a hand on his cheek, slowly running your thumb over the ridges of his face, “Do it.”

His brow furrowed as he frowned with worry, “But--”

“I want you to fuck me in your Sin Trigger, Dante,” your fingers slid behind the plating on his jaw and pulled slightly, eliciting a groan from the devil, “I want you to break me.”

A low growling came from deep within his chest as he looked down at you, “Last chance to back--”

You roughly pulled him down to meet your lips and forced your tongue into the heat of his mouth. Dante groaned at the feeling of you instigating such a fervorous kiss. The two of you fought for dominance, which Dante won of course; allowing him to explore your cavern freely. Once the two of you broke apart, the devil leaned back and stood up from the mattress.

Before you were even able to lean upwards to see him, a large set of broiling hands yanked you by your ankles to the foot of the bed. You swallowed hard as you felt the same set of grey and red scaled hands pick you up by your middle. Quickly, you wrapped your legs around the un-armored parts of his abs. This caused you to nick the underside of your legs on the large sharp spikes that decorated his thighs--making you hiss in pain.

In all your time being with him--even before you started dating--you had only seen his Sin Trigger a handful of times and that was always at a distance. Now that you are seeing him up close and personal, you were semi-afraid of your larger-than-life lover. His stature was enormous and the snarling growls he made as he moved you around like a toothpick, made you fearfully aroused.

That’s when you felt it.

Although you know Dante warned you, you didn’t really consider exactly how he meant that this would hurt; you, of course, knew that his dick would grow with him, but this was much more than you expected. You gasped at the feeling of his overwhelmingly thick cock head that prodded at your hole, trying to enter your body. Thankfully, there was plenty of Dante’s cum to use as lubrication; otherwise, the devil would have torn through your insides.

You shouted in pain at him trying to shove himself inside, “Fuck!” desperately, you clawed and grabbed at his biceps, “Dante-! Slower, pl-please,” tears had already sprung to the corners of your eyes as you grimaced, trying to relax.

Admittedly, you were worried if he was going to be able to understand you; however, the red devil did slow down as you requested. Relieved at the small amount of control he displayed, you closed your eyes to focus on allowing him inside. He slowly inched his way into your hole, emitting a low rumbling growl the entire time.

All the while, Dante licked at your neck and face in an attempt to apologize. The red devil had no lips to kiss you with, so this was the best that he could manage. His tongue was pleasantly hot and felt like a cat licking you; gently scraping your skin. Although you were overwhelmed by the insurmountable feeling of being stretched out by his cock, you couldn’t help but laugh at the strangly cute action. However, this died down as you suddenly felt a pain start in your lower abdomen.

“Wait--” Dante stopped both the movement of his hips and tongue at your words. Your breathing was heavy as you spoke between breaths, “I can’t take any more in, please…” the red devil had pushed nearly ten inches inside your hole and still had plenty to spare.

He seemed to understand and stood still, allowing you to try to adjust. Distantly, you found yourself worrying about him trying to push too far into you when he finishes but were quickly brought back to reality by the sudden shifting of the red devil.

A loud sharp mixture of a moan and shout left your lips from him sliding out a few inches and pushing back in; moving in slow restrained movements, “Fuck~! Dante, holy sh-shit,” your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he moved more.

It only took a few minutes for Dante to work up to a brutal pace. Loud and animalistic growls left his body as he fucked up into you, holding you like a living fleshlight--and treating you with the same respect. His fingers had tightened around your middle, bruising it almost instantly. A small amount of blood began to drip from your sides from the pin-prick tips of his claws slicing into your skin. Each one of Dante’s thrusts only made him hunger more for your body; hunger to make you his.

All this in contrast to you; you who was scarcely able to hold on and just continued loudly moan miscellaneous gibberish at the devil. A small amount of drool began to dribble from your mouth as you did your best to stay awake and your eyes rolled into the back of your head. You felt Dante begin to heat up, a sign that he was getting close--which he was much hotter than his Regular Trigger, you noted.

Wanting to hold him, you use what little energy you had and leaned forwards. Carefully, you set your hands on his face doing your best to avoid the spikes along his jaw. Upon feeling your small gentle human hands, the devil leaned into you and placed his forehead against yours. Dante growled louder in pleasure at your touch and cocooned you with his wings; holding you even closer. Although it wasn’t clear because of the lack of pupils, you thought he was staring into your eyes--a rather romantic gesture during such a less-than-such fuck fest.

It was swelteringly hot within the bundling grasp of the devil, to the point of you feeling lightheaded. You knew Dante would stop if you passed out so you did your best to push him over the edge by trying to tighten your body--not wanting to have to try again later.

“Dante,” your voice was hoarse, “Please~” you felt him tighten his grip, “I’m all yours, Dante. Plea-ah~” his thrusts became short and ragged, “Just- Gah~ please…”

At this point, Dante was doing everything in his power to not force himself all the way inside you--knowing that you would die. However, all he wanted to do to knot your tight hole--to breed you. Because of this intense focus, he hadn’t noticed that he had his claws sunk nearly an inch into your flesh and had begun to burn your delicate human skin with his scorching scaled palms.

You, admittedly, had noticed but were beyond overstimulated and exhausted; so you didn’t care as long as he hit his climax.

It only took a few more stiff hard jabs before he spilled his hot load. Not really thinking, the red devil sunk his teeth deep into you as he normally would; not thinking of the consequences that this could and would have. Not only were his teeth razor sharp and quite large; the inside of his mouth was scaldingly hot and burnt your skin. The devil’s teeth sunk just shy of an inch deep into the side of your neck--making you suddenly aware of what he just did.

You shouted in both pain and pleasure, “Dante~! That--” you hissed as you sliced your palm on his shoulders, forgetting that he is covered in spikes, “That hurts-- Ah~!” you moaned loudly as you felt him shift his hips a bit.

The red devil just stood there unloading himself into your trembling body. You were full enough that most of his seed ended up on the floor and both of you; however, despite this, the devil made sure to stay inside you. He thunderously purred through his bite, making you feel tingly at the strange sensation. Admittedly, you were on cloud nine and the rumbling sensation only added to the intense overstimulation caused by your lover.

The two of you stood for several minutes as Dante slowly ground himself against you, still fighting the urge to push further into your delightfully full hole; the hole that belonged to him. His wings slowly unfurled from around you and his grip slowly loosened; removing his claws from your skin. You were on the verge of unconsciousness as you felt him shift once more; this time, however, it was because he was slowly backing out of his Sin Trigger--moving to his Regular Trigger.

A low groan left your pursed lips as you felt him remove his cock with an audible pop. You shivered as you felt a sudden wetness drip down your legs; accompanied by the feeling of being both too full and uncomfortably empty. The next thing he did was release his vice grip of a bite.

There were thick lines of his spit mixed with your blood that strung between your flesh and him as he slowly removed himself from you tender neck. Still coming down from his high, Dante had a wide smile as he gently set you down on a clean section of the bed. Looking down at your disheveled form, he wiped the blood from his mouth with a large proud smirk. You were relatively out of it at this point; wanting nothing more than to sleep--not caring about how messy everything was or how much loving pain you were in. The red devil placed a gentle kiss on your forehead due to a warm overly-sappy lovey feeling beginning to fill his chest.

It wasn’t until he saw blood begin to quickly pool on the sheets below your neck that he began to realize the gravity of the situation. Although it wasn’t uncommon for you to end up with some bleeding marks during the last few weeks; the bite from this session was much deeper and had larger holes than normal. Without thinking, the fiery devil placed one of his palms on your neck to cauterize the wound shut.

Which pulled you right back to reality with a loud shout, “Fuck! Dante!” you tried to pull away from his palm.

With a small huff, Dante used his other hand to brace the opposing side of your neck and held you in place. After a few painfully long minutes, the devil removed his hand. A strained grunt left his lips as he returned to his human form, now just as exhausted as you.

You were breathing heavily and had tear streaks running down your face, “Why..?”

He sighed and gently placed his head against your chest as he mumbled, “You were bleeding too much…”

A small agreeing, “Ah,” is all you could manage to say.

Admittedly, it was a good thing you were semi-delirious; otherwise, you would have shared in Dante’s worry. If he had bit down just a little further through your soft neck, the red devil would have bitten through your jugular and killed you. The two of you would have to figure out a safer way for him to use that side of him; if you want him to use it at all.

Before the two of you could discuss it, a small gentle snore caught Dante’s attention. You were already fast asleep. The devil stood up with a small shake of his head and a large toothy smile as he made his way to get some cleaning and medical supplies.

Surely you were going to be angry about how much your neck--and the rest of your body--hurt from today; however, that is for future Dante to worry about. All he wanted to do right now was clean you up and curl up close to you. You, his partner, lover, mate; his everything.

Ending Notes: Hope y'all enjoyed this even though it's kinda short. The next story will most likely be a fluffy (not angsty) Vergil fic; so stay tuned lmao

Want to see more like this? Want to read my work quicker and several stories that are not on Tumblr? Check this out on my AO3 (Linked here)

MASTER LIST FOR TUMBLR

#Devil may cry 5 #devil may cry #dmc #devil may cry dante #dante #dante x reader #dante x gn reader #dante x male reader #dante x female reader #smut #reposted from AO3 #AO3 #oneshot #devils have rut #idk #basically smut without an actual plot #fan fiction #fan fic #reader insert

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sugarmapl · 10 months

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bet on it (cytham)

reposting this on here for anyone who wants to read it while ao3 is down :3

Summary:

Some new recruits within the matra have come up with an interesting wager. Whoever is the first to bed the intimidating and fearsome General Mahamatra wins. Little do they know that they lost the bet before it had even begun…

{fluff and humor - rated M}

—

After the old sages were overthrown, the Akademiya itself needed a good thorough cleansing. Many of their old spies and loyal devotees needed to be weeded out in order to move forward. Cyno and Alhaitham worked closely together on that very task. Within the first few weeks of the new regime, much of the Akademiya staff had been replaced.

That included the matra, which Cyno was in charge of. He was a bit disappointed with how many of his subordinates were secretly loyal to Azar and the other old sages. It was a painstaking task sorting through them all, but eventually, he managed to rummage up a good number of new recruits to replace them. Cyno left his most trusted subordinate, Nayab, to train the newbies.

Although many of the newcomers joined the matra out of a sense of duty and justice, there were still a few that joined simply because they weren’t cut out for the rigorous academic life. The Akademiya could be extremely mentally draining, and becoming a matra was a nice way of still becoming employed by the Akademiya while enjoying greatly reduced mental strain. That being said, some of the recruits who fell under that category were not the most… properly motivated.

Unfortunately, Cyno and the other, more experienced matra couldn’t afford to be picky at the moment. They were in desperate need of the numbers since taking significant losses in the recent power struggle, so most new recruits with a fairly spotless record were accepted. Cyno figured he would just have Nayab whip them into shape and get their priorities straight.

How could he have predicted the depths of their degeneracy? The General Mahamatra was an extremely busy man, especially with the rebuilding of Sumeru’s political landscape. He hardly had time to interact with the new recruits at all. As a result, they only saw him sparingly here and there, and his reputation as a cold and intimidating senior returned in full force.

With the previous matra, and the ones who had been there a long time still knew this, Cyno had taken great pains to shed his intimidating aura by telling jokes or talking at length about Genius Invocation TCG. He had put in a lot of effort to break that ice and make the other matra feel more comfortable around him. But since there were so many newcomers, and he hardly had the time to try out these ice-breaking methods with them, Cyno felt like he was back to square one.

He complained about this very subject one day to Alhaitham as the two were meeting in the scribe’s office. “I heard all the new recruits find me difficult to approach. I wish I had more time to bond with them so that they weren’t afraid to ask questions or report back to me.”

“As long as they do their jobs, what does it matter what they think of you?” Alhaitham replied, not even pausing as he scanned over a document in his hands.

His work as Acting Grand Sage had also been tiring him out and leaving him little time to get to know the new Akademiya employees. Unlike Cyno, however, Alhaitham preferred it that way. He saw no point in forming personal connections at work. He was only concerned with clocking in, getting his work done, and clocking out. And maybe coming up with excuses to see the General Mahamatra in his office a little more frequently during the day, but nobody had to know about the last part.

“I want to be someone they can look up to. A role model of justice,” Cyno explained. “But it’s difficult to do that if you’re not well-liked.”

Alhaitham finally stopped what he was doing to glance up at the other. Cyno was perched on the edge of the scribe’s desk, seeming especially small as he swung his legs back and forth absentmindedly. Cyno was holding a document of his own, though he wasn’t even pretending to read over it anymore, turning to meet Alhaitham’s eyes.

“You put too much merit into other people’s opinions,” the scribe told him flatly.

Cyno rolled his eyes. “I forgot who I was talking to.”

Alhaitham stood up, circling the desk until he was in front of Cyno. “Besides,” he said, cupping the smaller’s cheek, “I already like you plenty enough.” With that, he leaned in and placed a soft kiss on the General’s lips, which Cyno reciprocated gratefully.

“That was smooth,” Cyno said after pulling away. “But I still would prefer the matras’ opinions of me to be a little bit better.”

“Fair enough,” the scribe relented. “Maybe you can spend more time with them when you get back.”

The General Mahamatra hopped off the edge of the desk, taking slow steps towards the exit. “I should get going for the desert mission now. I will probably return tomorrow or the day after, at the latest.”

“I look forward to it,” Alhaitham replied with a wink, and then Cyno was gone.

Meanwhile, Nayab was busy with the new recruits. They were having an orientation of sorts where he handed out the manuals and uniforms, and was just going over some of the matra duties when someone raised their hand.

“Yes? Question?”

“What’s the General Mahamatra like?” the recruit asked.

Some of the matra who had clearly been tuning out earlier suddenly sat up with renewed interest at the mention of the General Mahamatra. Many of them had yet to see or meet Cyno. Nayab had almost expected this, though he really wished they’d saved their questions for the end. Still, he saw no harm in answering it now.

Cyno was already somewhat of an infamous figure in Sumeru, but after rescuing the Dendro Archon and overthrowing the previous Akademiya hierarchy, he had become even more so, his renown soaring to unbelievable heights. Many saw him as a hero, but tales of his strength were often accompanied by over-exaggerated descriptions of his appearance or demeanor.

“Lord Cyno is a fantastic leader. He is the very pinnacle of justice, and he is what all of us matra strive to be like,” Nayab told them honestly.

“But what is he like? How’s his personality?” the recruit asked again, not satisfied.

“Yeah, is he really as scary and intimidating as people say?” someone else chimed in.

“Of course not,” Nayab rushed to explain. He hated when people misunderstood Cyno’s character. “He is extremely kind. Though he may seem a little tough on the outside, he has a generous heart and cares deeply for each of his subordinates.”

The crowd of young matra seemed fascinated by that response, eager to know more. They continued pressing Nayab for information, much to his dismay.

“What about his appearance?”

“I heard he was six feet tall and super jacked.”

“Can he really lift a sumpter beast with one hand?”

“Is it true he walks around half-naked?”

Nayab struggled to keep up with their questioning, tackling their curiosity one at a time.

“He is actually rather on the small side… Uhhh he is very strong, but I wouldn’t say jacked, more like lean… I wouldn’t be surprised if he could really do that…. The General Mahamatra does have an unusual choice of clothing, so he may seem a bit underdressed at times…”

Finally having enough, Nayab dismissed the recruits to continue their training tomorrow. He seriously needed a break. He appreciated the display of trust, but why did Lord Cyno leave him of all people in charge!?

That night, some of the new matra gathered at a tavern to blow off steam. They huddled around a small table, leaning in close as they discussed in hushed voices what they had learned that day.

“Do you think it’s really true? The General Mahamatra is actually tiny?” one of them asked his friends in disbelief.

“All the older matra said the same thing, so it must be,” another one answered.

“I also heard from one of my upperclassmen that he’s, like, super pretty.”

“What? No way!”

“Seriously! And some other senior scholars said the same thing!”

“Hmmm interesting,” the one at the head of the table hummed before breaking out into a smirk. “Fellas, I have an idea.”

They all turned to him with their full attention. He must have been the leader of the little pack.

“The training has been super boring so far, so whaddya say we spice things up with a little wager?”

“A wager? What kind?” the one who originally spoke first asked, though it was clear his interest was peaked.

In all honesty, the first few days of matra training always revolved around rules and regulations. While it wasn’t the most exciting of topics to discuss, it was very important in assuring the matra conducted themselves professionally and within Akademiya guidelines. Still, for recruits who were too dumb to become Akademiya scholars, they felt nothing but pent up frustration towards long lectures and required readings.

“How about we bet our first months’ salaries?” the leader proposed.

“On what?”

“Whoever bangs the General Mahamatra first wins,” he said with a sleazy grin.

“You’re crazy!” the others laughed. “Are you that desperate to get laid?”

The leader laughed along with them, but didn’t drop the idea. “And you’re not? Besides, think about the bragging rights you would have if you actually pulled it off. The hero of the Akademiya, the brave and fearless General Mahamatra, pillar of Sumeru, spreading his legs for you.”

That actually shut the others at the table up, some even clearing their throats and sitting up a little straighter.

“You’re serious?” one asked.

“Absolutely.”

“Then… count me in.”

“Me too.”

“Me too!”

One by one, the new recruits agreed to the obscene wager. They hadn’t even seen the General Mahamatra’s face with their own eyes yet, but it was enough to stoke their competitive spirits and stave off boredom for the meantime. They laughed over the topic over a few more rounds of drinks, discussing all the ways they were going to lure Cyno to their beds. All the while, they were completely oblivious to the man at the bar who was eavesdropping on their every word.

Alhaitham sighed. He only wanted to enjoy a nice post-work glass of wine, but now he also had to listen to those idiots talk about all the ways they planned to fuck his boyfriend. Of course, he knew it was never going to happen. Cyno would never go for such a thing, and he would certainly never cheat on Alhaitham.

The scribe’s only worry was that Cyno could be a bit… obtuse at times. He would often mistake flirting as friendly banter, and the scribe didn’t want Cyno’s inherent gentle nature taken advantage of or going to those matras’ heads. He would just have to keep an extra close eye on him once he got back.

The next day, Cyno returned late afternoon as promised. He looked exhausted as he trudged through the Akademiya, no doubt having spent the better part of the past day battling Eremites in the desert. His body was slightly battered and bruised, and he had the faintest of bags under his eyes. The tiredness actually softened his usually stern features, only making him appear all the more vulnerable. That was when the first of the matra decided to strike.

“Lord Cyno!” they called as they jogged up to him. The young recruit had pale blonde hair and freckled skin. He was not bad to look at at all and he knew it, which gave him an unnecessary ego boost.

He had to admit, when he saw Cyno enter the Akademiya, the General Mahamatra surpassed his expectations. Of course, he’d heard the rumors that the other was small, but he would never have guessed just how cute Cyno really was. He had beautiful long white hair and stunning red-tinted eyes. Even beat up, he couldn’t help but think the other was extremely pretty. Seeing the General in person only served to increase the young matra’s motivation to win the bet.

“Welcome back!” he continued, tone friendly. “Are you alright?”

Cyno looked at him confused for a moment before seeming to realize who he was. “You’re one of the new recruits, correct? I’m quite fine. I’m sorry to meet you in such a state,” Cyno apologized, extending his hand to shake.

The young matra excitedly took it, shaking it with enthusiasm. It seemed that Nayab was right. Cyno’s true nature was rather polite and pleasant. In that case, the bet would be a piece of cake.

“Believe me, you still look incredible,” he said with a flirty smile.

The General Mahamatra paused awkwardly, retreating his hand from the uncomfortably long handshake. There was no way the kid meant it like that, right? Cyno was probably just misunderstanding him. The other was being friendly, and it gave Cyno a chance to get closer to his new subordinates. Still, all he could muster up in response was, “Oh, uh, thanks.”

“Are you sure you’re okay, though? Do you need help with anything? I can assist you!”

Cyno felt bad. The kid seemed so eager to please, he probably just looked up to Cyno and wanted to become a good matra. Cyno didn’t have the heart to tell him that he was just going to report back to (and possibly make out with) the Acting Grand Sage. He was about to make up something for the other to help him with so that they could bond when said Acting Grand Sage seemed to pop up out of nowhere.

“I-”

“General Mahamatra, you’re back,” Alhaitham said calmly. He strode up confidently, addressing Cyno while also completely ignoring the other matra that was standing there.

“Acting Grand Sage. Yes, I just got back,” Cyno replied, seeming to brighten up a bit.

“Excellent. I am eagerly awaiting your report. Let’s head back to my office together, shall we?” the scribe asked. Before waiting for a response, he gently circled his arm around Cyno’s shoulders and guided him away toward the elevator.

The young matra recruit stood there frozen in momentary shock. Did he just get cockblocked by the Acting Grand Sage?

The next morning, Cyno was in the library doing some research into a case he was working on. One of the new matra happened to be in there studying his manual, delighted at the appearance of the General Mahamatra. Cyno stopped in front of a particular bookshelf and began scanning the titles in search of something. The matra took the opportunity to spring into action.

“General Mahamatra, I hope I’m not bothering you,” he said as he approached.

The matra recruit was confident in his looks, much like his friend. Though, while his peer had more of the boy-next-door vibe, he was more of a tall, dark, and handsome type. He was also much taller than Cyno, and so he was sure that he had the bet in the bag.

“I’m one of the recently recruited matra, so I just wanted to introduce myself.” As he spoke, he gave a slight bow. Cyno seemed surprised at the action before waving it off.

“No need to be so formal. I’ve been meaning to get to know all the recruits better anyway,” the Mahamatra assured him with a smile.

The young recruit felt his heart skip a beat. “Great! If that’s the case, would you like to join me for some coffee?”

Cyno looked slightly apologetic. “Unfortunately, I am a bit too busy at the moment. Perhaps in the near future?” he suggested instead.

“Absolutely!”

The entire time they spoke, Cyno had never paused in his scanning of the bookcase. Finally, it seemed he found what he was looking for, but he frowned with his neck craned up. The book he needed just so happened to be on the top shelf. He reached for it half-heartedly, knowing he wasn’t going to be able to get it with his height.

The young matra was elated. It was like fate had given him the ultimate chance to make a move on the General Mahamatra. He would be his knight in shining armor, pressing close to reach the book and make Cyno’s heart flutter. Then, it was only a matter of time. Smiling to himself, the matra moved to carry out his plan, extending his arm and-

A blur of black and green suddenly appeared in a flash. A tall, handsome, silver-haired man crowded in close to Cyno and retrieved the desired book before stepping back and handing it to the tiny general. Cyno looked slightly flustered by the action, and the young matra quietly cursed the man in his head.

“Alhaitham? What are you doing here?” Cyno asked.

“I came to see what was taking you so long. We have a morning meeting, remember?” the scribe reminded him.

Wait a minute, Alhaitham!? The matra stared in awe at the man in front of him who was, allegedly, the Acting Grand Sage. He could be upset at anyone else interrupting him, but if it was Alhaitham, then it was probably for something important. But… why the hell was the guy totally ignoring him altogether!? He acted like the matra wasn’t even there! In the blink of an eye, the Acting Grand Sage had whisked the General Mahamatra away.

That same day, another incident occurred. The leader of the young recruits had come up with a plan. He heard from the other matra and older scholars that the General Mahamatra was absolutely obsessed with Genius Invocation TCG. And so, the matra had spent all of the night before putting together an impressive deck in order to challenge Cyno to a duel.

Using a shared interest, he would grow close to the General Mahamatra before eventually taking him to bed. Maybe he could even speed up the process by betting with the General on a round of the card game. The rumor was that Cyno couldn’t say no to Genius Invocation TCG, after all. And if the matra happened to cheat by hiding a few cards up his sleeve, no one would have to know.

He was all ready to set the plan into motion. He would bump into Cyno in the hallway at the Akademiya, thus spilling his TCG cards ‘by accident’. Then, after peaking Cyno’s interest, he would challenge him to a duel during which the matra would seduce the unsuspecting General. It was the perfect plan, and he expected to have the General spreading his legs by nightfall.

The matra had studied Cyno’s schedule, and knew that the other usually had a meeting with the Acting Grand Sage at that time. Then, Cyno would exit down the same hallway on the way back to his own office. The matra hid around the corner in said hallway, waiting for the tell-tale sound of Cyno’s footsteps. They were easy to identify since the General Mahamatra was almost always barefoot.

He steeled himself, then flung around the corner, only to smack into what felt like a brick wall. He hit the ground hard, spilling his TCG cards all over the marble floors. Oh well, not exactly to plan, but he could still make it work. He glanced up and saw the muscled figure of the Acting Grand Sage looming over him, looking down with an unphased expression.

The General Mahamatra was at his side, at least having the decency to look slightly concerned. “Are you alright?” Cyno asked.

No, he was definitely not alright. Why was the Acting Grand Sage built like a freight train!? He felt like he just got run over, but he had to play it off in order for the plan to work.

“Yes, yes, I’m alright. Sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going,” the young matra said, trying to sound guilty.

Cyno smiled at him. “It’s okay, just be careful next time,” he said gently.

Alhaitham looked unamused. “Yes, rushing around the Akademiya halls recklessly is unbecoming of a matra. If I were anyone else, they might have gotten hurt.”

What a fucking asshole! If anyone was hurt here, it was the matra he just bowled over! But the young recruit plastered on a fake smile, moving to scrape up his scattered cards off the floor. “Of course! I’m so sorry, Acting Grand Sage,” he apologized again through gritted teeth.

“Do you need help?” Cyno asked, beginning to bend down. “If you value your cards, you should keep them in a protective case. I can recommend you some-”

However, before Cyno could actually scoop up a card, Alhaitham stuck out an arm to stop him. “Let him clean up his own mess. This is a learning experience for him,” the scribe said coldly. “Let’s go.”

And then, just like that, the Acting Grand Sage and the General Mahamatra were gone. The young matra cursed Alhaitham a thousand times in his head as he picked up the last of his deck and stomped off. His fool-proof plan had been ruined.

That night, the group of matra recruits reconvened at the tavern. After talking about their various experiences, they all came to the same conclusion: they had all been cockblocked by Alhaitham. While frustrated, the leader was determined to not give up on the bet, and his passionate enthusiasm soon inspired the others. They all planned to double down on their efforts starting the following day.

A week passed by that way. Each day, the young matra recruits would do their best at attempting to seduce the General Mahamatra. But each time, their efforts were thwarted by the Acting Grand Sage. Even when the blasted scribe was busy, Cyno seemed to be assigned to some mission or another where no one would be able to see or find him. Cyno himself seemed completely oblivious to every pass at him whatsoever.

It was growing increasingly frustrating, but the matra were stubbornly determined. They were convinced that they just needed to get the General alone and he would break. Finally, on Friday, it seemed that the bet was over. Cyno came into work wearing much more clothes than usual, a black cloak covering much of his visible skin. All of the matras’ attention immediately honed in on the General Mahamatra’s neck, where the traces of a love bite could be seen just barely peeking out of his choker. Cyno was also walking with a slight limp.

Immediately, they knew the bet was over. Someone had won, now they just needed to find out who. They crowded into a secluded corner in the House of Daena, away from prying eyes and ears. Once they all had gathered, the leader clapped once to draw their attention.

“All right, fess up. Who did it?”

Silence. The matra recruits looked around at each other with accusatory glances.

“C’mon it’s obvious that somebody won the bet. He clearly got fucked last night. Don’t you wanna claim your prize?” he prodded the group.

Still, no one confessed.

“It wasn’t me.”

“Wasn’t me either.”

“Nope.”

Everyone’s analytical gazes turned into ones of confusion. Why would the winner not want to own up to such a feat? Unless… it was none of them.

A sudden, slow clapping startled them as someone rounded the large pillar they were standing next to. None other than the Acting Grand Sage emerged, looking faintly amused for the first time. The matra all stood there in shock and slight fear, not knowing what to say. How would they even begin to explain themselves? Before anyone could speak up, he beat them to it.

“So, I believe you all owe me your first month’s wages, correct?”

#genshin impact #genshin fanfic #cytham #haino #cyno #alhaitham #fanfic #reposted from ao3

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voltstone · 4 months

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they adopt a cat named floof (Wenclair One-Shot)

wednesday, for her girlfriend, gets a cat. she finds a way to bypass the “no pet” policy in order to do so. :)

(inspired by this post)

[1,268 Words] | [Last Edit: 11/12/2022] (Full One-Shot Post)

Note: This one-shot has been reposted from my old account onto this one. If it looks familiar, that's why.

Hope you enjoy! :)

Enid has figured, months ago, that she might as well be dating an Eldritch horror.

At first, she thought that Wednesday is just an angsty little goth. Come to find, her aesthetic and snapped wit are the most outwardly charming things about her. Because, as much as Enid loves her, Wednesday is really, really fucked in the head.

Fucked head or not, though, Wednesday has a heart. She does. Sure, it may be in her foot for all Enid knows, but watching how she plays along with Eugene’s bee-scapades, and how cordial she and Bianca have gotten, she knows there’s a heart of gold in Wednesday. (That or she’s color-blind and it’s not gold but rather, in fact, dirt.)

Not that it matters. After too long of a day, Enid is ready to collapse onto Wednesday’s bed and badger her until she stops her “hour of novel writing” in exchange for, uh, osculation.

Some days the struggle is short-lived. Wednesday gets needy too. But other days, the “hour of novel writing” is extended to several, and a long, long pout-full sleep on her bed. Hopefully today is the former. Given the labs, and the lectures, and the other labs, Enid really just needs to scratch an itch. And by that, it’s really Wednesday scratching it, and then Enid taking a nap afterwards. With Wednesday. (They cuddle.)

The door is nudged open. A hinge creaks, and a floorboard groans. Her eyes find Wednesday immediately. By the window. Waiting for her. Mildly surprised, but, ultimately, glad. Enid smiles widely. “Wednesday! Your novel's…”

“Done for the day. I did it this morning.” She straightens as Enid closes the door. "Enid,“ Wednesday prompts, and though she catches a quirk down her lips, Enid can’t help but feel…cautious. A Wednesday with her hands behind her back is a Wednesday with too big of a trick up her sleeve. "I have a surprise for you." See?!

Wait.

Cautious or not, a wide smile flourishes. "A…surprise?”

“Yes.” A blink. (Surprisingly. Heh.) “You said that you wanted a pet to keep us and Thing in better company.”

If Enid could jump Wednesday’s cold, frigid bones, she would. But, alas, as much as she loves Thing, Enid isn’t sure if she’d appreciate two running around—as a hand, and then a paw. So she stands herself squarely and musters a curious face. “Yeah, I-I did… So…?" A grin is pressed. Oh fuck, she can’t bear holding herself together any longer. Her hands are clasped. The grin cracks glee. "What is the little one…?! A gerbil? A ferret? A—” Enid practically melts off the face of the earth. “A kitten?!”

Wednesday maintains her composure, but that quirk down her lips worms. “Not quite. Close your eyes.”

She does as told, and she hears Wednesday shift with the surprise in her arms. Her grin is wide with her tongue snagged between teeth.

“Enid. I got us a cat.”

There’s a hop, and a skip, and yip! before she has the chance to open her eyes. "O-M-G! Can we name it Floof—?!“ When Enid does open her eyes, she… U-Um. Well, um. She sees orange. And the cat is…staring at her. Except it’s disconcerting and not at all like Wednesday; rather than stare deep into her soul to lobotomize it, the cat is, like, staring…through…it?

Wednesday tilts her head. Another blink. "What?”

The—

The cat isn’t fucking moving. It just…isn’t. It's—

Oh my fuck, what the God did you do, Wednesday?!

Enid stands in place, feet anchored to the ground, as she stares at the… The— M-Muppet. Dead muppet. There’s a swallow, and then, a squeaked, "…w-why does it look like that?“

Wednesday lobotomizes Enid’s soul (affectionately). "Like what? The child we shall raise? Together?” …that shouldn’t have flipped Enid’s heart over. It’s practically roasting on a skillet now.

Enid lurches a quite tentative step forward. She meets…Floof by its vacant stare. "Did you put googly-eyes on it?“

"Well it is taxidermy,” Wednesday confirms, bluntly. She gazes down at the cat’s face, and the black dots follow. “I felt you would have appreciated her eyes.”

“Instead of what?”

Wednesday stares back at her. “The eyes I found bludgeoned from her head.”

Where did she get this cat?! Enid follows Wednesday to her desk. …Floof is gently set down beside the typewriter, and as Wednesday fixes a bent whisker in place, Enid hears Thing scatter across the room and back under one of the beds.

Judging from the multitude of blemishes across…her body, it’s clear that Floof spent all nine lives at once. Poor thing. Yet, she looks as alive as Enid supposed she was not months ago—googly-eyes discounted. She imagines Wednesday’s lithe fingers spindling to sew the worst of death, hide it away, and it’s a mellow thought, if morbid. Her coat looks soft, and her body, strong. Put back together, at least. "That's— That’s such a pretty pattern on Fl-Floof’s back,“ Enid comments.

"Goodyear, for a truck—winter coverage.”

…a-ah. Okay.

Wednesday lingers in place, with her eyes avoidant, and hands tied together. It takes a moment before she begins to ramble—a rarity, with Wednesday, and Enid feels her own heart pool to her foot: “You said you wanted a cat, but I told you—again—that we can’t because of the academy’s policy, but you looked like you wanted to kill yourself when I said that—”

“…Wednesday, I’m not…s-suicidal.”

“—so I went out searching for one, on the roads, and I found this one. She looks like a lot of your sweaters, which is disgusting, so I figured it’d work out. We wouldn’t have to pay for any of the necessities she needed alive, though I’m sure enough nail-paint and -remover will do the equivalent.”

Enid grimaces, though her eyes land on Floof’s white paws, and they snag each toe. “She does have nice nails.”

“I filed them.”

A hum down her mouth, because Enid can smell the anxiety off her neck—even from around the desk, despite whether or not Wednesday herself realizes it. But it's…funny, really. There’s a sort of beauty about it, how mental gymnasticshas become the sound way to understand Wednesday’s language:

Want a pet? Can’t have one because of rules. So, here’s a dead one. With pretty nails you can paint, and a head big enough for a bow.

Enid watches her quietly. Wednesday plays with her hands, spindles them together. Her lips are thin. She’s nervous. Her eyes are cast down. She anticipates.

“How long did this take…?”

Wednesday, slowly, murmurs, “Two weeks. I had to…help with the odor. You would’ve vomited or kissed the floor otherwise.” A pause, then, “…and broken your…pretty nose. Again.”

“That did hurt, yeah…” Enid breathes. (It’s still sore. She swears she’ll set Wednesday’s side of the room on fire, someday.) She rounds the desk’s corner, and Wednesday is swiftly tucked in her arms. There’s that initial frigid moment before Wednesday unwinds, and her body remembers that, yes, it’s Enid, and Enid has the permission. She nudges her pretty nose along Wednesday’s neck. “Thank-you…” is murmured.

“We’re going to reconsider the name." You’re welcome.

"No we’re not." No we’re not.

Together, they eye Floof, and Floof…is staring at both the door and window simultaneously. With—

Aww, her tongue is almost sticking out. What a cute touch, Wednesday…

"You’re needy.”

“It’s almost a full moon…?”

Wednesday twists her head, and Enid seeks for treasure.

They osculate. And her lips feel like death, but they’re the most liveliest thing, all at once.

Hope you enjoyed! :)

#volt's library #wednesday 2022 #wednesday netflix #wednesday show #fanfiction #ao3 #wattpad #wenclair #wednesday addams #enid sinclair #fluff #they kiss #and there's a cat :)#reposted from last account #if this looks familiar it's because i yoinked it from my last (dead) account

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cayenneexe · 7 days

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The World According to Kris (reverse!au) 3/?

Missed me? Chapter 3 is almost out! Here's a sneak peek!

With two new allies, Noah and the Freedom Racers fly to Peru to find the second half of the transwarp key. Unaware to all of them, they have two stowaways watching them in plain sight.

Stuck in a limbo between life and death, Kris watches his brother and sister-figure Elevate, a nightingale beast machine with a sonic voice and speed, fail to properly grieve his death. In process, he comes to the terrifying realization of who's to blame.

Reverse Roles AU and basically Kris takes Bee’s place in RotB, killed by Scourge trying to steal the transwarp key before being revived, followed by flashbacks on Noah’s and Kris’ life before the crash that sent hundreds of Cybertronians to Earth.

First, Previous

Next (coming soon)

airlena gif is from @skybytes

Ao3 Link Below

“Your singing is very nice. It’s very relaxing.” Airazor whispered bashfully, turning towards that oversized nightingale who shivers her feathers in appreciation and pride, “You wouldn’t imagine it would be able to make tanks explode.”

Elena giggles softly at the compliments, a bit self-conscious by how much damage her sonic screeches actually did. She only used it once or twice but that time, it was out of blind rage. Looking back, it seems so embarrassing. She was never the fight type. That was her father. Regardless, the complement was nice.

“Oh, well thank you. I’m just happy no one was hurt.” Elena huffed, “Well, those who are important.”

Airazor lets out a soft chortle at her jab and turns her entire body to face the nightingale. She takes in her entire figure, never realizing she had a proper look at her new ally and savior. Elena’s figure is slender as much as any nightingale but she seemed to resemble a bluethroat nightingale except with lavender and a dark gray strip below it instead of blue and the orange strip. Her light gray feathers, despite dirty from soot and rubble, glimmer from the actual silver and iron blades layered in between her wings.

On the other hand, Elena has never been so close to a human before. She had only arrived on Earth a few weeks before the Autobots crashed into Earth with her calculations claiming that the transwarp key landed somewhere there millions of years ago. She often stayed out of sight up in the clouds or in caves but this is the first time she had been so up close.

Airazor’s aged face is slightly touched up by makeup and her short hair combed back with a few strands poking over her widow’s peak and hanging over her auburn eyes. Elena also notes that the scientist is thin but not bony. Behind her white lab coat and rolled up jeans, she is most definitely athletic in a way. Elena has seen her remove her coat a few times to clean it, her brown wife-beater tank top showing off her fit biceps. Primus! Stop that Elena!

While Elena tries to look anywhere but the scientist, she notices a shining piece of bronze around Airazor’s neck. Elena points to it with her wing, “What is this symbol?”

Startled out of her thoughts, Airazor looks down at what she’s pointing at. A soft and fond smile stretches across her face looking down at her necklace. She unties it and holds it gently in her palm to show, “It is the Maximal crest. Now, it is all I have left of my people.”

She was a part of a team of warriors from her tribe to protect the first half of the key. They called themselves the Maximals; Friends with the animals and fought like them. They kept the relic far away from their home for fear of people learning of its power and using it for evil. They blended into the crowd, hiding in plain sight but when UniCorp learned of its existence, they killed off her friends and family to obtain it. With Airazor left, the key was left to be protected at the museum she worked at. Looking at the necklace only reminded her of the pain but after so long, Airazor can only be reminded of its beauty.

Elena stared at the little charm, admiring the intricate designs of what appears to be a predator but it appears more brave than dangerous. “It’s beautiful.” Elena muttered in awe as Airazor tied it back around her neck before she gestures to her entire body, bowing slightly with a smirk, “Well, the whole thing is working for you.”

Airazor returns the compliment with a smug yet flushed smile, “You should’ve seen me in my 20s.”

“Oh yeah?” Elena challenges, leaning her beck dangerously close to the scientist’s face, “What you was doing? Turning human heads?”

Regardless of the close proximity, a flushed Airazor doesn’t waver. “Maybe.”

Kris watches the two banter from a far. It was funny watching more humans get along with his loved ones. Seeing his family friend and the kind but scary scientist from the museum joke with each other was sweet, especially since they looked so fond of each other. Kind of reassembled the face Mirage makes at Noah when he isn’t looking.

“Oh my Primus.” Kris loudly chokes at the realization. They like-like them. Mirage and Airazor! Gross!

“So I’m not the only one who sees the chemistry.” Breanna jokes, peering down at the Viper, who’s holding back a gag. That’s his brother! And his almost-sister! Come on!

“Ugh! They love each other!” Kris groans as his metal cheeks turn green, “Now they’re going to be all kissy and shit.”

“Ay! Language.” Kris smiles sheepishly at her mother’s scolding tone. “And they’re only going to be all kissy if Noah and Elena like them back.”

With his head snapped up at the older robot in shock, Kris points at them with a bewildered expression as if he’s pointing out the obvious, “Of course they do! I’m dead, not blind!”

The young Autobot slumps in his seat, watching Airazor slowly fall asleep on Elena’s silver wing to her song and Mirage fidgeting with his cap, his blue eyes flicking up at the sleeping green Challenger every few minutes. As sad as the sight is, it’s comforting for the dead. Not once has Kris has ever seen so much kindness towards his family within the few months they have stayed.

“Noah and Elena never had time for a conjunx. Mom always encouraged him but he was too busy looking for jobs or taking care of me to go searching.” Kris mutters as Breanna swiftly and gracefully sits next to him. When the young robot closes his eyes, he can see the memories of the real Breanna teasing Noah on his way out of the door about finding a conjunx partner soon so she can have Kris all to herself.

“And no one on Eukaris liked Elena. I guess they prefer beast modes who can fight and kill rather than study and sing.” That idea was just plain stupid in Kris’ opinion. She’s the smartest and kindest person she has ever met, with the exception of maybe his brother but he’s more protective and badass than smart and kind.

Then it just hit the Viper; His real mom is all alone. Noah and Kris never liked or even played with the idea of leaving home since there was no real reason to. This trip to Earth was a complete accident and for all Breanna knows, her sons might be dead. Kris looks up at his fake mom, his spark stuttering at the sight of the familiar gentleness in her eyes, realizing that she’ll never see the real ones ever again, “Do you think Breanna would be mad if she found out that I wanted to stay? That Noah has a conjunx on Earth?” Kris asks as he hugs his knees and looks at Noah, who’s now asleep, resting his helm on Elena’s shoulder, who is also sleeping against his shoulder blades.

The fake Breanna was silent for a moment, humming as she thinks before she places a hand on Kris’ shoulder. He painfully looks up and meets Breanna’s blue eyes, “I don’t she’ll be mad one bit.”

The fact that it’s not his actual carrier isn’t as comforting as he wants but as his optics drift to sleep, he pretends that her calming voice is.

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