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auteurdelabre · 3 months

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So Much to Lose dark!Joel x f!Reader

rating: 18+

words: 4.6k

summary: After your explosive last patrol with Joel, you and Joel return to Teton Village.

tags: Enemies to EWB (enemies with benefits), slow burnish, oral (M receiving - no swallowing), Joel is emotionally stunted.

a/n: So strangely outta all my stories on the go, this one is the fic that plays in my head the most. I've written an outline, the final is already written out despite us havin' a bit of a ways to go to get these two seein' clearly. Reviews help me work, I don't get paid for this stuff, so if you wouldn't mind reviewing I'd really appreciate it!

masterlist here

Chapter 4 here

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Chapter 5: You still want this?

Jennifer sees you walk into the dining hall a short while later and calls you over with an exaggerated wave. The group she’s sitting with wave at you also. All of them are like Jennifer; young and pretty and smiley.

They set you a bit on edge with their intrigued gazes when you approach with your tray, taking a seat next to a tall man with an easy smile.Jennifer introduces you to everyone before doing the same for you.

“This is Peter, his wife Margaret,” a brunette couple at the end of the table give waves before going back to their chatting. “On your left is Lee and the guy to your right is Luke.”

The tall man – Luke – gives you a small nod and shy smile. “Nice to meet'cha.”

“He’s new like you,” Jennifer explains. “Just moved here last month. He used to be in construction.”

“Oh wow,” you say trying to feign interest and failing. Luke chews his food and gives an awkward nod at you before he starts to speak across the table to Peter.

You want to be engaged with the faces around the table, but your mind is still with Joel in the stable. You still can’t believe you told him you wanted him to fuck your mouth. That you verbally agreed to it. He gave you an out and you still said yes! What the fuck is wrong with you?

The rest of the group chats around you and you don’t mind the chatter. It fills the space normally punctuated with silence that you’re used to and it momentarily distracts you from your dilemma. You find you much prefer conversations with Ellie though – she has more interesting things to say on the whole.

Jennifer is obviously the leader of this group, weaving tales and telling jokes that has the rest of the table (including you) chuckling. When the rest of her friends finish their breakfasts and bid the two of you a good day, she waits until you are both alone before fixing you with a smile.

“Isn’t Luke nice?”

“Mhmm.”

Jennifer loves to talk and doesn't seem to mind that you don't. She likes regaling you with stories about folks living in the town. She's been settled in Jackson almost as long as Maria and Tommy and subsequently she has seen quite a bit.

"The Butcher used to date the lady that sorted the incoming items," she tells you over her tea. "But then she fell in love with the guy who works in weaponry. It was really messy for a bit."

You listen with fascination at the social milieu of the community you now inhabit. Being in Jennifer's orbit also means that others are starting to take notice of you. More people wave and give you passing greetings. You can only shyly nod and give mumbled hello’s in return.

This morning a tall man with patchy eyebrows gives you and Jennifer a nod, tilting his cowboy hat in your direction as he saunters past your table.

"That's Greg," Jennifer says with a voice low in secrecy. "We dated for a few months a year or so ago. Super nice guy but very clingy."

You suppress a smirk at this, amused at Jennifer's disgusted expression. Dating seems like something from a lifetime ago, almost juvenile in concept.

"You date a lot?" Jennifer asks as she sips her tea. "Before the outbreak, I mean."

"Nah," you shake your head. "Dating scared the shit outta me. I was always a really shy kid."

"I could see that," Jennifer muses. "You don't really talk much."

You shrug, feeling strangely embarrassed, as if this quiet observation is somehow a scathing criticism of character.

"What about around here?" Jennifer asks with playful lilt to her voice. It's asked in such a way that reminds you of slumber parties with giggling and strawberry lip-gloss. "Anyone catch your eye?"

"Not really."

You know that you answer too quickly but you also know that Jennifer won't follow up on it if you change the subject to her favorite topic: herself.

"What about you?" You take a bite of toast before casting your eyes over the crowd. "Got a lot to folks to choose from."

Jennifer glances around the bustling dining hall before wrinkling her nose up, obviously unimpressed with her choices presented.

"I'm gonna stick with Joel Miller," she nods to herself. "All the other guys here kinda pale in comparison."

Joel Miller.

"Might have you work cut out for you," you murmur. "Seems like a lot of work just to get him to be civil."

"I like a challenge," Jennifer winks at you. "And since you two are partner’s maybe you can introduce me sometime?"

Oh yeah, that'll go over well. You wish she’d drop this whole Joel thing. But then again because of it she’s being kind to you, she’s taken an interest. She’s introducing you to people, she’s helping to chase away the loneliness. You’re both getting something out of this, so why not continue?

Then again, its Joel.

"I think you should pick someone easier," you offer. "Plus if you go with him you'll be a stepmom to Ellie."

"I don't think she needs a stepmom," Jennifer laughs.

Your brows furrow and you go to reply when the girl of the hour walks into the dining hall. She sees you and waves before she walks over grab a tray of food. Her ponytail bobs behind her as she collects her breakfast items.

"She's so sweet," Jennifer tuts with what sounds like adoration when she witnesses this. You hold in a frown, not liking the condescending way Jennifer says it. It’s very likely she doesn’t mean it that way, but something about it irks you.

You watch Ellie saunter up to the end of your table, casting a look in your direction. You try to ignore her, remembering what Joel said you to earlier. He doesn’t want you interacting with Ellie, answering her questions.

He all but said you weren’t an influence he wants on his daughter. But it feels wrong to ignore her, wrong to pretend she isn’t standing beside you looking at you with beseeching eyes.

"Hi Ellie," Jennifer chirps as the girl stands awkwardly at the end of the table, looking at you. "Join us?"

Ellie shoots you a look that you can't quite read. You raise your eyes to hers and see the insecurity there and it breaks your heart. There’s no way you can turn her away. You motion to the table with your head that the invitation is indeed valid and she gives you a tight, relieved smile.

Ellie takes a seat next to you, tray clattering. You don’t miss the two milks on her tray and you hold in a smirk. Ellie begins to dig into her eggs and Jennifer is all warm smiles and sweet words for the sleepy teen.

"I heard that you're working on your baking," Jennifer offers abruptly, surprising both of you. You turn to look at Ellie, brow raised.

“You are?”

"Who told you that?" Ellie snaps, irritation laced in every letter. Her dark eyes are narrowed in obvious distaste for the blonde seated across from you.

"Oh uh, Rita in the kitchen mentioned it," Jennifer says with an uneasy laugh, eyes darting to you and then back to Ellie.

You think about Joel not wanting you to interfere, but this is something you know about. Baking is something you can actually bond with her about without making her long for the past.

"I didn't know you liked baking," you tell her. "If you want I can ask some of the-"

"Can we just drop it, please?" Ellie asks, cheeks burning. It's clearly something she didn't want other people knowing and you wince. You know the feeling of wanting something private for yourself.

"Of course," you nod.

The table lapses into a tense silence with Jennifer trying to smile at Ellie and the girl trying to look everywhere but at Jennifer. Ellie stabs a bit of sausage with her fork, the action almost violent. She’s tired and her hair is knotted in her ponytail. You wish you had a brush you could run through her thick tresses. Once a big sister, always a big sister you suppose.

"How's Joel?" Jennifer asks lightly, as if the answer isn't really a big deal. You want to roll your eyes at her lack of subtlety but Ellie beats you to it.

"S'fine."

Jennifer looks at you, silently begging for help, but you leave your eyes on your plate. If Jennifer wants to pursue this whole Joel thing she’ll do so without your help. While you’ll let her rope you into talking to Joel, there’s no way you’re going to bug Ellie about this.

"Doesn't he usually have meals with you?"

"Not breakfast usually," Ellie offers with a bored look on her face. "Only sometimes."

She remains tight-lipped for the rest of breakfast, sitting sullenly next to you as she eats. This cloudy disposition exits only when Jennifer announces she has plans with her friends and bids you both a farewell.

"She's such a phony," Ellie cites as the woman leaves the dining hall. "She doesn't give a shit about me. She just wants to know about Joel it’s so fucking obvious."

"I'm sure that's not true," you say without feeling. You feel a twist of guilt in your gut. Jennifer is nice to you and yeah, she’s a bit of an annoyance, but you don’t think she’s particularly harmful.

However as soon as the words leave your mouth Ellie stands abruptly, bristling. You give her a confused look.

"I told you I don't like liars."

She leaves her tray next to you, looking disgusted as she marches out of the hall, sure to go in the opposite direction of Jennifer.

///

The ride to Teton village that afternoon is a tense one punctuated by the occasional whinny from Midnight and Chestnut. You and Joel haven't spoken since your patrol shift started, not even a hello when you both mounted your horses.

Now you ride behind him a few paces, body bobbing along with Chestnut who seems to be reinvigorated after his re-shoeing.

The sky is a bright grey today, the chill of the weather deep in your bones. You're thankful for the warm clothes you've put on, including the red scarf hidden deep in the depths of your jacket. You know how much Joel hates it.

Your eyes drift to your patrol partner and his broad shoulders holding a backpack and gun.

You still want that mouth fucked dumb?

Your admission to Joel earlier makes your heart continue to thrum well after you've been riding for hours. Every turn of his head that showcases his severe profile sets your stomach jumping.

You wonder if he's going to say something about it. If he's going to jeer at you or worse, guide you both off to the side of the road and insist you suck him right there.

But he doesn't make any move to do so. He just continues on ahead of you atop of Midnight like some modern cowboy in a winter jacket.

How did Ellie get through to him?

This sticks out in your mind. Ellie is abrasive and loud and seems to be everything Joel would despise in another person. And yet, the brief times you’ve seen a look of tenderness he shares with her is something so loving it makes your heart crack. He’s her father in everything but blood. His daughter is gone. Is that why? Was there a daughter-sized hole in Joel desperate to be filled and Ellie fit the bill? The thought humanizes him in your eyes.

By the time you reach the village you almost pity Joel. A man who lost a daughter, desperate to take care of another living being. You wonder if there is a wife-shaped hole missing in him too. Would Jennifer fit that bill? Would he be happy if that empty spot was taken up by a beautiful blonde woman? If so a part of you wants to help.

You tie up your horses and Joel watches you unlock the door. He doesn't comment when your fingers tremble clumsily to punch in the code. He doesn't jeer when you stumble in over the floorboards. You watch him saunter ahead of you with the Thermos and your lunches and you observe him not as Joel Miller, asshole. You work to seperate his body from his person. He's a man, a strangely beautiful one in his ferocity and broad frame.

His body is graceful despite its bulk and your eyes rove the planes of his form as he makes his way ahead of you, bag and gun still draped over his shoulders. Is he attractive? Maybe. He isn’t hideous to you. But attractive is a hard thing to measure when you don’t really enjoy the person.

Joel disappears with his bag upstairs muttering that he'll be back and you go to the small back room to sign your names in the log. You feel confident doing it now, your fingers not trembling when you hold the pencil. You glance around the small room, looking at the boxes at the side. You pull them out, curious. Inside one are a few blankets. Inside the other are two pairs of boots. Another box yields a gun and a box of bullets.

Back up items you think, in case something happens.

Joel is still working away upstairs and so you take the opportunity to explore a bit of the old building, walking aimlessly from room to room. You walk into the room with the old couch covered in one of the blankets you recognize from Jackson City. It faces an ancient looking fireplace that holds dried wood and shavings to start a fire. This surprises you considering they don’t want attention drawn to the building.

You wander into the ancient bathroom that hasn't had running water for months, glancing at the shower free of mildew and the toilet that you don’t dare lift the lid off of. You make your way through the variety of other empty rooms, looking at portraits hung on the walls before you hear Joel's heavy boots coming back down the steps to your level.

You watch him return and wordlessly follow him to that small room in the back so he can glance over your log notes with an unreadable expression before pulling out the Thermos and bag of food from his backpack.

Lunch is consumed with you sitting across from one another at the warped table, noting that a quiet Joel is just as intimidating as a speaking one.

Your mind drifts to the window upstairs. The one that was broken last time. It's quiet which means that is what Joel must have been working on it earlier.

"Did you fix the window?"

"Patched it. When the right supplies come in we'll repair it properly." Joel bites into his sandwich, swallowing quickly. You wonder if he's always eaten this quickly or he's trying to speed things up.

"I don't know much about repair-"

"You won't be doing anything," Joel cuts in without looking at you. "I'll come out on a different day with a few others."

"Oh. Okay."

You lapse into silence again. Joel is a loud chewer you notice; another thing to add to the growing tally of ways he annoys you when he's not intimidating the hell out of you. You shrug off your jacket, finding it strangely warm in the small room.

You finish your lunch quickly, anxious about whether this is going to happen. Will Joel fuck your mouth? Will he make you ask for it? You don’t think you could even if you wanted. The thought is too intimidating.

As if reading your mind Joel wipes his crumby fingers along his jeans before clearing his throat. He sits facing you and you watch as his legs slowly widen.

That's when you realize it's going to follow the same pattern. In the same room and at his leisure. And despite the fact that you can't stand Joel and despite the fact that this is patrols, you feel your core tighten. He moves his tongue to his cheek, staring at you for so long you visibly falter, eyes dropping to your hands.

"You still want this?"

He says it so quietly you're not sure he said anything at all and it takes you a moment to understand what he's referencing. But then you know your answer, you know from the telltale pull below your navel and the way your nipples tighten under your sweater.

You lose your voice and find you can only nod shallowly. When you glance up after a beat to see Joel frown at your lack of a verbal response you sit up a little straighter in your chair.

"Yes."

Joel nods slowly, sucking at his teeth as he stares at you. Your thumb digs into the cuticle of your ring finger nervously.

No, not nervously; anticipatory.

You feel arousal begin to pool in your lower belly and you are made absurdly aware that you want this, that you want him. Not outside these stolen moments when he feels like the most frustrating person you know. Just when he promises a release from the loud world and its horrors.

"Gonna listen?”

His voice is firm, but hushed. You glance up the length of his body slowly, taking in the tapered waist and the long neck before and your eyes lock briefly before his. He holds his eyes on you before they flit to your shoulder. You finally nod, voice cracked.

"Yes."

He nods before surprising you by standing. He tilts his head, a silent follow me signal and you do as he walks out the door and into the room with the couch and fireplace. He leads you to the old sofa, the one that's been stripped of its fabric and left with what looks like a poorly tufted blanket over top. Likely an addition by one of the patrols but you can't understand why.

Joel eases onto it and it creaks as he settles himself. The air is gone from the room, leaving you breathless as you watch Joel unbuckle and then unbutton his jeans. You hold your breath as the zipper is pulled down and you see the flash of Joel's dark boxers underneath.

He beckons you closer with nothing more than his middle and pointer finger curling into his palm and you shuffle closer, approaching him slowly and warily as if he were a wounded animal.

And then it's like last time, only instead of angry, Joel just looks passive. As if this is something he did with all his former patrol partners.

Who knows, maybe he did.

You’re still wearing your red scarf and he takes it in his left fist before he tugs it gently, pulling you towards him. You stumble into the vee of his parted legs, looking down at him and swallowing. Despite the fact that you’re standing, you feel completely at his mercy.

He tilts his head, regarding you silently before he drops his hand from your scarf.

"On your knees," he says sibilant.

You sink to the floor between his legs without question. You don't hesitate. You hit your knees quickly, not caring that the floor is cold through the denim of your jeans. You don’t care if your eagerness is obvious.

Your hands tremble in equal measure anticipation and fear as they reach for Joel's boxers. As you did last time you pull him through the slit at the front, keeping the base of his cock still partially hidden. He seems to prefer that, letting you only see glimpses of him. You think you prefer that too. Still you feel your eyes widen a fraction at actually seeing his hard cock up close in your home. You'd only felt it that night on patrols.

“Stroke.”

You move your hand forward cautiously, waiting for your fingers to curl around his hard shaft. It twitches when you touch it. He raises an eyebrow slowly, his head tilting as his eyes move down to where you stroke him. He watches your hand move there, his tongue coming to drag over his lower lip. It glistens.

You swallow nervously, eyes on his cock as you tilt forward. You let yourself observe the bead of pre-come at the tip, the stiffness of his length. Without thinking you dip your face forward and run your lips from the base of his cock, grazing them to the tip. You’re rewarded with a quiet hiss from Joel.

“Lick.”

You do. Soft little kitten licks along the head tasting the salt of his pre-come. Joel breathes sharply through his nose at the sensation and when your eyes flick up they find his intensely staring down at you. A shiver goes through your body at the heavy desire reflected back to you. It emboldens you.

You don’t even wait for him to tell you to suck. Your parted mouth simply dips forward and circles the rosy head immediately. It stretches your lips, straining to take him. He's heavy on your tongue, thick in your mouth. You'd expected him to be rough, to thrust himself to the hilt but he's still. He's so still you're not sure he's okay with it.

With your mouth still full of him your eyes travel up his body to his face, brows raised in question. His face gives nothing away and you still, preparing to pull off of him when one large hand comes to the top of your head stopping you. He seems momentarily thrown, mouth curving into a frown. His hand goes to your neck and you wince in surprise when he unravels the red scarf from your neck.

"Close your eyes."

You do, letting them flutter shut. You don't say anything when he folds the scarf in half lengthwise before tying it around your eyes, securing it snugly at the back of your head. Your mouth is still stuffed with his cock, stretching your mouth almost painfully as you wait for him to knotting it at the back of your head.

If you opened your eyes you would see nothing but a murky red. As it is you see only the inside of your eyelids. You can smell the scent of sweat and soap and coffee. You feel disorientated kneeling there on the cold wood floor and you want to grip his thighs for purchase but don’t dare.

His heavy hand is still resting on the crown of your head and now you feel it slowly urging your mouth to take more of him. You hear Joel’s steady breathing.

"Keep goin’," Joel whispers and judging by the direction of his voice you think he must be looking down at you.

He pulls out slowly, his breath ragged.

"You want more?"

His cock is dragging along your bottom lip and you can imagine it glossy and reddened. He urges it onto your waiting tongue before slipping out again, teasing you. He doesn’t wait for you to answer before responding on your behalf.

“Yeah, you want more,” he says sliding his cock back, the head hitting the back of your throat.

You begin to suck him with vigor, bobbing your head along his length with gusto. You're rewarded with the low murmuring groan from him. You begin humming gently around him, .

It feels good, it feels so fucking good to have this again. To feel a cock in your mouth, to hear a man groaning above you as you take him deeper into your throat. He begins to thrust now, trusting that you can take him. His movements are quick, his hips jerking.

Your saliva coats him, his pelvis quickly inching towards you and then away, back and forth as he saws his cock between your lips.

It could be anyone, you tell yourself. You've just missed this so much. This connection, this lust, this palpable heat that makes Joel snap his hips and makes you respond in kind, tilting back and taking him until your nose brushes the wiry hairs at the base of his cock. He smells amazing, musky and masculine.

"Christ," he murmurs, eyes closing. "S'good."

You feel saliva begin to drool out the corners of your mouth as he thrusts more rapidly into you, hand still on the crown of your head.

"Yeah that's right," he says in a husky drawl. "That's fucking right."

You wonder how you look right now. Not in a performative way, but you wonder if you look in command of yourself. Like you're not secretly terrified. Or do you look scared? Maybe Joel likes that. You hope not.

You moan as he slides deeper into your throat. At the sound Joel withdraws, letting himself rest heavily on your tongue. His hips shift and he bobs his cock along your tongue, like an engine being primed.

"You like that," Joel says, slipping in and out between your lips. "Like me fucking your pretty mouth."

Never a question, always a statement. He's talking to hear himself talk, not because he actually wants to know if you like it. You continue to bob your head along his cock, your mind going blissfully blank.

"Gonna come," he suddenly announces from above you.

You moan approvingly, his length aching in your mouth as you slide the tip of your tongue to flick at the head of his cock, your mouth stretched full. You know this part, you anticipate this part. The rapid unravelling, you only wish your eyes weren’t covered. Watching Joel unravel on your tongue would be interesting.

"Gonna come," he grunts at you again, harsher this time.

When you continue sucking, his wide palm comes to press against your forehead, pushing you back harshly.

You pop off of him, falling back onto your elbows. You give a yelp before pushing up your blindfold and looking up at him in confusion. You've never had a man pull out, always tasted them salty and sharp over your tongue.

But Joel's eyes are closed and his wide hands are gripping his thickness, curving around the head, stroking furiously and it's only seconds before he lurches forward and comes with a ragged gasp in great warm ropes that spill over his knuckles and onto the wood floor.

You watch the steady dripping, the silent admission that Joel would rather his spend go there, onto the wood floor, because it's more deserving than your mouth.

Useless.

“I….” Joel croaks before licking his dried lips. His cheeks and neck are flushed with red. "I didn't know if you'd want it.”

“Oh.”

“Thought you were doing it ‘cuz you thought you had to."

"Oh."

You wish you could offer more than that. But you’re still in shock, still laying there on your back, propped up by your elbows in some strange tableau of relaxation.

His breathing starts to regulate before he stands abruptly. You look away, saying nothing as he moves to the washroom with the water canteen from his bag. You imagine he’s washing his hands the best he can.

You take a moment to stand, legs shaky and jaw sore. It’s been a while since you did that. And your surprised at how much you enjoyed it, considering the person the cock was attached to. When he exits moments later he’s tucked away and he tells you quietly that it’s time to head back.

Wordlessly you both gather your belongings and Joel locks up the place behind you both. You feel strangely unsettled, not because of what happened but because of how it ended. You feel somehow cheated.

You reach your tethered horses at the same time. You work on untying Chestnut, feeling Joel’s eyes on you as he does the same for Midnight.

"You like sucking cock?"

His voice is so nonchalant you could be talking about taxes or the weather.

"Sometimes," you say as you shrug. Your cheeks burn, despite the cool air.

The two of you mount your horses and head back. It’s not until a half hour has passed that you finally find the words you’d wanted to say earlier.

“I like it,” you say, face burning as you stroke Chestnut’s mane absently while you trot behind Joel and Midnight. “Uh, finishing in my mouth. I like that.”

Joel turns his head slightly until you can see his strong profile silhouetted in the setting sun. He gives you a half nod.

“Alright then.”

You say nothing more the rest of the ride back to Jackson City. Your horses take you back home, the path trod so many times before. Joel and you make no attempt at speaking more about your time, it seems pertinent it remain unspoken.

The secret stays in Teton village.

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taglist: @cosmic006533-blog1 @joeldjarin @elegantduckturtle @orcasoul @valkyreally @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @multiversed-daydreamer

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #dad joel miller #joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #joel tlou #smut #fanfiction #fanfic #dark!joel x reader #dark!joel miller #dark!joel

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beejunos · 2 months

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SINNERMAN | Alastor x f.reader | part 1.

Summary: After Sir Pentious's failed attempt at spying on the hotel, the Vees approach you to make a new deal—a deal that you can't refuse. Help them take down Alastor, and you will get to kill him again.

After all, the great butcher of New Orleans had killed your brother, so it was only fair that you had killed him in return. And you would love to do it again.

Tags: Alastor x f!reader, slow burn, obsessive behaviour, enemies to lovers, spying, murder

PART 1. | AO3 | PART 2.

Chapter 1. The Deal

The road to hell is paved with good intentions.

Hell was not just a place where souls who had done horrific things with pleasure went, but also with people who had done appalling things out of necessity. Murderers, thieves, abusers and, growing more in numbers every year, politicians - hell was not a place for the weak-minded, but sometimes a human could be pushed into such acts, not because they themselves were more inclined to such behaviour, but because circumstance could turn anyone into a bloodthirsty killer.

You were one of those people.

Condemned to Hell for an eternity for a crime that you still believed to be justifiable. After all, the great butcher of New Orleans killed your brother, so it was only fair that you killed him in return.

"I told you it was a bad idea to pick that idiot to spy on the hotel. Did you honestly think it would work?" said Velvet without looking up from her phone. She was typing something with rapid-fire as she blew a bubble with her pink gum. It made a big popping sound that seemed to echo in the living room, making Vox clench his fist so as not to destroy the desk again. They had just replaced the last desk after he had dug his claws into it and left deep and long marks in the wood, and he did not feel like getting yelled at again for ruining the decor.

Vox counted to ten slowly backwards before he turned around from the monitors to look at the short woman. She was sitting curled up on the sofa before him, dressed in luxurious loungewear with hearts all over it. Valentino was sitting stretched out right beside her, his arm casually on the backrest. He was on his phone as well and did not look up when Vox came closer, but Vox could see that he was also irritated by Velvet's comment from the slight twitching of his right eye.

"Well, Velvet, my dear," Vox said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I don't remember you having a better idea, but please, if you do, share it with the group."

Vox stopped walking as he reached the sofa, hands behind his back, and leaned down in front of the female sinner to force her to look at him. He had never been good with others ignoring him, and Velvet was taking her sweet time finishing her text before she even looked up from her phone. When she met his eyes, electricity was firing between his antennas, filling the air with static noise.

She just sighed before she picked up her phone again and started typing.

"You picked an idiot; that's why your plan didn't work. Little Miss Sunshine will believe anyone; just pick a smarter spy next time," said Velvet in her heavy British accent, popping another bubble with her gum. Vox's irritation grew with every word she uttered, and for a moment, he entertained the thought of grabbing her phone and throwing it out the window.

"And who do you suggest we'll ask?"

It took Velvet a few more seconds of searching before she found a decent photo, and then she turned her phone and showed Vox who she had in mind. The photo was old and blurry, with its subject in the distance, but it was still possible to distinguish who was in the picture. Vox turned his piercing gaze from Velvet down to her phone and quickly stepped back.

"You can't be serious!"

"Who?" said Valentino, now interested, as Vox started to pace the room. Velvet turned her phone towards the moth demon, and he reared back in alarm. "Are you out of your fucking mind? Do you even know how expensive she is?"

"So what? If you want the job done well, then pay a fucking professional," stated Velvet as if it was apparent.

"Professional? She runs a PR firm! Glorified party whores. Why the fuck should she be the spy?" cried Valentino, throwing his arms in the air. The gesture would have made anyone in his studio flinch, waiting for an impact, but Velvet sat rooted in her seat. She was used to the man's physical displays of anger by now but never feared them since he would never dare lay a hand on her. She lifted one of her eyebrows and continued with her argument:

"Didn't you see the fucking joke of an interview the princess did on the news? The hotel has a serious marketing problem. Everyone thinks it's a joke! What if the princess had someone to help her with the marketing and networking? Someone she would trust wholeheartedly, and that person worked secretly for us? It would be the best fucking spy! Not a guest but a staff member who could manipulate everything from the inside. We would know everything. A staff member would also be with the princess all the time and could keep an eye out for Alastor to make sure that no deal is made!"

Valentino groaned loudly before throwing his phone on the coffee table. He knew that Velvet's argument was good; he just did not like how expensive it would become if they went with it. There was a reason only the top of the elite of hell hired this PR firm, and it wasn't just for the public relations part. Rumours were travelling around the underground networks that you also dealt with some shady businesses, but who weren’t in this town?

"Can't we just kill them ourselves? I still want to shoot someone," mumbled Valentino, knowing none of his partners would accept the idea.

"And what? Piss of Lucifer for attacking his daughter? We could just piss on our own graves instead! If we pay her, we know she will get the job done; after all, you've heard the rumours, right?"

"What rumours?" snarled Valentino, sinking deeper into the sofa. His night was now officially ruined.

"No one hates Alastor more than she does."

"Well, that's not new! Half the city hates the old-timey prick." Vox, who had been pacing back and forth deep in his thoughts, abruptly stopped and turned around to look at Velvet. He also highly doubted anyone could hate the radio demon more than he did, but that was beside the point.

"So, let's use that to our advantage," said Velvet, growing more frustrated by the minute, "She is bound to at least be interested in the job if we can convince her to take down Alastor with us."

It wasn't a dumb idea, which annoyed Vox the most. However, his desire to take down Alastor outweighed any concerns for costs. He was prepared to cut his own leg off with a rusty saw if it meant he could take down the demon that plagued his very existence.

Vox sighed and crossed his arms in front of him, effectively giving up on arguing against Velvet.

"Okay, how do we contact her?"

On the opposite side of the entertainment district, where the Vees residence was located, was a small part of the pride ring where the older architecture still stood. The sinners who lived there were usually the ones who had stayed in hell the longest, many of whom had lived during the 18th and 19th centuries. There were fewer flashing lights and billboards in this part of town, but that did not mean that the sinners who lived there were anti-technology—for the most part.

That was why you liked living in this part of Pride, being from the early 20th century yourself. There were no loud noises, and during the night, you would, on more occasions than not, get a good night's sleep. Compared to the entertainment district, where no one seemed to sleep ever.

Your PR firm was located on the top floor of an old Gothic Revival building in the centre of this district. With its intricate stone details and towering spires, the building could feel almost cluttered and overwhelming on the outside. However, the rooms were spacious and elegant, with large stained-glass windows that cast colourful lights throughout the building.

You loved your office building and its moody exterior and interior. It made you feel like a character in one of the gothic novels that you had only learned to appreciate after your death. You could also argue that the whole thing had been influenced by the fact that when you had died and woken up in hell, your soul had taken the form of a bat. Reminding you of the book Dracula that your mother had loved so much, but that was irrelevant.

Walking around dusty old stone buildings, surrounding yourself with heavy wooden furniture and thick dark fabrics worked much better with the wings, big pointy ears, claws, and razor-sharp teeth you had now.

You had tried in the beginning to surround yourself with things that reminded you of the time you had been alive, but as time ticked on and the years went by, you could not help but leave most of the 20s and 30s behind and welcome the new ages, and all their inventions and quirks, with somewhat open arms. Your youngest assistant, a young sinner named Claudine, who died at the age of 25 in 2015, talked a lot about how similar social media in hell was to when she was alive, but considering the things she liked to show you, social media was one of the inventions you did not have any interests in. Your people could handle it for you instead, and if the three overlords that had strolled into your office like they owned the building were running the biggest tech and social media company in pride, you would happily leave that responsibility to Claudine.

Vox, Velvet, and Valentino were indeed a sight to behold. A poor sight for you. Their fashion and colourful clothing clashed horribly with your moss-green couch.

It was always a satisfying experience to observe new customers arrive at your office. However, this time, you could not help but wish they would just leave.

You put down the silver tray you held, with all the teacups and the teapot, on your mahogany coffee table and sat in the armchair on the opposite side of the sofa. Slowly, you started to pour the tea from the pot into the small and thin teacups before handing the first to Velvet.

"Suger?" you asked, opening the lid to the sugar bowl.

"Yes, please," she said, putting two sugar cubes in her tea. The smaller sinner grabbed one of the tiny spoons before she started to stir her tea, making the spoon hit the side of the teacup. The clinking sound seemed to bounce around the room endlessly. She may not have the most refined manners, according to you, but you suspected that she was the one who had wanted to see you in the first place since she was the one who was behaving the best.

"I must say, I was quite surprised when my assistant said that the Vees were waiting in my office." You took one sip of your tea that had one sugar cube and a dash of milk in it. "It is not often that I get these types of unplanned visits unless someone is in dire need of their reputation being saved, and last time I checked, you three had your own PR team."

"We are here because we are interested in your more niche skill sets."

Now, that was far more interesting. You had a sense that the Vees were not here for what your company offered on the outside but more for what you could provide that was strictly off the records.

You looked over at Vox, who had spoken. Waiting for him to continue.

It did not take the sinner long to tell you their plan and why they had decided to contact you specifically. Hell was filled with sinners and demons who said they specialised in espionage or assassinations, and although they could get the job done, more often than not, these "professionals" would leave long traces of evidence behind, which didn't matter in the end since hell did not have any justice system to speak of, but if you wanted to be undetected, it wasn't the best solution. However, you took your job seriously and worked with the utmost discretion, which led to you now holding almost the same amount of power as any overlord in pride. The big difference between you and the other overlords was that your capabilities were mostly unknown, and that's how you wanted it. It made it easier for you to work in the shadows. To hunt and kill without anyone knowing they were being hunted.

Only two overlords, Carmilla Carmine and Zestial, knew of your strengths and often hired you to deal with others they did not have time for or wanted to make time for. Yet, if the Vees knew about this side of your work, that meant the information about your skill sets was being spread around a bit more frequently than you wanted it. But that didn't worry you too much since you could always have Claudine and Earl fix it in just a few days.

"That is not a small task you have asked of me. To take down another demon is one thing, but to take down an overlord? Who also works for the princess? Now, why would I ever do that?"

"We're not asking you to take down the princess. Only Alastor," said Velvet, putting a hand on Vox's arm. The man had started leaning forward unconsciously, his fists closing up with every second.

Alastor. There was no man on earth or in hell that you hated more, and you would gladly watch him bleed to death, forgotten and alone in the forest again. After all, he had killed your brother, so it was only fair that you had killed him in return. But things had changed. He now possessed a form of power that you had never seen in another sinner in all your years in hell, and it made you pause. You knew that as soon as he found out what you had done, he would avenge his death, and you were not sure that you would survive that. So you stayed in the shadows, bidding your time.

"Either way, we are not asking you to take him down alone. We want you to ensure no deal is struck between that radio freak and the princess. Find his weaknesses and help us take him down." Vox had the sort of manic look about him that you only saw in souls who were consumed by their obsessions, making him unreliable and reckless. But a deal like this did not come to you often, the type of deal that made you believe that you could kill Alastor again, and you never looked a gift horse in the mouth.

"Very well, I will help you, but it will cost you. Five hundred souls."

"Dea-"

You did not let Vox finish before saying, "Each."

"Each? Bitch, are you out of your mind?" roared Valentino, who had been quiet up till now. Even if the other Vees did not start shouting like the moth daemon, they were equally shocked and angered by your demand.

"My prices have always been high. Take it or leave it." You looked over at Vox, staring him down. You knew he would be the first to crack and agree to your demands. Velvet may have been the driving force that had led the Vees to your office, but she was still too rational and would start to bargain with you. Vox would sooner or later let his obsession win, making him agree to your deal.

"Do we have a deal?" You reached out your hand to Vox, trying to corner him and push him into a contract with you.

Before Velvet or Valentino had the chance to stop him, Vox shot forward and took your hand, and as he uttered the words that would sign their contract, an eerie green light filled the room. Cracks travelled up the walls all around you as the howling of hunting dogs travelled with the wind that started to blow in the office. Large shadows of the hunting dogs began to grow on the walls, their red eyes fixing the Vees in their places and right as the dogs would pause and devour the sinners on your sofa, the green light dissolved, and all that was left was the four of you in your office.

"Always a pleasure doing business with new customers," you chuckled, letting your sinister smile dance on your lips.

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor x you #x reader #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #hazbin alastor x reader #hazbin alastor x you #sinnerman alastor fic

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bonny-kookoo · 1 year

Text

Yoongi:

Lock Me Up | Intro/Part 1

In which his job is pretty clear on paper; find the witness, bring her in, write down what she saw and then let the witness protection program handle the rest. The only problem: You've got other plans.

Tags/Warnings: Detective Agust D my friends, Criminal Kitty!Reader, hybrid Yoongi, mentions of murder, mentions of violence, mentions of blood, mentions of past abuse, strangers to enemies to I don't even know, sexual tension

Length: Long, 4k words

Next ->

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"So, just her then?" He asks, reading the files about his most recent case. "Double homicide, and she got away?" He wonders, as the young officer shrugs at the table.

"According to another witness, she saw her run out of the house we found the victims in, and she apparently got chased down the street- but a butcher downtown told a patrolling officer that she was fine the day after." He explains, making Yoongi sigh.

"Well, finding a cat in D-Town." The man takes the files for himself, grabbing his coat. "How hard can it be?"

Turns out, it's not that hard at all, considering the high percentage of hybrid population in D-Town.

He's walking into the small restaurant, most of the people eating and working being hybrids, immediately looking at him with suspicion as all conversation quiets down. He's used to it by now, most hybrids aware of what he is, his reputation amongst each and every one of them one of a traitor. "I'm searching for a female hybrid. Feline." Yoongi asks one of the servers behind the counter, cooks turning around to watch the detective. "Has a ID number tattooed into her left ear. 0713." He offers an image depicting you caught by the security camera of a small grocery shop nearby.

But much to his expectation, everyone shrugs, shakes their heads, won't tell him anything. It's a typical pack-mentality amongst hybrids- no matter what, they stick together against the human dominated police force.

"Alright, let's ask for your papers then. Mind me having a look at all the legal documents for your little establishment?" He melodically threatens, and it's clear that it makes the young server and her husband close by nervous, her eyes immediately looking at two young twin hybrids watching a cartoon on an old CRT-TV. "She's.. upstairs. She didn't do anything, she's a good girl-!" The woman begs, yells after the detective as he immediately makes his way up the stairs, only her husband holding her back.

The moment Yoongi opens the door to what he assumes might be a bedroom though, you're clearly there-

Jumping straight out of a window.

"Fuck.!" He calls out, running back downstairs to run after you, whole restaurant laughing and cheering for you as you dash away from the detective, heels clicking on the pavement as you run away. He has to admit that he's a little impressed by your ability to jump over obstacles and run so fast with those mary janes, though it's clear after a while that he's got the better stamina of the both of you. He's catching up to you.

But you're clearly already very knowledgeable in police chases, because you suddenly jump up against a wall of a small building, managing to somehow heave your entire body up the ledge to get onto the roof.

"So what now, huh?!" He calls out to you, breathing heavily just like you are. "One call and I've got the fucking thing surrounded. Just get down, I'm here- fuck.." He breathes for a second, before catching his composure again. "-I'm not here to arrest you."

"Hmm.. nah, I'm good." You simply answer, sitting close to the edge of the roof now.

"That wasn't a question." He calls out back up to you, one brow raised in annoyance. "Get down."

"No." You simply answer stubbornly, your tail swaying from left to right behind you, since you've moved to lay on your stomach instead, arms on the edge of the rooftop, chin resting on top of them.

"Alright. Hybrid 0713, you're under temporary arrest for suspicion of involvement in a double homicide case." He orders out to you. "Now get down here-"

"Does that ever work on anybody?" You ask after a moment of silence with an almost bored tone to your voice, face clearly showing genuine interest in the answer though.

He licks his lips, hands now in his pockets. "Not really if I'm honest." He shrugs honestly, making you giggle. "Come on now, I seriously only need you for questioning, I don't care about any other shit you've done."

"How about you buy me dinner first?" You ask, rolling over onto your back, now looking at him upside down, and he's unsure if you're aware of your cleavage ready to spill out of your dress, or if you're trying to put him under your spell.

With eyes as enchanting like yours, he could see it work if the setting was different. Wait- what the hell was he thinking?

"Are you serious?" He growls. "You're not in any place to make demands." He argues, and you shrug at that, before getting up to leave, moving out of sight. "Hey-!" He calls out, walking around the small shed you've climbed up on, unable to spot you. "I'm not getting paid enough for this shit.." He mumbles as he moves a trashcan closer to the side of the building, slowly climbing up onto the roof- to find nothing.

"I'll give it an eight out of ten, but only cause you've got a nice ass, Mister Detective-" You giggle behind him down on the floor, before you laugh. "See you later, Imposter!" You laugh as you run off-

leaving him sighing on the rooftop, questioning his life choices.

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Every day you're out there on your own, is a day where you run the chance of getting yourself killed. And while he's got no emotional connection to you at all, you're still an important witness to his case- so he's got to make sure he can avoid you biting the dust anytime soon.

He spots you near an old fountain that's now worked for years, but still holds water, back turned towards him. From the movement of your ears and the way your tail snaps upwards once, you've clearly notice him already though. "Don't worry-" You chuckle, moving around as he walks closer. "-Won't run off this time." You say, as he's finally close enough to see what you're doing.

The side of one of your legs is severely scratched up, from your ankle straight up to almost your thigh. You're using the water to wash off any dirt, shoes and socks neatly placed next to you. "What happened?" He asks, and you shrug, calmly cleaning yourself as he sits down next to you with a respectful distance.

"Tripped. Fell." You shrug, and it's clear to him that you're not telling him the whole story. Even so, he doesn't need to know it- the only thing he needs to know, is what you've seen the night of the murder.

"We'll get that looked at at the police station." He offers, standing up, and you grin impishly, leaning your head back to look at him above you. "What?"

"You gonna carry me, Mister Detective?" You ask, tail swishing from left to right in your amusement.

"First of all, stop calling me that, second of all, why would I do that?" He asks, putting his hands in his pockets.

"I'm hurt!" You whine, turning around with your now wet legs, holding the scratched up one out towards him. "I can't walk." You say with big sparkling eyes, and he squints his own as an answer to them it feels like.

"It's just scratched, now dry off and put your shoes on." He demands, making you pout and cross your arms.

"No." You answer, and he has to take a deep breath to contain himself.

He's however, internally, a little confused at himself. Why does this whole thing amuse him so much? He's not so much angry or frustrated, but there's something entirely different brewing inside him. "Hm, that angry look doesn't work quite right with human eyes like that." You say, catching him off guard. "You'd have a way better chance without those fake lenses." You offer, and he doesn't react to it at all.

"Get up." He simply says, and you do so, limping on one foot. "Come on, drop the act now. I don't have all day for your games."

"We could already be on our way if you decided to be a gentleman, Mister Detective." You snap back, picking up your shoes and socks.

"I told you to stop calling me that." He bites at you, and you have the audacity to laugh.

"And I told you to carry me, but I guess we both won't get what we want today." You joke, before you're suddenly lifted up over his shoulder, one arm over the back of your knees to simultaneously keep your dress from lifting up by accident. "What are you doing!?" You stammer out now, and he can't help the smirk growing on his lips as he walks towards the police station.

"Being a gentleman, just like you wanted."

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"She definitely needs some sort of protection until we've found and arrested everyone involved." Another officer named Namjoon says. "She's already been targeted judging from her injuries. She's been lucky until now, but luck is a gamble. Until they've been prosecuted, we'll have to keep her under protective surveillance." Namjoon orders, before he looks at Yoongi.

"Absolutely fucking not." He immediately says, but it stays quiet.

There's no arguing with orders given, so he does ends up walking into the interrogation room, where he unlocks your handcuffs. "Oh, Mister Detective!" You perk up as you catch his scent, tail swatting into his face almost as he leans away from it. "Finally! I'm so hungry, I swear.." You whine, eagerly freeing your hands out of the cuffs before you get up, jumping on one leg as the other ankle had been put inside a brace since you've sprained it. "Can you carry me back to the restaurant downtown?" You wonder hopeful.

"You're not gonna go anywhere for a while." He tells you, moving your hair away from your neck. It's weird that the way his hands touch you makes you shiver a little- nervousness bubbling up inside you as he places the leather collar around your neck, something clicking in place in the back. "I'm legally required to inform you that you've been electronically tagged until you're no longer required to be. You'll be staying under both GPS surveillance and house arrest until the case has been officially closed or dropped, and the tag can be used at any given time to locate you or send out police enforcement to retrieve you in case it's deemed necessary. Did you understand everything I just said?" He asks, and you sigh, kicking out your feet stubbornly.

"…yeah.." You mumble with an attitude, pulling on the collar. "Can you loosen it a bit though? You're kind of choking me and I'm not really into that." You say, and he clicks his tongue.

"That's as much as I can do." He tells you after loosening it a little. "You'll get used to it."

"I guess." You snap with your eyes rolling, standing up. "So.. I'm gonna be locked up?" You ask, looking at him.

"You're just under house arrest, like I said." He shrugs. "Close monitoring is what they call it. I'll basically be forced to be your babysitter until the case is finished, but they'll let you stay at your own home unless decided otherwise." He explains, and you suddenly seem a lot more relieved about that.

"Alright I guess." You say, getting up to grab your shoes, still barefoot., before you lift up your arms towards him.

"What now." He asks with an emotionless face, hands in his pockets.

"I still can't walk." You say.

"You can hop around on that thing." He answers, turning around, before he opens the door- though you've sat back down on your chair, arms crossed.

"I don't wanna hop around." You simply say, looking at him challengingly. He pushes his tongue against the inside of his cheek- and you just know, if he did have cat ears, they'd be full force airplane-mode right now to visualize his growing frustration with you.

And you love it- because he's so stuck up in being professional that there's no way he'd ever act on whatever the hell he's thinking inside his head. He's probably used to getting his way, a macho and alpha-male who's deep down so insecure about being seen as a proper male that he-

Suddenly your world is upside-down again as he carries you over his shoulder yet again, and you kick your legs out in denial. "Hey no, that's not fair-!" You whine, tail swatting into his face before he grabs a hold of it in the palm of the hand belonging to the arm holding your legs. "-Let me down you suit-wearing di-"

"Better watch your mouth, sugar, or I'll have to charge you with disorderly conduct." He tells you, and you huff in frustration to yourself as you shut up at that, hanging limply off his shoulder as he walks out of the police station with you like this.

"You think Detective Min is going to be able to handle this on his own?" A young police officer wonders to the leading detective Kim, who just chuckles in his office as he watches the scene unfold.

"Oh, I'm not worried about him whatsoever." He simply says, grinning amused.

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It's in the middle of the night, when the small monitor on his wrist begins to buzz, waking him him from his sleep. He's squinting his eyes painfully against the bright light of the small screen, before he realizes what he's reading.

[TAG ALERT: SUSPICIOUS MOVEMENT DETECTED]

He's instantly on his feet, rushing to put on clothes and shoes before he rushes out his door and onto the streets, where he checks the monitor to know where he needs to go. The tag alert itself isn't something he's surprised about- he's expected you to start wandering around even with your little issue- but you're moving way faster than you should be capable of, indicating that there might be something terribly wrong.

In front of the restaurant you've been living at, the mother with her twin children is already standing outside, pointing down the street with one of her toddlers in her arms, making Yoongi immediately run to where she'd directed him to. There's drag marks on the ground, alarming him further as he starts to smell your fear and panic- fueling his instincts to get to you before anything could happen.

"Let go you crack-smoking rodent-!" He can hear you yell, loud commotion coming from down the street behind a closed grocery store- and it's at least a sign to him that you're still very much alive and kicking.

"Fucking bitch just bit me-!" Someone yells out, as Yoongi rounds the corner, gun drawn.

"D-Town police, hands up where I can fucking see them!" He yells, causing everyone to move and dash off, no shot of his landing to keep them there.

"Nice aim there, Mister Detective." You huff on the ground, rubbing the back of your head. "Thought you guys are trained with those things.." You mumble to yourself, as he walks closer to inspect any damage done to you.

"I'll ignore that comment for now." He says as he checks up on you. "What happened?"

"Broke in, took me from my nest, dragged me here like a bag of rice." You explain, as he lifts your head by your chin, thumb wiping your bottom lip where some blood can be seen. You know he's only trying to figure out if you're hurt or if it's not your blood, but it still affects you considering you're not used to be touched like that.

But another thing you notice, is his eyes- his entire appearance, in fact, as you reach out to move your hand through his hair.

"Hey, stop that.!" He barks out, but you've already done what you wanted to do.

"Huh." You simply hum. "Been wondering if you had anything hidden on your head."

"There's nothing to hide there." He growls almost, standing up instantly before he lifts you up by the back of your shirt. "Now come on. We'll get some of your shit from your place, and then you'll stay with me. I'm not taking anymore chances with you." He orders, and surprisingly, you don't question it, and don't even ask to be carried around, simply hopping alongside him for a while as you make your way down the street.

It's quiet, most people asleep at this point in this part of town, when he sighs, turning towards you to pick you up.

"Come here." He mumbles quietly, tapping his shoulders as he turns around and leans down for you to get onto his back. You silently accept the offer, letting him piggyback you to your home where you stay, and pack a small bag of things you deem necessary for your stay with the detective. He watches quietly from the sidelines as you say goodbye to the young cat hybrids, when he's spoken to from the sides.

"She's a good girl." The husband of the mother tells him. "Just shaped by the circumstances, you know? You bite others or get bitten, as simple as that." He explains.

"I'm not arresting her." Yoongi explains, and the man shakes his head.

"No, no, I know you don't." He exclaims. "But I know you guys always think of us as some sort of criminal bunch that don't follow the rules just to spite you, and we're not." He simply explains. "Just- ah, what does it matter to you I guess.." The man shakes his head, before he walks inside, leading his wife and kids into the safety of the restaurant-

while you walk out of it, ready to be carried away.

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Back at his place, you still haven't really said anything- making him suspicious, as he sits on the edge of his bed, having put up a mattress for you to sleep on close to him in case anything happened at night. "Who were those guys?" He asks, and you shrug, pulling out a rather worn down blanket from your plastic bag.

"Don't know." You answer. "Probably with Takehiko, if I had to make a guess." You shrug, before you pull out one small flower shaped pillow to sleep on- the man mentioned, Takehiko, being the prime suspect of the double homicide. He's well known for selling tampered drugs on the streets of D-Town, as well as blackmailing hybrids by threatening to report them to authorities to be taken into shelters.

Yoongi wants to question if you're alright- if everything's okay with you, but he doesn't. It doesn't concern him, it's none of his business, and the less he gets himself involved with you-

the better it will be for the both of you in the end.

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"Mister Detective!" You call out, and he turns around from his desk to find you rolling around on his carpet on the floor. "I'm bored." You whine, and he sighs, turning back around. "Mister De-"

"I swear to god if you call me that one more time, I'm gonna fucking gag you.!" He growls, turning back around again.

"Kinky." You wiggle your ears, and he takes a deep breath before he crosses his arms. "I'm still bored though."

"Go read something then, I'm here to protect you, not entertain you." He mumbles, before it grows quiet. It makes him turn around to notice you staring into nothingness, before you move to curl up on your mattress instead. It makes him wonder if you're always this stubborn if you don't get your way- or if there's something else going on you're just not telling him.

Either way, he doesn't care, and shouldn't, so he continues working on things he usually doesn't have time for during his workdays, while he assumes you sleep.

"Do you have a tail?" You ask out of a sudden, making him choke on his sip of water as he almost spits it out, cough interrupting him for a good moment.

"What the fuck!" He snarls out, setting down his glass as he wipes his mouth.

"So is that a no?" You wonder, and he shakes his head.

"No!" He says, grabbing tissues to wipe his desk down.

"No- no tail or no- yes tail-" You continue, but he cuts you off.

"No as in, none of your fucking business.!" He growls, clearly agitated at that question. "If your plan is to annoy the fuck out of me so someone else will supervise you, guess what, it's working great."

"Wasn't my intention, actually." You shrug, sitting up now. "Was just curious. You know- since you're clearly a cat too, but also not really. Confused me, that's all." You explain.

"Yeah well, you're not the first." He mumbles to himself, sitting back down at his desk.

"Does it confuse you too?" You ask, and he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Alright, what the fuck does it take for you to shut up?" He asks, looking at you, and you just smile.

"An answer would be cool." You simply say. "Look, I knew a cat hybrid a few years back and he had a super short tail, but he was a really nice guy! Smoked a lot of weed, but still." You explain, and he leans back in his seat, arms crossed defensively. "So?" You ask.

"I don't have one." He tells you.

"Liar." You squint your eyes, ears tilted towards him. "It's short, isn't it?" You ask almost teasingly, and he looks away at that, giving you the answer needed. "Hey, that's totally alright though, no shame in it! Or.." You tilt your head. "Is that why you hate hybrids so much?"

"I don't hate hybrids." He scoffs, shaking his head at you.

"Yeah right, as if it's pure chance that you're known for putting hybrids into shelters left and right." You huff, crossing your arms as well now.

"It's because you belong there if you do not have a legal guardian or permit for independent living." He argues. "I'm only trying to help you out. A shelter provides you food, a place to sleep, education-" He tries to explain, but you're visibly becoming defensive now.

"Oh yeah and don't forget how they hit you with whatever they've got on hand just because you knock over a glass full of juice at the dinner table!" You hiss, annoyed that he's talking about shelters like they're as holy as a church. "Or how they lock you in the shower with ice cold water after you've pissed yourself out of fear as a kitten because everyone just keeps shouting at you-!" You angrily say, and his features remain without any emotion as he realizes you're not just making up examples you might've heard.

Considering the details and the way you tremble saying those things, it's clear to him that you're talking about your experience in a shelter.

"But what is it to you." You suddenly shrug. "You go continue cosplaying as a human I guess." You mumble, turning around to hide under your blanket again, silence engulfing the room for a moment or two, before he gets up and moves around. You don't know what he's doing, and you honestly don't want to know. You also don't know what you thought blurting your childhood trauma out like that would bring you as a result- but that's how you are, and have always been. Impulsive, wild, a little hyperactive and too honest most of the time.

Suddenly, he's close to you, and you hiss in pure pettiness at him, before you stop in your tracks, watching him.

His face is as stoic as ever, sleeves of his shirt rolled up as he wraps a blanket around you, tucking another one into places, and you're confused. "I- what're you doing?" You ask, and he scoffs to himself.

"You're the hybrid, I honestly got no clue how to do this shit." He mumbles, sighing in defeat as he sits back with crossed legs, letting his hands fall into his lap in defeat.

"But you're a hybrid too." You ask confused, though he shakes his head.

"I'm a freak, there's no need to try and sugarcoat it." He shrugs. "Neither here nor there. I don't know what it's like to be put through the shit you might've been, since I never lived life from your perspective-" He explains, "-and I don't know what it's like to be a human either, since you can only hide so much." The detective explains, watching how you correct his admittedly poor attempt at nesting for you.

It's clear to you that he's trying to apologize for his assumptions without actually having to apologize- the detective is a lot easier to read than he might think he is.

"Yeah, I mean you kind of suck at being both, I won't lie." You say, making him look at you with harmless offense. "What? Your nesting sucks ass, and those contact lenses you constantly wear creep me out." You jab at him. "But!" You bark out, leaning closer to him, catching him off guard a little. "Seeing as we're kind of stuck together, I can give you a rundown on being a hybrid!"

"And why exactly would I want that?" He asks you monotonously, and you roll your eyes.

"Because you clearly got some major identity-issues going on?" You tell him as if it's obvious. "And I also clearly can't magically turn you 100% human out of nowhere."

"I don't have Identity-issues-" He argues, while you look at him with an unconvinced gaze, arms crossed.

"Mid-life-crisis then?" You ask, "You do look pretty old.." You mumble at him.

"I'm not old!" He hisses, and you grin suddenly, ears in airplane-mode while your tail swishes from side to side in happiness. "What?" He asks annoyed again.

"Your teeth." You notice, and he instantly closes his mouth, lips pressed firmly together at having them called out like that. "And you're also not wearing those creepy lenses." You continue to point out, tilting your head to the side. "Handsome, I like it." You comment, and for some reason, that's what forces him to stand up and move away from you, all while you fall onto your back, laughing loudly.

"Shut the fuck up and tell me what you want to eat for dinner instead."

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #hybrid imagine #yoongi imagine #min yoongi imagines #yoongi imagines

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pieroulette · 3 months

Text

untitled project, corpse bride (teaser)

author's note. a jungwon 7k oneshot corpse bride inspired with him as a 'psycho serial killer butchering everyone in the train' i did since a year ago, but im not satisfied with it yet but here's a teaser! i haven't written in awhile so it might be crusty rusty lol but yep it will be out this month, hopefully ♡ trying to get back into my momentum.

warning. subtle graphic description of murder, gore. / excessive tagging wouldn't be used but a tagging system of playing card symbols i've created so please read at your own discretion when the full fic is out.

Horrendous. Awful.

Not quite like the picture perfect image he had been fantasising about whenever he'd like to.

But he likes it, more than he would like to.

Awfully likes it.

He just needs to fix it a little more. Just a bit would do.

A bride on her merry way down the aisle of promised vows of happily ever after, a sweetened pursed up glossed lips and irises, couldn't she grow any more sweeter than this? Perhaps, it could. But to him, your shattered delicate state was much more sweet than he could taste, he could even sniff it into his soul—dark, dark, terribly dark soul.

Your bouquet, strip to nothingness where restorations could no longer be made was evident with madness. Or was he, the madness in itself? Perhaps, it is. What is there to deny?

Now the question is, what happened? Was it an arranged marriage on the foundation of a million bucks or perhaps even better, a mine of gold? Or was it actually true love at first sight? A runaway bride with her lover but was unfortunately shot to his death, or maybe, maybe fell to his death down the cliff? Or was it betrayal?

Which one is it?

Which one did actually happen that it has this tremendous effect in making this sweet of a delicate bride stranded somewhere in the city, boarding a train in all her fleeting gloriousness that was all for her cherished husband-to-be to relished on?

How amusing.

Where did your smile go? Your pitch black mascara smeared, tainted with pearl tears. Glossed lips now chapped and dry. The overall makeover he was sure took a horrendous amount of preparation was replaced with an image of a decomposing corpse bride.

But he likes it.

Of course it would, why wouldn't he?

He wouldn't need to go through the tremendous hassle of butchering another one when you're all here, all ready to be his next corpse bride in collection.

It just needs a little more, a little more — effort.

To make you his perfect corpse bride.

Silence.

Nothing came.

Only a deafening silence in constant rhythm of beats, accompanied by (Name)'s rampant heart as the main vocal. The train's intercom and the sound of the train tracks was what served as the instruments, side vocals by the distant screaming ahead the carriage.

All of it, the entire piece of orchestration of all led by the conductor with his baton. However, the conductor was eerily silent. Weirdly, horrifyingly silent.

"Whose bride do we got here?"

A hiccup escape from the bride's throat as soon as those words reverberated from the conductors lips.

Amused by the unusual sight you don't often see everyday especially while boarding a train, the man let's put a satisfying groan as he sat down facing the bride, comfying himself for another break session.

He's sitting down? Are you fucking serious right now?!That particular sentence echoes beneath everyone's mind in varying volumes and expressions. No one knows how long will it take. But everyone was sure as hell didn't want him to sit that long.

Get lost. Just get fucking lost!

But one should know that one single wrong step is only a foolish's mistake.

Therefore, it was a silent agreement of all;

To stay still.

Do not anger the lion.

Or perhaps, the conductor if we were being classy here.

"Since you didn't hear it, I'll repeat my question," Jungwon grins behind the cat mask, "Where's your husband?"

An orchestration of a bloodbath; scream once, your head gone. Try to run, don't bother, just crawl. But Jungwon wouldn't mind a bit letting your head stay intact a little more, he just thought you would look a lot sweeter with your delicate face and piece of dress splattered with the perfect ingredient.

#enhypen scenarios #enhypen oneshots #enha scenarios #enha oneshots #enha x reader #jungwon x reader #yang jungwon #jungwon oneshots #enha imagines #yang jungwon x reader

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anundyingfidelity · 2 months

Text

I'M A RUIN — Soldier Boy/Ben (Part V)

Series summary: After the events of the Seven Tower, you present Grace Mallory a new secret project you're working on already to develop a cure to Compound V. The only problem? You need Soldier Boy for that.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x female reader.

Word count: 2.4k.

Warnings for series: set after S3 (spoilers), some OOC!Ben, some depressed!Ben, angst, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, slow-burn, language, PTSD, reader has Compound V (she's no Vought supe tho), Soldier Boy being an usual asshole, reader is a fucking liar.

Warnings on this chapter: some misogyny and shit (you know who), psychiatry stuff, canon gore, blood, heads exploding, and violence?.

Notes: so I'm sorry for any mistakes during the psychyatric process, I go to therapy and take medication myself so that's all I know plus google research. And be aware of the gore descriptions, I tried to do my best I guess lol. Thanks for reading as always!

this fic tags: @k-slla @syrma-sensei @mostlymarvelgirl @cheynovak @drasticemotions @soldirboy @deans-spinster-witch

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

get yourself in the taglist!

GEN MASTERLIST! — SERIES MASTERLIST!

Part V: Blow Your Mind

With a deep breath, you reviewed the symptoms Soldier Boy barely 'gave' during your session. The list was kind of long on the pages and it read:

Always being on guard for any danger, self-destructive behavior, irritability, angry outbursts, panic attacks, feeling emotionally numb, not trusting anyone, not feeling safe, hypervigilance, intrusive thoughts, fatigue, muscle tension, headaches, back pain...

There was a weird silence surrounding both of you, mostly because of his mood and his change in demeanor from a somewhat friendly asshole to an irritated, unbearable jerk. Once you had started with the uncomfortably stupid questions, he felt threatened. Soldier Boy wasn't actually open to talk about his past and the traumatic experiences he had, and that meant it was difficult to get to know how his body and mind were reacting to all the stress and madness he went through in decades, adding those weeks after Billy Butcher had released him from his nightmare.

He was opposed to speaking directly about how he was feeling, but you knew better that Ben speaking out on his symptoms was not going to happen. So you had to ask each one of them and review some his most harsh experiences directly, in order to receive monotonous responses, limited to: 'yes', 'no', 'I don't know,' and finally 'what the fuck is that?' You took them all as an absolute yes.

He was being defensive and you knew better than to miss anything after he almost burned the whole damn building. And with the small but confident experience you had with psychiatry, you concluded that he needed medication and therapy. As soon as fucking possible.

"Yeah, you have PTSD," you said after a moment and your eyes found his unreadable gaze.

He raised his eyebrows with false surprise. He already heard that shit from Hughie before. "And where's the fucking drugs?"

"For that to happen, you have to stop the weed first."

"I've survived bricks of coke mixed with shit you probably don't know about and you want to take the only thing that's keeping me sane? Fan-fucking-tastic!" he fumed, but you didn't flinch. Not a bit.

"Look, my goal is keeping you safe and making you sane because you definitely are not. Not right now. And since I took you out, you'll follow my process, so stop whining."

He chuckled softly with a bitter grimace on his lips as he shook his head softly. "No, that's not gonna happen."

"I don't care if you agree with that, it's settled," you continued, a triumphant smile plastered on your face.

It was true, you didn't give a single shit. He had to be clean and quit any type of drugs to start the medication but most importantly, to use his blood. Eventually. You were more than aware that he wouldn't die easily, that was proved. And it was just a matter of time to get him to your lab to take samples of his blood and run the necessary research on them while you and your team still continued the studies with the Anti-V prototype. You were only hoping that day would arrive soon enough. Two months sober, that was all you needed from him. And the best part? Soldier Boy didn't have to really know the whole details.

Ben, on the other hand, clenched his jaw so tight and closed his eyes for a moment after hearing your statement. You really were a fucking bitch, letting him fall into the abyss of misery and torture that was his own wrecked mind. He considered your intentions internally, once again for the millionth time. You showed up there all dressed up, playing a rich doctor when in reality you were just a fucking slutty brat, just to tell him he had to stop his usual pot, which you also brought happily when he asked you to. And now, you were taking away the only thing that stopped him from ripping your head off. What a great move.

"That's not smart," he insisted.

"Why not? I have you under my own terms."

Ben tilted his head, studying you carefully. "You can't stop me, doll. None of you can. I'm only here because I find it suitable instead of storming out and catching unnecessary attention."

Ben saw you swallow down, he immediately knew it was because you were angry, not scared. You never really seemed scared of him. And you tried to restrain yourself from slapping him right away. "Are you blackmailing me again, Soldier Boy?"

"Is just a warning," he said, nonchalantly. "Wouldn't want to harm such a pretty thing like you, now wouldn't we."

"Oh well, just a reminder I can also turn on the damn gas if needed," you snapped. The arrogant smirk on his lips fell off and it was your turn to smile back. "We all have hidden cards, right?"

Such an arrogant bitch, he thought.

"So, what's your plan?" you switched the subject to avoid going further into what was troubling him.

"What do you mean?"

"Homelander. You want him dead, don't you? You must be getting ready to fight again..."

His body seemed tense once you pushed him to talk, looking away from you to calm a bit. "Isn't that what all of you want?"

"Any sane person would love that, trust me."

Soldier Boy narrowed his eyes. "Well, I can do it. If I wasn't here... You've seen what he's capable of. Jesus, I've seen it," he bitterly chuckled. "And the kid? He's a fucking menace."

"You've been watching the news, I take that—"

"The fuck I do! Wasn't gonna wait for you to keep me up to date of what the fuck is going on!" Ben shouted, his loud voice roaring in your ears despite the distance.

"I don't want you to stress out more than you do," you said, vacillating. "A lot of things take time, such as you adapting to the twenty-first century."

"I'd love to know when that'll happen," Ben insisted. "Or else, I might just break out."

With a tentative smile, you started to write down the report. "I'm so glad you're talking more during our sessions."

You barely said goodbye to Soldier Boy once you finished your daily session. Your head was aching as you walked down the aisle, barely leaving the empty wing of the building behind. Certainly he was hard to handle and was behaving defensively. Before you left he began asking, or better said, bossing you to get him whatever the kid Hughie told him he needed to learn how to use. Shit like the internet and GPS, he said. You told him he was not ready for it yet.

But you'd give him a golden star for trying and insisting so badly, even if he was against eighty percent of your methods. He was up to something, there was no question for that. He was a soldier, more or less like his given supe name. People like him always had a plan, and underneath his facade, there were more plans backed up with words of honor that you had to track sooner or later.

As you made your way to your office, greeting your lab employees and guards, a disturbing sensation grew up inside. Before crossing the doorframe you subtly looked around, focusing for some reason in the security camera, more time than you'd like to admit. You turned again to finally get inside, facing the entry of your office when hurried steps and a voice stopped you from doing so.

"Doctor!"

Once again you turned on your heels to see your assistant, tablet in hand. Those had to be the results.

"Hey," you began. "You have everything?"

Bianca nodded with a straight face and handed you the tablet. You noticed her tight grip and her somehow trembling fingers when you took the device from her hands. You eyed her a little, she remained with her hands intertwined in front of her, her attention seemed lost. With caution, you continued to check the file.

"Is the patient alright?" you asked, reading the profile of the supe who had the not so good luck of being tested previously.

Solaris was his supe name. And he had the ability to manipulate light and matter with his mind. He had taken part in the program for a month now and this was his first test. As always, each supe you had into the program was low-profile. You were thankful of your team keeping these supes under their gaze to offer them some sort of solution, even after all the deaths you tracked from time to time when a test of the Anti-V was run. More than a solution for them, it was a partial contribution to find it.

You quickly scanned the updated file that Bianca completed for you. He was doing better than projected, his powers were still gone with a forecast of probably coming back within a couple of hours. A deep breath left your lips. Now that was an improvement. It was the first time anything like that happened on any tests. The supe survived, he was weak but the powers were off for a bit. It was a small step closer to your goal. Just a little bit more maybe and it could be done, finally...

"He's resting right now," Bianca interrupted your thoughts. Your eyes were back on her face.

"This is great news, thank you. I trust he's doing okay."

She nodded. "He is."

"Great, I guess I'll see him in a couple of hours," you said about entering your office.

"Wait!" Bianca suddenly closed the little space between both of you. She breathed heavily before stuttering words out. "I, I have- I'm sorry..."

"Are you okay?" you inquired, knowing her behavior was unusual. She swallowed down, turning her gaze away, her hands shaking. Was she sick? "Bianca, what's wrong?"

You tried to reach her cheek with your hand, but she stepped back abruptly, looking at you like if you were a ghost with her eyes red and wet, and a fine layer of sweat adorning her skin.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I'm so sorry," she sobbed.

You walked towards her, worried about what was going on but every step you took, she also gave it back.

"Bianca, what's happening?"

Her back bumped the wall of your office, and finally, she started to cry. "I'm sorry. You have to go, please..."

Your heart started pounding heavily on your chest. "What—"

"Go now! Please... Please don't hurt me..."

"I'm not going to hurt you, Bianca," you whispered, trying to comfort her.

But she continued crying and mumbled incoherent words with eyes shut, while hot tears streamed down her face. She choked on her sobs as she pleaded for her life. But you didn't understand why. You tried to soothe her, reaching her shoulder with your free hand.

And when you placed your palm on her, everything became red. It all happened in seconds. Ropes of warm blood covered your face in an instant. A loud gasp fell from your throat. You felt every drop mixed with brains on the skin of your face, on your neck, and sliding down the skin under your blouse. It was shocking and equally disgusting. And your eyes remained shut, not brave enough to move or see the horrid picture in front of you.

Your palm was still on her shoulder when the remains of her body fell to the ground with a thud. Your trembling hand wiped some blood from your face to open your eyes anew. The wall was painted with her, as much as you were, and it left a trail of blood from where her corpse slid to the floor. Her head long fucking gone.

"Shit."

Shit. Fucking shit. Was it him? It had to be him. There was no reason to doubt it. It was him. And he complied with his promise. Had Homelander been controlling Bianca? Was she the only one? No. There had to be something more. Homelander wasn't easy and he wasn't merciful with anyone. You had to stop him and get Soldier Boy out of the building. Now.

You tried to control yourself as best as you could, walking away to reach anyone, crossing a corner on the hallway, where a guard was casually passing by.

He stopped on his tracks at your sight, covered in blood and meat. "Doctor?"

"I need your help," you whispered.

He nodded quickly and you began explaining with a low, shaky voice.

"I don't know what happened, my assistant was right there with me when— Fuck!"

You walked some inches away when his head exploded, just like Bianca's did. Luckily, or not, this time was inside his helmet. All the red brains and blood were catched by it. Still, you wanted to throw up right fucking there. The remains of his body fell to the floor with a loud sound.

With a deep breath you continued your way, finding guards, lab assistants and agents. If they were alive, their heads popped into your sight. And if it was your somehow lucky moment of the day, you just found their headless corpses lying on the ground, creating a pool of blood you tried to avoid.

The only thing on your mind was taking Ben out of the building. The alarm had been turned on and the annoying sound of it was driving you crazy. Your head ached more than ever as you made your way to Soldier Boy for the second fucking time during the day.

Since there was no time to open the heavy door properly, you used a force field around the metal, moving the door until it slipped enough to let you in. You found him standing in the middle of the room. Eyes dark and alert, with fists and frame ready to fight. He wrinkled his nose once you entered the place.

"What the fuck's going on?" Ben growled, observing your blood covered face.

"We need to go, now. Take your clothes off."

He blinked, taken aback. Before he answered you continued with an explanation.

"I'll turn you invisible, but can't turn your clothes," you ordered, looking in the closet for a sports bag you knew was inside and picking a couple of shirts, pants and boxers as quickly as time allowed you to. Once finished, you turned to Ben again.

"Mind to fucking clarify?" he insisted. You sighed, closing your eyes for a moment.

"Look, I'll tell you everything once we're out," you turned one of your hands invisible for him to see.

Ben snorted with laughter. How ironic, he thought.

"No fucking way."

"Strip. We're leaving."

#soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy imagine #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy fanfiction #the boys amazon fanfiction #the boys series #the boys tv #the boys amazon prime #jensen ackles fanfiction #soldier boy/ben

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vaguesxrrow · 1 month

Note

edwin x alive reader where the reader is like the opposite of edwin sort of? they’re very outgoing and pretty naive and very nice to everyone? they also don’t really have a filter. (established relationship pls) and like edwin is constantly like about to have a ghost heart attack from keeping them out of trouble but he loves them anyway

again, thanks for your patience and thanks for the request !!

edwin / alive!reader - polar opposites

a/n: i hope this is what you had in mind! it was definitely a challenge writing this type of character but i hope i did your idea justice :))

wc: 802

tags: gender neutral reader, alive reader

"aww, a dog!" you cooed, moving to go pet the dog you saw laying on the floor. its eyes shone as it looked up at you, practically begging to be pet.

wordlessly, edwin yanked you by the arm back into his side. at this point, it was second nature to him to tighten his hold on you whenever you drifted from his side for even a second.

"hey!" you protested, pouting.

"do not tell me you do not remember the last time you tried to pet a stray,” he said. “because it was not exactly a forgettable experience.”

you smiled guiltily as you recalled the event.

⌦ --

you and edwin had been in the woods on an investigation for a case - the ghost of a very talkative squirrel had brought it to your attention that there was something, or someone, stealing away the inhabitants of the forest.

suddenly, there was a 'meow', and you immediately looked around trying to find the source of the noise. edwin was nose-deep in his notebook, furiously scribbling away. you had no doubt he was conjuring up some brilliant idea or solution - edwin was just a genius like that.

your face split into a grin when you located the cat. "pspsps," you called. "here, kitty kitty."

it meandered towards you, eyes glowing with innocence.

"edwin!" you called. "come here, there's a kitty cat!"

his head whipped in your direction and his eyes widened. "[name], do not pet that thing-"

"but why not?" you said, reaching out to scritch it behind the ear. "it's so cute- OH MY GOD-"

the cat yawned adorably - or at least that wad what it looked like at first. it's jaw kept expanding, revealing rows and rows of sharp teeth and allowing a foul smell to waft out. you scrambled backwards, falling into edwin. from his pocket, he pulled out another volume you recognised as the spell book. in quick successesion, he muttered a spell at the cat and reduced it to ashes. panting, you tried to catch your breath and calm your speeding heart (which had sped up much quicker at observing edwin's efficiency as he protected you).

edwin looked at you accusingly, a wordless reprimand in the way his eyebrows were raised.

you grimaced. "it was a kitty cat?" you tried.

he snapped the spellbook shut. "after the fiasco with the cat king, i thought you'd be more wary."

"well, i'm sorry that the cats i've encountered aren't usually magical!" you exclaimed. “and besides, we solved the mystery - go team!” you cheered and lifted a hand for a high five.

he rolled his eyes, tugging you along by your raised hand. leaning in to his side, you smiled at him. "thanks for saving me, edwin."

"yes, yes," he said nonchalantly, even as he bit back a smile.

you kissed him. "my knight in shining armour," you cooed.

⌦ --

"it's not my fault i don't have as much experience with the spooky industry as you do," you pointed out, shrugging. "and besides, it's hot when you protect me."

a blush rose to edwin's face as he spluttered. "you cannot just say things like that!"

oblivious to edwin's state of embarrassment, you diverted your attention to a baby passing by in a stroller and waved at it excitedmy. "you two made such a cute kid!" you told the parents. if they looked at you a bit strangely at your choice of wording, you didn't notice.

edwin put his arm around your shoulder, guiding you forward again, before you found another animal to pet or another infant to befriend.

⌦ --

the bell to the butcher shop jingled as you burst through the door, edwin trailing after you. you were balancing a cardboard tray of four coffee cups in your hand, having generously offered to go on a drink run for jenny, crystal, and niko.

"hi, jenny!" you called. "i'm back with my ghost boyfriend!"

jenny slammed her cleaver down on the chopping board, an exasperated expression on her face, as the customer at the counter turned to you questioningly.

"oops." you winced apologetically. "uhh. no ghost boyfriend here! he's, uh definitely not real.. and not hissing at me about subtlety..." you inched closer to the counter, setting down jenny's black coffee cup. "okay, it was nice meeting you, stranger! i like your jacket, and i totally don't have a ghost boyfriend! bye!" you waved to the stranger as you disappeared up the stairs. "see you later jenny!"

edwin followed you into your room, looking at you in half bemusement, half disbelief. "while i am a ghost and cannot suffer from such conditions," he began. "it does feel like i go into cardiac arrest every time i have to keep you out of trouble."

"yeahh, but you looove me," you sing-songed.

he smiled. "i do.”

#dead boy detectives #dead boy detectives fic #dead boy detectives x reader #dbd #edwin payne #edwin payne x reader #edwin payne x you #edwin paine x reader #edwin paine

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just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 6 months

Text

In too deep

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 26

Rated: M

CW: Blood and injury; Mild gore; Monsters; Tentacles; Horror; Light mind control; Referenced murder; Billy Hargrove is his own warning (he's not in this, but guess "who did this"?)

Tags: Eddie Munson whump; Billy Hargrove being an asshole; Lake Monster Steve Harrington; dark Steve Harrington; possessive behavior

Notes: Continued from this microfic. (Tentacle horror for Boxing Day? In this economy? Well, I guess so!)

Eddie’s nose is still bleeding by the time he parks the car on the narrow dirt road, well out of sight between the trees. He wipes at it with the back of his hand, but his entire face explodes with pain, so he quickly stops again. He chances a look at himself in the rearview mirror and groans.

The bruises have spread all the way from the bridge of his nose to the space under his eyes. They've also darkened to a rather impressive shade of purple. To really top things off, his left eye is swollen shut and there's a nasty crust forming on his split lip. He looks, all things considered, a bit like one of the things on his album covers.

“Fantastic…” he mutters at his reflection. “Really fucking-”

The Call hits him without warning, thrums through his blood, his bones, turns the dull throb behind his temples into a jackhammer of painpainpain.

“Jesus fuck!” he swears, grabbing the plastic bag from the passenger seat and hauling open the door so that he can holler into the forest. “I'm coming, your Majesty, calm your tits!”

It's starting to turn dark, but that doesn't bother him. He's made the way through the shrubbery and to the lake so many times he's starting to lose count. What slows him down is the pain in his ribcage, the one that feels like a white-hot knife digging into his lungs with every inhale.

Probably cracked a rib or two, some unhelpful part of him provides. He tells it to shut up. He doesn’t have time for this shit. He's got places to be, lake monsters to feed.

“You're late.”

Steve is lounging on one of the larger rocks near the shore, like some bored young Lord awaiting the arrival of his court jester. If bored young Lords had fangs and eyes glowing like marbles in the gloom and fucking tentacles instead of legs, that is. They twitch impatiently in the water as Eddie shrugs off his shoes and socks.

“Yeah well, excuse me.” he sloshes over, tosses the bag at Steve, who catches it one-handed. “The butcher back in Hawkins caught on to me and put a lock on their dumpster, which means I have to drive to the surrounding towns. So unless you change your opinion on roadkill-”

“Eddie…” Steve says. He snaps his blabbermouth shut, afraid he overstepped. “What happened to your face?”

His tone is conversational, disinterested almost. If it weren’t for the sharp, dangerous edge that Eddie is getting very good at picking up on.

“Oh, um …” He shoves his hands in his pockets defensively. “Nothing. Don't worry ‘bout it, it won't keep me from-”

Something shoves him from behind - something wet and cold - and he stumbles forward with a pained shout. When he blinks his eyes back open, he finds himself pressed flush against the rock - writhing tentacles wrapped all around him. Steve’s hands are cradling his cheeks, those gleaming eyes very close. Eddie tries to struggle, but the tentacles tighten and his broken ribs scream in protest. He whimpers and goes very still.

Steve's mouth curls into a satisfied little smile.

“Now,” he purrs, voice that low rumble that Eddie can feel in his very soul. “Who did this to you? Do not lie to me.”

Eddie screws his eyes shut. There's no getting out of it now.

“Billy,” he rasps. “My neighbor. We had … a bit of a disagreement.”

“Disagreement?” Steve hums. His claws scratch at Eddie’s temples, almost tenderly.

“On whether or not he should pay for his drugs.” Eddie gulps. “It's okay, I've got it handled, you don't need to-”

“Hm,” Steve makes, a curt, displeased thing. Eddie yelps again as he is suddenly released and almost tumbles into Steve’s naked chest. “You know what? I don't feel like eating your garbage today.”

He tosses the plastic bag into the shallow end like something vile. Eddie watches slack-jawed how it floats in the water, red clouds spreading all around it.

“You asshole! D'you have any idea how long it took me to-”

“Silence.” Steve grabs his jaw, hard. “You've been feeding me scraps too long, and I've had it with your excuses. You will bring me this Billy.”

“Wha-?” Eddie can practically feel himself go pale. “But … how the hell am I supposed to do that? You don't know that guy, I can't just casually stroll up to him and ask him on a cute little date to Lover's Lake, he'll-”

Steve presses a cold, membraned finger to his lips and Eddie goes silent.

“Aw, pet,” Steve coos, voice full of fond condescension. “You'll figure it out, I know you will. You're nothing if not resourceful.”

The finger swipes over Eddie’s lip, gathers a drop of blood. Eddie watches with hitched breath how a long, pointed tongue darts out and licks the digit clean.

“Try to look at it from the bright side. I get to feast like a king, and you get rid of another nuisance.” Steve winks at him, almost boyish in his mirth, and one tentacle comes slithering up to caress the curve of Eddie’s ass. “There's only winners here, right?”

All my holiday drabbles

#steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie brainrot #steddie fanfic #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #steddie holiday drabbles #steddieholidaydrabbles #hype's holiday drabbles

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targaryenrealnessdarling · 4 months

Text

It's Who We Have | Part Four

Summary: After Nut's funeral, Billy and his estranged friend share some choice words | Word Count: 3.7k~ | Warnings below the cut!

General Taglist | Billy Washington Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Warnings: language, mentions of neglect, mentions of bullying and sexual assault, islamophobia

“Take those fucking sunglasses off, you look like a prick.”

Billy winced when he knocked his right hand, bandaged and bloody, holding it close to his body, the other pulling the sunglasses that Paddy hated so much off his face.

“Why didn't you call your sister?”

Billy scoffed, “Like I'm gonna be the first to tell her. She'll find out in her own time.”

Paddy simply sighed from behind the steering wheel, his fingers twitching with the need to say something, but unsure how.

“A fucking Halal butchers? Who put you up to do that?”

Now it was Billy's turn to sigh, “nobody.”

“Oh yeah? Nothing to do with these English Flag-fucking-Crusaders, whatever they're called.”

“Listen mate, please, I don't need this right now.”

Paddy simply let out a frustrated breath, concentrating on now tailgating the car in front of him. Billy slumped in the passenger seat of his friend's car, feeling that Paddy amongst the little remaining group of friends, would be the least judgemental.

Turns out that wasn't true.

Billy resisted to cringe when he heard Paddy's voice on the other line when he'd rung him from the police station, hoping at least that he felt worse than he looked. And he looked pretty shit.

He thought, Lana wouldn't be faring much better.

He could feel the deep, dark judgement and anger seeping off Paddy, in the way he gripped the gearstick and his grunts of annoyance at usual menial things.

God fucking help him if she ever found out.

She'd pretend she didn't want to kill him, but would work on a way to do it in her head before she ever said it.

If he was being honest with himself. He'd had far too much (albeit not as much as Lana) and was angry, upset, annoyed. And he wasn't even sure what at.

At the time, it was easy to be annoyed at anything.

Just so happens the Halal butchers was right in front of him.

“Not told your sister then?” Paddy prodded whilst stopped at a red light.

Paddy was usually so sing-songy in the way he spoke, something carried down through his Irish family. And though he was technically the first of his generation to be born in England, the few times Billy and their mates had gone down to his for drinks, you’d be forgiven for thinking you were right back in the bustling centre of Londonderry, with the statue of Mary placed ceremoniously on the mantelpiece, as well as every shelf in every bedroom.

Not that Paddy himself would describe himself as religious.

Since meeting him in the first year of College, Billy had always tagged him a sort of ‘class clown’. It was easy to laugh when Paddy was around. And whether he meant to or not, he was just funny.

But here, sat beside him, being interrogated very much like he had felt the night before by the police officers who’d picked him up, that aloof, silliness that Paddy most often wore, was nowhere to be found.

“Not yet,” Billy answered simply, trying not to fiddle with the damp bandages around his hand. “You gonna?”

Billy shrugged, feeling as if this were only the beginning of the questions that he was likely to get from those closest around him.

And Paddy need not even say what was on his mind, his fallen expression of disappointment was enough as he pulled up beside Billy’s flat and pulled the handbrake up.

“Get out my fucking car.”

The door opened a good ten seconds after she’d knocked, and when Libby’s bright, blonde hair appeared in the doorway, a phone in one hand, her friend looked nothing short of shocked.

“Come in, just on FaceTime with Ami,” she muttered, ushering her in without question and closing the door, “No, no, I’m still here, carry on.”

“So anyway, this old Chinese lady is like ‘oh my god, I love your hair, you’re so lucky’ but she wouldn’t stop fucking touching me!”

She couldn’t help but grin as she heard Ami’s ramblings over the phone and Libby’s dramatic replies, all while they filed into the kitchen to put the kettle on.

“Oh dear, Ami, however will you survive. There’s worse things than people touching your hair.”

“Not fucking much,” Ami answered with a huff, “anyway I’ve gotta go. Hi and bye, misery-guts!”

Libby snickered and turned her phone so that she could at least wave goodbye on the camera. To which she gave halfway between a playful smile and a grimace, and stuck two fingers up at her instead.

Once Libby hung up she snorted, “sarky bitch. Milk, no sugar?”

She nodded, “Yup, please. As long as you’re not too busy acting like a proper sister-in-law.”

Libby scoffed, handing one of her Emma Bridgewater mugs to her and leant back against the kitchen counter, “Abi has yet to pop the question yet, friendo.”

She hummed a laugh, tapping her fingernails against the mug.

“So…you saw him.”

“Unfortunately, yes. At the wake…”

“Jesus Christ. Billy there?”

She huffed a mirthless laugh again, “Unfortunately yes again. Billy punched him in the face.”

Libby cocked her head, a sort of worried grimace on her face, “Cute, I guess? Or stupid.”

The tea burned her tongue, but she was eager to do something to occupy herself, otherwise her thoughts would, “Probably a bit of both.”

“What is the deal with you and Billy?”

There it was. The golden question. An answer she’d like to know herself.

She sighed, “Libs-”

“I mean, you two used to be thick as thieves and then bam suddenly he can’t talk about you anymore. And now that you’re back, which I love by the way, it’s like whenever he sees you he sees a fucking…ghost or something.”

Suddenly Libby’s bright eyes seem much too intense, and she has to look between her feet to get a grip of herself, sighing as she taps her fingertips on the mug of tea she holds.

“Listen I know he’s not always been there for you in the way you needed-”

“It’s not- I don’t know. I always had this feeling like…he didn’t really like me, just tolerated me.”

She doesn't need to look back up at her friend to know there's a sad expression there. And the moment is so utterly quiet, that she can hear the neighbour next door mowing their lawn, both the smell and haze of fresh grass drifting lazily through the air.

It reminded her of Cranstead Fields.

Fuck, why did everything have to circle back to him.

“Billy is a lot of things. Cruel is not one of them,” Libs sighed, “maybe just stupid.”

When they both gave an exhausted and yet relieved laugh, the tension somewhat shifted.

“I love him, Libs. I don't know if I should, but I do.”

Her friend opened her mouth, about to reply or add something. But her lips clamped shut immediately.

“God, you're both insufferable,” Libs laughed, crossing her arms, “you two need to be adults and talk it out. Or do some therapy on the NHS, I know that really helped you.”

She rolled her eyes, “knowing my luck I’d have fucking Becky as my therapist. If that happens I'm face timing you from the edge of a bridge before I jump off.”

“Dramatic.”

“And don't mummy me, doesn't suit you.”

“Suits Abi just fine.”

“Ew, Libs.”

Libby had tried her best to make her feel better, and for that, she was nothing short of grateful. Some good needed to work its way back into her life at the moment. And the way her loving friend deemed fit to lift the mood, with a small glass of white wine, was not such a bad thing either.

In truth, she can’t help but wonder, that if she’d met Libby while she was at secondary school, she likely would’ve walked right past her.

Libby had always been popular, not by some maniacal grasp to preteen power, but through her bright, happy smile, stellar sense of humour and ability to make friends with just about anyone.

If Libby was the explosive, firework-like presence in school, then she was like a ghost, merely living between planes of existence, enough to interact with things and people around her, but not enough to leave any lasting impression.

Or at least that’s what she thought.

They were through the second episode of Gogglebox and nearing the end of the little glass of white when her phone buzzed in her back pocket.

“Hang on, Libs. Lana’s calling me.”

Libs’ head pulled back as if in shock, “what she calling you for?”

She shrugged and pulled the phone to her ear. Lana sounded hurried and stressed, like she was holding too many things in her hands.

“Sorry to call you like this.”

“No, you’re alright, what’s up?”

“Listen, I know you and Billy aren’t exactly on great terms but do you mind checking on him? I was blackout last night and dunno what happened to him.”

“Uh- yeah, course.”

“Cheers. I’ll ping you his address.”

As soon as she hung up, Libby was instantly wide-eyed and nosy, asking a barrage of questions. All the while she tried to give any vague answer she could, scrolling her contacts for Paddy’s name.

“Jesus Christ, who you calling now?”

She held a finger up, “Hiya, Pad. Yeah I'm alright. Listen, you've not seen Billy about have you? What do you mean why am I asking you, you've still got Billy’s live location from that time he got lost having a piss at the club like two years ago, remember? You're my private investigator.”

She shot Libby a glare when she loudly sipped her wine loudly, to fill the silence.

She furrowed her brows, “when you say don't be mad, it insinuates I'm going to be mad, Patrick.”

Libby watched her friend's face fall, nearly losing grip on her phone held at her ear, and a sudden eerie silence when she heard Paddy's low voice on the other end.

“No, I won't tell him you told me, Lana asked me to go check on him anyway. Cheers, bye.”

She didn't spare Libby a look, her body suddenly pent up and eyes aflame. And her friend knew she meant business when she polished off the last slither of her wine before pulling herself up.

“Well?” Libby asked as she watched her pull on her coat hastily, getting frustrated when the zip wouldn't do up the first time.

“I'll tell you later, just know, I want to fucking kill him.”

Year 8 seemed to exist in a realm suspended between the innocence of Year 7 and the weighty responsibilities of Year 9, ensnared in the relentless passage of time. School, once brimming with purpose, now felt hollow, as did much else. Yet amidst the drudgery of daily life, the mundane trek home stood out as particularly grating, a constant reminder of the mundanity that had settled in.

Her mother's refusal to heed the school's advice regarding HPV jabs only added to the melancholy of the year. It was Miss Slator, her form tutor, who provided a semblance of maternal care, just as Mr. Thornby had the year before, acting as a paternal figure. Their concern and support, though appreciated, couldn't dispel the sense of disquiet that lingered within her.

The memory of receiving her first HPV jab during lunchtime, accompanied by Miss Slator, was tinged with discomfort, both physical and emotional. The sharp sting in her arm served as a poignant reminder of her vulnerability, exacerbated by the absence of her mother's reassuring presence.

She fiddled with the hem of her skirt, jumping out of her skin when Billy’s bag slumped down on the spot next to her.

“Is it sore?” he asked, huffing down on the bench beside her, looking out at a group of teens playing footie at Cranstead Fields, despite the looming grey cloud hanging above them.

She rolled her eyes, “course it hurts, you twa-ow!”

It was light, and friendly, the way he punched her left arm, the way all the boys had been doing to all the girls at school after their jabs. But it still fucking hurt.

“Dick.”

Billy smiled boyishly, pulling a bar of chocolate out his coat pocket.

“That for me?”

He nodded, as if it were obvious, “for being so brave.”

“Don’t be sarky,” she scoffed, smiling albeit gratefully and snatching the chocolate from him.

She folded it over in her fingers, the bright purple packaging tempting her to eat it now. And she didn’t say it, but she thought she might save it for later, so that she’d be less hungry if her mum chose to not cook any tea.

It was a sad thought to have, that she might rely on it.

“How is safeguarding,” he asked calmly, not reacting when her wide, panic-stricken eyes turned to him.

“How-”

“Saw you in Mr Healy’s office,” he interjects, pushing the blonde strands of hair off his forehead, waiting for her to say something.

Billy was almost disappointed at her response.

The soft glaze of her eyes, wide and embarrassed, but near longing to lift the weight off her conscience. The way her shoulders dropped to make herself appear small. Crossing her arms, rubbing them lovingly, like she was desperate for some semblance of touch like this.

He saw the bob of her throat and braced himself for those large thick walls she’d built before she even said it.

In that moment, as the crushing burden of her secrets threatened to suffocate her, she found a temporary reprieve in the simple act of confiding, even if just for a fleeting moment. And wanted to, so readily to trust him. Despite her best efforts to fortify her emotional barriers, the ache in her heart intensified, a visceral reminder of the profound yearning for the connection she so deeply desired.

“Dunno what you’re talking about.”

One could be mistaken for thinking it was early afternoon by the time she pulled up behind Billy's battered Vauxhall, it was still so bright outside.

With a heaved sigh, she threw her bag over her shoulder and locked her car, having to take steady, easy breaths to calm herself as she crossed the road to Billy's flat. Cigarette smoke clung to her clothes as she crushed it beneath the heel of her shoe, the smoke burning in her lungs and the lingering nagging at the back of her head that at some point, she had to make a point of giving up.

With a click, a man in a tracksuit and a cap slid out the door that led to the flats behind the row of shops. His eyes were hidden under a shadow, taking wide, calculated steps as if to place as much distance between him and the property he’d just come out of as possible.

As if being caught doing something he shouldn’t.

A shiver crept up her spine when they passed one another, and his stark eyes lit up under the tip of his cap, peering at her in suspicion.

She couldn’t shake that feeling even as she ascended the stairs to Billy’s flat. The sizzling nerves didn’t even seem to replace it.

Her stomach felt sick with emotion when he answered the door in tatty looking clothes, his shirt pilled up from years of use, hair somewhat greasy and an old, bloody bandage around his fist.

Billy took up the doorway with his height, his arm stretched across it in a gesture of defence. But it seemed as if when he laid his darkened and tired blue eyes on her, she saw him shrink.

“Can we have a word?” She asks, her tone flat in a manner that tells Billy he knows exactly what she's here for. In a manner that was tired, disappointed and saddened in equal measure.

“Fuck’s sake…”

Billy’s flat smelled of mildew, proven by the fact his clothes were still damp on the airer and all his windows were shut with the curtains drawn. His shoes were piled up in the hallway, one on top of the other, clearly favouring a particular pair that sat above them, as if he couldn’t be bothered even with the choice anymore.

He offered her a cup of tea, no doubt in an attempt to calm the rocky waves of panic surging through him. It was clear Billy was embarrassed by the state of his flat, as he glanced at her every now and then to make sure her expression was not one of judgement. The only one he found was one of despair.

Billy looked at his friend as if she was other-wordly. The world he’d made within the tight confines of his flat, did not have space to fit the idea of her inside of it.

His shoulders slumped, and the words that came out his mouth did not seem like his own as he sat awkwardly on his sofa, even that, covered in old clothes and crap. And all she could do was shake her head and peer out through his thin curtains, not able to look at the person she thought she had known once upon a time.

Both of them felt it.

The surge of heat that flooded their veins before an argument.

“I don’t need you to parent me. I’ve had enough of that already.”

She wanted to laugh bitterly at that, but managed herself somehow, “maybe you need it, Billy. These new mates of yours don’t seem to be doing you any favours, do they? Was it their fab idea for you to do it? Hm?”

“Does it matter?” he replied dismissively.

“Can't you see you're being fucking groomed, Billy? Fucking hell, what would Ami and Abi think?”

Their friends.

Did it mean nothing anymore?

“They’re different.”

“Oh, are they? Until they’re not. Until they do something to piss you off and then all of a sudden it’s ‘people like them’. What about their mum? Because fucking newsflash Billy, she wasn’t born here either, you’ve not got a fucking clue!”

He is quiet. His jaw tight, body wound so tight that even she could see his frustration.

“What’s next? Lobbing a brick through Mrs Ahmed’s window?”

He scoffs, his hair slipping off his head as he shakes it, “I fucking hate when you’re like this.”

“Like what? Speaking fucking sense?” she laughs bitterly, “I'm alright with that if I'm the only one holding you accountable!”

“When you’re stubborn.”

Billy needn’t ever shout.

She could sense his deep annoyance in not only his gaze, but his voice.

And she thought with anger in her veins, burning with fury, that what did he have to be annoyed about?

“Who the fuck even are you Billy.”

It came out her mouth without even really trying. She didn’t know if she regretted it or not when she saw his expression. He was still defensive, that much was clear, but in the way he looked at her, it seemed as if he was grasping for something.

“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” she asked, almost desperately.

“Because I’m not used to this version of you.”

“Well, sorry Billy, I grew up. I of all people wish we could go back to the way we were, but here we are, fucking adults, avoiding each other like fucking teenagers!”

“There’s no need to shout.”

“Well give me something then!” she exclaims, “something, to let me know you give a shit.”

“Fucking hell, I punched the guy who broke your fucking heart, is that not enough?!”

“Now who’s the one shouting,” she claps back with venom, “And so what, you-”

She stops herself, her face falling somewhat. And when she’s quiet so suddenly, Billy’s bright eyes meet hers, hands clasped and rested on his knees, leaned forward on the sofa as if to appear smaller. His expression is confused and irritated in equal measure.

“What did you say?” she asks in a whisper, blinking slowly.

“I…punched the guy who broke your heart?”

She feels the lump form in the back of her throat, her eyes curiously flitting between either of his, trying to understand what he is thinking without having the courage to ask.

Billy shakes his head, “I mean- is that not what he did? He fucking dropped you like you were nothing.”

Silence envelops either of them for a solid few seconds. So long that it’s suffocating, like the walls are closing in around them for the first time in years. And for a split second, with her eyebrows furrowed in pain and hands shaking, she looks just as she did on the last day Billy saw her at college.

“You don’t know, do you?”

What she says then sends a full-body shiver that begins at the base of Billy’s neck and clatters all the way through his limbs. Blood turning cold immediately.

What does he not know?

He finds himself restless at the idea. That he was perhaps supposed to know something, but irrevocably doesn’t. That everyone else is aware of something so obvious.

He didn’t know it wasn’t just some nasty breakup.

He didn’t know that photos and videos of her in her most vulnerable moments were sent around the school, rumours circulating on MSN, hateful messages scribbled on her desk. And that she didn’t have the courage to tell anyone that the guy who had humiliated her and dragged her name through the mud, still had the indecency to rub it in her face.

He didn’t know that because of what happened, she nearly left school entirely, but that it was so late into the school year, she just waited it out before college. But that those few months, were absolute torture.

Billy never grasped the magnitude of her anguish—the nights spent in tears, the days clouded by despair. The sanctuary of school became a battleground, where every glance felt like an accusation, every whisper a condemnation. Yet, she soldiered on, clinging to the hope of escape, even as her spirit withered under the relentless assault.

He didn’t know that her mum berated her for weeks, even months. Didn’t give her bus money and didn’t wash her clothes, in what she perceived was fair punishment, thinking her daughter had purposely sent suggestive photos and videos to a random boy at school.

She had hoped he knew... but now faced with the daunting task of revealing her truth, she recoiled, sickened by the prospect of laying bare the depths of her suffering.

But in all that, as tears made her vision go blurry, a watery smile lifted to her lips at the memory of when he’d come to her at Cranstead Fields. He hadn’t been pushy and simply accepted that she needed comfort. And a friend. She remembered wetting his school shirt with her tears, and the smell of the detergent his mum used, with jasmine fabric conditioner pods. To which she thought now with delight, that he still smelled the same.

He was like home to her.

Home.

What was home now?

“Oh Billy…” she whispered through a choked, almost bitter laugh, “...it’s sweet…that you did all that just because you thought he broke my heart.”

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd@blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @hb8301@jamespotterismydaddy @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian@randomdragonfires @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince @thetrueblackheart @tsujifreya @urmomsgirlfriend1 @valeskafics @valleyof-goldenlilies @virtualsweetsqueen

#billy washington x y/n #billy washington x oc #billy washington x reader #billy washington #billy washington x you #billy washington fanfic #billy washington trigger point #trigger point fanfic #trigger point series #trigger point #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell characters #billy washington fanfiction #billy washington smut #billy washington angst #trigger point billy washington #billy washington fic #billy washington fluff #billy washington x fem!reader

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goldenromione · 6 months

Text

My Opinions on Harry Potter Ships (controversial but not for shock value)

I have tagged the ships that I talk negatively about under anti, so check the tags before you read this. Keep in mind there are a few here that I feel iffy on but did not tag as anti.

(Shrug means I prefer them sometimes or specifically in one medium over another (book vs. movie), check means I love them in every version, X means not at all)

Golden Era

Drarry: 🤷‍♀️ The appeal comes and goes; the further from canon it gets, the more I like it, but in a canon compliant universe I don't. Still, they were immensely important to each other growth wise, and I enjoy seeing the different interpretations of that.

Romione: ✅ One of the all-time greats. Sure, the books are kinder to their relationship, but the movies aren't completely lacking in the way some people would like to believe (newsflash: it's not just Ron's character that was butchered in the movies).

Dramione: ❌ I wouldn't be exaggerating when I say that finding out someone ships Dramione makes me lose respect for them. If you understand Hermione at all, and not the self-insert version of her that the fandom has created, you'd know that she would never.

Linny: ✅ I enjoy them, but specifically the book version of them that features Ginny as Luna's weirdness translator and Luna as the cryptid hanging out at all the Gryffindor parties under Ginny's arm. Platonic or romantic, they are a great match.

Deamus: ✅ Love, love, love. The fact that they are one of the few characters that don't have a confirmed marriage by the end of the series just adds to the delusion that they ran off together. Hard to find any content of them that I don't like.

Hinny: 🤷‍♀️ Harry finding happiness and a family after everything he was forced to go through is all that matters to me, so I never want to rain on his parade but, again, their relationship is so much better in the books. Ginny, specifically, is better in the books, but I digress.

Marauders

Jily: ✅ I hate seeing them shipped with anyone else. Their love literally saved their child. They're written in the stars: stag and doe. They were in each other's lives longer than they weren't. Plus, you know who else tried to separate Jily? Voldemort.

Wolfstar: 🤷‍♀️ I started out as a decent fan, but my appreciation has slowly fizzled out. Their dynamic is more interesting when you see them for how they really are: the last of their group. They aren't the ones they wanted, but the ones they got.

Jegulus: ❌ I have little else to say about it other than that I miss when it wasn't being shoved down my throat and washed down with Lily-slander.

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 10 months

Note

Hey, I'm sorry if this comes off as strange but would you mind tagging top surgery posts? Its a fear of mine since a friend of mine had a butchered operation of it, hearing anything about it reminds me of that ☹️

I completely understand if its not doable, and I really hope I don't come off as a bad person for asking I'm sorry if I do

I'm sorry about your friend! I pretty much only hit the big, commonly tagged triggers on here, because otherwise my tag list would quickly get unmanageable and I would forget half of it, but you can now filter text just like you can tags!

Add it under Filtered Post Content and anything with the phrase "top surgery" in it will be hidden just like it would if it were tagged

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zhongrin · 1 year

Text

ꦱꦸꦒꦺꦁꦢꦭꦸꦱꦪꦁ

◇ characters ◇ kaeya

◇ tags ◇ gn!reader, fluff, hurt/comfort, reader is sick and clingy (don't we all-), kaeya is so soggy and in love it's making my teeth hurt

◇ a/n ◇ happy holidays, all!! this is a fic for the genshin impact x reader secret santa 2022 event and is dedicated to @maaarshieee! hi there! we've never really interacted before but i found your blog because of the event and can i just say, your works are so sldkfjlskjdflsd. i wish this was longer but i am out of writing juice and i am hoping that you like the finished product :3

my javanese is super rusty so i might have butchered that title but yk what i am curious how many people can read it lmao no google translate to help you this time- ok fine i'll stop being mean- [en] translation of that title is 'good night, dear'.

𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ⬙ 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

“kaeyaaaa....”

“darling, go back to bed.”

it’s hard to take kaeya seriously when he’s standing in your kitchen with an apron and a ladle in his hand as he nurses a pot of porridge bought from good hunter this morning.

you pout and wobble towards him, eyes droopy and face flushed from your fever. with his swift reflexes and subtle display of precise control he has over his vision, the cavalry captain freezes off the fire on the stove before catching your body in his embrace. he's going to struggle to light the fire again without diluc's help, but your safety matters most and he doesn't think you'd appreciate your house burning down even in your delirious state.

you then proceeded to nuzzle him affectionately; he’s cool and smells good and comfy - the perfect companion for your feverish self, “missed you.”

“am i so attractive you crave my presence after just ten minutes of being deprived of it, hmm?”

you can’t see it, but a bashful, fond smile spreads unto your boyfriend’s lips when you readily nod against his chest. your sick self might be ten times needier than the normal you and is quite a handful, but he personally adores the way you oh-so-naturally seek and cling to him. it tells him that you need him even when you’re not in a rational state - that you trust him to care for you when you’re most vulnerable.

he’s wanted. he’s needed. by you. the light of his life.

but while he’s so smitten by your endearing self, he, unfortunately, also has to play the bad cop to ensure that you recover well under his care.

“just five more minutes, sweetheart. go lie down and i’ll bring you some food, then you can take your medicine.”

“mmm… don’ wanna…”

“do you want me to revoke your cuddling privileges?”

you look up at him with such horror in your expression, and he urges himself to not break his serious facade. had you known the way you're able to easily tug on his heartstrings, he’s sure it would be the end of him. it takes every bit of his determination to not crumble upon the crestfallen look in your pretty eyes and the slight downturn of your lips.

“… i’m sorry,” you finally say after a few beats of silence, understanding that he's not going to change his mind.

“you don’t have to apologize, love. just go lie down, and i’ll be with you in a se-”

“your day off,” a sniffle leaves you, “our date. i ruined it.”

your guilt isn’t unfounded - the knights of favorius doesn’t exactly have holiday breaks or frequent day offs. after all, disturbances of any kind still happen. rain or sun, summer or winter, hilichurl attacks and nefarious crimes threatens mondstadt and its citizens at all times. and so as the official protectors of the nation, it's only normal for them to be on standby at all times. and yet, now that your knightly boyfriend had managed to take his hard-earned vacation…

the edges of his eyes soften and kaeya hums, raising his hands to cup your burning cheeks and wipe the tear that had just fallen off the side of your eyes. you sigh in contentment at the feeling, and this time he’s unable to hold himself back from pressing a long kiss to your forehead; the cold sensation a pleasant distraction from the burning temperature of your body.

“is that what you’re so worried about? we can always go on dates another time,” he quickly adds when he sees you about to protest his claims, “and i don’t mind taking care of you on my day off. think of it as a repayment for all those times you nurse my hangovers.”

“but…”

“[name], darling,” the teasing lilt in his voice is nowhere to be found when he tilts your chin so your gazes meet, “it’s really fine. as long as we’re together.”

you give him a weak smile and shift to stand on your tiptoes, bringing your lips together in a sweet ki-

“-oops, naughty, naughty,” kaeya laughs from behind his palm that had covered his lips, effectively blocking your attempt at a kiss. upon seeing how offended you look, he laughs harder, hand moving to pinch your puffed up cheeks, distorting your series of grumbled protests. “i’m sorry, sweetheart, but i don’t want to get sick. sharing germs aren’t exactly caring, you see?”

“bu’ i wan a kith-” your plead is muffled against his hands and a fond look crosses your boyfriend’s face.

he’s always been weak to any sort of requests you make, especially if said request involves your ardent desire to profess your affection to him. it took him quite a while to feel worthy of your love in your early stage of relationship, but he has learned to enjoy them immensely now - although that’s not to say that he appreciates them any less. you’re still as precious to him as the first day he fell in love - if not more -now that he’s had a taste of how it feels to belong to you.

“when you're fully recovered, i’ll give you as many kisses as you want.”

“…… promise?”

“promise.”

“okay…”

“good, now that that’s settled - would you like to be carried to bed, your majesty?” your suave knight is back with the question, pearly white teeth glinting as he gives you a dashing smile.

you don't bother answering him verbally, but he still readily held you up the moment you latch onto him like an adorable sloth. it’s a short walk to the bedroom from your kitchen, and you spend the short time of tranquility nuzzling onto the knight’s shoulder, eyes closing peacefully as the feeling of safety wraps you in a blanket.

kaeya lowers you onto your bed gently, helps you adjust your pillow, and tugs the blanket up to cover your body. only when you’re tucked in comfortably your boyfriend allows himself to lovingly pat your cheek and places a kiss on the crown of your head, murmuring something under his breath; a language unknown to most and lost to time.

“what’s that one mean?” you ask drowsily, not recognizing the phrase of this specific one. you can recognize khaenri’ahn for i love you and be safe simply because of kaeya’s routinely reminders, but this one sounded foreign in your ears.

“it means ‘get well soon’,” he says as his palm rests against your cheek, further cooling the warm skin.

“i will,” leaving him with the promise, you drift onto the land of dreams.

kaeya stays for a few minutes and tells himself that it’s only so he’s sure that you’re asleep - and most definitely not because he missed your presence just as much as you did. eyeing your soft, relaxed sleeping face, he holds back the urge to press a quick kiss to the corner of your lips and redirects his target to the side of your temple instead.

another phrase falls from his lips; another routine, although he’s positive you wouldn’t recognize the words either, because he’s always said it whenever you’re sound asleep. it’s a little different than the others, only because in the language, there are a few meanings to those words.

good night.

sleep well.

i’ll be there with you when you open your eyes.

#gixrsecretsanta2022 #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #rin writes #kaeya #kaeya alberich #kaeya x reader

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skylarstarlight · 1 year

Text

@guildsarchitect hope you don't mind but this tag you put under my ask

made my brain spin at rapid speeds and I actually drew something- (tumblr butchered the hell out of the quality)

Pathetic wet dog of a man just wants his boyfriend back </3

Poster under the cut

#my art #drawing #fanart #art #illustration #doodle #bsd #bungo stray dogs season 4 #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #suegiku #bsd jouno #bsd tecchou #bsd tetchou #jouno saigiku #tecchou suehiro #tetchou suehiro

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coopigeoncoo · 1 day

Text

Meat Cute, Chapter 7

Chapter Links: First, Previous <- Chapter 7 ->Next

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader

Rating: Mature (rating may change)

Tags: Canon-typical violence, Cannibalism, Reader is a cannibal, Fake/pretend relationship, Puns, Raccoon Reader, Tags may change, Swearing

---

In a bid to appear more approachable to the denizens of the Hazbin Hotel, Alastor enlists the help of his favorite butcher to step into the roll of an (after)lifetime: pretending to be his paramour!

---

“You can't deny we have so much in common,” Alastor's grinned, his smile somehow, impossibly, widening even farther as he leaned down on the counter on a single elbow; his nose nearly touching yours as you stood frozen in place. “I'm somewhat of a Butcher myself, you know.”

–--

A story where one thing is certain: the steaks are never bigger than when love is on the line.

---

Continue reading below, or follow the link to A03!

Rosie had arranged for Hal to escort you across town for the event.

“You'd be an easy target, all gussied up and fancy looking,” she'd explained. “And Alastor is nothing if not a gentleman. He'll see ya’ home safe.”

So Hal had put on a bow tie and his least blood stained trousers and the two of you had set off towards the Hazbin Hotel. It took longer than expected thanks to your heels making the pitted sidewalks an absolute terror to negotiate, but a good number of people were still entering the hotel by the time you arrived.

“Ya’ got knives on ya?’” Hal grumbled.

“I've got two in my purse, one strapped to my leg, and Ms. Rosie leant me her sharpest hat pin,” you say, reaching up to fiddle with the accessory in question.

“Attagirl,” Hal says, squeezing the arm laced through his in approval as you passed through the gates and meandered along the cobblestone driveway. Hal prattled on as you drew closer to the entrance, seemingly overflowing with paternal advice, but it was hard to focus on his words over the thundering of your heartbeat in your chest.

“- and a kick to the pussy hurts just as much as a kick to the dick.”

“Uh-huh,” you murmured distractedly, reaching into your beaded pearl clutch to pull out the invitation with shaking hands.

You handed it to the doorman, some sort of egg-like creature with a large chunk of shell missing from the top of its head, providing a clear view of a pulsating yolk where its brain should be. The egg man called out your name to the uncracked egg beside him, who scribbled on a clipboard wildly before shooting you a dopey smile and thumbs up.

“Don't stay out too late,” Hal said gruffly, patting your hand reassuringly as he released your arm. “You're opening tomorrow.”

Alone for the first time since the sun came up, you decided to linger in the lobby of the hotel for a bit before following the garishly flashing signs directing visitors to the rear garden.

With as deep a breath as your girdle would allow, you grasped the back of a wing back chair and gave yourself permission to panic, hoping that briefly indulging your baser instincts would clear your mind enough to stay focused on the task of surviving an entire afternoon on the Radio Demon's arm.

A few minutes and an uncountable amount of breaths later, you felt the knot in your chest loosen and heartbeat slow to an acceptable rate; still fast, but as good as your were likely to get walking into an event that would likely draw out some of the most powerful demons the Pride Ring had to offer.

“Whatcha doin’ in here, toots?”

Adrenaline crashes through your veins, undoing all of progress you'd made in centering yourself as you spin to face the man addressing you. You recognized him, of course. Not because you'd personally watched any of his many works, but because of the plethora of billboards bearing his face and other, more delicate parts, that loomed tall over every corner of the city.

“The garden party is, y'know, in the garden,” Angel Dust said, tone acerbic as he rested a full watering can on a jutting hip. “So what're sneaking around her for?”

“I'm not sneaking,” you rush to defend yourself, fiddling with the cuff of your sleeve nervously. “I'm just… lurking.”

“Ain't too sure there's much of a difference between the two.”

“Sneaking implies some sort of underlying mischief. I assure you that I'm simply waiting here.”

“Oh? And what're you waiting for?” Angel Dust asked, eyes narrowing suspiciously as he crossed one set of arms across his chest.

“An excuse to leave,” you say dryly, casting a wary glance out the open double doors leading out to the patio. Something about your response seemed to set Angel Dust at ease, because the next time you looked at him he was smirking down at you, suddenly more amused than distrustful.

“You and me both, girlie,” he snorted, unfolding his multitude of hands to smooth down nonexistent creases in his floral halter top and leather hot pants. “I can't stand all this hoity-toity bullshit. It's exhausting playing nice with folks who wouldn't piss on me if I was on fire.”

“I think I'd rather burn anyway,” you said, wrinkling your nose distastefully at the thought.

“No promises, but I'll keep your preferences in mind,” Angel Dust snorted, beckoning you down the hallway with a wave of his willowy arm. “Why don't you come outside with me? I'll show you the best parts of the garden- all the ones I planted, of course.”

The gardens at the Hazbin Hotel could be generously described as eclectic; an absolutely miss-matched and uncoordinated array of plants that honestly had no business being in the same hemisphere as each other, let alone the same garden bed.

“Charlie had the grand idea of givin’ everyone their own chunka’ land to cultivate,” Angel explained, pointing at various sections of the garden. “Husky put in the lemon tree so he can have fruit to stock the bar with and all the goddamn mint that won't stay where it fucking belongs!”

A surly looking catman casually flipped off Angel as you passed by, likely the one responsible for unleashing the minty scourge if Angel Dust's playful sneer was anything to go by.

“Satan below, I love that man,” Angel sighed, grabbing a glass of champagne off a passing waiter's tray before continuing down the rough cobblestone path. “Anyway , all these pretty blossoms belong to moi-”

You nodded in sincere appreciation. “They're absolutely gorgeous.”

“Course they are! They take after their daddy,” Angel Dust cooed, blowing kisses at a cluster of puffy white chrysanthemums.

“I didn't know Earth flowers could even grow down here,” you murmured quietly, struck nearly breathless by the beauty of the blossoms.

“They can't. Not naturally, anyway,” Angel explained, flicking an aphid off the petal of a perfectly symmetrical dahlia. “But having Lucifer constantly hangin’ around definitely comes with some perks.”

“I didn't think I'd ever get to see them again,” you whispered, blinking rapidly to banish the tears welling in your eyes, frustrated at how they made your vision blur when you wanted to remember everything with sharp, crystal clarity.

“It's like seein’ an old friend again, innit?” Angel smiled knowingly, having gone through a similar experience when the scraggly stalks he'd obsessively tended had sent out their first, tentative buds. “Now, c'mon. You gotta see the rest of this place. Shit starts gettin’ fuckin’ bizarre.”

‘Fucking bizarre’ didn't even scratch the surface of describing the rest of the garden tour. Your next stop was Princess Charlotte’s sad plot of withered and wilted plants.

“She bought every half-dead plant at the nursery. Thought she could rehabilitate ‘em,” Angel had explained with a long suffering sigh. “I don't wanna talk about the symbolic implications of that, if ya’ don't mind.”

The next section was a barren stretch of land without a single plant. Rising from the ground instead were hundreds of insects skewered on sharpened sticks; everything from tiny house flies on toothpicks to large horned beetles impaled on whittled down twigs.

“Niffty,” Angel Dust had offered up with a helpless shrug, as though the single name provided any sort of reasonable explanation for the eerie tableau. Deciding that you didn't actually want Angel Dust to expound on the situation, you simply nodded and continued on your way down the row.

The air quickly soured as you left Niffty's sacrificial plot, the ground on either side of the path softening with every step; eventually shifting into a churning, fetid swamp. The understated appeal of the shoulder high cattails and thick swaths of pillowy moss were lost on you, distracted as you were, by the thick cloud of gnats that swarmed the area.

“Whose area is this?” You grumbled peevishly, swatting at the bugs flittering around your face.

“Why, this area is my handiwork,” Alastor's familiar voice called out from behind you. Both you and Angel Dust visibly stiffened at his sudden appearance, turning in unison to face the Overlord.

“Alastor,” Angel Dust greeted flatly. “What're you doin’ all the way out here? Don't you have some rich schmuck to schmooze?”

“Always,” Alastor sighed dramatically. “No rest for the wicked and all that.”

“You must never fuckin’ sleep then,” Angel groused, folding his many arms in front of himself defensively.

Alastor ignored his barb and instead extended a hand out towards you, wiggling his fingers expectantly.

“Come along now, dear. I'm not sure how you managed to slip by me, but you've deprived me of your company long enough.”

“Wait a minute,” Angel bellowed incredulously, eyes impossibly wide as he watched you place your hand tentatively into Alastor's; his spindly fingers clamping around yours like a vice as he guided you closer to his side. “You're Alastor's guest?”

“She's a fair bit more than that,” Alastor grinned, undeniably smug as he guided your small hand into the crook of his arm; turning his head to give you an unmistakable, pointed look.

The performance has begun.

Tag List:

For the first time ever I have been requested to create a tag list, so let me know if you want to be added!

@wendds @matpatsstuff @qardasngan

#hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor x female reader #alastor x you #alastor x reader #pigeoncoos🕊#hazbin hotel x female reader

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hellenhighwater · 2 years

Note

What started your if I'm invited I go rule?

Honestly, nothing in particular. I just realized that when a friend invites me to go with them and do something, I remember those times when I look back. The things that I do on my own time--reading, cleaning, painting, working on projects--are memorable in their own ways, but often disconnected from time, just part of a continuum of activity that fills the spaces between events.

Rest is important; space for myself is important, but I find that it sort of happens without particular effort. Friendships take time; learning takes work; and trying new things is what makes life interesting, so when an opportunity to be with the people that matters to me comes up, I take it. Even if it means going to a sports game I don't care about, or doing something I think I may not enjoy. Often, if I go into things with an open mind and a refusal to have a bad time, I have fun even at things that I wouldn't enjoy alone.

All of which is to say that if my friends ask, yes, I will come over and help you load your cat in the carrier to get to the vet. I will help you design and mail out your wedding invitations while we watch Spy Kids 3D. I will drive two hours for full-contact laser tag. I will help you butcher hearts to feed to the eagles, and I will go with you to six flags and maybe get heatstroke while standing in line. Let's climb the old radio antenna in the marsh together. Yes, I will get on the plane to Abu Dhabi just because, and I will help you drive your car back from the other side of the country and then cut it in half so you can keep part of it in your apartment.

And yes, I will help you tear a house down with a sledgehammer. What else was I going to do, sit at home and scroll through tumblr?

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donnabenevientosimp · 6 months

Text

Karlach x Shadowheart x NB!Reader

Tags: contains spoilers abt Shadowheart's real name and her arc, reader is a tiefling and has two tails bc who wouldn't want two tails just to keep wrapped around your gfs, reader may or may not be the child of a devil, depends on what I wrote ofc. Giving Karlach a different ending bc she deserves it, slight major character death, fluff, tiny bit of angst sprinkled in bc I do love my angst/comfort

Requested: yes or no

This one is super long and I don't regret a thing, I love Karlach and Shadowheart

You had managed to get to Baldur's Gate, finally leaving the shadow-cursed lands and healing said shadow lands. You had been roaming around the large city with Karlach and Shadowheart, your girlfriends. You had managed to pick a fight with a mother superior of Shar, the same one who had supposedly 'saved' Shadowheart. After that battle, Shadowheart found her parents and learned her real name and decided to free them despite the curse staying. You had asked her if she wanted to be called Shadowheart still or if you could call her Jenevelle, her real name. She gave you and Karlach the freedom to call her either, saying she didn't mind the way her real name fell off your tongue, with a blush on her cheeks and tips of her ears. "Love, are you alright?" Shadowheart asked and you blinked and looked at her. "Sorry, just thinking about the past few days," you said with a sheepish smile. "What are you thinking about?" Karlach asked and you looked at her. "Helping you two, how I got so lucky to have both of you in my life. I've been thinking of something though, running it by Gale and even Elminster," you said and they looked at you curiously. "What is it?" Karlach asked. "Well, when you were yelling at me after Gortash died and asked if I had a Wish spell stored in my pack, it got me thinking. What if I didn't need so much as a Wish spell to give you heart, than some fine-tuned necromantic rituals? We faced Balthazar who was a necromancer and I kept his notes, we found a Chosen of Myrkul and I killed him, but also kept his notes. I could kill you, temporarily, remove your engine and put a heart into your chest and revive you either with a scroll of revivify or the spell or with the necromancy rituals," you said and looked away from the two of them, scared of what they might say. "You really wanna do those rituals that kill other people just for one person?" Karlach said. "I wouldn't be killing anyone Karlach," you said and she scoffed. "That's the whole point of these rituals. I can't believe you'd actually kill an innocent person and rip their heart out," Karlach said. "Karlach, let them finish," Shadowheart said gently. "No, I don't want some butchered innocent's heart inside me," Karlach said and you stood up and walked off, your tails dragging along the floor, indicating your feelings you didn't want to show. You walked over to Gale and Elminster and gave them a sad smile, walking through the portal to the tower Elminster let you so graciously use. You threw yourself into your research, why? Well Karlach's anger and emptiness after killing Gortash ruined you and you knew she deserved better.

"Tymora, Kelemvor, Jergal, please let this ritual work. I can't lose her," you sighed, wiping away a stray tear. "Hell, if you have an inspiration to give on how to fix it Gond, I'll take it," you muttered, speaking to the gods to see if they could even help a tiny bit. An idea then popped into your head and you went back through the portal. You walked over to Mizora who looked at you. "What can I do for you, Two-Tails?" Mizora asked with a smile. "Take me to Avernus," you said and she rose an eyebrow. "Why?" Mizora asked curiously. "I need to meet someone, you'll know when we get there but only you will know," you said and she smiled. "Very well," Mizora said and grabbed your hand, teleporting you both to Avernus. Your wings forced themselves out of hiding from inside your back and your tails became forked at the ends. "You...," Mizora was speechless. "The only thing I could conceal about my true heritage was my wings and the forked part of my tails. I couldn't figure out how to conceal one of them so I just said I was born with two tails and don't know why," you said and Mizora nodded. "Who is your devilish parent?" Mizora asked. "Glasya, the Archdevil of Malbolge and daughter of Asmodeus," you replied and her eyes widened. "My liege I did not-" "Don't bow Mizora. I, like my mother, have a thing for subtlety," you said and she nodded. "I wish to meet Zariel and see her infernal engine blueprint," you said and Mizora nodded, flapping her wings. "Let's go then," Mizora said and you both took flight. You reached the Bronze Citadel and walked to where Zariel was sitting on her throne. There she sat, the archangel turned archdevil. Her bald head with a halo of flame, black feathery wings with red ends, glowing orange eyes and a flail for an arm. "Archdevil Zariel, Lord of Avernus," you said and she looked at you. "If it isn't Glasya's spawn," Zariel smiled. "I'd like to see your infernal engine blueprints," you said and she nodded and snapped her fingers, the blueprints appearing in her hand. "Here you are," Zariel said and you walked up to her and took the blueprints. "Thank you Zariel. I guess this is payment for me giving you the soul of one of my friends," you said and she smiled. "He will make a fine killer of devils, demons and fiends," Zariel smiled. "I have to return topside, but do keep in touch," you said and gave her a two finger salute before Mizora teleported you both back to camp. "Thanks Mizora," you said and she smiled. "Of course, I live to serve, and well, you keep the surprises coming Pup, I do enjoy them," Mizora said with a grin. "You reek of Avernus, why did you go there?" Wyll asked. "I had some business there Wyll, don't worry, I only stole some things I forgot to steal in the House of Hope," you lied and he nodded.

You then made your way back to the tower and looked over the infernal engine blueprints. "These aren't even meant for people, what the hells Zariel? You put a smaller hellfire engine inside Karlach?" You spoke to yourself out loud. You then looked at the blueprints for an upgraded version of the smaller hellfire engine and noticed whoever made it, wrote it in Primordial. Zariel only spoke Infernal, Abyssal and Celestial, but you chose to learn as many languages as you could. You immediately grabbed all the infernal iron and enriched infernal iron and got to work making the new hellfire engine. After spending several hours on creating the engine you finished it. Turning it on and seeing how it works in the Material Plane. You put your hand on it, it felt warm but not as hot as the Hells, it could work here on the Material Plane and even in the Hells. You smiled widely, you'd done it. You found a cure for Karlach! You turned the engine off and grabbed it, walking to the portal and were back at camp. "I thought you'd be cooped up in that mage's tower for the entire day Pup. Did it work?" Mizora asked. "It did...wait where's Karlach?" You asked, now not seeing your girlfriend. "She said she needed to think things over and went somewhere, said she'd be back later," Mizora said and you nodded sadly. You walked over to the little dock in your camp and sat down with a sigh. You heard a portal open and felt a familiar presence. You turned your head and a smile broke out onto your face. You quickly got up, placing the hellfire engine on the ground. "Mom!" You smiled and hugged her. "Hello my dear," Glasya smiled as she hugged you back. "I heard you went to Avernus, what for?" Glasya asked. "You read my letters? How I found love in two people? One of them is Zariel's old agent, Karlach. I went to Avernus for the blueprints on her infernal engine. Turns out it's a smaller version of a hellfire engine. But whoever made the designs made an upgraded one that can operate on the Material Plane without overheating and wrote it in Primordial, I created it and it works," you said happily and Glasya smiled. "I knew you could do it, little liege," Glasya smiled, brushing her fingers through your hair. "Thanks Mom, I've missed you, so much," you said and she nodded. "I missed you too, have you told anyone of your heritage? Aside from Mizora," Glasya asked and you frowned and shook your head. "No, we've run into Raphael and everyone hated and didn't trust him. I killed him of course, but how could I tell them I'm a devil? Karlach's been used and abused by an archdevil, Wyll was forced to take a deal from a devil to save a city. I can't tell them, they'd hate me, I'd be alone again," you said with a sad sigh. "I see, but what if they don't?" Glasya said and you shrugged. "Well, I hope once you do tell them, let me meet your lovers," Glasya said and you nodded with a smile. "I will," you said and she smiled and placed a kiss on your forehead. "I have to return to Malbolge, but keep in touch okay?" Glasya said and you nodded. "I will Mom, I love you," you said and she smiled. "I love you too little liege, try not to cause too much chaos okay?" Glasya said and you nodded. She then teleported back to Malbolge and you sighed.

"Your mother is a devil?" You heard and turned to see Karlach. "She is," you said and looked down nervously. "Why didn't you tell me?" Karlach asked. "I didn't want you to hate me, or kill me. You went through enough pain with Zariel and Mizora, I didn't want to add on to that with you knowing I was a devil. So I hid my devilish heritage as best I could, except for my tails. I could only make them not forked," you said, playing with one of your tails out of anxiousness. "What's that?" Karlach asked, pointing to the hellfire engine. "Oh, I paid Zariel a visit, asked her for the infernal engine blueprints. She gave them to me freely, but whoever wrote em wrote the upgraded version in Primordial and I was able to make and test it. It works on the Material Plane without overheating," you said and held it. "I wanted to find a cure for you, at any cost because....because I love you so much it hurts me sometimes Karlach. I want to live with you and Jenevelle, wherever that may be and just..be happy with both of you," you said and Karlach smiled, tears streaming down her face. "It really works?" Karlach asked and you nodded. "We'd have to go back to Avernus to safely take out that old engine so it doesn't blow up upon removal," you said and Karlach frowned. "Or we could go to my mom's domain, to her fortress Osseia. I know it's the Sixth Layer of Baator but we'd be safe there," you said and she nodded. "Can Jenevelle come with us?" Karlach asked. "Of course she can, Jen, I know you're lurking around the corner. C'mon," you said and she walked over to you two. "I can never hide from you can I?" Shadowheart smiled. "Mizora, my favorite manipulative bitch, I need your assistance, darling," you said and Mizora walked over to you. "You called my liege?" Mizora said and I smiled. "We are going to Malbolge, to Osseia. I need your assistance in transporting this hellfire engine and my two loves along with me there," you said and she nodded. "Of course my liege," Mizora said with a smile. "Quit with the 'liege' shit I never liked it," you groaned and she giggled.

Mizora and you teleported Shadowheart, Karlach, the hellfire engine and yourselves to Osseia in Malbolge. "At kg qaddqx qaxfx! usw gio ryioftd gioy qibxyz (Oh my little liege! And you brought your lovers)!" Glasya said excitedly in Abyssal. "Kik, Xy sxxw di znadlt dni txqqpayx xsfasxz, nussu txqj (Mom, I need to switch two hellfire engines, wanna help)?" You asked in Abyssal and her smile widened. "Of course I wanna help! Come come," Glasya said excitedly and motioned you all to follow her. You arrived in your research room and you noticed everything was clean but still in the same spot. "I kept it the same when you left, I've been keeping it clean too," Glasya said and you smiled at her. "Thanks Kik (Mom)," you said and she nodded. "Karlach, lay down over here," Glasya said and Karlach looked at you then at Glasya. "How do you know who I am?" Karlach asked. "Y/N told me of course, and of you Shadowheart," Glasya smiled. "Karlach, sweetheart, we unfortunately have to temporarily have you dead while we take out your engine," Glasya said and Karlach nodded slowly. "Don't worry, you're in the best hands, four of them in fact. My little liege is well versed in all types of magic, the little bookworm that they are. They've even had a visit from a Chosen from one of the death gods, the god commended them for their work!" Glasya said with a proud smile. "Kik (Mom)," you groaned and she looked at you. "What? Am I not allowed to brag about my child to your lovers?" Glasya said and you sighed, a blush dusting your cheeks and ears. "Karlach, love, would you like a painless death?" You asked and looked at her. "Yes, you'll bring me back after it's installed right?" Karlach asked. "Of course I will," you said and walked over to her. You gently cupped her cheek and kissed her. "Ah, the literal and classic kiss of death," Glasya said as Karlach peacefully and quickly died. Your eyes and hands glowed green as you grabbed hold of Karlach's soul. "Kidtxy (Mother), can you hold her soul?" You asked and she nodded and grabbed hold of Karlach's soul. You precisely and quickly opened her chest up and commanded the engine to shut off and removed it. You then grabbed the upgraded engine and put it in her chest, commanding it to turn on. It glowed and started up, running smoothly and without any complications. You then magically closed Karlach's chest without leaving scars and nodded to your mother. Karlach's soul was put back in her body and she stirred awake. "Hello love," you smiled and she opened her eyes with a smile. "How do you feel?" You asked. "Better, not overwhelmingly hot," Karlach said as she sat up. "It worked....it worked! You did it!" Karlach said with a laugh. "The only time those flames of yours change colors is the same as it was with your old engine," you said with a smile. "O-Oh," Karlach said, a dark red blush on her cheeks as some flames exited out of the vent holes in her arms. "I do hope I'll be invited for a nxwwasf (wedding) soon," Glasya said, looking at you expectantly. Your ears and cheeks went red, your tails wagging slightly. "Kik (Mom)!" You said embarrassedly and she looked at you. "I'm serious, little liege. I expect a pxn fyusweawz (few grandkids) too," Glasya said and you nodded. "I know, but, we have a-" "Illithid issue I know. I meant after you take care of that blasted thing," Glasya said and you nodded. "I know. Uhm, Jen, Karla, can you go get Mizora?" You said and they nodded and left the room. Once they left you quickly pulled out two small boxes. "I planned on proposing to both of them sometime this week," you said and Glasya smiled. "Oh, they're beautiful! You made them of course, I know your metalwork and jewelry making anywhere," Glasya said and you nodded, quickly putting the boxes back into your pocket. "Marrying them in Baator will make their souls bound to you, they'll become ageless," Glasya said and you nodded. "I know, but that's their decision," you said and she nodded.

Once back at camp, you led the three of them to a nearby rooftop as the sun was rising. "I wanted to do this now, because I know we may not have much time left but I hope we have years to spend together. When I met you both, you both captivated me, I definitely fell in love with both of you at first sight. I want to make you both happy, to love you both, for as long as you'll let me. So, I ask the both of you this: will you marry me?" You said as you got down on one knee, taking out both boxes and opening the boxes to reveal the rings. "Yes!" Karlach said happily. "Are you joking? Of course I will!" Shadowheart smiled. You stood up, slipping the rings on their fingers and kissing both of them. "How long have you been planning this?" Shadowheart asked. "A couple weeks," you said with a smile. "I do want you both to know, if you get married to me in Baator, your souls will be bound to me as mine will be to yours and you will become ageless," you said and they nodded. "It's an option for our marriage but we can get married here, and in Baator or just here or just Baator," you said and they nodded. "I want to spend my life with you, if I can become ageless to spend an eternity with you, then I'll do it," Shadowheart said and you smiled. "You took the words out of my mouth Jen," Karlach said and you smiled. Your tails wrapped around Karlach's tail and Shadowheart's arm as you smiled at the two of them. "I love you both, no matter what may come. Be it Sharrans for your head as a sacrifice Jenevelle, or whatever people we piss off Karlach, I wouldn't change it for anything," you said and they smiled. "I love you too Y/N," they both said, kissing your cheeks.

#karlach x reader #shadowheart x reader #karlach x shadowheart #karlach x shadowheart x reader #oneshot requests #oneshot #sfw oneshot

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