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hlficlibrary · 1 year

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HL Fic Library 🌸 Short Fics

(Part One - Under 5k)

Remember to leave kudos and a comment on the fics you enjoyed to show your appreciation! You can find our other recs here.

🌸 Stealing Flowers by @lululawrence {NR, 4k}

When Louis finally arrived, he walked in and grabbed an apron. Without even saying hello, he immediately approached Jesy and said, “Sexy Stranger steals flowers.”

She kept pouring the Tanqueray shots she had lined up in front of her, but her face screwed up in confusion. “I’m sorry, he what? Did you finally talk to him and that was what you learned?”

He nodded to another couple of tourists and welcomed them to the Way Station as they eagerly made their way to the Tardis restroom.

“No, I didn’t actually talk to him, but—”

“Then how do you know he steals flowers?”

She was wiping down the bar and stacking the empty glasses to take back to the dishwasher when Louis realized maybe he should help too. After all, he was there to work, not just talk to her about his maybe crush.

“I saw a poster.”

Or the one where Louis pines after the Sexy Stranger on the Subway and almost asks him out. That's when the strange posters start showing up around Brooklyn.

🌸 More in these bones by SunTomato / @sun-tomato {NR, 4k}

"This isn't a social call, is it, Curly?" Harry's gaze drops to the floor. "No." Harry takes a deep breath, fists clenching at his side, before he looks up again. His eyes meet Louis’ with a mix of fear and determination. "I want to make a deal."

OR The one where demon Louis really doesn't want Harry to trade away his soul, even if he can't explain why.

🌸 Tech Support (series) by QuickedWeen / @becomeawendybird {G, 4k}

Harry calls the HP customer service line very late at night expecting to get redirected to a call center far away. Instead, the person on the other end of the line is a little closer to home.

🌸 cursing the cosmos by @hogwartzlou {NR, 4k}

In a world where people have timers counting down to when they meet their soulmate, finding love is easy. Harry meets Louis in a coffee shop one day. They slowly fall in love, the only thing holding them back is that they aren't soulmates.

🌸 you and I love like it's a secret by we_are_the_same / @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed {T, 4k}

Louis swallows, looking at Harry, who grins at him as though nothing’s wrong. He’s leaning against the door of a wardrobe, his long hair having lost some of its curls due to the amount of times he’s run his fingers through it. Louis is still where he was the moment the door got closed behind them, all but pressed up against the wood, trying to keep as much distance between him and Harry as possible.

His heart stutters in his chest as he looks up at his best friend. He’s known Harry since he was barely out of diapers, and Harry gets him in a way that few people ever have – or have tried to. He knows him, to the point where sometimes Louis worries that he’s able to read his mind.

Or: It's Seven minutes in Heaven, but Louis sort of feels like he's ended up in Hell instead when he's forced into a small bedroom with his childhood best friend slash long time crush.

🌸 they’re laughin’ and drinkin’ and havin’ a party by 4ureyesonly28 / @evilovesyou {G, 4k}

When Louis decides he has to get away, he chooses the next best town in Texas, as far away from his ex as he can get. The real estate agent tells him it’s a quiet neighborhood, yet somehow the sound of a champagne bottle popping from two doors down followed by the roar of a party, sends him spiraling. That is, until a deep voice calls out a tentative “heey” from the darkness.

🌸 The Hidden Hills Restaurant by amomentoflove / @daggerandrose {E, 4k}

“Are you sure you want to hear about this? Wouldn’t you rather hear about what I’ll do to you? How often? How long? How many fin—“

“I like to get to know my potential clients before agreeing to anything,” Louis says and lays down the menu. He’s thinking of steak. Something meaty, juicy, and hearty.

Harry’s arched eyebrow at the word ‘potential’ doesn’t escape Louis’ notice.

or the one where Louis is a personal feeder and Harry is the vampire to be his next client

🌸 Into Always by @jaerie {E, 4k}

Harry finds his ex's knotting dildo and gets a little curious. Louis is more than willing to help out.

🌸 Fakes (Streaming Live) by @allwaswell16 {E, 4k}

Alpha camboy Henry Steel has a rather unfortunate crush on omega camboy Luscious Lucas. He also has a rather unfortunate secret that's about to be revealed.

🌸 Heels Over Head by @kingsofeverything {E, 3k}

Louis Tomlinson returns from tour to find that his new next door neighbor doesn't realize his backyard is not completely private.

🌸 No One But You Got Me Feeling This Way by @runaway-train-works / runaway_train {E, 3k}

Harry is well aware he should be studying or watching T.V or cleaning the kitchen or doing literally anything from a list as long as his arm instead of this, but he is. The list of reasons why he shouldn’t be doing this is probably at least double that, but here he most definitely is. He’s sitting on his bed, legs straight out in front of him, back propped up against the headboard and some fluffed-up pillows and his MacBook is resting on his thighs. His jittery fingers drum lightly on the edge of the keyboard as he stares at the tiny digital clock in the top right-hand corner of the screen, willing the seconds to tick by faster. He wants to get into this and get it over with in equal measures.

Or The one where Harry has a particular desire that only Louis can fulfill.

🌸 nobody knows like me by enbyharry / @non-binharry {G, 3k}

Harry does his best to cope with a secret life in the summer of '74.

🌸 Gonna Dress You Up In My Love by @fallinglikethis {T, 3k}

Harry decides to take up knitting. He's horrible at it. Louis wears everything anyway.

🌸 the most fantastic things by bluegreenish / @greenblueish {G, 2k}

When he reads a fairy tale today, and it’s one about love, Harry will find himself in it. Because in all the fairy tales about love that exist in the world, he knows that a little part of Louis and him is written in between the letters, hidden between every page that curious fingers turn.

or, Harry's version of the fairy tale Thumbelina, minus marrying toads or moles, plus waxing poetic about Louis.

🌸 as we move slowly by snsk / @snsknene {G, 2k}

"You know what color your wings are?" Harry asked conversationally, on his stomach at the tattoo parlor, while Louis played absentmindedly with one dangling hand and flipped through some designs.

// Alternatively: Louis grows wings. Harry is the only one who can see them.

🌸 maybe by @gaycousinlarry / momentofclarity {G, 2k}

I cannot not see you again. I cannot.

🌸 On the Go by @phdmama {T, 2k}

louis owns a landscaping company called MANSCAPE and harry thinks it’s some sort of in-home pubic hair grooming company

🌸 Check, Check, Checkmate by nonsensedarling / @absoloutenonsense {E, 2k}

Harry and Louis play chess... until another game becomes more interesting.

🌸 Zoey by @wabadabadaba {G, 2k}

Harry knew his first name, but he liked the way Dr. Tomlinson sounded more. Harry watched as Louis unclasped her harness and set it aside and pet her back and under her chin. Louis kissed the top of her head and murmured sweet nothings to her- mostly about how pretty she is and how well behaved she is. Harry wished it was him.

or Harry has a huge crush on his cat's veterinarian and finally decides to do something about it.

🌸 What About Tonight by @taggiecb {G, 2k}

Louis loves his new career. It might just be killing him, but he loves it. What he doesn't love is how easily the boy he cares most about seems to move in and out of his life.

🌸 you don't have to wear (your best fake smile) by coffeelouis {T, 2k}

When Harry was 12, he moved to Holmes Chapel and broke up with his first boyfriend.

When Harry was 20, he sat next to said boyfriend in class, and although he continues to wear Harry's parting gift of his beloved Manchester United sweatshirt every goddamn day, does not seem to remember Harry at all.

🌸 Moon Dances Over by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup {G, 2k}

Louis knows that his tail is, frankly, stunning. His iridescent blue scales shimmer in even the slightest sunlight, and his fins have grown since he presented, delicate and almost transparent in their webbing.

He also knows that that means he’ll be one of the first to pick tonight, as the most beautiful omegas are blessed to pick their mates first. It’s considered a huge honour, since the guppies they’ll eventually birth will certainly be beautiful as well, bringing favour on the whole clan.

Louis has a stubborn streak, though. He’s always been rather a fan of mating for love, and there’s someone he’s had his eye on for a long time now.

🌸 an honest mistake by @disgruntledkittenface {NR, 2k}

“You look different when you’re not covered in come,” he blurts out, immediately regretting each and every life choice that has led to this exact moment. Elevator Guy is going to hate him.

Louis has ridden the elevator with his neighbor all week. The first time they speak, there’s a misunderstanding.

🌸 Stole My Heart by @haztobegood {NR, 2k}

“Oh my god, Niall.” The door slams shut as Harry rushes into the flat. He’s still panting from his rush to get away from the scene of his crime. “You won’t believe what just happened!”

Niall is sitting on the couch in their tiny living room. He looks up from his laptop. “What happened?”

“The worst thing. I’ll never recover. I just reached into a box of free samples outside that new chicken restaurant. Only it wasn’t free samples. It was a man. Holding a box of chicken nuggets. His chicken nuggets. I stole this man’s food, Niall!”

🌸 Simply the Nest (Better Than All the Rest) by @homosociallyyours {G, 2k}

It's been a few months since Louis moved to a new town, and he still hasn't managed to get his nest to feel as comforting as he'd like it to. When his therapist suggests he might need some new materials, he's willing to give it a shot. Wandering into Harry's nesting store turns out to be just what he needed.

🌸 the prettiest customer (and the cutest barista) by fearsparks / @onlythebravest {G, 1k}

“So there’s this guy,” Harry repeated. “And I really like him.”

“Is he cute?”

“The cutest,” Harry said with a bright smile, turning around to face Louis. His cheeks felt warm, but he ignored it, pushed past it. “Prettiest boy I’ve ever seen.”

“Ooh, tell me more.” Louis rested his head in his hand.

(Louis is the pretty customer that comes in and orders hot chocolate while Harry is the cute barista that takes his order.)

🌸 A+ Patient by YesIsAWorld / @louandhazaf {G, 1k}

Harry hated everything about the dentist—the antiseptic smell and the bright light in his face and the disappointment in himself and the suction thingy that kept his mouth too dry. But the thing he hated the most was how in love with his dentist he was.

🌸 Needle by @nouies {NR, 666 words}

“You didn’t deserve this,” he muttered between hiccups. “She didn’t have the right.”

🌸 there’s a house in english bond (somebody planned to stay) by @muldxr {T, 666 words}

The Hotel dates back to the mid-17th century, and the owners have invested dearly to make it a home away from home. Please mind our building rules written below in order to have an exceptional stay.

🌸 Swings Said by yeah_alright / @uhoh-but-yeah-alright {T, 500 words}

A love story told by five swings who each were there to see a piece of it unfold.

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goddess-in-heaven-and-hell · 1 year

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Gwynriel weeks 2023 - Day 5: A night to remember

Day 5 of the Gwynriel weeks is all about music and this is my little one-shot that came to mind. It’s a bit short and I’m sorry for that, but I hope you like it nevertheless.

@gwynrielweeksoffical

I recommend putting on a random piano playlist in the background :)

Word count: ca. 1900

warnings: none

When Gwyn woke up to the soft, cascading sounds of piano keys, she thought she was back in the opera for just one second. She remembered the glowing golden light, the orchestra and singers, her hand holding Azriel’s as they watched, and listened, intently to the performers. The night had been magical, and Gwyn sang the songs she remembered from the show all the way home, making up the words as she went. Even as she tried to fall asleep, her mind was elsewhere, caught between the seats of the opera house and dreaming.

Now, tucked in the comfort of her bed, she heard it again. The opening song of the show, played in a timid, almost searching manner. The melody was quiet, travelling through several walls and doors before it reached her ear, but she heard it nevertheless.

Her initial reaction was worry. Hearing random melodies in the middle of the night usually wasn’t a good sign, not even for a river nymph. But the rest of the house seemed tranquil, and Azriel’s Shadows surely would have raised alarm if there was anything wrong.

Her eyes slowly adjusted to the dark of the room.

“Azriel?”, Gwyn asked into the quiet, patting her hand on his side of the bed, only to find it empty. That and the lack of answer explained the random piano concert.

Signing, Gwyn got out of her bed, already missing its warmth after taking one step towards the door. Azriel had a habit of playing the piano whenever something bothered him. The ritualistic movement of his fingers comforted him, calmed him, and reminded him of the beauty in the world. He got good at it too, since his job provided him with many opportunities to worry. Maybe he got worrying news tonight and needed to spend some time to sort through his head while playing.

The juxtaposition of it never failed to amaze Gwyn. How he could produce such beautiful melodies, playing the piano with such genuine feeling, while being torn apart on the inside. But something was different tonight. Usually, Azriel would pick melodies he knew by heart. This time, the playing stopped every once in a while, only to continue or go over the same passage again with a little adjustment.

Gwyn’s feet softly padded down the stairs and into the hallway of the first floor, where she now not only followed the melody, but also the candlelight streaming out from the dining room. As quietly as she could, she opened the door and peeked her head inside.

She was met with Azriel’s bare back, sitting serenely on the piano bench. The tattooed muscles covering him moved with the motion of his arms, as if they were dancing to the melody. His Shadows were draped lazily around his shoulders, noticing Gwyn’s arrival but not doing anything about it. They had a silent understanding to never inform Azriel on her whereabouts as long as she wasn’t in danger.

Gwyn smiled to herself, thankful that this gave her the opportunity to watch her mate without interruption. She knew she was a lucky female. Azriel turned heads wherever he went, ever the imposing, confident warrior. Seeing him like this, with his guard down and lost in thought, made him even more special though. His hair was just a bit tousled, like he tried to go to sleep at some point but his demons got the better of him. Every so often, he’d stop his playing to write something on the music sheet, then continue on with the melody.

Gwyn tiptoed in further, growing bold because he hadn’t noticed her immediately. Some Shadows now slithered in her direction, winding around her ankles and dragging her to their master. Did he know she was there? Or did they want her to go to him on their own account?

Azriel continued playing like he didn’t notice his audience, sometimes even humming notes before finding the right keys to build the melody further. He was trying to play the opening song of the opera, a piece that started slow and haunting only to build into a dramatic, fast-paced score.

And suddenly, Gwyn realized. He wasn’t upset. Azriel tried to record the song from memory onto music sheets.

“Are you done lurking? I’d rather you sit and watch from my lap.”, Azriel spoke in a low, bemused voice. His fingers halted their movement and he turned to see Gwyn, frozen in her step and trying to look inconspicuous. Which failed drastically.

“Damn it.”, she said. Azriel flashed her a grin before patting his lap and beckoning her to join him. Her spying skills could use some more work, but anything that gave her the opportunity to get closer to her mate was worth it.

Gwyn made her way to the piano bench, sitting down right on Azriel’s thigh and hugging her arms around his neck so he’d have more room to play. This was her favorite place to be, engulfed in his arms and presence.

With a gentle kiss to her jaw, Azriel said, “I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“It’s alright.”, Gwyn whispered back, “I thought I was back at the opera. Just with way comfier seats.”

The Shadowsinger chuckled lowly, “I was hoping you wouldn’t hear. It was meant to be a surprise. But your nosy mind never rests, does it?”

Gwyn gently swatted his chest at the insult. “Excuse you, Mr. I-know-everything-about-everyone-and-call-it-a-job.”

Before she could go into her arguments for not being nosy, just curious, Azriel had snatched her hand from where it touched his chest and brought it up to his lips to place a gentle kiss on it. All fight immediately left Gwyn’s body and she melted into his side. The male had perfected his strategies on making her calm down. Gwyn didn’t mind as long as she got kisses out of it.

“So, what are you doing this for anyways? I thought I was the fan out of the two of us.”

“I’m trying to record the songs while I still remember them, so I can play them for you whenever you like. Or so you can learn them yourself, if you wanted. But I’m struggling with the opening song.”, Azriel confessed, his fingers indicating the place on the music sheet where he clearly erased the notes a couple of times.

It was such an Azriel thing to do. Working away the whole night just so he could offer Gwyn a little moment of happiness later on. She was touched by his never-ending thoughtfulness.

“Thank you, Az.”, Gwyn turned his head gently with her fingers to place a soft kiss on his lips. “You are the best mate there is.”

Azriel smiled against her mouth before stealing another little peck. “I have to keep up with you, you know?”

Gwyn made the smuggest looking face she could muster in the middle of the night. “I do know, actually. Well done for noticing your flaws and trying to better yourself.”

Her mate just rolled his eyes. “I should stop putting you on a pedestal, it’s not becoming for your ego.”

The both of them smiled at each other for a second before turning their attention back to the problem at hand. The built-in music stand of the piano was already covered in sheet and sheets of Azriel’s tidy notes, little numbers on the bottom of the page indicating their order. It was way too much to be just the opening portion of the opera. “What’s all this Az? Behind the sheet you are on?”

Azriel looked a bit confused for a second, before answering, “That’s the rest of the songs.”

“What do you mean ‘the rest of the songs’?”

Azriel snorted, “The rest of the songs. The opening is the only one I have left to do because it’s so damn difficult.”

Gwyn couldn’t stop her jaw from dropping just a bit. The male had seriously recorded every single song from tonight. It must have taken him from the moment she fell asleep until now. Warmth flooded every inch of her body at the thought.

“Azriel.”, she whispered, hugging him even more closely to express her gratitude.

He understood, knowing every intonation of her voice, every movement of her body so perfectly he felt like they were extensions of his own. So, he just squeezed her tight in answer before turning to the keys once more to play what he already recorded for Gwyn. Since she was extremely musical herself, she might be able to figure out his problem.

His fingers started dancing over the ivory, making patterns and creating the rhythm of the song. He already felt it was easier to play just by having Gwyn in his arms. Even though he tried to keep the volume down, the haunting melody spread through the candle lit dining room and further into the darkness of the house. His Shadows started winding around his arms, wrists and fingers after a while, just enjoying their dance and clearly trying to help in their own way.

When Azriel finally arrived at the difficult part, Gwyn started to hum the melody as she remembered it, sometimes pressing some of the keys herself or recording their progress on the sheet so Az could focus all of his attention on the piano.

After what felt like minutes, but was more like hours, the two of them left the bench. Sheets and sheets of music covered the music stand of the piano and the candles have burned down long ago. Azriel swept Gwyn up in his arms, albeit her weak protests to walk on her own, and carried her up the stairs and back to bed. He hugged her smaller form into his chest and covered both of their bodies with the sheet.

Just when he was certain she fell asleep, he heard a tiny noise.

“Mh?”, was all he answered, not sure if he already dreamed it or not.

But it had been Gwyn.

“I said: I love you, Shadowsinger.”

Her voice was muffled, more like speaking to her pillow than to her mate, but Azriel still felt his heart beat pick up pace and a smile stretching his face. After witnessing Gwyn in the opera, he just had to do something to bring this kind of joy back to her as often as he could. She was literally sitting at the edge of her seat, leaning over the balcony so badly his Shadows screamed at him to hold her back. She drank up everything the actors and singers did: eyes glued to the stage, fingers tapping and body swaying to the livelier melodies, and holding back her tears during the heavy ballads. Azriel couldn’t help watching her. And afterwards, when she talked to him about the plot and characters, he just nodded his head, not remembering any of them. Which is why he struggled so badly with the opening – he simply forgot what happened on stage, his memory prioritizing Gwyn.

Every second of recording the music had been worth it just to see her smile at him like she did before, to have her kiss him and hug him close. He made a mental note to repeat their evening tomorrow again, pulling her on his lap the second they’d be done with dinner.

#gwynrielweeks2023 #gwynriel #gwyn x azriel #Azriel #acotar #gwyneth berdara #i'm so soft for them

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sassykattery · 1 year

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The Queen's Torment, Pt. 4

Who's that?

CW: MC is afab, uses she/her pronouns. MC is a demon and poly. Reader attempts self-harm by influence of another character. Gore and violence (not from reader).

Characters: MC="you", Sybil, Diavolo, Lucifer, Barbatos, all brothers implied or mentioned explicitly.

Themes: Romance. Jealousy. Pining. Unrequited love. Violence and gore. DiavoloxMC, LuciferxMC.

Minors and ageless blogs DNI.

18+ only

Masterlist

Enjoy, and please read the announcement at the end.

"Sybil!"

There was a loud, demonic growl from where you came on from the balcony; that growl could only come from Diavolo.

You were blinded, and all you could focus on was making those voices stop whispering to you.

"I do believe you are most unwelcome here, Sybil," Barbatos said from the same area, with a low and deeply unhappy tone.

"Unwelcome? That bitch took what is rightfully mine, and I'm not leaving until I have it!" Sybil barked.

It was Lucifer, looking around Sybil, who realized that you were now almost entirely on top of the stone railing that lined the balcony, and just as you teetered to fall off of it, the must inhumane scream erupted from his throat.

In a series of lightning-fast movements, Barbatos had Sybil in a chokehold, and Diavolo and Lucifer shot to you to grab you as you gently shifted off the balcony, no longer lucid to what was going on. Both managed to grab an arm of yours, and together they pulled you back onto the balcony. Diavolo immediately handed you over Lucifer and went on his warpath to the person Barbatos held.

"You were the one Dream Torturing her, weren't you?" Diavolo barked, and all you heard in reply was a snap and a scream.

Lucifer clutched you in his arms, pulling you both down to sit on the cold stone balcony floor as he cradled you, whispering to you that you were alright and he would protect you, that he was sorry for letting you down again.

"Why did you come here Sybil?" Diavolo continued to shout. "You were told if you ever showed your face here again, there would be consequences, and then you go and torture my bride? My mate?" There was another snap, followed by Sybil's sobs of denial.

Slowly, your vision was coming back as though her spell on you was fading, and your face was mostly shielded by Lucifer's chest, but in your peripheral, you managed to catch a glimpse of what was going on. As Diavolo held her to the ground with his shoe on her skull, Barbatos was breaking each of her limbs.

Vapors started to come off of Diavolo now, and his true nature was starting to unfold. His fingers grew into long blackened talons, a fiery red floating crown above his head as he shifted past his usual demon form. This, this was something you hadn't ever seen or encountered before. His skin reddened as if scales were patterning across his flesh. He was taller, with feet looking more draconic.

"Say it!" he screamed at Sybil, who was just a slobbering, crying mess. Another snap, both legs now broken, probably completely shattered.

"I just wanted you back!" she cried out.

"I was never yours in the first place, you wretched thing. You couldn't handle my rejection and then you go and try to manipulate my soulmate into killing herself. It's unspeakable. Disgusting. Deplorable. Unforgivable."

"I sentence you to a life of eternal damnation, soulless, to be trapped in the Center Zone of the Ninth Circle, and you'll meet my father for such heinous crimes as treachery against me. Damned, lost, and forgotten, this is your punishment, Witch Sybil."

Lucifer then grabbed your head and turned it into his chest, no longer wishing you to witness what was unfolding, but you fought against him and in the final moments, you saw Diavolo's demonic hand grab the back of Sybil's head and without much effort, squeeze it to a pulp, as Barbatos ripped out her heart, sounds of sickening crunches following their motions. You buried your face back into his chest and trembled.

Just as the witch died, you felt the tension that was pounding in your skull fade, finally releasing her hold on you. It was with that release, you collapsed from exhaustion and passed out, falling into Lucifer's hold.

"Clean this up," Diavolo muttered to Barbatos, to which he bowed, now in his normal demon form.

The prince slowly walked over to you and Lucifer. "She's fine, but she passed out when Sybil passed," he said to Diavolo.

He crouched down to look you over, "She's probably exhausted from the torture. I'd hate to do this, but the ball isn't over yet, and I want to know if she'd like everyone to go home or stay," he replied.

With the Demon Lord's hand over your head, he silently removed the effects of the curse on you, revitalizing you as well.

Your eyes fluttered open, and you were met with chest of Lucifer. Slowly, you turned your head to see Diavolo, looking how he did when the ball started.

"My love, are you okay?" he murmured.

"I am, I feel much better," you whispered.

"This is your celebration, so I wanted to ask if you wanted to send everyone home early or continue the party? It's up to you," he said.

Thinking it over, you said, "I would like to continue the party but... after everything that happened..." you trailed off.

"Don't worry about that," Diavolo stated. "It's whatever you want to do. I'm sure the brothers would like to see you."

With a nod, you said, "Let's continue the party then."

The prince then stated, "I need to clean up, I'll be back momentarily." You then noticed the blood on his hands and cuffs of his jacket. He walked off before you could reply, and the scene behind him was already cleaned up as well.

After getting to your feet, Lucifer took your hand. "Darling," he whispered. You turned and faced him. "I... I was so scared to lose you," he stated, tears in his eyes. He pulled you into his arms, holding you tight. "To see you throw yourself off the balcony to your death... that is my nightmare."

"I'm here, Lucifer, I'm okay," you mumbled into his chest.

Not being able to hold back, he suddenly pulled away and grabbed your shoulders, bending over to look you in the eye, "What were you thinking? You could have died!" he shouted.

You stiffened up, "Lucifer, I wasn't in control of myself. I was hearing voices and I was effectively blind."

He stared into your eyes, and he knew you were telling the truth. "I-I can't lose you, MC," he said with a choked rasp.

"Luci, my love..." you said in a hushed tone, cupping his face with your hands. You pulled him in for a sweet, tearful kiss. Murmured against his lips, you said, "I promise I won't ever do that. I'm here, with you, forever."

Lucifer rubbed his face against your hands, trying to regain composure. You then pulled one of his hands and placed it over your heart, so he could feel it beating, and you laid your head against his chest. You two remained like that for a few minutes until you were both calm again.

You pulled away first, "Better?" you asked.

He nodded, and you led him back into the castle, slowly making your way through the halls. Before you got to the ballroom, the six brothers were in the hall waiting for you. Satan walked up to you first.

"Are you okay?" he asked, looking you over, grabbing your limbs to scan your body to see for himself.

"Satan, I'm fine. It's over," you said.

"So, a witch tried to kill you? Or rather get you to..." Levi started to say, and then couldn't finish his own sentence.

You raised an eyebrow and Satan replied, "Barbatos told us."

Belphie spoke up, "We made sure to keep the party going for you, are you ready to join us again?"

You gave a small smile and nodded, "I do want to try and enjoy the rest of the evening."

It was quiet in the castle, as most of the guests had left. It was just you, the brothers, and the royals. Gentle music played as you swayed with Diavolo. It was tense between you two for some reason, though, you'd wait until you were alone, but you tried to enjoy the moment with him.

Lucifer leaned against the wall, watching you like a hawk. He was scarred, whether he knew it or not, by the image of you falling off the balcony, and it was all he could do to just not let you out of his sight. His brothers were sitting on the floor nearby, idling chit chatting about whatever they thought of.

Mammon finally left the group and approached Lucifer nonchalantly.

"Talk to me," the second eldest said. The group had become quiet to listen to Lucifer tell the story.

"The witch was part of the royal court a long time ago, well-respected and the like, and she was very interested in Lord Diavolo, but he didn't reciprocate. Maddi was also interested, so there was a rivalry between the two witches. Sybil was banned from court and told to never come to the Devildom again after it was found she was going to make a love potion to use on Diavolo. When she heard about his relationship with MC, she retaliated by using the Dream Torture spell. We're not exactly sure when she did it, Barbatos will be looking into it, but she had likely been torturing MC for months now. Barbatos is also looking for when she killed Maddi and why. Anyway, she must have read about the royal announcement and decided to come to the ball to see the end of her work, by convincing MC to take her own life. She has now been sentenced to the Center Zone of the Ninth Circle," Lucifer explained.

Mammon tensed up there at the last, unable to fathom such a horror. He instantly looked at you, still in Diavolo's arms, and told himself he was grateful that you were still alive, as did his brothers.

"So, she'll be alright then," Mammon stated.

"Indeed, the spell broke when Sybil died. She'll probably still be traumatized by it, but otherwise, yes," Lucifer replied.

Leaving the second eldest behind, Lucifer walked up to you and Diavolo, "May I cut in?" Wordlessly, he took you from the prince and swayed with you.

"How was your party?" Lucifer murmured to you.

"I enjoyed it. I'm happy," you replied quietly.

"I'm glad," he stated. He looked around, thinking about the night's events. "I must apologize for earlier."

You shook your head, "There's no need. I understand," you replied.

"You're too gracious with me," Lucifer whispered, looking down at your sweet face.

A small smirk tugged at your lips. "I have to have a lot of grace when it comes to you and your brothers."

Lucifer couldn't fight the smirk on his mouth either, "That, I don't doubt."

The two of you went silent again, with your head laying on his chest, listening to his heart.

After several more minutes, the music had died, and it was completely silent in the ballroom. Stopping, you looked up at Lucifer. "I think I'd like to retire for the night," you whispered, looking a little run-down. He nodded, and then kissed your hand.

"You can stay here if you want," you continued whispering. "In fact, I think it would make me feel better."

"If that's what you want, I will," Lucifer whispered back.

After sending the other brothers back home, you told Lucifer to go ahead and go to your suite, as you went to find Diavolo.

After some light searching, you found him in his office, just staring out the window behind his desk. Silently, you moved throughout the room and stood next to him, looking out into the palace grounds with him.

Finally, he spoke up, "I'm glad you're okay."

"Are you okay?" you quipped.

He sighed, and then turned to face you, his hands clasped behind his back. "I am, but I'm also not."

"Do you want to talk about it?" you inquired. He looked back out to the window and then looked down at you again.

"I hope you don't see me as some sort of monster for what happened."

"I don't," you replied.

"And... to see you fall off the balcony, it's more than I could bear," he said painfully.

You nodded. "I understand. In those moments, I was blinded, and there were voices in my head telling me that if I just went to sleep, the pain would stop. I had a jarring headache all day today, and I didn't understand why until much later, which is why I left the party in the first place," you explained. You saw him about to interrupt you, and you held up a hand to stop him. "I know I should have said there was something wrong, but I had a bad feeling if I did speak up, it would get worse. When I was on the balcony, I couldn't fight the whispers, and they convinced me that if I fell off, I could go to sleep."

He was quiet, searching your eyes and face. "I'm sorry you had to see me do that. I'd be just as upset if I saw you doing the same," you finished.

"This is somehow all my fault. I should have just had Sybil eliminated all those years ago-" Diavolo started to say.

"That's all in hindsight, my love. It's over now, and I'm here, with you," you interrupted, cradling his cheek in your hand. He cupped your hand with his, staring down at you.

"I love you, MC," Diavolo whispered.

"And I love you, Diavolo," you whispered back. "Shall we go to bed? I'm rather looking forward to a peaceful night's sleep, for once."

Diavolo nodded, and you led him to your suite where Lucifer was already waiting.

----

Thanks for reading <3

Hey there! Don't go too far because at 11:59pm CT tonight I'll be uploading the next part, which will be the finale for this chapter.

I will also be taking a small break from uploading so I can enjoy some time off. Your girl is currently sick and could use the rest. After the next upload tonight, "Love, Eternal" will return January 4th to start Chapter 8!

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Post made by sassykattery. Do not repost. Reblogs and comments appreciated.

Tags: @delphi-dreamin @blackwings-with-angeleyes @leavesandflowers @ladyofthemorningstar @itsmeninerz @obeymediasimp @frozengoldie @flemmingbamse @marvelous-maniac

#obey me #obey me shall we date #sassywrites #sassystories #obey me fanfic #love-eternal #diavolo x femreader #lucifer x female reader

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crazyk-imagine · 1 year

Text

A Time for Mourning

A month after they got married, two weeks after the funeral… A/N: I’ve missed writing for my babies

One Shot Master List

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The same thought has been running around in her mind over the last two weeks. 'Should I or Should I not?'

Benny doesn't know what she's been thinking, not wanting him to worry about it when his fight is in two days... now.

She gets out of bed, half an hour before her husband. She shivers, not just because of the cold air hitting her warm skin as she wanders to the bathroom but because of what Benny is to her.

Her husband.

The smile she got when she thinks about it, quickly falls from her face as she picks up the pace. "This is why you never get out of bed before him. You need your personal heater," she mumbles.

She does a quick version of her morning routine, not in the mood to get dressed yet. Her hair thrown up in a messy bun, hands barely falling down to meet the countertop when his warm arms wrap around her. "Thank you."

"For what?" He asks, already confused and it's barely six o'clock.

"You're warm." Seraphina spins around in his arms, hands touching the back of his neck, scrunching and unschrunching his hair.

He smirks before bending down, his hands meeting the back of her thighs as he sets her down on the ice-cold countertop.

She smiles, knowing what he wants to do. She lets him until the back of her thighs touch the devil. She screeches and jumps into his arms, regretting wearing shorts to bed even though it was hot last night.

He reaches behind him, straightening his arm so they don't fall on the floor. "Woah. Woah. Hey, hey. What happened there?"

Her head snaps in his direction, tightening her thighs that are around his waist, making herself look taller. "You," she points at him. "Put your obviously cold wife on that demonic countertop and you- why are you laughing?"

He shakes his head. "Demonic countertop?"

"It's cold and I refuse to sit on anything else that's cold right now."

"Then maybe as your husband, I should take you to bed where I can warm you up."

She narrows her eyes at his cheeky remark. "Did coach Will tell you it was okay to have coitus with your wife?"

"I should ban you from the TV."

Her mouth falls open, "why?"

"You've been bingeing The Big Bang Theory a little too much."

"But it's good. I see you in Howard." It takes all but a second for her to catch her breath after being tossed onto the bed.

He hovers over her, leaning down. "You think I'm a weirdo scientist who's lucky enough to have gotten himself a girlfriend who later became his wife?"

"Weirdo, yes. Scientist, no. Lucky, fuck yeah. And I'm referring to when his voice gets all high and squeaky when he and Bernadette are having another baby. I can see you doing that."

His eyebrows pop up. "Really?" He's quiet for a second, slightly scaring her.

"What?"

"You wanna try and see if my voice does get all high and squeaky?"

"Oh my god," she smacks his shoulder. "You horny bastard."

He leans in, pecking her lips. "But I'm your horny bastard."

"Ben, no."

"Ben, yes."

"You have a match in two days. Will has told you multiple times," her voice begins to waver as he kisses along the side of her neck. "That you can't do anything out of the ordinary before your matches."

"Then it's a good thing this wouldn't be out of the ordinary."

She chuckles when he pulls away and slowly pulls down his boxers. "Ben, no."

"Ben, yes."

After taking a... steamy shower, they go to the kitchen so Seraphina can make Benny his pre workout shake.

While she pours it into his cup, she says, "I’m gonna do it."

“Do what?” He asks, sitting at the dining room table while tying his shoe.

“I’m gonna go see Molly and Tess.”

He finishes and glances over at her. “Alone?”

She sighs, “this is just something I need to do. I just- I need to talk to Molly. I haven't seen either of them since the funeral and- I just- I really need to talk to her.”

He pushes himself out of the chair, standing behind her, pulling her into his embrace. “You don’t have too though.”

She smiles, intertwining their hands, and places a kiss on top of his. “Thank you. I know I don’t, but I really feel like I do.”

He nods, “okay.”

“Okay?" She turns around, staring at him with an unsure expression, almost like she doesn't believe him. "Just like that?"

His lips curve into a smile. “We both know there’s not much I can do to help change your mind.”

“And this, this is why I married you.” She pecks his lips. "Now go outside before Will honks his horn and says you're late."

That very honk that is rooted into the back of their minds, echoes throughout the neighborhood.

"Too late."

"Bye, Ben."

"See you later?"

She nods. "You bet. Now go get some training done. I don't want you to have another split eyebrow after this match."

"I kick their asses, Stunner."

- She leaves a half an hour later, purse hanging off her arm (after running back into the house to grab it) she's still not used to having a purse but she's slowly adapting to it since it was a surprise late engagement/ wedding gift from Frankie, Maria, and of course, little Isabela.

Which may or may not have annoyed Santiago because he wanted to be the one to get his sister something as nice as that which may have started a war between the two men while they were out shopping.

That was not a fun phone call Will had to make to her that afternoon.

The older Miller on the other hand was smart and got the two a few things they could use in the kitchen, not very many items but he knew they'd go a long way. And that left little Santiago to figure something out.

Eventually he decided on getting them a few things to keep in the car in case something ever happens, and they need to leave.

With everything that happened before and after Tom passed, he felt it was necessary to take any precaution necessary.

- She gets into the car and heads over to the Davis household, not using her GPS because she knows where to go (and that breaks her heart).

Seraphina turns off the car, staying seated as she glances around the neighborhood. She can’t remember why she came here to see Molly. There wasn't much of a reason for her to come over and yet here she is.

She takes a deep breath and exits her car, locking it while she walks up the pathway towards the house.

She stands at the front door, not moving to knock on the door or ring the doorbell.

"Mom?" Tess calls out.

"Yes, sweetheart?" Molly replies, closing the photo album as fast as she can before turning around to look over the couch.

"I think there's someone at the door."

"Can you see who it is?"

"No." The teen girl doesn't look away from the door. "I'm scared to." She has an idea as to what happened to her dad, and she's scared someone from his past is going to come after them.

"I'm sure it's no one." Molly pushes herself off the couch. She stands on the opposite side of the door, looking through the glass on the sides of the door. "It's Ser." She can see the way her daughter loosens up and it hurts her, but she puts on a tough face. "You can go to your room and-"

Tess runs to the door, opening it with a little too much force before throwing herself into the older woman's arms and starts weeping.

Seraphina pulls her arms up so she can wrap her arms around the young girl's shoulders, resting her chin on top of her head. "Hey, Tessie girl."

Molly quickly wipes her under eyes not wanting either of them to see her tears.

"Let's go inside, okay?"

Tess moves along with the blonde inside the house, letting Molly close the door behind them.

She pulls back, holding the girls face in her hands as she brushes away her tears, giving her a small smile. "You're okay. I got you, sweetheart. Your mom and I are here for you," she whispers.

Tess nods, pulling away from her and wipes her cheeks before walking down the hallway towards the bathroom.

"She's been doing that since the funeral, I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, Mol." Seraphina turns around to look at the woman. She pulls her in for a hug, knowing she needs it more than she realizes.

The brunette pulls away, sniffling, "sorry."

"Don't be. It's a terrible time for you two and you two deserve to take the time and grieve."

They sit on the couch, Tom's ex-wife setting a glass of iced tea in front of Seraphina on the coffee table.

"How are you doing?"

"As okay as I can be. I'm still trying to gather up the courage to pack up some of his things that are in the garage."

"You don't need to do that now."

"Yeah, but if I don't do it now, it'll never get done." Molly sniffles, wiping her nose with a tissue, keeping the box within reach on the coffee table. She lets out a sad chuckle, looking at her hand before glancing over at Seraphina. “He loved you; you know.”

The blonde doesn’t say anything, she doesn’t know what to say after hearing that. “I know-" She sighs. "I know you two never saw eye to eye, on a lot of things."

That earns a chuckle from the blonde woman across from her.

"But he really did care about you, you know. That's why he would always disagree with you. He wanted you to- to- uh- to strive.”

She wipes the corner of her eye. “Shouldn’t I be the one to comfort you?”

The brunette smiles, “that’s only for people who are scared to cry and talk about their loved ones. Me? I’m not scared. I just- I never know if I can find the right words.”

“You’ve never seemed to be the kind of person to back down with your tail tucked between your legs.”

“Now there’s a phrase I haven’t heard in a while,” Molly sighs. “It was one of his favorites.”

Seraphina tilts her head. “Really?”

“Oh, yeah.”

The two spend the rest of the day talking and reminiscing about Tom and all the crazy things he did before and after Tess was born.

Before it got too late, Tess came out and listened to the two, enjoying the atmosphere in the living room, feeling happier than she had the last few days.

Seraphina pulls out her phone, seeing the text from her husband. "Oh, sh-" She glances over at Tess. "Shoot. Ben's texting me."

"He's whining, isn't he?" The brunette asks as she takes a sip of her beverage.

"How'd you know?" The blonde chuckles. "I better get home before he blows up my phone more and whines to Will."

"Okay." Molly walks her to the door. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me, Mol."

"I do though. I know how hard this was for you to do."

She doesn't respond.

"Come by again sometime, we should have dinner soon."

"You got it. Bye, Mol. Bye Tess!"

The Davis' girls wave her off, waiting until she's out of their neighborhood before closing their door.

- "You're back," Benny hugs her.

"Thank God. He wouldn't shut up."

"Thank you for watching him," she thanks her brother-in-law.

"I'm not a dog."

"No, you're not, Ben."

"I'm going into the living room."

"How was it?" Will asks her.

"It was- uh- it was okay. Lot of tears but I think it was good for them. Or I hope it was."

He nods. "That's good."

"Oh boy," she looks at her phone. "It's late. You gotta go and get ready for your date."

"I regret telling Benny anything."

"Don't be like that, Will."

"I'll see you two later."

"Bye!" They shout. "Be safe," the blonde adds.

"What's for dinner?"

"My foot up your ass, Miller."

"Kinky."

#Triple Frontier #one shot #One Shot - fanfic #triple frontier imagines #triple frontier imagine #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier fanfiction #benny miller fanfiction #benny miller fanfic #benny miller fic #benny miller imagine #benny miller imagines #benny miller x ofc #benny miller x oc #benny miller x seraphina hayes

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depressed-with-music · 2 years

Text

Panic Room

Song: panic room by Au/Ra (not my gif)

(Welcome to the Welcome to the Welcome to the Welcome to the)

A young women of sixteen with y/c colored hair and bright blue eyes, was laying down on her bed. Tears slowly falling down her face.

Hell raising, hair raising I'm ready for the worst So frightening, face whitening Fear that you can't reverse

Slowly Y/N gets out of bed and wipes away her tears yet they continue to fall. She makes her way to the bathroom. Her hair is a bird’s nest, she has deep eye bags, her skin is pale and sickly, and her lips are quivering. Y/N sees herself in the mirror and screams a pain-filled heartbreaking scream.

My phone has no signal It's making my skin crawl The silence is so loud The lights spark and flicker With monsters much bigger Than I can control now

Y/N like a ghost walks around arrow house and sees a broken phone on the floor with whiskey next to it. It was quiet in the large house it was just the young woman in there. Yet Y/N couldn’t stop hearing gun shots, goosebumps covered her skin. Silence made the young girl scared because she was all alone with her thoughts and the sounds of war filling her head.

Welcome to the panic room Where all your darkest fears are gonna Come for you, come for you Welcome to the panic room You'll know I wasn't joking When you see them too, see them too

Y/N was the youngest of the Shelby siblings. She was 10 minutes younger than Finn, and the family treated her like a princess. Y/N like her brothers struggled with her demons perhaps that’s why they were so close they, were all fighting to get out the dark. When John died Y/N was covered in grief. John had been the jokester the one to make her laugh and to make her feel like she wasn’t crazy. That’s why his memory haunts her, and when he died part of Y/N did too.

Welcome to the panic room (Welcome to the Welcome to the Welcome to the Welcome to the)

Still waiting, hands shaking Maybe the coast will clear But these voices, these strange noises They followed me in here

As Y/N got older the voices in her head got louder, and get family didn’t notice. Y/N most important thing was her family they kept her calm but the family had spilt and fallen apart. Someone where along the way she was sent to Arrow house because Tommy had the room.

There's no crying wolves now 'Cause the truth has settled in Hiding under goose down For your nightmare to begin There's no crying wolves now (welcome to the, welcome to) 'Cause the truth has settled in (welcome to the, welcome to the) Hiding under goose down (welcome to the, welcome to the) For your nightmare to begin (welcome to the, welcome to the)

Welcome to the panic room Where all your darkest fears are gonna Come for you, come for you Welcome to the panic room You'll know I wasn't joking When you see them too, see them too

Hell raising, hair raising I'm ready for the worst

Y/N was tired. She missed the days when Tommy would help her ride a horse. When Arthur listened to her stories, when John made her laugh, Ada telling her gossip, and Polly’s motherly touch. She also missed the feeling of safety she felt when she was Finn and her other brothers. So late at night she walked to cliffs near arrow house. Y/N felt the breeze and smiled. She suddenly saw John and he begged her to stop. However Y/N ignored him, put out her arms, closed her eyes, and let herself fall towards the ocean that was under the cliff. She felt free. However she felt a hand in her shirt it was Tommy stopping her from falling. Y/N didn’t understand what he was saying the world was muffled around her. She felt tears in her eyes and wrapped her arms around Tommy. She felt stupid. She didn’t want to be a burden. Yet she heard Tommy apologize and beg her to say. For the first time in a long time Y/N didn’t feel alone. She then realized she didn’t want to go just yet she wanted to help her family again to be happy. So despite the pain she felt she would fight after all, she was a Shelby.

#sad song fic #Shelby sister #depressed #Peaky blinders #tw: suidice #death mentioned #Shelby siblings #Mother Polly

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skekilla · 1 year

Photo

https://www.deviantart.com/skekilla/art/Runaway-Train-Act-II-Scene-1-915408073

Death didn’t seem to loom so close now. On the contrary, it was smashed on the floor.

All was quiet, save for Johnny’s shaky breaths. There he was, sprawled out and frozen, surrounded by the shards of the thing’s mask. His eyes were fixed on the floor; he’d been all but stunned by his own gunshot, not to mention all the noise that came after, all the shattering and the wind and the falling. But he knew one thing for sure: he had done it. Despite his leg and his fear, he had done it. He almost would have smiled, if he wasn’t so shaken up by it all.

The gun’s cold handle still sat in his now weak grip. Slowly, he surfaced from his daze and noticed it again. With a bit of a gasp, he let it tumble to the floor in front of him, clinking against the pale fragments that caught its fall. For a second, he just looked at it. That joy quickly wore off; he had just killed something. An angry monster, sure, but something nonetheless. He killed it. It felt like he was falling out of himself. What did I do…?

What you had to, boy. Johnny jumped. That voice was back. And you did just wonderfully! Just astonishing! Bravo, bravo! Oh, I can’t wait for more. He squeezed his eyes shut tight, as if that would make it go away. He hoped and pleaded that it would. Luckily, whatever was talking seemed to get the picture; with nothing more than a sly chuckle, it fell silent. Once again, quiet filled the car.

“Good,” Curtis’s deep voice grumbled after some time. “Finally. Let’s leave this place and find a way off this damn train.” He pushed himself up with quite some effort, hissing in pain as he put weight on one of his legs.

Sally and Orla rose from where they’d been too. A scrap of red curtain was tied across where Orla had been shot, stained a touch darker right over it. Sally supported her, though her usual chipper smile made it seem like she didn’t need it. “My, you said something worth listening to for once!” Sally replied to Curtis, a little breathless. “And it only took all… well… this.”

Johnny realized then that all eyes were on him. “O-oh. Gosh, I… golly…” He couldn’t think of anything to say or do. He glanced around himself, at a loss for words. Get up, get up! Don’t just sit there! He tried to do as he told himself, having forgotten about the condition of his leg. You could figure that didn’t go well. “Oh, r-right. Uh…” He glanced around sheepishly at his companions.

“Oh, come here,” Sally said with a soft sigh. She left Orla’s side (ensuring she would be fine on her own before fully letting go, of course) and came to haul him up onto the edge of a nearby booth seat. Johnny’s thank you was a shy but grateful smile as he gingerly pocketed the pistol once again. Boy, if there were ever a guardian angel to match all these demons, Sally’d certainly be her, he thought to himself.

Right as she delivered him to the seat, she ducked down to take a look at his leg. No more having to scoot closer now, I guess. He was already fishing his tool kit out of his pocket when she lifted it up to start picking around the joint. Once they were handed off, she got down to the real work. Watching her quick movements kept his mind off all the things now in it; he was glad for the distraction. He didn’t take his eyes away.

Broken pieces of mask clinked as they were moved. A hum he recognized as Orla’s signalled just who was kicking them around. “Nasty old beast, huh?” she muttered. “Seems to be gone for good now though! We owe that to you, sir, thank you a hundred times. Of course, I also owe something else to you.” She patted her wound with a giggle, though her wince told Johnny the matter wasn’t at all humourous. He tried to smile at her joke, but it wasn’t very well done. His slight tremble probably didn’t make it any more convincing, either.

Curtis paced around off to the side; if Orla was fidgety, he was plain restless. “For all we know, it could come back again,” he muttered. “Come on, let’s just carry Johnny with us now and fix him up later. We can’t be hanging around here, especially not with… him.” He gestured to that hulking man where he still lay on the floor, out cold.

That made Johnny’s eyes raise up from his leg. Did he mean… but they couldn’t. Not after he’d already killed one thing and injured another. “W-we… we can’t just leave him here, though…” he stuttered out. “If more trouble does come, he’ll—”

“God! You already got not shooting him, and now you want to bring him with us?!” he snapped. “Do you have ANYTHING in that big-eyed head? Any sense?” His glare seemed to seer Johnny with its sudden rage.

Though that familiar fluttering fear hit him, it didn’t shut up his morals. His shy gaze hardened just a little. “You won’t get me to give this up!” he squeaked. “We’re not leaving a man for dead! Y-you… you can…”

“Hey!” Sally cut in. The look on her face matched Curtis’ own as she turned on him. “Quiet, you brute! You just don’t stop, do you?” She paused, letting out a huff in disbelief. “We might as well do it. Besides, he might be more friendly if we give him some help. People usually are gracious when others take them in.” Her pointed words were aimed solely at the sailor.

He just stood and fumed for a moment, but, after a second, he realized no one would be won over to his side. Muttered curses were his surrender. He resigned himself to leaning against one of the tables at the booths, keeping his apparently injured leg off the floor. “Fine,” he said. “So we’ll just wait for you to be done with that and then, what, carry him?”

“Oh, no, we ought to just drag him over all this! Much easier,” Orla joked, grandiosely motioning around herself at the shards she’d gotten herself in the middle of. Curtis’ response was only an exasperated sigh.

“My thoughts exactly, honeybee,” Sally said with a smirk. She seemed satisfied with his dismay. “Of course we’re going to carry him. And don’t you worry yourself about waiting, I’ve just finished up while you were throwing your little fit.” Johnny hadn’t even noticed that himself, but, sure enough, when he looked at the joint, it was just about good as new.

“Oh,” he said. “Thanks, I hadn’t- you really are quick.”

“Well, I’ve got to be when there’s people like him waiting, hm?” She slipped her gloves back over her hands, which she then offered to help him stand. He gladly accepted.

As Johnny stumbled to his feet, Curtis and Orla surrounded the strange man, bickering about how to carry him best. Of course, Sally came along to sort it out; she’d hold up his left shoulder, Orla his right, with Curtis and Johnny back at his knees. It really did take all that to carry him; he was just that huge. And yet we’re the ones saving him, Johnny thought as he adjusted the weight on his shoulder. Just goes to show how vicious this place is. Curtis’ demand came back to him: “Let’s leave this place and find a way off this damn train.” Though it hadn’t been said in the most polite way, he supposed that was really all they could do. Just keep hoping and pressing on from car to car, as they were doing.

Or… rather, as they had been doing. The moment Sally managed to slide the door open, she gasped and stood still, along with Orla. What? What’s going on now? Worry crammed itself back into Johnny’s mind. He nervously craned his neck around to try to get a look at the next car, at what they were all staring at.

It was… well, at least it wasn’t something bad. “Bizarre” was more the word. Out before them was a long dining table. A beautiful crystal chandelier hung above it, the same old class dripping off it as everything else in this train. It seemed to be some sort of grand dining room, but that was hardly the reason for the strangeness in what he saw—it was what was on and at the table that was. Firstly, on the table: place settings with doilies, fine painted china, dainty cutlery, and fancy napkins outlined it like neat little flower beds in a garden. Then there were the guests at the table. There were two of them, sat opposite to each other and looking back at the four passengers in awe. Johnny was filled with a similar astonishment. They were… children. Both around just thirteen, by the looks of it. What were they doing here? How had they survived? And, most strangely, how had they set up this whole… tea party?

For a moment, everything was quiet and still. Both sides of this encounter were as shocked as the other. Then, all at once, the kids both beamed in excitement. “How do you do, misses and misters?” the younger of the two asked. “Care for tea?”

“C’mon, say yes!” the other suddenly blurted out. “Please??”

#runaway train #art #original story #train #vintage #story #novel #illustrated book #illustrated novel #book #act II #skekilla

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thedemoninme141 · 1 year

Text

Ghosts: Chapter 8: Darkness

youtube

"What would be the purpose of my life after we finish this, Ghost?" she asked. . .

Take me in the smoke Breathe me in and let me go Filling the lungs inside you

Chris enters the bathroom, He needs to freshen his mind from listening to this bratty kid. The kid's accused of murdering a girl and yet he has to protect him, Chris wanted to be a boxer but couldn't get the job right. To provide for his family, he had to decide to become a bodyguard. His duty is to perform it. However, would you defend someone who murdered an innocent young girl?

He freshens up and was about to leave when he felt a sharp stinging pain in his right leg, then his left leg. He falls to the ground in agony and looks up to see the hooded figure standing in front of him. It seizes his neck.

"Where is the boy?"

In the blacker nights Make my way into your mind Just to know what you knew

Tom felt his phone buzz, he takes it out to see the notification, his wife left a message, it's his wife,

Helen: Hey honey, Can you come home early today? I want to talk about us, I think you were right, We are ready to have a baby.

Tom smiles and starts typing until he felt something wrap around his neck.

Restless every time we start locking eyes Oh, oh, oh, oh Lost control

"How much time does this guy need?" William wondered where Chris went. He goes to Tom.

Oh, it's paradise with a nasty bite But I'm, ah, ah, ah, I'm with the dead of the night Let the darkness take control

"Hey Tom, have you seen Chri.." William came to ask Tom but saw a hooded man trying to strangle him.

"Hey!" He yelled as he pulled out his Glock-19. But it used Tom as a cover. He might hit Tom, so he didn't shoot. Although he didn't see the gun, a click sound was audible to him. He felt pain in his stomach, He knelt down as soon as he heard Tom hit the ground and saw that the hooded figure was aiming at him. He yelled to his microphone, He yelled to his microphone,

"There is a gunman! Evacuate the area," but was cut off by a bullet to the head.

Let the darkness take control Darkness take control May the darkness take control

Ralegh was in the bathhouse, having fun with some random girls he picked off the dance floor when he saw his bodyguards come in,

"Ugh, what the fuck happened now?" He said annoyed.

"It's Ghost, he is here. We have to take you out of this place." One of the guards said.

They take their pistols out, round formation around Ralegh, That's when the smoke began.

Take me in the smoke Breathe me in and let me go Sink to your heart to find you

"No, not again, I've seen him fight before, it's gonna get bloody!" A guard said.

They don't know where the shots are coming from.

A guard who was shot in the head collapses to the ground.

Open up your eyes 'Til you're blinded by the lies So you can see what you do

"Where is he? I can't see anything in these smokes!" One of the guards shouted.

Ralegh saw a hand coming out of the smokes pulling the guard in.

"There is he!" Ralegh screamed as the rest of the guards began firing in that direction,

They heard another thud sound.

Restless every time we start locking eyes Oh, oh, oh, oh Lost control

"Go check if we got him!"

"W..Why me? Why don't you check?"

"Just go!"

The guard slowly moved forwards

Oh, it's paradise with a nasty bite I, ah, ah, I'm with the dead of the night

"We've killed our own!" He yelled

Ralegh heard his scream a second later.

He saw around him, all the guards were dead. The smoke begins to fade away as he sees it standing in front of him. The skull-faced demon.

He tried to run for the door but the demon caught him, It grabbed his neck and threw him into the wall. He tried to get up. He looked up to see it slowly walking towards him. A guard, who is bleeding on the ground, kicks the demon's leg as it moves forward, causing it to fall.

"Run!" The guard yelled at the boy.

Ralegh gathered all his strength and started running for his life

Teardrops on the floor The pain is over Feel the darkness Take control

He saw the door to the hallway to the exit, but it was locked, He saw stairs and in an effort to hide he ran all the way up to the roof. He hid behind the water tanks, praying for his life. He heard the door open and peeked to see the skull-faced demon enter. His phone rang and as he desperately tried to cut the call the demon grabbed him and threw him on the railings. The demon throw away the pistol it had.

" I don't need a gun to kill you. I will do it with my hands. "

Ralegh heard its cold voice, but.. it was female?

"Why do you want to kill me!" Ralegh yelled crying.

The demon lunged at him and grabbed his neck. It repeatedly punched him in the face. It kicked his chest so forcefully that he fell over the railings, he would have fallen to his death if the demon hadn't grabbed his hands.

"You took the one I love away from me." It said,

"W..what are you talking about! Please pull me up! I will do anything! I don't want to die! " Ralegh cried out.

"She didn't want to die either. I would've tortured you as you did to her, but it looks like the cops would be here any moment, So your time has ended. "

"No, PLS DONT'T!" He begged as he felt it let go of his hand, but then another hand grabbed him, black cloth gloves replaced by tactical leather gloves. The hand lift him up and threw him on the corner of the roof.

He fell on his back, he tried to get up, but his vision was blurry, it took a few seconds for everything to become clear to him. That's when he saw them, both of them.

Tori's pov:

I've been dating Jade for a month now. We've probably spent the majority of our time in the lake. She loves it more than I ever did; thank God I haven't told any of my other friends about the place; it's become Jade and my haven of solitude from the outside world. Our one-month anniversary is today. I'm pretty sure Jade wouldn't want to celebrate this small occasion, but I'd still like to surprise her, So let's think about what can I get her as a gift...

Hmmm, a new scissor? Nope too common, she has tons of those,

A new dress? Maybe, but I suck at choosing her choice of fashions, it's so special and one-of-a-kind that I'd probably end up disappointing her.

She'd probably appreciate it if I brought her a corpse so she could carry out her sinister rituals. I mean I have been to her house and saw a whole skeleton in her collection. Wait that gives me an idea. Jade is a pretty big fan of this Ghost dude going around killing people, From what I've heard from dad, he is just some nut wearing a skull balaclava mask. Yep, that's what I am getting her.

Tori stands up after being pushed back by someone. She glances around the corner of the roof and sees him still alive. God damn it, she had almost killed him, She looked at the one who saved him with all of her hatred. As she realizes who this is, her eyes widen.

Her 7th target

The Ghost.

"He wasn't there to save her, instead, he is here to save him. He is here to save someone who deserves death but he failed to save the one who deserved life the most." Tori told herself.

"YOU!" Tori said gritting her teeth.

"Get out of here while you can, I don't want to hurt you." Ghost said.

"Oh, I am not the one getting hurt tonight, it's you!" She pulled out her knife and charged at him. She tried to stab him but he got her hand and tackled her to the ground. She looked up to see Ralegh running for the doors. She grabbed her knife and threw it at him and it hits him in the thigh, and he screams as he falls.

"Tori, stop! This isn't the way to avenge her!" Ghost said.

"How the hell did he know... Ugh screw it," She tried to punch him but he dodged it. He grabbed her arm and threw her on the wall of the water tank,

"Ugh" she groaned, greeting her teeth to take in the pain she felt on her back, she tried to stand up but her back hurt too much. She closed her eyes and thought about Jade, how broken she was when Tori found her that day...

She opens her eyes to look straight at the eyes of the masked crusader.

" She used to think you are a hero, that you save innocent lives. Some hero you are! You didn't save her but here you are saving her killers!" Tori yelled.

Ghost gave her a brief glance but remained silent. she could hear him sighing.

" If you are anything she believed you were, you would've brought her killers to justice instead of saving them," she yelled once more, tears streaming from her eyes.

"What you are doing isn't justice, it's Revenge. Jade wouldn't have wanted you to end up like this Tori. You are taking innocent lives." He replied.

How dare he speak Jade's name! Anger filled her mind again as she got up with all her remaining strength, gritting her teeth as she felt her back pain and lunged at the Ghost, But he was faster than her, much faster. She doesn't even know what he did, all she felt was a pain in the back of her head before everything went black.

Ghost looked at the unconscious girl. He hears police sirens. "I am sorry Jade, I failed you in life, but I won't fail you in death." He said to himself. He picks up the unconscious girl.

[The lyrics were from Control- Rival]

#jori #jade west x tori vega #jade west #tori vega

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madarasthicc · 2 years

Text

Family Ties: Middle

Here we have the birth of the middle child of the family.

Again these one shots go along with Map to Hope, so these are my headcanons of Madara’s family/siblings. There will be more (人 •͈ᴗ•͈) and then of course there will be their deaths.

They were on another one of their daily walks when Ruby pulled Madara to a stop. Her free hand grabbed at her lower belly, and her face scrunched up. For a moment her hand clenched around Madara’s before slowly releasing again-she didn’t want to hurt her son.

“Mama?” Madara stepped closer to her, worry clouding his young face.

“Madara, you must do exactly as mama says okay? Can you do that for me?” Ruby asked, looking down at her son. While bladder control was something that had slipped during her pregnancies she was pretty sure her water had just broken. And apparently the lower back pain from the last thirty minutes must have been the start of contractions.

“Uh-uh.” He nodded his head yes.

“I need you to run in the house-“

“Papa said no running in the house.” Madara said quickly. Something he and Myoko had gotten in trouble over and he didn’t want to end up in either of his parents' anger. Not that he saw it often, but a scolding mama and papa wasn’t what he wanted.

“I’m giving you permission.” She exhaled slowly through the next contraction. “I want you to run through the house, okay? And at the top of your lungs let everyone know the baby is coming okay? Can you do that for mama?” She asked unsure if she would make it in time to the birthing room. Her contractions were coming and they were hard.

“At the top of my lungs?” Madara had already let go of her hand. “Will You and the baby be okay?”

“Yes, you do this and we’ll be just fine. I promise.” She hissed trying to keep walking into the house. “Go, be quick and loud, okay?”

Madara nodded, and rushed to the door, slamming it open and taking a large gasp of air.

“THE BABY’S COMING!” He screamed and began to tear through the house. Ruby would have doubled in laughter if she wasn’t trying to walk through contractions. She slowly made her way inside, hearing the pounding of Madara’s feet and his screaming.

It wasn’t far after him that a maid rushed to her side. “Thank Divine that boy still has a solid pair of lungs on him.” She chuckled weakly as the maid helped steady her.

“Yes my lady, I think he’s enjoying that.” The maid chuckled as well. The look on the young boy’s face had been that of mirth.

Tajima was in the middle of a meeting with his council when he could feel a rumble through his home.

“What in the hell.” He growled, it sounded like a stampede of horses on the wooden floors. High pitched yell soon came within ear shot and Tajima knew it was Madara.

“That little demon.” Tajima scowled, opening the room’s door and peaking out to, indeed, see Madara barreling his way down the hall.

“Madara Uchiha-“ Tajima was cut off before he could even begin to scold his son.

“THE BABY’S COMING!” Madara screamed shooting right past Tajima.

“What?!” Tajima stumbled up to his feet. “Sorry, excuse me, this this will have to wait.” He was out of the room and after Madara without a second glance to the men in the room.

Madara now realizing he’d passed his father came to a stop, nearly falling on his face. Speeding back to his father, he’s swept up into the man’s arms.

“Woah!” Tajima tightened his hold on Madara, worried the toddler would swing right out of his arms. He was rather speedy for someone on such little legs.

“THE BABY’S COMING PAPA!” Madara screamed again, regardless of being in Tajima’s arms.

“Yes! Okay, okay I heard let’s go. Point the way.” Tajima shook his head, ears ringing at Madara’s loud voice. Holding the child to his chest, he followed where Madara pointed the direction he had come from.

Ruby made it to the birthing room and onto the futon with help from now two maids. She really thanked divine she thought to send Madara ahead with the news, she would have never made it there as quickly by herself. Not when the maids nearly carried her the last few feet. The midwife rushed in, lifted her dress, and caught the child before it fell onto the floor. Apparently the baby was very much ready to be born.

Labor may have only lasted fifteen minutes at most, but Ruby still felt exhausted. Laying limply as nurses rushed in to help her out of her dress and cleaned off she listened for the child. The midwife, Yura, didn't say anything and Ruby could only see her back and another nurse at the water basin.

“My my baby? Are they okay?” She called out.

“Yes, he’s just a quiet one.” Yura said, turning towards Ruby finishing rubbing down the baby. Who finally made their presence known crying weakly. “You were just eager to be here, early and quick delivery.” The old woman spoke to the baby.

“Gods, they just slipped right out.” Ruby chuckled wetly as the bundle was placed in her arms. “Hello my baby.”

“Another boy, Tajima will be excited.” Yura said. She turned towards the door hearing the pounding of feet and the goading of a child.

“Faster! Faster papa!” Madara chanted, the boy’s voice getting louder. Ruby chuckled, Madara was certainly eating up running in the house. The harsh footsteps slowed as they came to a halt before reaching the doors.

Tajima opened the door, panting as he looked into the room. His normally swept back hair was tussled, Madara grasped onto his shirt. “Ruby?”

“I’m here, as is our newest baby boy.” She said, chuckling as the man nearly clasped in relief. “Thanks to my bravest shinobi, for alerting everyone.”

“Oh, Ah that was quick … how long were you in labor?” Tajima asked stepping into the room, arm still holding Madara to his chest.

“My water broke maybe twenty minutes ago. So not long at all, Yura said he’s early too. This one couldn’t wait to join, unlike the last little one.” Ruby said smiling. “Thank you, Mada.” She added reaching out to touch his cheek.

“Of course mama, I’m the best shinobi.” He said beaming. “So that’s a baby.” Madara leaned over as far as he could to get a good look. This child took completely after Ruby, skin already darker than Madara’s and the small tuft of hair was white.

“See, now we have one that looks just like you.” Tajima said smiling. Dark skin and white hair was certainly all his wife, it was rather funny how that turned out. “Boy or girl?”

“Another boy, I believe we agreed on Togakushi.” She said softly shifting the child so Tajima and Madara could see his face. The midwife took down the name, filling out the child’s birth record.

“He’s wrinkly and got puffy cheeks.” Madara said, scrunching up his nose. “And He’s got white hair. He looks like a little old man.”

“All babies look wrinkly, and puffy. You did.” Tajima pointed out chuckling. “And not all have a full head of hair like you did.” He added.

“I did?” Madara looked between the baby and his father as if contemplating if he should believe him. “I don’t know papa, mama said you don’t know everything.”

“I what?” Tajima was taken back enough that it had Ruby laughing. “Excuse you, I was there when you were born. You were very much a wrinkly, puffy faced angry little one, with a full head of hair.” He pointed out.

——

“I’m pregnant.” Ruby mentioned at dinner, holding a six month old Togakushi to her chest.

“Again?” Tajima stared at his wife. He hadn’t expected another child so soon.

“Yes, again. Don’t act surprised.” She pointed out trying not to grin. Never say there was a lack of passion in their marriage.

“How are babies made?” Myoko asked looking up from her plate.

“Darling, you’re only five. I promise you, when you’re older I will tell you.” Ruby said reaching out to pet Myoko dark hair.

“What about me! I want to know.” Madara said standing up.

“I promise I will tell you both when you’re older.” Ruby chuckled. “Or maybe I’ll have your father tell you.”

“Me? I suppose it doesn’t matter either way.” He said with a shrug. “But like your mother said, when you’re older.”

[Family Ties: Fourth]

#madara uchiha #madara’s family #family ties #headcanons

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crankynewt · 3 years

Text

Life Could Be a Dream - Chapter 2

Live in Living Colour Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Summary: (Y/N) slowly begins to remember their life with “Pietro” before WestView as they move through the decades, but sometimes knowledge is a curse rather than a blessing.

Pairing: Pietro (Peter) Maximoff x Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Warning: WandaVision Episode 6 spoilers! Read at your own risk!

Author’s Note: Here’s the highly requested second part to Be Okay! You don’t have to read it to understand this story, but it does fill in the gap during the 80s episode and give a little more context into the reader’s mind. Also, the reader’s powers and Halloween costume are highly based off of Starlight from the boys even though I did my best to make it gender neutral, but that’s what I kinda envisioned!

(Not My Gif!)

Your hips swayed as you danced around the kitchen, the sound of The Chords’ “Life Could Be a Dream” filled the room from the record player in the corner your beloved vinyl was spinning on. Chopping pineapple for the jell-o in the bundt mold beside you, you hummed along to the familiar tune as your feet shuffled back and forth on the checkered floor.

A whooshing sound and light breeze behind you tore your attention away from the task at hand. Turning around quickly, you were met with the smiling face of your loving boyfriend, relaxing in a chair with his feet propped up against the kitchen table. His dark jeans were complimented by a letterman jacket adorning his shoulders, his shades of grey complimenting your own and those surrounding the both of you.

“My partner and their impeccable taste in music.” He smirked, arms crossed behind his head.

“My boyfriend and his faster-than-a-bullet superspeed.” You retorted, shuffling over to your man and giving him a playful smack on the leg. “Feet off the table! We’ve gotta eat here in a few hours!”

Pietro whooshed once again, this time with one hand in your waist while the other held yours, finally slowing down enough to gently rock you to the music. Life really could be a dream, and you were experiencing it first-hand.

“What is happening? Where did this come from?!” Agent Woo asked, watching the dancing couple sway as a hexagon framed the image and the words ‘Pietro(Y/N)’ shone across the screen.

“I don’t know! When Wanda recast Pietro an extra broadcast started from inside the hex and this is what the channel’s playing.” Darcy explained, taking a sip of her long awaited coffee as the end credits began to roll. “She must have somehow created another storyline for them.”

“But, wait… Didn’t somebody say that (Y/L/N) went missing before the blip?” Monica commented, pointing at your smiling face on the screen.

“Last I heard was that they got beamed up on that spaceship in New York with Spider-Man and Doctor Strange, but nobody’s seen them since.” Jimmy added, crossing his arms with a furrowed brow.

“Well wherever they were, they’re back in action.”

You woke up with a gasp, shooting straight up as a cold sweat adorned your body. Your nightmare had been something that you couldn’t believe your mind had imagined, it was so real, so dark…

You had been on a strange planet surrounded by shades or orange and red, weirdly dressed people fighting all around you. At the centre of it all was this purple giant, a metallic glove adorning his hand as he fought the group of you away.

Before you knew what you were doing you were rushing towards him, hand raised as a tingling feeling ran down your arm while golden light formed around your hand. But your attack was to no avail as with a clench of his fist the giant had opened a red hole in front of you and you began free falling.

“What? What is it?” Pietro grumbled, slowly waking up at your sudden outburst. He sat up as well, rubbing his hand on your lower back soothingly.

“It was just a dream, babe.” You brushed it off, turning to face Pietro and leaning closer towards him. His eyes still held worry and a bit of disbelief as you played it off, but rather than argue, he just held you close as the two of you laid back down until sleep took it’s hold once more.

“How much longer ‘till he calls?” Darcy whined, spinning in her chair as the boredom of watching reruns overtook her. You and Peter had just finished your ‘80s episode, meaning that the two of you had just reunited with Wanda and Vision.

“Don’t worry, he’ll call.” Monica replied, and as if on cue the name ‘Jimmy Woo’ was flashing upon her phone screen. She was quick to answer and eagerly pressed the device to her ear. “Woo? What’d your guy say?”

“Scott said that (Y/N) hasn’t been seen since they were on a planet called Titan fighting Thanos. Stark apparently told him that they got tossed in some hole he opened and they couldn’t get them back.” Jimmy explained, the sound of a car moving filling the background as he was already on his way back from talking to Lang.

“You don’t think that he sent her to wherever this new Pietro came from, do you?” Monica responded, Darcy shrugging her shoulders in response.

“I mean, it’s well within the realm of possibilities?”

“What are you boys doing?” You called from the bottom of the stairs to where Pietro and the twins were playing some video game on the tv, laughing and shouting as they shot at each other. “Piet, why aren’t you in your costume?”

Your boyfriend finally turned to face you and your Halloween costume had his jaw quite literally dropping. You adorned a white costume with a golden star and accents on the front, meanwhile your cape was white with countless smaller stars decorating it’s entirety.

“Wow! Babe, you look… Wow!” He ogled, speeding over to you as his eyes took in your costumed appearance. He ignored your question, Wanda having to bug her brother once more for him to drag Tommy with him to make their matching Quicksilver costumes, their hair slicked up on the sides in an odd way.

Before you knew it the five of you were making your way down the street bustling with costumed kids. Pietro and Wanda were a couple steps ahead of you with the twins, you making the decision to take a minute to appreciate your domestic life while the siblings caught up.

“Unleash hell, demon spawn!” Pietro yelled as the twins went running off to fill their buckets with candy. You weren’t trying to eavesdrop, however you weren’t very far behind them and neither twin was making any effort to speak quietly.

“Do you remember when we were at the orphanage when mom and dad died?” She asked, the duo stopping to talk to each other in the middle of the busy road. While you didn’t intend to stop yourself, the sudden confusion that struck your mind left you no other choice.

Orphanage? Why would Peter have ever been in an orphanage when both his parents were still alive? Wait, Peter? Where was all this coming from?

Suddenly your life was quite literally flashing before your eyes. Getting your powers, joining the Avengers, falling through the portal to another reality, meeting the X-Men… Oh, and Peter. Your relationship with Peter came back in moments, from your first meeting to the day he kissed you after you almost died on a mission. And how could you ever have forgotten your wedding day?!

“Peter?” You asked out loud. Whether you were calling out to the man who you now remember to be your husband or questioning the memories that you had just regained you weren’t sure.

Your sudden comment caused Peter/Pietro to scoff in disbelief and furrow his brows, meanwhile Wanda’s expression darkened as her eyes glared daggers into your head.

“Did you just call me Peter?” He asked incredulously, but his face quickly softened as he saw the fear in your eyes. You were utterly dumbfounded, How did you get back here? Last thing you remembered was being at the school, then all of a sudden you were living in some sit-com town.

“Why doesn’t he remember me? Wanda, what have you done?” Your voice wavered, your gaze shifting from Peter to Wanda, who would have already murdered you if looks could kill.

“I have no idea what you're talking about.” Her eyes flashed red, meanwhile Peter was standing there as if everything around him was completely normal.

“I think you do. Don’t make me do this, Wanda.” Your eyes began glowing as well. There was no way this would be ending well.

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quillsareswords · 3 years

Note

hi <3 so this is weirdly specific but could you do a scenario with vamp reader where one of the batfam gets kinds critically injured while on patrol in outer Gotham and they can't get back to the manor so Damian is like i know a place and then takes them to secret vamp gf's apartment???? ik it's really specific but i'd really love it :)

Darling you've read my mind. There are few things I live writing more than vampire reader fics

Damian Wayne x f!Reader

WARNINGS: blood, mild gore, impromptu surgery, utter lack of medical knowledge

PROMPT LIST and MASTER LIST in bio

Tim's bleeding out.

He's bleeding out in Jason's arms, and Robin isn't taking them to the Cave.

Red Hood's been growling and barking questions and curses and orders at the youngest man's back for seven minutes. He'll admit, reluctantly, that he's beginning to panic. Red Robin's got a bullet lodged between a rib and an organ, and a bullet hole shot clean through his side. There's a graze across one shoulder, but a stitch and an ace bandage could fix that easy.

They should be halfway to the Cave by now. They should've made a break for the abandoned Bat Mobile at the first opportunity they had. Unfortunately, they'd been boxed in. The only way out was to lose the crowd of pissed off dog-fighting assholes through a winding maze of alleyways that lead them away from the only mode of transportation within two miles.

Robin has some sense of direction. He knows something Hood doesn't. That much is obvious. He hasn't stopped to look around for three turns, despite knowing they've likely already lost the crowd. Still, he's not saying anything.

The most he gave Jason to go on was a winded, "pick up Drake, I know a place," and then he took off.

Red keeps mumbling. It's getting incoherent. It's strained, and he's trying not to let on how much it really hurts, even though everybody knows. They all know first hand.

Robin takes a sharp turn and skids to a stop at a door around the back of an apartment building. He's rushing with his keyring, the jingling of all the metal clinking splitting through the shadows left cast by the broken light above the door.

"Damian," Hood snarls. "Where are you taking us? He needs a doctor."

"We don't have time for a doctor," Robin bites back. The lock finally clicks and has to use his full weight to shove the steel slab open.

Hood doesn't have another choice, so he follows Robin up three flights of cement stairs, minding the distance between Red Robin's head and the half-rusted steel railing.

Robin stop abruptly and shoves through another door. He leads them down a hallway, with faded, flattened red carpet and doors with chipped wood. He stops again at the last door on the left, keys chiming in his hands again.

The moment it swings open, Robin grabs Redhood by his arm and pushes him inside first.

A stranger peers around the corner from the kitchen, one eyebrow raised.

Hood stares back. An apartment. This must be the wrong place. There's a civilian right there–

"What's–? Who's this? Is he bleeding? Is that your brother?" Your voice raises a little higher each question. Your half full glass teeters when you all but throw it back onto the counter to lunge around the wall. "Damian?"

The door slams behind Hood. He barely registers it, brain overloading with such a tower of information being dropped into his lap.

Robin steers around Hood, mask pulled clean from his face. "He's been shot twice, I need you to help me stitch the first one and remove the second bullet."

The shock is still gleaming in your eyes, but you spin around and sweep everything from the kitchen island. It all crashes to the floor, but you hardly seem to care as you turn to another cabinet and start pulling out first aid packs.

"Put him there," Damian instructs, pulling the green glove from his left hand first.

"What happened?" You demand, ripping the zipper across the first canvas bag.

"It was–" Damian's breath catches with his right glove halfway off, "We broke up a dogfight, they were not pleased."

Your gaze jumps from Tim as Hood lays him down to Damian. His hand is blooded, knuckles blooming dark purples and blues and ugly yellows around split skin.. "That looks nasty."

He stops for a spare moment, staring down at the throbbing appendage. "It is," he hums.

You sigh, digging through the red canvas pouch. "I'll start on him, you go get the ice pack." You take a carpet needle and a spool of stitches from the bag. You glance Hood up and down. "What about the other one? He hurt?"

"Todd's fine," Damian dismisses, waving his good hand in the same manner as he ducks behind you to get to the refrigerator.

"Hey, demon? You wanna, ya know? Explain?"

Damian glances over his shoulder as he reaches into the freezer drawer. "This is Y/N. Y/N, this is Jason Todd and Tim Drake."

You're already bent over Tim's left side with a pair of scissors. He's losing the most blood from the exit wound, so you're starting there. You glance up, just in time to watch Jason pull the helmet from his head. He looks angry. "I assumed. Anyway, the good news is, he doesn't smell like death and I'll be honest, I'm really wishing I hadn't skipped breakfast."

Damian still behind you, staring down at your hands as you cut away at Tim's uniform.

It's an odd comment to make. What does breakfast have to do with any of this? And what did you mean? Smell like death?

He finally has the time to get a good look at you. He doesn't know what he expects. The exhaustion of a nurse? The collectedness of an ex-medic? The focus of a doctor?

Whatever he expected, it wasn't the borderline glowing yellow he finds in your eyes or the restraint in your stare.

A vampire. Damian brought his bleeding brother to a vampire.

"Damian–"

Damian's already staring him down. "Do not. We'll discuss later."

He refocuses on you. You've got the bloodied alcohol wipe discarded beside Tim, and your hooking the needle through skin for the second time.

You're surprisingly quick about the stitches and the bandages, but Jason nearly faints when you round the island to his other wound, where the bullet is still lodged, and plunge your fingers straight into the weeping wound. Tim, on the other hand, does pass out.

It doesn't take more than an hour for you to get him all patched up. Then you help Jason get him into a guest bedroom and set him up in there after you've had Damian dose him with morphine.

Then you boss Damian into the living room to sit and doctor his hand. You'd tried to talk him into letting you do it, but you relented and settled for at least making him sit down.

You're fixing ramen noodles in the kitchen, Damian's sitting on the edge of your couch bent over his hand, and Jason is sitting stiffly in your armchair across the the coffee table.

He's been quiet for a long time. Damian obviously wasn't going to tell him anything until he decide it was a good time to pipe up, so Jason had done what he could given the situation; observe.

Your apartment was decently put together. Humble, lived it, unprepared for company. It's dim, with only a few lamps speckled through the rooms for light and the bulbs removed from the overheads.

He's most interested in Damian, though. Despite having a likely broken hand, he's more relaxed here than he is in some parts of the Manor. His body language reads comfort. He's not looking around every few minutes for any sign of danger, even though they'd all barely escaped a small angry mob ninety minutes ago.

"So," he huffs, leaning back into your chair. He spares you a glance. Your back is to them while you stir a pot. "You wanna clue me in or are we gonna keep loitering in this poor woman's home?"

You peer over your shoulder.

Damian sighs heavily.

"Your call," you chip in, digging around in a lower cabinet.

He throws a dirty look your way. "Thanks for the help."

He draws a deep breath, reclining against the back of the couch. "Firstly, all if this stays between us," he starts, gesturing to the whole apartment with his good hand. "Second, Y/N is a vampire, and if you so much as breathe disrespectfully–"

"Damian," you warn."

"–we'll have issues."

Jason blinks slowly. Clearly unimpressed. "Why do you care do much? And how'd you know she wouldn't eat Timmy alive?"

"She's my girlfriend."

He damn near falls out of the chair. "Your what?"

#damian wayne #damian wayne imagine #damian wayne x reader #jason todd #vampire #vampire!reader #yall gont understand how much i love it #call me cringy idc #im downbad for nice bloodsuckers

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sinnamonrolle · 3 years

Text

[ the little moments] ♡ Belphegor

7 - That moment when Belphegor showed you magic.

✿ part of a series! ✿

❀ gender neutral reader ❀

Warnings: Mentions of death and also lesson 16 spoilers

Nights in the Devildom were no different from nights in the human world, except for the abundance of visible stars twinkling in the night sky. Too much light pollution covered the stars in the human world, and you had almost forgotten what they looked like if not for arriving at the Devildom.

“Can’t sleep?” A voice, soft and heavy with sleep, entered the planetarium. It echoed gently in the dimness around you and almost faded under the trickling of the water fountain, the airy words murmuring against your ears.

Belphegor draped a warm, fluffy blanket around you as he settled next to you, wrapping himself with the other end of the blanket. He sat to your right, one of his long legs bent at the knees, and the other stretched out against the marble floor. When he leaned into you, the soft strands of his hair tickled your neck, and the faint smell of chamomile floated around you.

“Seems like I’m not the only one,” you teased, brushing your thumb against his cheek as you tucked his bangs behind his ear. They didn’t stay there long, falling back down to cover his eyes again.

Belphie sighed. He turned his head slightly, his purple eyes half-lidded as they met yours.

“Missed you,” he muttered. “I woke up with this gaping feeling in my chest, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep until I could feel you next to me.” Then he hesitated, his breath hitching as you felt his hand twitch against yours. “Can I… Can I hold your hand?”

You took his hand in yours, weaving your fingers with his. His fingers were freezing, so you rubbed them with your other hand, hoping to warm them up somewhat.

“Of course,” you said, smiling. “Are you feeling better now?”

“Of course,” Belphie repeated. He brought your intertwined hands to his mouth and pressed a light kiss to the back of your hand. “You’re here with me.”

Your cheeks warmed along with your heart, your mind fumbling around the affection consuming you from the inside out. This was the best feeling of love you could ever have the privilege of experiencing—it was something like a stuffy feeling, like layers of cotton had been padded in your chest, and it wasn’t strong to the point where you felt like you could burst into pieces, but something more subtle, something more encompassing, suffusing through every fiber of your being and every molecule of your soul.

You were absolutely immersed in it.

“I have a little trick for you,” Belphie said almost immediately after, pulling away from you so that he was sitting upright. “Since you can’t sleep. Have you heard of tracing?”

You shook your head. “No, I don’t think so.”

He hummed. “That’s not too surprising. Tracing is something children are taught when they are very young, so the RAD professors wouldn’t teach you what it is.” Then, he held out his hand, the one that wasn’t holding yours. “Here, hold your hand out. With your palm up. It’ll make it easier. Tracing is basically what it sounds like. You trace the air with your magic.”

You felt like you understood it but also didn’t at the same time. You could hold your hand out no problem, but everything after that was… hm. Not good.

“Belphie, you’re a bad teacher,” you said, smiling teasingly at him.

He glared half-heartedly at you, eyebrows just barely furrowing, but then he chuckled.

“Sorry, my little sun,” Belphie said, lips curling at the edges into an amused smile. His bangs brushed past his nose as he tilted his head. “I’ll explain properly this time.”

True to his words, he took his time teaching you, explaining each part thoroughly and making sure you understood. You were surprised that he had that much patience, especially since he yawned multiple times throughout his explanation. Although, you couldn’t say that tracing was hard to explain.

“Very good,” Belphie said, his voice drifting into your ears. “Visualize your magic, make it visible, solidify it, and then move it according to your will. When you get used to it, put down your hand. Try tracing by using only your mind.”

It took you a few tries, but it really wasn’t too difficult. Once you managed to trace without having to use your hand as an anchor, the first thing you traced in the air was “Belphegor” surrounded by hearts. If you maintained your focus, your tracing could stay for a few minutes, so you kept adding hearts around his name, the color of your magic lighting up the planetarium.

“Why are you like this?” Belphie sighed, exasperated. He started tracing as well, purple letters appearing next to yours. His magic was lazy but light, appearing in delicate, efficient strokes.

“Like what?”

“So precious.”

You turned to him, blinking in surprise, but he didn’t look at you. Instead, he focused on the letters in front of him, his eyes reflecting the light from his magic. When he still didn’t face you, you returned to adding more hearts around his name—only to see what he was tracing.

It was your name in beautiful calligraphy, and underneath, it was Belphie’s endearment for you—my little sun—in smaller but just as lovely letters. He also incorporated a sun into your name, little lines indicating the sunbeams. Even though he didn’t draw any hearts at all, his adoration for you was still clear as day.

“You’re the precious one here,” you said, pretending that the lump in your throat didn’t exist. You spoke past it, even when your voice came out scratchy in doing so. “Now, it doesn’t matter how many hearts I draw. It won’t beat yours.”

Belphegor laughed, his voice coming out in airy puffs. “Since when did this become a competition? You’ve already beaten me. The moment I fell for you, you’ve already become my everything.” He looked at you softly, the lines around his eyes gentle with love. But you also noticed the dark circles lining underneath them, hidden behind his bangs. “My little sun. You are the light in my world.”

“Then, you’re my moon,” you said, squeezing his hand. “My other half. In the darkness, you are my light.”

“I am your moon,” he agreed. He squeezed your hand back, turning away from you, and rested his forehead against his propped up knee. “Because even the moon gets its light from the sun.”

You didn’t know what to say, so you went back to the letters hovering in the air. You let most of the hearts fade from around Belphegor’s name, but you kept the rest. You wanted to keep some form of your love visible for at least a little longer.

“You know what’s funny?” he suddenly asked.

You drew a little cow in the air, adding Belphie’s horns to it. “What?”

“I used to love human beings,” he started. “They were just so fascinating, and I loved them. But not in the way Lilith loved them. The love I felt for humans was like how humans love flowers. But Lilith didn’t love them like flowers. Lilith picked one human and gave them all of her love, to the point that she went against Celestial laws for them.”

Belphie paused. The water fountain gurgled faintly in the silence. You finished your cow and decided to stop tracing, tilting your head up to look at the planetarium sky instead.

He continued, “I didn’t understand that kind of love. I didn’t understand what kind of feelings could drive her to such lengths for a human. A human that would never live as long as us. When Lucifer told us that she died, all I could think about was that, in some way—I killed her. I led her to her death. It was because I loved humans that she fell in love with one. But because my love was not the same as her love, I didn’t understand. I didn’t understand her love, I didn’t understand her reasons, I didn’t understand her.”

He took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. “Because I didn’t understand, I blamed the humans for it. I started hating them, and it was a kind of loathing that ate away at me from the inside. I hated that they took my sister away. I hated that she had to fall in love with one. I hated that I didn’t understand. So, you know what’s funny? It’s funny that it is only now that I understand.”

“Belphie,” you whispered. You couldn’t see his face, but from the shakiness of his voice, you knew that he was in a lot of pain—pain so embedded into him that you didn’t know how to soothe. You adjusted your position so that you could wrap your arm around him, bringing him into a half hug.

“Isn’t it funny?” Belphegor rasped, his body trembling. “Isn’t it funny how I hated humans so much for causing my sister to die, yet now, I am completely, utterly in love with one? And now—and now, I understand exactly how Lilith felt back then. Now, I know why she did what she did. The irony of it all—I hated that I loved humans, but that hate has also led me to you. Lilith, as an angel, fell in love with a human, and I, as a demon, have also fallen in love with one.”

You took in his shaking form, the light heaving of his chest, the balled up fist at his side. You took it all in, and asked, lightly, “Do you regret it?”

Belphie shot up, misty eyes frantically meeting yours as he squeezed your intertwined hands tightly. “Never. I never regretted it. I wouldn’t, and I will never. Loving you is nothing but joy. I love loving you, I love seeing you smile, I love knowing that you are happy. I love that you love me. I love you. I am so happy, knowing that I love you. And I will break every rule in all three realms in a heartbeat, if it means that I can see you smile again.”

“You don’t have to go that far,” you said softly, brushing his bangs to the side so you could see all of him. “Just knowing that you love me is enough. I love you too. For me, loving you is a state of truth. I don’t know what I would do if I lost you.”

A sort of desperation haunted him, lingering in the deep purple of his eyes. He took your free hand, clasping it together with your interwoven hands. When he rested his forehead against them, it almost resembled a prayer of sorts.

“You can’t die,” Belphie pleaded, begging, praying—choking on his words. “You can’t die. Please, I can’t lose you. Please, please—you can’t die. Please, don’t leave me alone. My sun can’t set. I can’t live in a world without your light. Please, you can’t die—”

But you knew, and you knew that he knew too.

That all suns must set.

-------

Masterlist!

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imagine-darksiders · 3 years

Text

A gentle touch.

[Strife/Reader]

Summary: Set three years after humanity is resurrected. Strife shows up unannounced in your bedroom in the middle of the night, which would have been rude enough without him getting blood all over your cream-coloured carpet.

Tags: Blood, injury, PTSD, knife, protective Strife, whump, hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, sharing a bed ;), bandages and cleaning wounds, how not to administer first aid.

-----

You have the apocalypse to thank for turning you into such a light-sleeper.

Even though the nights of sleeping with one eye open are far behind you and Earth is back on the road to a long and arduous recovery, you'll still jolt awake if your unconscious mind hears something scuttle beneath the floorboards of your freshly-restored home, and God forbid a tree branch should happen to scratch at the bedroom window...

Waking up with the feeling that your heart is three beats from bursting right out of your chest is exhausting, to say the least. And it isn't just you who suffers from the onset of hyper-vigilance.

It was a decidedly cruel consequence that the resurrected humans were able to recall their lives before the end of the world. Crueller still, they woke up to remember exactly how and where they eventually kicked the bucket, and of course, nobody knew that a significant chunk of time had passed at all since the end of the world and its rebirth.

They thought they were still in danger.

In one moment, all they knew was immense and excruciating pain, and then, in what seemed like the blink of an eye, they woke up again, screaming and writhing in the echoes of phantom pain that had occurred almost a century ago.

Three years down the line since ‘The Great Waking,’ and there isn’t a human alive who could claim that they’ve slept through an uninterrupted night.

------

The alarm clock on your bedside table has just ticked over to read '2:36am' when your eyes suddenly snap open and you fling yourself upright in bed, your spine ramrod straight and your ears ringing with a sharp, tinny note.

It isn’t a nightmare that wakes you. At least, not this time.

Worse.

It’s a sound.

An out-of-the-ordinary sound that isn't in keeping with the normal ambiance of your bedroom.

But where...?

....It's coming from your window.

Tired eyes swivel to the curtains whilst your hand immediately flies out to blindly fumble with the drawer of your bedside table. Once your fingers find the cold, metal handle, you rip it open and plunge your hand inside, rummaging around until you feel the reassuring grip of your most precious possession.

Your trusty bread knife. Serrated edge, nine inch blade, perfect for cutting slices of toast in the morning and for tearing through the toughened hide of a hungry demon.

Peace between the Universe’s species had been declared once humanity was fully introduced to the connected realms, a decision that suited a vast majority of Creation. Hell, however, had offered up a fair amount of opposition to the notion before eventually conceding and agreeing – albeit begrudgingly – to honour the peace treaty alongside angels, makers, undead and the rest.

Even demon-kind knew not to incur the wrath of humanity's strongest and most ferocious protectors, the Horsemen.

But... there are always exceptions to the rule. Some demons just... hadn't gotten the memo.

It wouldn’t be the first time one of them had tried to make an assassination attempt on humanity’s envoy.

Heart in your throat, you grasp the knife securely in your dominant hand and peer through the darkness towards the window.

Only a sliver of moonlight peeps through a tiny gap in the curtains. In another blink, the light suddenly disappears, and you know better than to assume that the moon has simply ducked behind a cloud.

Something is standing at your window, blocking out the light.

You think you might actually be sick when you hear the sound again, claws scraping on wood – a sound you know all too well – well enough to send your head spinning into a panic.

Swallowing back the nausea in your throat, you brace yourself, instincts flicking between running for the door and knowing never to turn your back on a demon.

Sadly, the decision is swiftly taken out of your hands. Through the darkness and the deafening roar of blood rushing through your ears, you can make out the distinct sound of your window sliding slowly open.

The knife is a comforting weight in your hand. But it’s less than useless if you don’t calm down and try to remember the lessons that Death has taught you. If the eldest Horseman were here, he’d probably have berated you seven ways to Sunday by now for freezing up and missing an opportunity to better prepare yourself for an attack.

A dark silhouette pushes the fluttering fabric of your curtains aside and pulls itself halfway into your bedroom.

Whatever it is, it’s big.

Breath catching in your throat, you clasp a handful of your duvet and get ready to fling it at the intruder as a distraction, hoping that it’ll be enough to buy you a precious few seconds to gain the upper hand. You've learned that humans are inherently weaker than demons, but if there’s one thing you’ve learned from Death, it’s that strength isn’t necessarily the deciding factor in any battle. You still have your wits. You only hope the demon has less.

Two luminous, golden eyes turn in your direction and you press yourself backwards into the headboard.

Several seconds drag by in perfect silence.

Then...

“Hey.”

And just like, that tension leaves your body like a balloon deflating of air and you heave the loudest sigh you can muster, dropping the bread knife into your lap.

“Damn it, Strife! You about gave me a heart attack!”

With a 'whump,' you flop back against your pillows and take a second to breathe whilst one of the Four Horsemen drags himself the rest of the way through your bedroom window.

Strife.

It's only Strife...

Whilst certainly a dangerous being in his own right, you know you have nothing to fear from the Horseman who had all but appointed himself as your friend three, long years ago, all in an attempt to irritate his brother, Death, of course.

At least, at first.

Death was the one who pulled you from the dying Earth and preserved your life-force as you journeyed together on a quest to resurrect humanity, but after he made the jump to introduce you to his 'little' siblings, it had been Strife who'd taken a particular shine to you, and it had everything to do with a compatible, if terrible sense of humour.

That first meeting sparked what was sure to be an interesting friendship between the pair of you.

-----

“So, my brother went and got himself a human, huh?” Strife had teased, pointedly ignoring the withering look he received from Death to add, “Gotta say, I'm impressed, Kid. Didn't think anyone would have the inclination to willingly travel with my brother. But then, I guess...” He trailed off and you could almost see the smirk growing under his mask. “Deathperate times and all that, huh?”

At once, his siblings all groaned out varying noises of disapproval. Fury, the loudest, cocked her hip and shot Strife a frosty glower. “You are singlehandedly ruining our reputation, brother."

“She's right, you know,” you spoke up, trying not to flinch when all eyes snapped onto you once more, “That pun was pretty deadful.”

The brief, startled second of silence was soon blasted apart when Strife threw his head back and barked out a triumphant laugh, while Death slowly turned to look at you, utterly betrayed.

“Ha!” Strife's eyes positively gleamed with mischief, “You're right, human. Guess I should'a considered the reapercussions of a joke like that, huh?”

“I ought to have known introducing you two would be a mistake,” the eldest Horseman grumbled, earning a sympathetic look from War.

“Sorry, Death,” you said with a perfectly straight face, “You want us to get out of your scythe so you don’t have to look at us anymore?”

Strife had howled.

Death, however, merely heaved a long-suffering sigh. Fury's eyes all but rolled into the back of her skull and War just stood there, struggling to keep his lips from twitching at their corners.

And you had looked around at all of them, a little proud and blissfully unaware of what you'd just unwittingly signed yourself up for.

You'd had Strife's attention from that day on.

-----

Shaking off the fond memory, you tiredly will your mind back to the matter at hand.

You reach across your bed and drop the knife back into the drawer before leaning down and skirting your fingers over the wall in search of a switch. The next moment, there's a 'click!' and the room is illuminated by clustered fairy lights that you've draped around your ceiling, forcing you to squint blearily against the intrusion of light as Strife hauls his leg into your room.

“Honestly. How many times have I told you to use the door?”

“S'locked,” he grunts.

You're in the midst of rubbing your eyes to try and stimulate a little life back into your bones, so you miss the way he stumbles a few steps away from the wall and presses a gauntleted hand to his abdomen.

“Yeah, it’s locked because it's-” You take a quick glance at the clock next to you. “-Two thirty in the morning! Strife, I’m supposed to be up at six to meet Ulthane! What do you need so badly that you'd-... Hey.. Are.. are you okay?”

At last taking a long, hard look, it suddenly occurs to you that the Horseman is... not entirely himself.

He's hunched over, his shoulders pulled in around his neck and his chest rising and falling in long, languid motions. The tattered cowl he wears around his neck hangs loose around his collarbones and it faces the very real threat of slipping off to the floor. At last, your eyes drop to the hand that's clamped over the left side of his abdomen and you blurt out a startled gasp.

In the paltry, pink glow of your fairy lights, you spot an unmistakably crimson liquid dribbling between his fingers, starkly contrasted against the steel-grey colour of his armour.

The next few seconds pass in a blur as you frantically begin kicking off your duvet and scramble out of bed, flying across the room to the Horseman's side.

“Strife! What'd you do!?”

“Oh, that's real sweet,” the Nephilim chuckles wryly whilst he collapses back against the wall and slides down it with a strained grunt, “Why're you – ung... assuming it's something I did?”

Without missing a beat, you snap, “This would hardly be the first time you got hurt because you're a wise-cracking jokester with a big mouth! Now tell me who you pissed off?!”

You drop onto your knees next to him and reach out, fingers hovering tentatively above his stomach. With your focus directed away from his helm, Strife doesn’t bother to hide the way his eyes dart from left to right before they settle back on the top of your head.

“Ah, it was... just some demon, caught me slackin', that's all,” he shrugs, letting you carefully grasp his wrist and lift it away from his torso.

At once, fresh blood gushes from a deep gouge cut into in the dark, leather under-skin he wears beneath his cuirass and you yelp, slapping a hand over your mouth in abject horror.

The sound draws Strife's gaze to you and once he spots the shocked despair on your face, he gives himself a mental kick.

He hadn't meant to... He... doesn't like it when you’re scared because of him.

"Hey, no, no – I'm okay!” he rushes to reassure you, “Don't worry about this. I've had worse!”

“That's not the point, Strife!” you argue, dropping his wrist and carding your hands through your hair, “You're hurt now! And I don't – there's so much blood, and you-” Cutting yourself off, you squeeze your eyes shut and inhale deeply through your nose, willing your pulse to ease so that you can rationally address this situation.

Another lesson Death had taught you - stay calm in a crisis. Panic kills.

Releasing a long, hard breath, you peel your eyes open again and nod, jaw set. “Okay. All right. I need to.. I need water. A-and I need to see the wound.”

The interrogation can come after you've dealt with... this.

“There's a bowl and flannel in my bathroom,” you announce, getting to your unsteady feet and gesturing towards Strife's cuirass, “Think you can get that off so I can have a look?”

Huffing out a breath of laughter, the Horseman winks at you suggestively and drawls, “An' here I was doin' things the hard way to get your attention. You know, you didn't have to wait till I got myself gutted before you asked me to take my armour off in your chambers.”

A wise-cracking flirt with a big mouth.

As exasperating as he is though, you don't mind it in the slightest.

This is your usual rapport, after all. A friendly back and forth interlaced with the occasional, flirtatious comment. At first, Strife had only initiated it because it drove an over-protective Death up the wall. The eldest Horseman had almost threatened to 'remove Strife's libido' until you'd up and flirted right back, distressing the old reaper even further.

It's funny. It's innocent. But right now, it's reassuring, if only somewhat, that Strife is behaving just like his shameless, old self.

Besides, you can give back as much as you get.

“Well, I had to wait for a good enough excuse,” you retort, “Couldn't come on too strong and risk scaring you off, now could I?”

In response, Strife just chuckles fondly and watches you turn and speed away to your ensuite, oblivious to the warm, soft glow radiating from his eyes.

In less than a minute, you're briskly striding back into the room, a dripping flannel in one hand and a bowl in the other, and he suddenly remembers that you'd asked him to remove his cuirass.

Mission failed.

But you don't even bat an eyelid to find it still in place, assuming that the Horseman can't get at the catches on the sides in his current state.

In one, smooth motion, you drop down beside him once more and set the cloth and bowl nearby. “Here, let me help..”

The Horseman's pulse sputters when your tiny fingers reach around his torso and fumble with the buckles and straps that keep his armour securely in place. It doesn't pass his notice that your hands are trembling.

“Hey,” he calls, catching your eye for a moment before you go right back to fiddling with the cuirass, “This is nothin’, you know that, right?”

You only press your lips together and hum, clearly skeptical.

You're working fast and in almost no time at all, the straps have been released and you carefully take the Nephilim's broad shoulder, giving it a tug, guiding him to lean away from the walls so that you can start to peel the bulky armour off.

“Nng, hang on,” he mutters.

Reluctantly, you sit back to let him tug his chest piece loose before he simply drops it onto the carpet next to his legs with a dull 'clang.'

Exposed to the soft glow of your lights, your eyes are instantly drawn to the gaping wound that stretches in a horizontal line across the left side of his abdomen. It seems that something really has tried - and nearly succeeded - to gut him. Several inches long and goodness knows how deep, even against the iron-grey colour of his skin, the gash is alarmingly obvious and the blood far, far too noticeable for your liking. It still comes as something of a shock to learn that the Horsemen, barring Death, can actually bleed.

Wordlessly, you pick up the flannel and wring it out into the bowl of water, wondering if he'll mind that you didn't wait for the tap to get warm before you soaked it. It shouldn't surprise you that the Horseman doesn't protest or even flinch when you gently press the wet cloth to the bloodied skin around his wound, nowhere near the gash itself, not until you've cleared away some of the mess around it and determined its real depth.

You don't notice that his eyelids flutter closed once you press the cloth to his skin, nor do you see when their golden light fluctuates in contentment as the fingertips of your other hand press gently to his stomach, the pressure barely enough for him to feel, but enough to keep you steady whilst you daub at his drying blood.

It takes a formidable effort to suppress the shudder that nearly races up his spine. This is the first time he's felt your skin against his without a single piece of armour standing between you.

Creator, you're so soft! Just like he always imagined you would be.

“Jeezus, Strife,” you whistle, abruptly snatching his focus away from the soothing strokes of your silky fingers,“You've made a real mess of yourself. Why on Earth didn't you just go straight to Death? I thought he was the best healer in your family.”

The warm skin underneath your fingertips jumps as the Horseman puffs out a quick laugh, gazing dopily at your temple whilst you wipe at the edges of his wound with small, careful touches.

“He is,” Strife readily agrees, “But the moody bastard wouldn't be nearly as gentle with me as you are.”

You blow an unimpressed huff from your nose and glance up at him in time to catch his lazy wink. “I can always press harder if you like?”

“Nah.” The Horseman settles himself more heavily against the wall, knocking his skull back against it and mumbling, “Just keep touchin' me all gentle like that. S'nice...”

Quite abruptly, the chatty Nephilim goes silent and the glow from his eyes that had illuminated your face only moments ago suddenly disappears.

“Strife?”

He doesn't respond.

“Hey, Cowboy! Don't you fall asleep on me, you hear?”

There's a long stretch of silence, then, “Won't,” he mumbles, cracking one eyelid open to peer down at you.

Harrumphing, you promptly turn back to the gash in his stomach and wipe the last of the dried blood off his skin, still far from clean, but at the very least, better than it had been.

“Right,” you declare, pulling away to stand up and drawing a decidedly petulant whine from the Horseman on your bedroom floor. “I'm gonna go get the first aid kit from downstairs.”

There’s a shift in his expression and something that hinges on alarm suddenly whistles through his blood.

“I won’t be long,” you promise, "Be right – Hey, woah! What're you doing!?”

Darting forwards, you hastily place your hands on each of Strife's broad shoulders, trying to push him back down as he grabs the window sill behind him and begins hauling himself up to his feet.

“What's it look like ‘m doing?” he answers gruffly, slouching forwards as if the weight of his own head is too much to keep aloft, “Comin’ with you”

Sputtering out a few, incredulous noises, you try to make him see sense. “I’ll bring the first aid kit to you! You need to rest! It's bad enough that you already climbed in through my second storey window!”

But Strife, stubborn as a mule and much, much stronger than you, isn't deterred by your protests. Grunting, he curls one arm over his stomach and takes a step forwards, ducking beneath your light fixture and standing to his full, imposing height.

Even with three years of companionship behind you, you’re still frequently taken aback at how effortlessly the Horseman can make you feel small and fragile when you stand close to him.

Knowing full well that you’ll never be able to force him down again, you allow your hands to slip from his shoulders and fall against your sides like lead weights. You aren’t sure why he’s suddenly so hellbent on following you, downstairs, of all places, but you don’t dwell on it, especially given that you’re far more preoccupied with the fresh blood that has already begun trickling out of his wound to replace the stains you’ve painstakingly cleaned away.

Puffing out your cheeks, you raise a hand and pinch the bridge of your nose. “Strife, please sit down?” You aren’t so proud that you won’t resort to begging, tired as you are and exasperated with his obstinate behaviour. “I’m worried about you...”

All at once, the Horseman stiffens. ‘Oh, now she’s fighting dirty,’ he muses to himself.

Gradually, you lift your eyes to meet his and try your very best to glare up at him, pinning him down with all the stern authority you can muster. For several, slow heartbeats, the Nephilim peers right back at you and you’re almost certain that you’ll lose this battle of wills, which is why it comes as such a shock when his fiery gaze falters, wavering slightly before it promptly drops to the floor near your feet.

It's... rare for Strife to be looked at by someone who isn't ashamed to show that they worry about him.

But the way you're looking at him now? Hell, the way you've been looking at him since he clambered through your bedroom window? You're practically broadcasting your concern.

Strife just... isn't used to seeing that. So he glances down instead, finding the fibres of your carpet particularly exhilarating tonight. Slowly, begrudgingly, he sinks down to sit on the edge of your bed, heavy enough that the frame creaks and groans under the weight of a fully grown Nephilim and he has to hold back a contented sigh at the softness beneath his legs.

From the corner of an eye, he can see that your jaw is hanging ajar and remains so until you give yourself a little shake and throw him a satisfied nod. “Thank you,” you huff before turning on your heel and striding purposefully from the room.

Strife listens raptly to your footsteps disappearing down the staircase, unaware that his hands have curled into tight fists around your duvet.

'It's fine,' he assuages the insistent voice at the back of his head, 'She's fine.'

He took care of the threat. That demon asshole isn't coming after his friend.

You’re only downstairs. He can already hear you pushing open the door to your little kitchen whilst the rest of his senses remain trained on the sounds and smells of the night.

It isn't as though something bad might happen just because his eyes aren't fixed upon you...

Frankly, he thinks he’s being more than generous to allow a full, Earth minute to pass as he taps his heel impatiently against the side of your bed.

Didn’t you say you’d be right back?

...

“Fuck it...”

-------

Perhaps, in hindsight, keeping your first aid kit on the top of the fridge hadn’t been one of your brightest ideas, given that you need a chair to reach it. Then again, securing immediate access to bandages and plasters hadn’t exactly been on the forefront of your mind when you were rebuilding your old home from the ruins it had been left in.

With a grunt, you drop your rickety kitchen chair next to the fridge and clamber up onto the seat. “I have got to find a better place for you,” you grumble at an apathetic first aid kit that sits gathering dust near the wall. Stretching your arm out, you manage to snag it by the handle and drag it towards you-

“The hell're you doing!?”

The violent jolt that shoots through you like lightening nearly sends you toppling off the chair. You let out a yelp, just barely catching yourself on the fridge with your free hand before you whip about to see none other than Strife silhouetted in the kitchen doorway.

“Wh- the hell are you doing!?” you retort, knitting your brows into a frown and clutching the first aid kit against your heaving chest, “Why aren’t you upstairs?”

The Horseman’s glowing eyes are fixed unsettlingly on the chair beneath your feet and rather than answer the question, he ducks under the doorframe and thunders towards you in a few, short strides, leaving you with no time to protest before he suddenly sweeps you up off the chair and into his arms, caging you against a solid chest.

At once, you begin to struggle. “Strife! Your wound! Put me down, you'll hurt yourself!”

But the Nephilim is hardly paying attention. His glare lingers on the flimsy, wooden chair legs for a moment before he flicks his gaze towards the large window above your sink, noting with no small degree of distaste that it isn't even shut.

It’s like you’re inviting danger in.

If you had any idea of the fate he and his siblings are currently trying to protect you from, you might just try a little harder to take better care of yourself.

“Hey!” you continue to protest against his hold but manage to refrain from jostling about too much, mindful of his injury. “For god's sake! What's gotten into you?!”

He offers little more than a noncommittal grunt in response and begins trailing back towards the staircase, casting brief glances at the french doors leading out onto your patio.

'Structural weakness,' he registers, 'Perfect point of entry for anything smaller than a Trauma...'

Shaking his head, he turns sideways to fit you through the kitchen door and takes the stairs up to your room.

After a second, he lowers his eyes to meet yours and finds himself meeting a highly unimpressed scowl. “What?” he asks, the very picture of innocence.

Raising your brows, you snap, “Don't you 'what' me! The hell is all this about? I told you to stay put!”

“You were takin' too long,” he shrugs.

“Too long!?” Indignant, you flick your wrist and rap the first aid kit against his collar bone, “I was gone a minute, max! If you were so worried about me taking too long to fix you up, then why are you moving around and making your injury worse!?”

The light of Strife's golden gaze dims and he turns his head away, staring up towards the top of the stairs and your bedroom door beyond. “S'not me m' worried about,” he mumbles.

It's such an about-face from his usual demeanour that you can do little but blink dumbly up at him and fall still against his chest, your mouth hanging agape.

In silence, the Horseman ducks through the door into your room and sidles over to the bed where, hesitantly, he lowers you down until you're sitting safely on the edge.

In the next moment however, just as Strife drops heavily onto the bed next to you, you slip away and settle on the floor instead, placing the first aid kit beside his boots and fumbling with the latches.

Despite blowing out a rough grumble of disapproval that sounds entirely too much like War for his liking, he lets you go.

Chewing on your lip, you stare at the contents for a moment before snatching up a pack of antiseptic wipes, tearing one out and bringing it up to his stomach.

“You want to tell me why you just exacerbated your injury to rescue me from my kitchen chair?” you ask him, adding as an afterthought, “This might sting a bit..”

When he doesn't reply, you glance up and quirk a brow at the underside of his chin, only to catch him peering back at you from behind heavy-lidded eyes. Then, with a weary sigh, he sags forwards and raises a hand to rub at the back of his neck, looking sheepish, of all things.

Unable to dispel your frown, you blindly begin brushing the wipe underneath his bleeding wound.

He doesn't even wince.

Strife tips his helm towards the bedroom window and slumps further backwards into your mattress, seeming so entirely out of place amidst the colourful duvet cover and frilly cushions.

“Okay,” he mutters, “I uh, I got a confession to make.”

Interest piqued, you make an acknowledging sound at the back of your throat and return your attention to his abdomen.

“Death didn't want us to tell you about this,” he continues quietly whilst you toss the now ruined wipe over your shoulder and pull out a fresh one, “And, to be honest, neither did I. We didn't want you to have to worry, y'know?”

You don't know. And you nearly ask him what you should be worrying about, but you soon let your mouth fall shut and settle for humming curiously instead, trusting that he'll tell you soon enough anyway.

There's a long pause, during which you find the courage to bring your fingers close to the edges of his wound and immediately have to withhold a gag when the motion sends another spout of blood oozing from the cut and dribbling down your wrist.

After a moment, Strife huffs and forges ahead, “Course, War and Fury did want to tell you-”

He's stalling, you realise belatedly.

“-War thinks you have every right to know. And Fury said there's nothin' for you to worry about anyway, cause we've got your back.”

“Fury said that?” you ask distractedly, dropping the wipe and rummaging around for a gauze pad. In response, Strife exhales, a tiny, hidden smile creeping onto his lips. “Fury says a lot of stuff about you that you don't know about.”

Gently, you unroll the gauze and press it against his wound. “Wow, you sure that's your sister? Sounds like she might've been body snatched.”

“Ha!” The Horseman suddenly throws his head back. “Well, if she has been replaced, I sure as shit ain't going lookin' for the original. This Fury is... she's...”

He pauses, tipping his head in thought before eventually settling on, “She's learning.”

You blow out a long, impressed whistle and he nods his agreement, adding, “Yeah, s'weird for all of us too.”

The room lapses into silence once again as you stretch the gauze across Strife's abdomen and mutter, “Hold this,” before your hands are retreating and the Horseman's slide down to keep the bandage in place.

Reaching into the box once more, you take some bandages and begin to unfurl them gingerly over the top of the gauze. “Not hurting you, am I?”

You miss the soft expression he aims at the top of your head. “Never.”

You're more than aware that he probably won't tell you you've hurt him even if you were to stick your fingers in the wound twist them.

“Sooo~....?” you prompt.

Peering down at you, Strife cocks his head to one side and echoes, “Soooo?”

“What did Fury and War think I should know?”

“Oh. Right...” His reluctance is as painfully obvious as a slap to the face but you're slightly more focused on plunging your hand back into the first aid kit and rooting around for a roll of adhesive tape.

He observes you for a moment, growing more and more certain that despite your curiosity, you aren’t actually paying a great deal of attention to his words. Quite abruptly, he asks, “You listening?”

Emitting little more than a vague hum, you finally snag the tape and run your fingernail along the smooth surface, searching for the ever-elusive end.

“You sure?” Strife grunts skeptically, “Kid, this is kind of important.”

Without missing a beat, you nod your chin towards his injury and reply, “Yeah, well, you're kind of important too, buddy.”

Oh.

Oh, that's...

Strife wracks his brain, trying to pluck an appropriate response from amidst his tumbling thoughts. Part of him wants to scoff – of course he's important! He's Strife! The best, damn marksman who ever walked the realms of existence.

But then, there's another part of him that lurks deep behind the walls of hubris and brass he's been building meticulously for centuries, and it gives a little leap at the sound of your words, delighted beyond measure.

Averting his gaze, Strife lets out a chuckle. “You're getting soft.”

“Ah, I've always been soft.”

His heart thrums. “Wasn't talkin' about you, kid.”

You shoot him a smirk as you stick a piece of tape over the bandages covering his injury. “Well, if you're talking about yourself, then you're wrong again. You aren't getting soft. You've always been soft.”

The Horseman mutters something incoherent, but it's his distinct lack of an articulate response that speaks volumes to your ears.

The slight pressure of your fingers as they prod at the tape with tentative care leaves him mourning the centuries he's gone without knowing such a gentle touch. Rolling his eyes down to you, his smile droops and he sighs, sagging forwards to rest his elbows on his knees just as you attempt to place another strip of tape.

“Strife!” you complain, leaning back, “I need to put more tape on!”

He merely blinks at you languidly and says, “Later. I want you concentratin' on me right now.”

“I've been concentrating on you all night,” you huff, though you eventually concede and sit back on your haunches, peering up at the Horseman expectantly.

Studying your face for another moment, he breathes a long sigh and gestures to his stomach. "I told you a demon did this..."

“Uh huh...”

Solemnly, Strife continues, “So more specifically, it was a Shadow Caster. Been on her trail for a couple of weeks now. Finally caught up with her on some farmlands west of the city...”

“Okay?” you nod, digesting the information, “And why were you on her trail?”

He hesitates, flicking his eyes between you and the window a few times before he quietly admits, “She was comin’ after one of my friends...”

“Who?”

The look he throws you is so pointed, you suddenly feel like a fool for missing the obvious.

“Ah.” Understanding, you slowly nod your head.

“Yup.”

“But, she's dead now, right?” You gesture to his wound. “You came straight here after killing her.”

Strife's eyes darken further and each time they try to land on your face, they seem to slide right off again and drop to the carpet. “Uh, yeah. She's dead.”

You heave a sigh. “She wasn't the only one who's after me.”

“... No..”

“I see.” Inhaling long and slow through your nose, you tip your head back and slap your hands on your thighs, rubbing at them anxiously as you gaze around the room. “So, do we know how many there are?”

The Horseman eyes you for several, silent seconds. Eventually though, he speaks up. “Got wind of a small group of about four of 'em. Demons mostly, one undead. You and I've got a mutual... uh, friend, who's been keeping his ears to the ground, and he reckons they’re aiming to provoke another war between Hell and Earth by killin' the human envoy.”

“Wow. Talk about sore losers,” you scoff humourlessly, “So, who is this mutual friend?”

Some of the tension bleeds out of Strife's posture once he notices that you haven't immediately flown into a panic. “C'mon kid,” he snorts, “You know I can't expose my source. He doesn't want you know that he cares about you. Thinks you might start askin' for discounts if you thought he was getting' soft.”

“Discounts, huh?” Your lips quirk up at their edges and Strife smacks a palm over his mask in mock distress.

“Ah, hell, I gave it away, didn't I?”

“I bet his name rhymes with Shmulgrim, doesn't it?” you laugh.

Chuckling, Strife leans back on his hands again and replies, “Hey, you came to that conclusion on your own. Technically, I never told you who my source was.”

With the atmosphere in your bedroom gradually becoming lighter and lighter, you follow the Horseman's lead and relax backwards onto your hands, stealing a surreptitious glance at the bandages adhered to his torso.

It's no longer as surprising as it used to be that Vulgrim is invested in the well-being of his 'valuable asset.' The Horsemen are perhaps his best clients, hence the vested interest in keeping himself in their good graces by looking out for their human ward.

Shaking your head with a knowing smirk, you push yourself up onto your feet and glance down at yourself, brushing off your pyjama shorts, only to grimace when your hands do nothing but smear Strife's blood all over the fabric.

“Sorry... for the mess.”

You raise your head at the sound of the Horseman's voice and find him glowering down at the stains he's dripped onto your carpet, his eyes hooded and glum.

Heaving a sigh that you hope conveys both exasperation and affection, you reach out and place your comparatively tiny hand on his shoulder to give the pauldron a reassuring squeeze, drawing his gaze back up to your face. “I don't care about the mess, Strife” you tell him matter-of-factly, “The carpet's just here to stop my feet getting cold in the morning. You're my best friend.”

Ever so slowly, his luminous eyes grow wide with wonder and he lets his jaw drop open to speak, but before he manages to utter a soft, 'what?' you give his shoulder a friendly jostle and add, “So long as you're okay, pal, that's the main thing. Now...”

Trailing off, you move back around the bed and let your fingers slide off the Horseman's arm, stepping up to the bedside table containing your pyjamas, oblivious to how swiftly and easily you've just swept the rug out from underneath Strife's feet. He twists himself around on your mattress to watch you, his eyes as wide as than dinner plates.

Did you mean to say... best?

He – well, he always knew that you considered him a friend! Hell, he'd even go so far as to say the two of you are close friends.

But best?

Best implies that there's nobody – nobody – that you hold in higher regard than him...

'How did I miss that!?' his psyche all but screams at him, 'When the Hell did I get so important!?”

You aren't even looking at him, too busy rummaging through your drawers, as if you have no idea that you've just pulled his heart right out of his chest and now you have it cradled in the palms of your hands.

You could crush the life out of him with hardly a word.

“So, you never did say!” you call out to him as you duck into your ensuite bathroom and flick the light on, hiding yourself from view whilst you change, “How does the master of marksmanship get tagged by a Shadowcaster in the first place? You’re not usually the type to get up close and personal. That’s more War’s thing, right?”

All at once, the threats that demon witch had made against you ring like klaxons in Strife’s head and he has to make a conscious effort to ignore his instinct to leap off the bed and barge into the bathroom just to be sure you’re safe. He hears the shuffling of fabric against skin as you pull off the bloodied shorts and begin to pull on the new ones.

Grinding his teeth, he spits out, “She just.. got me mad, is all. Made me wanna have the satisfaction of wringing her neck with my bare hands instead of filling her with bullets.”

“Wait, seriously?” Your silhouette suddenly appears in the bathroom doorway and and strife glances up, briefly enraptured by the halo of light glowing at your back. A fellow human might have likened you to an angel. Strife, however, knows that none of the feathery bastards could hold a candle to you.

Garbed in clean shorts that smell distinctly of you, and not copper, you step out into your bedroom. “How’d a demon manage to make you mad? You’re like, the champ of not getting mad. It’s like your superpower.”

“Yeah, well..” he mutters, turning his helm away, “This time, she went too far.”

You’re quiet as you flop down onto the bed next to him, your eyes flicking between his downturned head to the fists that are clenched like vices at his sides, metal claws gripping fistfuls of your duvet so tightly, you’re worried he might end up poking holes in the cover.

Whatever had been said to him must have been bad if he’s this riled up.

Biting your lip, you let out a pensive hum and lean backwards, your fingers brushing over a soft lump near the headboard. At once, your eyes grow wide and your lips stretch into a sly grin as your hand closes over something fluffy and familiar.

Strife is still busy stewing when he’s suddenly brought out of his thoughts by a face that’s shoved promptly into his line of sight. He blinks, drawing his head away to properly see what you’re holding up in front of him.

He can’t contain a chuckle once he realises that it’s none other than your old, toy horse, dangling in front of him with its little, black ears flopping forwards to cover a pair of button eyes.

Allowing a smile to grace the edge of his mouth, the Horseman wordlessly relaxes his grasp on your duvet in favour of reaching out to gently take the soft toy out of your hands, lowering it down into his lap.

“I thought David Hasselhoof might make you feel better,” you tell him, bumping your shoulder against his companionably.

The Nephilim simply smiles, stroking his palm over the horse’s fuzzy mane.

“Hey, Strife?”

“Mmm?”

You fiddle with your fingernail for a moment, dropping your eyes to the bed and taking a breath before you ask, “What did the demon say that made you so angry?”

It isn’t as though you want to pry. But having your friend turn up at your house in the dead of night with his stomach torn open warrants a couple of questions, in your honest opinion.

The Horseman’s brows knit together underneath his helm and he shifts slightly, twisting away from you further until you can’t even see the lights of his eyes. If you didn’t know any better, you’d almost dare to say that he looks shy. An impossibility, frankly.

When he speaks, his voice is gentle, a far cry from the normal, strident tone you’re used to hearing. “She, uh, she might’ve made a couple of threats about you.. Bad ones.”

You wait for him to elaborate, but for some time, he doesn’t utter another word, prompting you to ask, “And?”

You very nearly reel backwards into your headboard when Strife whips around to face you. “And?!” he echoes, incredulous, “The Hell d’you mean ‘and?’ Isn’t that enough of a reason?!”

Taken aback, you lift your hands in a placating gesture and stammer, “Woah! I - I just meant... Well, it’s not like I haven’t been threatened before? Just seems like a weird thing for you to get so angry about.”

Without warning, the enormous Nephilim lurches to his feet, the cuddly horse left to tumble, forgotten out of his lap. “Did you not hear me?” he snaps, “She. Threatened. You!”

“A-and that... made you mad?”

“Did - Of course it did!” he all but howls, his voice cracking as it raises in pitch, “She made me listen to all the god damn, sick things she wanted to do to you when she found you! She said - she said, I’d never see you again!” Roughly, he drags his clawed fingertips through his spiky, black hair and exclaims, “Next thing I know, I’m droppin’ Redemption and Mercy, I’ve got her heart in my fist and I’m... I’m...”

He trails off, knocked out of stride by his own admission. You remain silent, pressed up against your head board with the blankets clutched to your chest.

When he notices you staring up at him, small and wary amongst the sheets, the frustration saps from him like water circling the drain. “So... so yeah,” he huffs, his shoulders slumping and a great wave of shame crashing over him, “I got a little mad! I got a little pissed off. Cause I didn’t like hearin’ someone say they were gonna hurt my friend.”

And with that, he just... deflates, not unlike a punctured tyre. All the hot air inside him is dispelled with every heave of his mighty chest whilst he peers down at you, feeling the weight of your stare upon him.

Guilt leaves a sour taste in his mouth, rancid and acidic.

You look so..

...scared.

Sometimes Strife forgets that to you, he’s an unassailable figure from biblical legend, a bringer of the end days and an ancient gunman with a body count higher than there are grains of sand on the earth. Of course you’re going to be scared of him when he’s raising his voice at you and towering over you like this. And all because he’d had the life scared out of him in the first place.

“I’m sorry, kid. I didn’t mean to -” The words die on his lips and he sighs, defeatedly casting his eye over towards your bedroom window. He doesn’t want to leave you, not without knowing that his siblings have dealt with the remaining threats to your life. But... “I’ll just.. I’ll go.”

Turning his back on you, the Horseman bends to retrieve his discarded cuirass and takes a step towards the window, but a voice, thin as the cobwebs in the corner of your room, stops him in his tracks.

“Strife.”

The Horseman doesn’t move. he just stares at the darkness through your curtains.

Minutes pass without another word said between you. He remains stubbornly silent, hardly daring to breathe let alone respond to his name, until eventually, he hears a soft huff and rustling behind him.

Footsteps pad across the room and your scent grows stronger as you draw near, wafting over him like an intoxicating aroma before your hand places itself into his palm and he instinctively curls his fingers around it, shuddering at the feel of your soft skin pressed like silk against his roughened hide.

Your tiny, fragile hand... Creator, he really is just a beast standing next to you, isn’t he? The last time he felt this monstrous was..

No. Strife abruptly slams the shutters of his mind down around any thoughts of the Animus. Now is not the time to let dredge up old memories.

Luckily, your voice breaks through the haze and keeps him grounded. “Come on, big guy. Stay here, please?"

“You want me to stay?” he chokes out a laugh, “Even after I scared you?”

“Scared me? What?” It’s your turn to sound confused. “You didn’t scare me Strife, you shocked me. I’ve never seen you this serious before.”

The Horseman half turns to face you, giving you a glimpse of his warm, golden eyes. “And, I’ve never had a best friend before.” he admits slowly, hearing a soft intake of breath behind him.

“Wait?... I’m your best friend?”

With your hand still in his, Strife steps around slowly to face you, shooting you a quizzical glance. “Uh, yeah? I mean, I don’t exactly have a plethora of friends to choose from, so the competition isn’t that fie- Oof!”

He’s violently interrupted by a soft, squishy body colliding with his.

You fling your arms around the stunned Horseman’s waist and bury your face into his chest, momentarily forgetting about his injury. Strife, meanwhile, has to employ every molecule of willpower he owns to refrain from flinching, fearing that you’ll let go if he does. He can’t ignore how high his heart just jumped at the feeling of you pressed against him, nor the way his soul soars after realising that you still trust him enough to get this close.

It’s something that both he and his siblings are all having to get used to, these impromptu hugs.

Fury had almost flipped you over her shoulder and onto the ground the first time you came at her with your arms open wide, assuming you were going in for an attack.

War had pulled the most remarkable face, a mixture of alarm and wary delight that caused Strife to keel over in hysterics when you threw your arms around his broad stomach.

Death... Well, Strife hadn’t been around to witness your first hug with his oldest brother, but he imagines it must have been like hugging a block of cold stone.

And Strife? Well, he doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the first hug you gave him. It was so tight and comfortable, and for all of a moment, the only things that existed were the two of you. Inside the binding circle of your arms, his troubles couldn’t touch him, the anguish of his sins took a backseat and he became convinced that he could live happily and peacefully until the end of time trapped in your silent embrace.

The sentiment hasn’t dulled with frequency either. Every hug he receives is as powerful and intoxicating as the last.

This one is no different.

Strife's large, thickset arms carefully raise to your delicate back and shoulders, where he simply folds himself around you, pushing the nose of his helm into your soft, messy hair and drawing in a long, deep breath, earning your snort of amusement.

“You a big fan of coconut, then?”

“Is that what that smell is?” he mumbles, feeling the world settle around him as his eyes slip shut, “S'different from last time...”

“...Setting aside the fact that you remember what my hair smelled like last time we hugged.. I ran out of apple shampoo.”

“Mmm.” He trails off, humming into your hair, a sound that rumbles straight through you and leaves the top of your head tingling.

It takes your brain another few seconds to recall the injury on his torso.

“Oh, shit,” you hiss, leaning back and instantly finding your progress blocked by the Horseman's sturdy forearms. “I'm sorry, I didn't think -”

“- Eh, s'fine,” he cuts you off.

“It's not! I forgot, you need to be resting it!”

Strife grumbles his displeasure when you suddenly become very wriggly. “Strife, let go. You should be resting, not standing.”

Cracking one eye open, he roves his gaze over towards your bed. “Resting, huh? …. Not a bad idea.”

Without warning, he stoops down, and for the second time tonight, you find yourself suddenly swept up off your feet, bleating out a garbled squawk of alarm. “Stop picking me up! You'll start bleeding again!”

Smirking to himself, the Horseman takes two, loping steps towards your bed and lowers you down amongst the folds of the duvet, taking great pleasure in crawling over the top of you to get to the other side, armour and all. It isn't the first time he's rested in your bed, usually following a long night of playing your video games and catching up on all the human things he's been missing out on, and it likely won't be the last.

The bed springs creak despondently as he lifts his corner of the duvet and flops heavily onto his side next to you, grinning at the unimpressed glare you're shooting him.

“I like your bed,” he announces, burrowing himself deeper beneath the duvet, “You got a lot of pillows. And-”

His hand rustles beneath the covers for a moment before he winks... and slowly draws out David Hasselhoof, wiggling him back and forth in front of your eyes. “There's room for a threesome.”

“Oh my god. Goodnight, Strife!” Your lips quiver until you give in and crack a genuine smile, grabbing a pillow and whapping it softly down onto his helm. You get no resistance from the Horseman at all in retaliation. He merely lays there with his head hidden, black tufts of hair sticking out from behind your pillow as his shoulders bounce around a throaty chuckle.

Leaving him where he is, you roll over, turn off the fairy lights and plunge your bedroom into cozy, unassailable darkness.

A thick silence falls over the two of you, and the back of your neck begins to prickle, sensing without a shadow of a doubt that the Horseman's eyes are open and watching you. Sure enough, you peel your eyelids apart and find that your far wall is faintly illuminated by the golden light that emanates from his gaze.

Rolling your eyes, you resign yourself to a long night of fighting for your covers and kicking a wriggling Horseman back over onto his own side of the bed. And yet... if it's him, if it's Strife, it most likely won’t bother you in the slightest.

The alarm clock on your bedside table steadily ticks over to the three o'clock mark and you finally feel sleep crawl up behind your eyes. Just as you think you might nod off, however, the bed shakes ever so slightly, and behind you, there's the sound of shuffling sheets. It stops just as suddenly as it starts and you snort, chalking it up to a certain, restless Horseman trying to get used to the human-sized bed.

Several more minutes pass.

The shuffling starts up again, then it stops.

The same thing happens again a few more minutes later and your eyes snap open when something cool and solid nudges gently into the back of your head and you hear a quiet sniff before the whole bed shudders as the enormous Horseman laying upon it releases a monstrously low rumble of contentment.

-----

Strife leaves his helm right behind you all night, not that you'd know until the morning however, when you jerk awake to your bedroom door suddenly slamming open and Death thundering inside. He takes one look at his brother laying at your back and promptly begins a lecture that you're fairly certain will be the favoured topic of neighbourhood gossip for some time to come.

#darksiders #darksiders 2 #darksiders 3 #Strife #reader #fluff #sharing a bed!#monster boyfriend #interspecies relationships #blood #injury #whump

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jester-writing-things · 3 years

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*shyly peeks around the corner* Can we please have some more Yandere Striker and female IMP reader? Like she tries to escape her restraints and gag at night and nearly makes the getaway finding someplace to hideout in... only to be found by a very smug and dangerously angry Striker?

Yandere Striker with a fem, imp read (pt 2) Escapism

You had been upgraded from being tied up on the floor to tied up on the bed. And now, the ropes were replaced with hand cuffs now, Striker always keep the keys on him so you couldn’t get them.

You couldn’t do anything on your own now. Even when you showered, he’d wait right outside the shower and wait for you to come out. At night, he’d sleep in the same bed as you and hold you close so you couldn’t get away.

But one day...or was it night? You couldn’t tell anymore, the lights from the motel looked no different from the sun anymore...but Striker...had forgotten the keys this time, the fell out of his pocket when he was grabbing something and he didn’t notice.

You waited a good while till you were sure he was gone then jerked against the cuffs, the keys were next to the nightstand, you could get near it with little struggle but needed to use your tail to grab it, you wrapped your tail around it and pulled it towards yourself.

You with a bit of struggling, managed to unlock the cuffs in your hands. You quickly pulled the gag out of your mouth and ran to the window, quietly peaking out of the curtains to make sure Striker was gone.

The cost was clear, you hurried out the door and shut and locked it hopping that could buy you time when he got back. You ran down the stairs and with a quick glance around, you realized you had no idea where you were.

You didn’t let that stop you though, there was a small town in the distance and you ran as fast as you could towards it, falling periodically, your legs haven’t been used much the past couple days so of course they’d struggle.

By the time you had gotten to town you were sure it had only been a hour or two, but...there’s no one willing to help you...this is Hell after all...but you do get a small idea of where you are from one of the inhabitants.

You’re in the Ring of Gluttony. Beelzebubs ring, three rings away from where you were kidnapped. You’ve never been here, you have no money and no one is willing to help. It felt so...hopeless.

You realized before long it was late, you didn’t feel safe staying in this town, but your adrenaline had worn off and you were exhausted.

You snuck into a old building, there were clearly people living there but you were able to sneak into the attic and find an area that obscured you and you could rest.

You woke up at some point in the night to screaming and gun shots. “WHERE THE FUCK IS SHE?!” An all too familiar voice shouted. You quickly jolted awake and hurried to the window, peeking just out of sight.

There he was. Striker was out with that damn rifle, everyone was running away from him, he had some poor demon where you were, to your horror you realized it was the same demon you’d spoken too earlier, you were certain they had seen you sneak into the house.

You jumped out and ran into the crowd, hoping he’d miss you and you tried to run to god knows where, you just wanted to get away from him.

You heard another gunshot and then there was a stinging pain in your leg, you fell and couldn’t stand anymore.

He shit you in the back of the leg so you couldn’t run. You turned around slowly, you could feel that he was there and you were shaking so violently even if your leg was ok you wouldn’t have been able to stand.

There he was standing right behind you, a loaded rifle aimed right at your head. “Did ya really think ya could get away from me that easily?” He lowered the gun, he was grinning ear to ear but, you could see in his eyes just how pissed he was with you. You fucked up.

“I’ve shown ya nothing but kindness, and this is what yer gonna do? Fucking run away? Where ya gonna return to that pathetic fucking imp named Blitz? Not gonna happen, doll. I’m not letting you get away again.” He seemed weirdly orotund of catching you again, though he was equally ready to lash out at you.

He grabbed you by your waist and hoisted you onto his shoulder, carrying you back towards the fucking motel. “Look what ya made me do, I went ahead and fucking shot ya, this wouldn’t have happened had ya just stayed in the fucking room!” His voice boomed, was he always this loud?

When back in the room he threw you onto the bed. He claimed ontop of you and held your hands above your head, handcuffing you to the bed once more. You struggled as much as you could, but you didn’t stand a chance...

He was sitting on your stomach looking down at you. His eyes...it looked like he was going to kill you the way he was glaring at you...

His hand slid down from your hands to your face, he made you look up at him, he leaned down and pressed his forehead against yours.

“Look, I’m sorry for getting mad at ya. Ya must be lonely being here all day, I’ll spend more time with ya ok?” And with that, he gave you a kiss.

He sat next to you and looked you in the eye. “I’ll start treating yer wound, try not to struggle too much, ok?”

You just nodded, trying to hide the tears in your eyes, you’d never get away from this psycho...

#helluva boss #striker x reader helluva boss #striker #striker x reader #striker helluva boss #helluva boss striker #yandere #headcanons #headcanon #oneshot ish #one shot ish #oneshot #one shot

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blackstar95 · 3 years

Text

The Brothers reaction when MC slaps their ass

Lucifer

As usual, Lucifer listened to some classical music and poured himself a glass of wine to relax a bit.

Once he was done, he brought the glass to his lips and took a sip, savoring the taste.

"Mhm," he hummed to the sound of the melody and blissfully closed his eyes, enjoying the quiet moment he was having.

Much to his dismay, you entered his office without making yourself noticable.

Now dont get me wrong, he loves enjoys your company.

But not when your main goal is to tease him.

An thats exactly what you were doing.

You grinned mischievously as you slowly crept up to him, his back turned to you.

Since he was in his own state of mind, he didn't noticed anything.

That was until you reached your hand out.

In that milisecond, Lucifer's senses were tingling and his eyes shot open, turning around as fast as lightning.

But it was too late.

He only watched as your right hand colided with his left buttcheek, giving it a good squeeze afterwards.

Lucifer jumped and just stared at you in shock, processing what just happend.

And you just stood there with an empty expression, your eyes starring at your palm.

"Wow, your butt is actuallly softer than I thought".

Lucifer furrowed his brows in anger and shook his head.

"MC".

"Yeah?" You asked, looking up at him innocently.

Lucifer had that closed eyed smile with an dark aura surrounding him.

"Now, what made you think this was an good idea, MC?".

You shrugged and slowly walked backwards, shivering nervously "I dont know.. I was just curious?"

"Curious?" He met up with your steps and tilted his head to the side, his smile never leaving

He became dangerously close, making you more nervous than you already are.

You felt your back hitting the wall and your eyes widened.

Oh lord...

Lucifer slammed his palm beside your head, caging you.

You flinched and looked to the ground, feeling suddenly so tiny under him.

Lucifer cupped your cheek and made you look back up at him, a sadistic smile on his lips.

"Such inappropriate behavior should be punished, MC"

I leave the rest up to your imagination.

Mammon

Mammon was walking beside you as always, being practically attached to your hip (nothing new).

You guys were at R.A.D on your way to the cafeteria, since it was break time.

The greedy demon beside you rambled about that new scheme to make money, and you once again had to talk him out of it.

"Ya! It aint a dumb idea!" He protested.

"It is Mammon. Just think about Lucifers reaction and the consequences," you shook your head "Want to hang from the ceiling that bad?".

Mammon only scuffed, turning his head to the side.

You glanced over to him and noticed a visible pout on his lips, making him look like a child.

"Hey, Mammon".

"Hm?" He looked over at you "What's up?".

You raised your hand and reached over for his bottom, smiling sweetly at him.

"Cheer up".

He was about to question you, but before he could even start his sentence, you cutted him off with a real loud smack on his ass.

Mammons stopped dead in his tracks and his eyes widened in shock "W-what?".

Once realisation kicked in, his face flushed in an intsant.

"O-oi, human! Whats the big deal slappin' my butt like that?!". He yelled at you, looking like a fricking tomato.

You couldnt help but let out a few chuckles, highly amused by his reaction.

"Ya! It aint funny!"

Thanks to his loud voice, the whole hallway now knew what just had happened.

Leviathan

Leviathan walked down the stairs to the dining room.

He was really excited because he finally got his hands on the new Ruri-chan merchandise that came out.

"Woaah! I cant believe I got that limited edition figurine!, its SO rare and the new outfit- its just soo angelic-"

Levi being caught in his own ramblings didnt noticed that you were walking beside him.

"And that new hairstyle! I cant believe Ruri-chan could get even more cuter than she already is-"

"Say Levi, to who'm are you talking to?"

"WAh!", Levi jumped slightly at the sound of your voice and almost tripped over his own foot.

"Wha- MC!? How long have you been here!?"

You smiled at him and grabbed his shoulder for support, preventing him from falling down the stairs.

"There there, calm down. I didnt heard much".

Levi let out an sigh of relief and turned to you.

"Yeah right, I mean who would want to listen to an yucky otaku like me?".

You facepalmed in your mind and sighed, he really needs more confidence.

Leviathan kept walking and pitying himself, mumbling random stuff.

He has such a negative mindset.

You walked up behind him not thinking much.

But then you stared at his head and then his back,

Eventually your eyes landed on his bottom.

You smirked to yourself as you just ran past him, giving his butt a hard and loud smack.

Levi yelped in surprise and stood still, overwhelmed with what just had happened.

His hand grabbed his right buttcheek and rubbed it, being too shocked to react.

You turned around and waved at him. "Damn Levi, you really got an nice butt there! Im soo jealous!"

You then disapperaed in the dining room.

Levis brain needed a whole minute to process what just had happened.

And then he became a stuttering mess.

"M-M-MC! W-what was that now?!, h-hey wait!" He hid his flushed face behind the back of his hand as he stumbled after you.

Ngl he was kinda happy you touched him.

Satan

Satan was on kitchen duty, cooking his curry.

He invited you to join and help, so you guys could spend some time together.

And theres no way you would ignore that chance.

So here you were beside him, giving him the ingredients he asks for and making some small talk.

"Did you know that Beel almost ate my hair in his sleep?" You sighed "Im lucky im not bald".

Satan glimpsed at you and raised his eyebrow, shaking his head, "His hunger really doesnt know its limits".

He looked up, "Well speaking of sleep, I had an unpleasant dream last night."

You handed him the spoon and nodded "What was it about?"

Satan sighed, "Beel ate too much and grew to be a giant. He then ate the House of Lamentation, leaving the rest of us homeless".

You laughed, "Why do I have a feeling that could actually happen?"

Satan frowned "He already eats plates, its only a matter of time until he starts eating the walls".

You chuckled, intending to jokingly slap his arm.

But since you werent focused on what you were doing, you didnt notice how your slap landed right on his butt.

Satan dropped the spoon he was holding and looked at you with wide eyes.

"What are you doing?"

You turned to him with an confused expression "Did I do something wrong?"

Satan cocked an eyebrow and leaned his head to the side "You just slapped my butt".

Now its your turn to look at him with wide eyes. "I did what now?".

Satan didnt knew if you were joking or not, and it was kinda ticking him off.

"My butt. You slapped it".

"No I only slapped your arm- ohh wait..." you chuckled.

"What is so funny?" He asked you with furrowed brows.

"Sorry Satan, I wasnt focusing on what I was doing and accidently slapped your butt instead of your arm," You shrugged "My bad".

Satan nodded and turned back to what he was doing "Next time be more careful, or I will return the gesture".

You smirked and leaned over to him "I wouldnt mind that".

He will remember that.

Asmodeus

Asmo was having a mid-life crisis.

He was on one of his diets, because his waist gained 1 millicentimeter.

You assured him that a little more weight always looks good and healthy but he wont listen.

So here you were infront of him, eating one of his favorite Cupcakes.

"MC darling, why do you have to torture me like that?"

He whined "Its not faair!"

You just shrugged "I have another cupcake left for you, but since you're on your little 'diet' I will give it to Beel."

He sighed and dropped his head on the table "Does my pain bring you pleasure?".

You frowned "I-"

Asmo gasps and sat back up straight. "Dont tell me your into that stuff?, Wow!"

He smiled and wiggled in his chair.

You sighed and shook you head "Asmodeus, stop".

He pouted "You're no fun..".

After some time you finally finished the cupcake and Asmodeus had reached his limit.

He watched as you stood up and walk towards to the kitchen.

"Wait, what are you doing?" He also stood up and followed you.

"I will bring the cupcake to Beel-"

"No, wait!" he grabbed your wrist and stared at you.

You looked back at him "What is it, Asmodeus?".

He glimpsed to the side "I dont want him to eat my cupcake.."

You clicked your tounge and pulled him towards you, making him stumble to the side

"What are you doi- AH!" He moaned yelped in surprise as you slapped his ass.

"Just eat that damn Cupcake. Its not like you will gain 10kg from it".

He blushed "Oooooh MC! That really made me excited! How harsh you pulled my wrist-"

You just let go of him and left the room.

"MC where are you going?, you cant just leave me here!"

Beelzebub

Beelzebub asked you to keep him company while working out.

And of course you said yes.

So now you sat there, on the bench with a towel in hand, enjoying the view infront of you.

Beelzebubs biceps flexed as he lifted weights, and his white tanktop was drenched in sweat, making it transparent.

His abs showed through the fabric and you blushed.

How can this man be so big and muscular?

You blinked when he stopped his workout and laid the weights back down.

He grabbed his bottle from the floor and drank from it, taking big gulps.

You decided to stand up and walked over to him.

"Hey, Beel"

Beel lowered the bottle from his mouth and smiled at you "Hey, MC!"

You smiled back, and held the towel in your hand out to him, "Here take this".

"Thanks" He nodded at you and grabbed it, wiping the sweat on his face away.

"So, how is the workout going so far?" You asked couriously.

"Im still warming up" he replied.

You blinked, Still at warming up, huh?.. impressive.

"But im starting to feel hungry..." Beel pouted.

You laughed "You can do it Beelzebub, I believe in you".

He blushed and smiled at you "Thanks, MC!"

So cute.

You nodded and patted his shoulder "Sure".

Beel proceeded to start his warm up again, starting with some sit-ups.

But you had other plans.

"Beel wait!" You ran up to him.

He stopped what he was doing and looked over at you "What is it, MC?"

Before he could fully turn his body to you, he felt a stinging sensitation on his butt.

He looked at you startled, now realising you slapped it.

"Wow Beel, your buttcheeks are pretty hard.. are they made of iron or something?" You hold your hand up to your face.

Beel blushed slightly, not knowing what to do or say.

You just shrugged and turned around, marching towards the bench you were sitting on.

But suddenly, you felt a light clap on your own butt.

You gasped, "What-, Beel?!" You looked behind you and saw him standing there, smiling.

"Your butt feels really soft and nice, MC". he chuckled, "Is that a human thing to do?"

"Beel no-"

Belphegor

Belphegor was taking a nap in the attic, skipping the student council meeting.

And since you were coming late to the meeting due to some complications, Lucifer ordered you to search for Belphie and bring him there along with you.

And thats how you ended up infront of the attic, clearly annoyed.

"Belphegor," you spoke as you opened the door "I know you're in here".

The youngest brother laid on the bed, snoring and cuddling into his cow pillow.

You walked over to him and shook him "Hey Belphegor! Wake up!"

He stirred in his sleep and furrowed his brows.

Eventually he opened one eye and glimpsed at you. "What is it?"

"Lucifer wants me to bring you to the council meeting" you explained.

"Too bad, I wont go" he closed his eyes again. "Why dont you join me?"

"No," you shook your head, "Please, stand up".

He groaned "No, I dont want to go".

Thats it

You grabbed Belphegor by his arms, and turned him on his stomach.

His eyes shot open "Dah! W-what, hey-"

You raised your hand and slapped his ass, the sound of it echoing through the room.

Belphegor jumped and sat up straight, looking at you in disbelief.

"What was that for?!" He blushed

"You should stand up," you crossed your arm over your chest "I asked you nicely but you wont listen".

"Alright..," He closed his eyes "I will go"

You nodded "good"

But before you could turn around, Belphegor grabbed your wrist and laid you over his lap, his hand resting on your butt.

You blushed when you realised what he was doing,

You tried to escape, but his grip on you was too tight.

"Heheh," he chuckled "Time for payback".

"B-belphegor-" you were interrupted by his hand squeezing your left cheek slightly, making you shiver.

Belphegor raised his hand and striked an direct slap on your butt.

He expected you to squeak cutely, but instead a loud moan left your lips.

You quickly sat up and covered your mouth, an massive blush on your face.

Belphegor stared at you with wide eyes,

But after a few seconds he smirked.

"Didnt knew you're into that stuff," he teased you "Im not complaining though".

You just hid your face in his shoulder, too embarassed to look up "Dont tell anyone about this..".

Belphegor chuckled and patted your head "I wont, that would ruin the fun".

He will still tease you about it tho, but just when you guys are alone.

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