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selineram3421 · 3 months

Text

*stares into the void*

Dizzy For You

Lovesick Alastor X Reader

Warning⚠

⚠ blood/gore, reader is really into creepy alastor, kisses, consensual biting *cough*, cuddles, fluff ⚠

You were in love with one of the most powerful Overlords in Hell.

The Radio Demon.

At the moment, he was in the process of courting you. Or in what the new generation calls it, dating.

Now you're not that old of a demon but you still use the term courting as it feels more genuine.

The way he spoiled you made you feel like the only demon in Hell. Of course there were limits but like any good relationship, you both communicated.

You knew he wasn't one for physical displays of affection out in public, unless it was holding you close or kisses on the back of your hand.

It didn't bother you one bit.

In fact it made you happier knowing that your affectionate actions were private. Only for the two of you.

You could only see him that way.

As you spent time working on a few orders, making nameplates and engraving names and or numbers on them, you even got an order from Alastor! He had wanted small but fancy door plaques for room numbers. Some in the hotel having been missing or needing touch-ups.

Quickly finishing the last plaque, you packaged them and set out to return to the hotel.

A fun little gift your lover added to your shop was the door in the corner of your back room, it being a portal to one of the hotel back rooms near the lobby.

He didn't like you being so far away after all.

When walking into the lobby, you didn't notice the commotion outside until you heard a familiar laugh.

It was filled with static.

Downright dark and sinister that got a chill to run down your spine.

As if hypnotized, you walked towards the sound and saw sinners being ripped apart, blood and guts covering the ground in front of the hotel. Your eyes widened when seeing the Radio Demon eat a demon whole.

Then he turned to face the door after finishing the carnage.

"Alastor.", you gasped, covering your mouth with your hand.

He was in his tall demon form, smiling and covered in blood. The metallic scent filled the area and you felt slightly dizzy at the smell but also couldn't help being drawn in by the sight.

Seeing you stagger back, Alastor rushed towards you, shrinking slightly to get through the door.

"Darling? Are you alright?", he asked, pulling you into his hold.

You shivered and hid your face in his chest, feeling the blood smear onto your skin. The room feeling a lot stuffier than before with your quick breaths.

"Take me to the room.", you whispered and tugged on his coat. "Please."

Using his shadows, both of you appear in your room and you quickly pull him into a rough kiss.

The deer made a noise of surprise, static buzzing as his grip on you tightened.

Moving away from his lips, you peppered his face with kisses, making sure to kiss under his jaw before making your way towards his neck. Blood now on your lips and hands, heart racing at the taste.

"Fuck.", you said shakily, looking up at the deer and finding his cheeks dusted bright red. "Alastor."

His ears perked up at his name and he held you tightly, hand rubbing up and down your lower back. "Yes my dearest heart?", he responded, leaning forward to place a peck on your forehead.

"Please bite me."

You shivered again with a blush as he leaned down with a chuckle, his sclera pitch black with a lustre from his glowing irises.

"￦¡+h pl€@sμre~"

Tilting your head to the side, you let him sink his teeth into the junction of your neck and shoulder. A small noise escaped from your lips as you clung onto his coat, whimpering when he pulled back and blood starting to run down your neck.

"Quel goût raffiné.", he kissed the bite mark. (What a refined taste.)

He gave you a gentle smile as he caressed your cheek and you leaned into his touch.

"Let's get cleaned up.", he said softly, guiding you to the bathroom.

After a refreshing bath, you both got dressed into nightwear and got ready for bed. Alastor being extra sweet and helping you get comfortable next to him under the covers.

Feeling absolutely content, you smiled and cuddled up against him.

"I'm sorry for pouncing on you."

"Nonsense.", he brushed it off as he glided his hand down your thigh, pulling it to rest your leg between his. "I enjoy your affection."

"Hmm..", you felt your eyelids droop.

"Sleep.", the deer demon whispered, kissing the top of your head. "I'll still be here in the morning."

You let out another hum before submitting to a pleasant slumber.

*sees radio dials in the darkness* Oh shit.

~Seline, the person.

Taglist@

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ML for Alastor🎙

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diejager · 2 months

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just hear me out for one second.... what if hunter was a titan?... yk like aot (attack on titan)

reader looks totally normal, nothing indicating that they were something other than human. Even laswell wasnt 100% sure on what reader was. A stirring mystery within 141 that they all collectively decide to ignore.

then one day, they were out on a mission that was going horribly, horribly wrong.. incorrect information, sabotage, dangerous illegal weapons, low ammunition, scarce supplies, severe injuries, etc.. you name it.

141 was backed into a corner. definitely not the first time something like this has happened in their career...but they always manage to find a way out. Always making it back home, injured sure- but safe..alive.

this time it wasn't the case. there was no way out, none. death was knocking on the door and soon they had to answer.....

and unfortunately reader was the first to greet death.. a clean shot to the head by a sniper

one minute reader was laying in a pool of their own blood and the next they turn into this gigantic humanoid beast.

in a fit of rage, reader starts to completely destroy the battlefield. not a damn soul alive besides 141.

bodies scattered from the sea to the forest and heavens above ..nothing but pure gore and blood.

reader standing over the battlefield bloodied from head to toe, watching the devastation below.

(This is really long im sorry)

Cw: implied death, blood and gore, Canon-typical violence, titan!reader, gun violence?, tell me if I missed any.

The last thing Horangi remembered hearing through the angered hisses and growls, Price screaming at Laswell and her informants through the coms to find a way out their thick predicament was the shuddering shot that boomed through the air. The hair of his arms raised when he watched you turn towards the sound, your wide eyes and choked breath. You flinched back and lurched forward, hands grasping at your bleeding throat, choking and gurgling on the blood that rose from your wound. He rushed to pull you into cover, biting his lip at your pained expression, you were choking on your blood, dying by the thing that substained you, that cycled life and oxygen through your body.

Your words were sputtered, splattered crimson on Horangi’s mask as he fussed over you, your pinched brows and scrunched nose, the angered gleam in your dulling eyes and your bloody and sneering lips. You pushed him away, stumbling forward with one step at a time, risking being shot a second and third time, but you kept marching away from them, ignoring their attempt to stop you and reach for you.

“B- bast- ard-!” He heard you screech.

He didn’t know if some God or Gods favoured you or if you were extremely lucky for still being alive, a second bullet landing by your feet and a third scratching your arm. You raised a bloody hand, palm facing you, the crease and groves of every fold a dark red, then you bit down on it. Hard. He admired the strength behind your bite, the crunch of your skin breaking under your teeth and red exploding, he could only imagine how painful it was, but you were already in so much agony, your body’s probably numb.

And suddenly, lighting sparked around you, bright yellow and loud, scarily close to you before one thick and dangerous one struck where you stood. Within seconds, he gaped at the mass of muscles, red fibres interlocking and sticking to ligaments and fat that kept it together, tying themselves to bone and tendons, wrapping away the red and white with a wide array of red and blue, building a system of veins that were finally covered by skin. In your place was a giant —a titan, one that he’d heard through the grapevines of black markets and hushed whispered and rumours from the underworld when he gambled his life away.

The titan - you - let out a loud scream, head thrown back and arms reeling back, fingers clenched in anger, deep sated vitriol that carried you around them. He could only stare on in amazement as you trampled over the surrounding enemies, bending down to grip a man, your thick fingers clenching around him and squeezing the life out of him, leaving his entrails spilling out of his broken abdomen. You moved around stepping and squeezing them to death, a trail of carnage behind you, bodies strewed about, spines broken and heads rolling.

He let you go on without a word, his breath stolen away by you when you slumped over, your nape breaking open with a loud hiss, steam billowing up the air from how hot your body ran, you arched out, body curled backward with a loud sigh. Horangi stared at you, unmoving and unbreathing, and only moved when Price rushed to you, climbing your titan body to pull the rest of you out, your arms and lower body still attached to it by thick, red muscle. Your feet stuttered, eyes blinking tiredly while you leaned on Price, groaning and rubbing the tension out of your temples.

He realised the blood that was supposed to stain your skin and clothes were gone, evaporated in the heat of it. Your wound healed and energy spent, you were tired and grumbling about wanting to sleep, face pinched in irritation or annoyance, something he could feel. And without any complaints from them, Price had called for evac and waited at the LZ, everyone huddled around you, sharing the same amount of awe and surprise in their expression. You were a wonder to him, a beast of legends that Horangi had only heard of, but he had many, many questions and curiosities that he wanted fulfilled.

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fraugwinska · 9 days

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This is a prologue to 'Game Night' (about 80 years before) enjoy! TW: murder, gore, mentions of war, mentions of SA Minors DNI!

Getting called into you Boss's office was bad. But getting called into you boss's Boss office was even worse.

When Archie staggered over to you, almost tripping over his storck legs, he looked almost panicked. "I don't know what you did, but Zestial wants to talk to you. What the fuck did you do?!"

You didn't react. You kept on typing the end of the article you were currently writing, ignoring the worried stare from the other employees that were working on the same floor. Zestial was one of the overlords in hell and the owner of the newspaper agency you were working at, an extremely tall, thin and ancient demon that exuded a machiavellian charm, enticing yet dangerous. You had no idea why he would want to talk to you. You didn't remember doing anything wrong, or at least, nothing worth that would him getting personally involved.

When you finished the last sentence, you stood up and walked past Archie, who was still waiting nervously for an answer, his gaze fixated on you, a mixture of curiosity and horror on his face.

"Hey, aren't you even a little bit worried?", he called after you. You shrugged, and smiled.

"And what good will that do? If I'm in trouble, I can't change it now, can I?"

You walked through the hallway and knocked at the big, dark mahogany door. A deep, sonoric voice called out to you, and you opened the door. Zestial was sitting at his desk, his slender fingers intertwined on the tabletop, next to a steaming cup of tea.

"Ah, my dear. I wast awaiting thee. Cometh in and sitteth down."

"You wanted to see me, Sir?"

Zestial nodded, and smiled, gesturing at the chair in front of him.

"Ah, yes. Thy work has been quite outstanding for a while, mine lief. Thou hast impressed me greatly. Therefore, I have an offer."

Your smile widened, a little out of nervousness, but more out of curiosity. A job offer was the last thing you had expected from this meeting, based on Archibald's behavior and the fearsome looks of your coworkers. Zestial pushed the delicate cup in your direction.

"Drink, it'st not poisoned. It'st my own recipe."

"Thank you, sir."

You took the cup, careful not to spill the hot liquid, and sipped at it. The tea tasted unusual but delightful, earthy and tart and a little bitter. You couldn't quite identify the ingredients, but they had to be rare and expensive.

"A lovely blend, thank you."

"Thou art most welcome. So, my offer: One of mine aquaintances, Miss Rosie in Cannibal Town, hosts a party this evening. Sadly i wilt not beest able to attend... So i'd like for thee to go in mine stead."

Your eyebrows shot up. Not a job offer. This was a surprise, indeed. You had heard of Rosie and her own peculiar district. She was an overlord too, but in contrast to her peers she didn't show any desire to expand her territory, focusing instead on improving Cannibal Town as a community.

"I would be honored, Sir. What's the occasion for the party, if I may ask?"

"Ah, no occasion, really. Miss Rosie is just the kind to host parties whenever the fancy takes her. She'st a very charming woman, I am certain thou wilt enjoy thyself."

Zestial stood up and walked over to you, putting a hand on your shoulder and smiling down at you, a genuine smile, that even reached his four green eyes. You smiled back, and set down the cup. It was apparent that your work somehow got you in good grace with Zestial, and you would've been a fool not to seize the day.

"Thank you very much for the opportunity, sir. I shall be sure to make the best of the occasion."

***

Stepping out of the taxi, you made sure not to step on the hem of your ankle-length red dress, clutching the small purse with your invitation and essentials in one hand and a gift for the hostess in the other, and stepped onto the pavement. All the windows of Rosie's emporium were lit, creating a warm atmosphere and luring guests into the center of the colony with a glowing, eery yellow vibrance. There was music in the air, and a sense of unusual merriness as guests talked and laughed, holding colorful drinks and glasses in their hands.

You made your way through the crowd towards the towering demoness, who was greeting oncoming guests left and right.

"Miss Rosie, it's a pleasure to meet you."

The woman turned, her lips pursed as her pitch-black eyes focused on the source of the sound, on you. Your smile didn't waver.

"Pleasure is all mine, sweetie. You're... Zestial's little newcomer, aren't you?"

You nodded with a grin that matched hers. "Indeed, Miss Rosie, that's me. It's an honor to be invited." You handed her your gift - an embellished, silver cookie tin with long, golden filled cookies inside. "I hope you don't mind homemade treats? I made them myself - they're called langue de chat."

"Cat's tongue. How fitting... ", she giggled, peeking inside. "Thank you my darling one, I'll be sure to hide them from all the hungry mouths here - wouldn't want to waste them, wouldn't we? Now please, hop right in, mingle a little and have some fun tonight. No work! And enjoy my little buffet, you'll surely find something to suit your diet."

Relieved from your official obligation, you snatched a glass of rose colored champagne as you decided to wander a bit without being seen and made yourself invisible. It was the newest of your powers you developed, and a most useful one for looking around and observing, very interested in the strange but not unfriendly atmosphere that lingered. An atmosphere that was so different from the district you had settled in - It seemed almost human. The cannibals were old-fashioned - you appreciated that- but they were friendly, courteous and downright delightful sinners to be around (if you were minful of their diet).

You watched the dancing couples, women twirling around in colorful dresses, the men accompanying them with fine suits, everyone adorned with flamboyant bow ties and flashy hats, wearing shiny leather shoes and polished heels. And that music, jazz at it's peak. Everyone was laughing, joking, the air was electric with happy chatter and jokes and it felt as if all your worries simply evaporated. It had to be, one of the most unique places you had been, in Hell.

You made yourself visible again, startling a group of young cannibals next to the buffet. With a giggle and a swish of your magenta-and-black striped tail, you set down your emptied glass on one of the silver trays. Turning back to look for another refreshment, your vision was blocked by a red pinstripe suit. A man had stepped in your path, a charming smile on his lips, and he seemed amused.

"Moving is a funny thing to do when no one's watching."

He offered you a glass of wine with the same burnt red color of his hair, his teeth glinting as his eyes scanned your body - not in a lewd way, but with bemused interest and impish curiosity. You chuckled, taking the glass with a head tilt.

"Why thank you, stranger, but you know, moving without being seen is just half the fun. Getting where you want without being noticed is the other."

You twirled the glass in between your fingers, sipping the expensive beverage, watching his expression with delight - how his grin widened, eyes locked to yours, amused and captivated by what you just said. Of course you knew who he was, your tail shivered and bushed up as you thought about it. Hell, you wrote more than one article about him.

One couldn't exist in hell without hearing the stories about the radio demon - the up and coming overlord, toppling long-established powerholders like dominoes and broadcasting their screams on every radio in the pride ring. Known for his gentlemanly manners, his brutal ruthlessness - and his never-fading, signature smile.

"Spoken like a true feline. The name's Alastor, darling, pleasure to be meeting you.", he mused, and tilted his glass towards yours, awaiting you to clink it. His crimson eyes were shining like rubies, glinting dangerously yet so strangely intriguing as they watched your every reaction, and his lips curled up into a challenging, cocky grin as your glasses chimed together and you told him your name.

"Say, would you care for a little dance, dear? Your tail seems quite desperate for some frivolity, why it looks like it will come to life in a moment."

You glanced towards your backside, the traitorous appendage whipping completely out of control in anticipated excitement, the damned thing. You laughed, downing the rest of the drink, and made the tail disappear. Alastor rose a brow at your innocent expression.

“Seems like my tail has a full dance card. I, on the other hand, am quite free..."

His other eyebrow raised along the first one, and he chuckled ass he gave you a little bow, which he coupled with an outstretched, clawed hand.

"I can only hope you are able to compensate the loss - it looked quite eager."

The next thing you knew he had you on the dance floor, pulling you close to his body and guiding your steps, spinning you around with ease. One hand was around your waist, the other had a hold of one of yours. You quickly lost the feeling of time and space - all you were able to focus on was him.

"Your smile never falters, darling. I can't help but wonder why?"

You giggled, a gloved hand covering your mouth as he turned you, crimson glowing eyes never leaving yours.

"I don't know, really. My papan used to tell me that it was the only thing I had going for me, and it's what made silly soldiers so easy to kill."

You could feel the air around him tense and shift, his grin widening at your words as he turned you in again.

"Ah, a lady after my own heart. I can appreciate a woman who knows how to have fun."

You didn't say anything to his comment, just smiled, and he pulled you closer.

"Why don't we have a little fun of our own? I have the right mind for a little game, if you're up to it, darling?"

The music ended, everyone around you applauding but you were captured. Entranced. Frozen. By those eyes, this most unique and alluring voice. Oh, yes it was alluring. He was charming and intense, the mystery of this person was attracting you so hard, you could almost taste his taste, feel his touch.

The way he offered a game... he had the same dangerously mischievous expression you had, back when you planned what to do with your next victim. Only that you were absolutely sure, you were invited as a player, not as a pawn. And that made you burst with excitement, you hadn't felt such thrill and lust for a challenge in so long, you could almost physically feel your hunger taking hold of you, your craving for that sensation, for an opportunity to rise to this occasion.

***

The night was chilly, for hell's standards. You both had bid your farewells to Rosie, who in response only cocked an amused brow at Alastor and wished you both a fun rest of the night. After Alastor gallantly offered his arm, you had started walking, seemingly aimless, but you didn't mind. He proved to be a very pleasant conversation partner, and you soon found yourself very relaxed and amused around him.

You enjoyed listening to him, laughing in amusement about his animated gesticulation and his storytelling skills. And there was more, a tension, a strange attraction in the air, an electromagnetic current that almost hummed between you two. When he asked about your heritage, you were pleased to notice how enthralled he seemed that you were french in origin and the fact that you killed german soldiers during the still raging world war stirred up his sadistic and malicious sense of humor. When you explained to him how you met your end, a grin that could only be described as purely diabolic curled up on his lips.

"Why, you're my favorite type of femme diabolique, aren't you a scintillating creature?"

His ears flicked and he stopped in his tracks, grin widening as gestured for you to walk next to him into the shadows of an alley. Intrigued, you made yourself invisible and followed him, hearing faint voices as if in a fight.

"As exciting as I found our conversation to be, darling, the night is young - and I do owe you a little fun, wouldn't you agree?"

His voice sounded lower and remarkably more sinister, shoulders tense and almost trembling as he stalked forwards, pressing you into his side. "It seems we have found the finest opportunity. What luck he have."

The voices became eligible, and you instantly knew what he was talking about. Two shark sinners were standing in front of the back-entrance of some dubious bar, sharing a smoke. The fight seemed to be about a girl they intended to drug and take advantage of - both of them insisting to 'break her in' the first. Abominable scum. You felt your teeth itching to sink into their necks to break them.

"So, madame - two wasteful beings, two players. How would you like to set the rules for our game, hm?"

You shivered with delight. "Sometimes I find the most simple approach is the best, d'accord? You show me what you can do, I show you what I can. After they're dead, we vote who won best kill. If it's a draw, no one wins et la partie est perdue."

Alastor grinned wider and hummed, apparently delighted by your idea.

"An uncompromising game - I like the style, I say, game on! Now, for the winner's reward..."

"Une carte blanche? - but no souls, I'm afraid.", you grinned at him, slowly fading into nothing from the bottom to the top, until there were only your eyes and your smile left.

"Sounds fair enough, let the games begin, darling! I'll take the left one."

And with that, he melted into his own shadows, creeping up behind the left sinner who had just extinguished the cigarette to a tiny piece of tobacco butt on the floor. You followed him entranced, fully invisible now, and rounded the right one - he wasn't as fat and greasy as Alastor's victim, with droopy eyes and lanky legs - perfect for breaking.

"Fuck you, Ollie, I saw her first, so I get the first fuck, too."

With a last glance to the moving shadow you leaned into your prey.

"How about we make it a threesome, baby?"

The man spun around in a panicked startle, and you could smell the alcohol seeping out of his pores. He was intoxicated, and sloppy on his feet. Just how you liked it. His friend tried to say something in warning, but was quickly muffled by dark tendrils that shot out of the dark shade below him, binding his limbs and wrapping around his face.

"What the fuck... who are you, bitch?"

"Aw, come on chèrie, you don't need to know my name to have a great time. You don't even have to drug me first."

You shifted to become visible, the man's eyes bulging out of his skull as you did and took a tentative step towards him. His friend was screaming behind him, his arms and legs wrapped up in shadowy tentacles, the sound muffled and the tendrils slowly squeezing him, wringing him out like a moist rag. It was a truly bizarre and yet absolutely hypnotizing sight.

"Oh shit, Ollie... H-hey, listen, we didn't... uh, fuck, we can all just forget this and, and... fuck, get the hell out of here!"

You laughed, it echoed in the cold night, a sound so eerie that even the man before you shuddered, his eyes fixated on you as you advanced and circled him, claws dragging over his neck and shoulder, and a shiver went down your spine when you saw Alastor, emerging from the shadows, as fixed on you as your victim was, but with fascination and satisfaction rather than fear and panic.

"Oh no, cherie... let's make this a night to remember, oui?"

With that, you pushed the man forward, your tail wrapping around his ankle to swipe his leg off the ground. With a sickening crack he fell onto his back, a pained scream escaping his lips and rendered helpless as you pinned him down by kneeling right onto his crotch before he could even move. This bastard would never be able to use his dick on poor, unsuspecting women again. You let your head fall back into an unnatural angle, watching behind you to a still unmoving, enthralled Alastor.

"Are you just going to watch, cher? It's quite rude to stare at a lady like that."

For a split second, his grin faltered, before widening once more, a low chuckle resounding in his chest, a sound that made you shudder.

"Why, my dear, how could I not, when you're making such a captivating sight."

His words spurred you on and stretched your smile so wide it started to hurt, your body hot and eager - you wanted to impress him, make him crave more of this. More of you. You shifted, turning your head back, and reached a clawed hand onto the man's throat. You concentrated on the feeling of your claws against his grayish, leathery skin as he choked.

"Let's make it a real party, then."

You willed magenta glowing mirror images of your claws into existence, envisioned them scratching and slicing the sinners body into long, thin ribbons - his screams told you it was working. He was cut up alive, his thrashing restrained by a few of the many hands you conjured. They lifted his mangled body up, it looked almost like a bastardized version of a crucifixion, and gave him a sickeningly sweet smile.

"Cela ne fera que très mal."

You've only ever let your full demon form come out once - right after you fell and were attacked by other newcomers. It still felt new, almost untamable, but you were desperate to show him. For Alastor to see you, not as a damsel in distress, or some silly girl playing checkers where others played chess. So you let it take over, your form growing longer, your skin becoming black fur with glowing pink streaks, claws sharpening, and your maw growing. Your victim was still howling and fighting the hands holding him, his blood dripping onto the street and mixing with the puddles on the concrete. He screamed in terror as your jaws opened and you bit into his throat, ripping him to shreds with your sharp teeth, his intestines sloshing onto the pavement and the smell of blood filling the air and the sweet and bitter iron taste ran down your throat.

And just like that, the last remains of his body hit the floor with a mundane, squelching noise. The silence that followed was deafening. You couldn't hear anything, except for the rapid beating of your heart and the rush of blood in your ears. Then, you heard clapping, slow and rhythmical. You turned your head to see Alastor standing, the other sinner still bound, his face twisted in agony and his eyes bulging out of his eye holes.

"My my, a breathtakingly gruesome display, my dear. Truly enticing!"

He walked towards you, the shadows dissolving as he came closer, the tentacles retreating and the man falling onto the pavement. You watched him with a manic expression, your smile still on your face as your demonic form receded and you could feel the coolness of your victims blood on your fangs as a gust of wind blew through the alley, ruffling your hair.

"Now, for my own part... I have to admit, yours is a little hard to follow, but, oh well."

He snapped his fingers and his shadow stretched out behind him, towering above him with its head bowed, and you saw his eyes glow and transform into dials as a green glow and strange symbols surrounded the sinner's body, his limbs bending and his joints cracking, the sound of snapping bones and gurgling blood filling the alley, as the shadow slowly pulled the man's insides out through his mouth and ripped his head from his neck. It fell onto the concrete, and rolled right into your direction. You watched the eyes of the severed head turn gray, and smiled.

"Very impressive, cher. A true work of art, no?"

"Thank you, darling, I appreciate the compliment."

With another snap of his fingers the gore was gone, the streets cleaned and the corpses - or rather, what had been left of them - vanished, leaving no evidence behind. He turned to face you, the shadow retreating behind him as his dial eyes vanished and returned to their normal, intense red ones, an inquisitive grin plastered on his face as he came to a stop just before you.

"Now, there's only one thing left to do - the determination of the winner."

You laughed, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. You couldn't care less who won. Alastor's eyes darted downwards, to your lips, and you felt the corners of your mouth twitch, the urge to bite your lower lip growing.

"I'd say we're both winners, but rules are rules."

"I fear so, darling."

There was a pause, neither of you said a word. Then, slowly, he raised a hand and brushed his fingers over your bloodied cheek. You closed your eyes, your breath catching as his claws traced the outlines of your lips. The moment was charged and electrifying, you didn't want to say anything and maybe break the spell. He laughed, low and sweet, leaning into you.

"I think I'm inclined to give my vote to you, darling. Do I have a choice, really?"

Before you could respond, your words were stolen from your lips as they met his, crashing together in a passionate, heated, long overdue kiss. He wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you and pressing you into his body with ease and your tail curved behind you, happy to know your feelings were mutual as his long claws buried themselves in you blood-stained hair. You sighed against his lips, your own hands clutching to his neck and shoulders, a feeling you couldn't describe in your stomach.

For the first time in forever, you were kissed without it being because you were just pretty, or just a girl, perceived as a weak thing to be taken advantage of. This kiss was because you were powerful, you were impressive, because you were something of an equal in his own image - and if the world wouldn't stop here, if it went on forever and on and if time itself would cease to exist, this kind of passion would not.

A purr escaped your throat as his tongue danced with yours, tasting you - the sweet yet bittersweet, almost metallic taste of blood - yours, the sinners, you didn't care. You'd die all over again, a thousand times more painful than the original time, just for another second of this bloody kiss.

All too soon, it ended and his mouth left yours, making you feel the strange warmth radiating from his skin as he pressed a light peck on your parted lips, brushing his fingertips over your soft skin, red-stained and glowing. You panted, opening your eyes, and your own magenta irises met his, staring deep into them.

"It's a draw, then.", you said, the corners of your mouth tugging up to a smirk as you gave your vote to him unspoken.

"Which means the game is lost.", he answered, and you laughed, knowing you'd never been happier to lose at anything ever, and with a smile your lips chased after his once again.

"Hmmm... with a reward like this, I suppose a victory wouldn't be near as satisfying, anyway." He chuckled into the kiss. "And there's always a next time, right, darling?"

Translations: et la partie est perdue - And the game is lost Cela ne fera que très mal - This will only hurt a lot

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #fraugwinskawrites #rosie hazbin hotel #zestial morde #blood and gore #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader

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midnightfire830 · 21 days

Note

What role Nix has in the Villain AU??

⚠️ TW FOR BLOOD ⚠️

. . .

Soooooooooo….. uhhhhhh

I don’t think we’d want to know what would happen in villains. Cuz… it’s messy.

😏

Thanks for the ask!!!

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fin-fected · 6 days

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The Fall of the Morningstar

Hello and welcome to my first Hazbin Hotel fic about Lucifers Fall. It's the prologue to my upcoming RadioApple fic and it's going to be pretty dark, so keep that in mind before you start reading and please also mind the tags <3

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #lucifer hazbin hotel #angst #hurt no comfort #hazbin hotel fanart #mental torture #blood and gore #lucifer morningstar #michael hazbin hotel #azrael hazbin hotel #lilith morningstar #duckiedeer #radioapple #lucilith #No Beta - we die like Adam

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floramadness · 4 months

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TW: Minor Gore (FNaF AU) Evan Afton was killed by his older sibling, Mike after being shoved inside Fredbear’s mouth as a joke. His whole head was smashed by the pressure of the hydraulic sticks/pipes on each side. He died right there at impact and went on to possess the golden bear animatronic (Evan’s the only soul inside Fredbear).

The soul appearance he mainly chooses is his headless body to remind everyone who sees him about his tragedy. His head rests inside Fredbear’s bloody mouth, although sometimes he would put it back on his body.

He’s one of the strongest souls, possessing huge paranormal abilities, like illusions, due to him dying with intense agony caused by the torment from his brother.

Evan believes that Mike must pay for the torture and agony he caused him while he was alive. Additionally, he follows Charlie Jennie’s goal to avenge her and the missing children’s souls and bring them to rest.

#fnaf #fnaf fanart #fnaf fandom #fnaf au #fnaf evan #fnaf crying child #evan afton #crying child #fnaf fredbear #fnaf golden freddy #fredbear #golden freddy #art #my art #character design #procreate #blood and gore #digital art

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pe0ple3ater · 2 months

Note

CellTw

Pac wanting Cellbit to bite him. Mark him up like a slab of carcass about to be processed with all the guide lines and such.

Just thinking about Pac slowly taking off his clothes after handing Cellbit a knife and Cellbit looking him over because damn he planned where Cellbit could slice with a sharpie. Where he would slowly plunge the scalpal or knife into him. This way he has control of the situation.

A quick "You're sure?"

Followed by "Don't go too crazy kitty" with a soft kiss.

Blood flavored kisses. Pac is a panting mess, looking down wary from blood loss as Cellbit is face deep in his organs. He lets Cellbit have a nibble or two before saying a safe word and Cellbit shoving a totem in his hand.

"again" he demands.

And so again Cellbit follows his chest down to his stomach and starts slicing him open.

-🥐

Hey. Hey. This is SO important to me. #1 you're insane for this. #2 THANK YOU. Pac being equally as fucked up as Cellbit, letting Cellbit work out his darkest needs and urges with him. Begging him to do it again.

When Cellbit ripped into him, it was the most loved he'd ever felt. The tender way Cellbit held him when he'd bitten into his leg, the kisses he'd trailed across his body. Warm and loving, yeah it hurt but everything in Pac's life has.

#qsmpnsfw #p@c #cellb!t #cannibalism #YES HOMOEROTIC DISECTION #let that man rearrange your guts #LITERALLY!!#thank you #please everyone send all your weird fucked up cannibalism and blood and gore shit to ME #blood and gore #should tag that #🥐 anon #welcome by the way <3

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valenfield-inspo · 2 months

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Resident Evil: Revelations - Extended Trailer (3DS)

#resident evil #resident evil: revelations #jill valentine #chris redfield #parker luciani #rachael foley #valenfield #jill x chris #chris x jill #my edits #reviledit #flashing lights #blood and gore

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taygra5shaon · 3 days

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Persuasion 20✨

just found weirdly funny to be able to make those guys kill themselves just with with your words...

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saintavangeline · 7 months

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My interpretation of “In The Desert” by Stephen Crane

Please credit me if you repost elsewhere. @saintavangeline (all socials)

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selineram3421 · 6 months

Text

*giggles like a psycho*

First Day

Part 2

Part 1

Alastor and Child Reader

Warning! ⚠

⚠ children (lol), reader being a menace ☺, blood/gore, ALL CAPS Bold red Italics = SOUND AFFECTS, red italics= Alastor's thoughts, fake crying, food mention(desserts), mention of murder, mention of kidnapping, mention of torture, murder of test demon ⚠

You saw the school bus and it was filled with shouts and screeches of other demon children. Making sure you of the item in your pocket, you readied yourself to begin the plan.

Stage one: Have some control over the school bus.

The door opened and you hop up the steps, the screams even louder now that you were inside.

It was absolutely unhinged.

I can do better. You thought, taking a quick glance to find a seat.

"Hurry up and sit down brat.", the bus driver yelled.

"Quiet before I cut you open.", you said to them without missing a beat and walked towards the back of the bus.

You were calm as the other children were acting like drug addicts.

One was bold enough to try and trip you with their leg out. Looking at them, you see that they have a cocky grin.

"Can you please move your leg? Its in the way.", you ask.

"No. Just go over it.", they laughed.

With a shrug you do just that, they try and lift their leg up higher to trip you but you jump at the last second and aim for their knee.

SNAP

They scream like bloody murder as they cry, grabbing the attention of the other children. All eyes are on you and the broken leg that's spewing out blood.

"I did ask nicely.", you say before continuing on your way to the open seat in the back.

Finally, you arrive at the school and find your classroom, now you were standing next to the teacher as your new classmates make a mess with paper planes and other items.

"Everyone SHUT UP! This is the new student.", the teacher Ms. Mayberry introduces you to the class. "Go on and say hello, then take the empty seat over in the middle."

You nod and smile as you face the children.

"Don't cross me or you might end up like Mikey!", you say cheerfully and go sit down.

Stage two: Assert dominance and be kind to those who are kind to you. *weed out any snakes*

Alastor got ready to pick up his little demon.

I wonder if they had fun. He thought before leaving the hotel.

On his way over, he picked up some pastries from their favorite bakery. Now the Radio Demon was just a few feet away from the gate that had a few lingering children, that's where he saw his little one waiting with the teacher who was smoking.

They spotted him and lit up.

"Alastor!", they cheered before running up.

The teacher had backed up a bit after noticing who he was.

"Good afternoon mon petite!", he said and picked them up. "Did you have a good time? Hm? Were there any pests?"

"I took care of it! But all of them went home alive.", they replied as he began walking back to the hotel. "Bye Ms. Mayberry!", they waved to their teacher.

They had started to tell him what happened on the school bus as they got closer to the hotel, that is when the deer demon reminded them to look sad.

"I don't think I can keep a straight face but I can still cry like I'm sad.", the little demon said. "I know what to do."

They hid their face on his shoulder and started shaking their shoulders, making convincing sniffles and sobs.

Alastor opened the hotel doors, finding the princess and her partner, one of them holding a cupcake.

"Oh no, what happened?", Charlie asked after noticing the little demon's shaking shoulders.

"There was a bully that harassed them today.", he answered and made his way over to the stairs, lifting up the bakery box. "I've already bought them sweets to cheer them up but you can leave the cupcake for dessert after dinner."

Once in the hotel room, he sets them down and put the box of sweets on the small table near the door.

"Wash your hands before getting your sweets.", he says before helping them take off their school bag.

"Ok!", they nod and run over to the bathroom.

Taking the box, the demon in red snaps his fingers to conjure some plates on the coffee table. He sets up the table before putting the pastries on the plates. Making sure to get their favorite cup for their drink.

They went to their room before coming back out with no coat and taking a seat on the couch.

"Now, tell me all about your day.", he said giving them a plate with a slice of cranberry pomegranate curd tart. "What kind of drink would you like with your sweets?"

They ask for their favorite drink and proceed to tell him about what happened after the "tripping" incident.

The deer demon prepares a cup of coffee while getting their drink.

"Some of the kids tried to act tough and pick a fight with me during reeses. The supervisors don't care if there's a fight as long as no one gets killed.", they said before taking a bite of the tart. "I broke a lot of bones today.", they add.

"Don't speak while chewing dear.", Alastor hands them a napkin, placing their cup next to their plate before sitting down.

They go into detail of all the injuries they caused with a wide smile. Telling him that they want to learn more tactics of intimidation to scare some of the staff.

"Finish your homework and I'll take you out so you can have hands on experience.", he says and sips his coffee.

"Really!?", they ask excited.

"Of course! Its the best way to learn."

After dinner (and their desert), they headed out and found a demon to test on.

"The best way to intimidate someone is through fear. Give them something that will always remind others not to try anything. Breaking the boy's leg was good, but remember that it is on school grounds that you cannot kill.", he says as both of them watch the test demon scream as they are being taken apart limb by limb. "Of course you have my permission to kill anyone that tries to kill or kidnap you. Or other terrible things.."

"Can I torture them a little bit?", they ask.

"Yes, but don't let your guard down.", the Radio Demon says, using the tendrils to rip the test demon's head off. "Remember mon petite, prey can bite back."

On the way back to the hotel, he got them a new plush, a small mouse to attach to their school bag.

"Mr. Squeaks."

Tehe.

~Seline, the person.

Extra: Dessert image

Extra EXTRA: Art

Taglist@

@willowaudreykeyes @kiraisastay @c4rved-pumpk1n @stolas-thebirb @scary-noodlesblog @naelys-the-aster @ducky-died-inside @biromanticboba @roo-bi @pooplyface1423 @lbcreations-blog @+?

ML for Alastor🎙

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diejager · 25 days

Note

i saw the comments in one of the monster fics and if youre up to it- monster feast/mukbang with eldritch horror reader??? love you!!!

Finally, someone who wants to see as much blood and gore as me!!!! Muhahahahhahaha

Cw: cannibalism, gore, blood, horror, eldritch!reader, tell me if I kissed any.

It had lingered on your mind for the past months, an itch at the back of your mind whenever you ate. You remembered their curious glances, watching the black ichor pool at your feet, cold and potent in both strength and poison. It was brought back whenever you gorged on any kind of meat, teeth carving through hard flesh and pulling the fibers apart, strings of ligaments curling in your maw as you suckled on the blood, rich with flavour and filling with life.

You knew the telltale signs of curiosity flash in their eyes, the flicker of hunger for the thick musk of power that clung to Eldritch flesh, the smell of drool pooling under their tongues and the tenseness in their shoulders. Unmoving and still as they watched you devour a young and inexperienced God in it’s strive to conquer, but you were more powerful, more knowing and more terrifying. You were simply more.

Then - you questioned if the enemy was as stupid as it was, to slave another Eldritch God to do their bidding, or were smart, had learned from their mistake and found someone more knowing - a city dwelling Horror appeared, a big rat-faced creature with puss and rot bubbling on the skin where matted fur and branching arms didn’t cover. You stepped into it’s domain, trampling in and announcing your darkened presence to it’s ravaging mind, a psyche fractured into hundreds in a body of one, each limbs moving with it’s own intention. They, you thought, a being deserving of being called a king with the strength and knowledge it wielded —a worthy enemy.

You bled and bled them, returning every wound with another one until it eventually fell, it’s smell heady, driving you to the point of near famine, drool rolling down your beak as you crawled to it. You ripped into their puss filled flesh, pulling at the tender muscles and sweet fat that covered the lining of their bones, breaking bones under your claws to suckle on the healthy marrow and carved the organs out for the thickness of it. You tried to keep your feeding contained within a certain perimeter, your fight costing the city damage and the few lives you couldn’t protect from the erratic swing of the king’s many arms —or at least tried with your hunger driven mind.

“Crow.”

And you remembered the interest Ghost and König held for Eldritch meat, drawn in by the age of it, the power it held within every sinewy fiber of flesh and hard bones. You scoured the large body for a cleaner part, cutting away pieces of untainted meat, portions big enough to fill their stomach for a few days, but small enough to not dive them into madness. You let out a rumble, body shuddering and feather ruffling with it, a sound of approval toward both men.

Your tail curled around them when they stood by your feet, looking at both through a single beady eye, blinking owlishly while you appraised them for their fearlessness towards the unknown meat you had placed before them. Ghost had been faster in his consumption, his smoke drowning the king’s fat in his mass. He trembled, feet unsteady with every step he took, his body shook with the power that coursed through him from the feeding. A natural reaction to his first bite, while less common than in the past, you remembered reacting the same when you first tasted the flesh of your kind, the lingering adrenaline that mingled with newly acquired power, pumped through your body in a rush of energy. It was addicting.

König seemed to take it… more enthusiastically, lurching forward after his first bite, diving in with intent to take a bigger bite, making a mess of him and the ground he stood. You nearly preened at the bloody grin he sent you, eyes blown wide like he was in a high, drunk off the king’s strength even after their death. Such high could drive a man insane, corrupting a being’s conscience with madness, near crazed. You wouldn’t let that happen, you’d seen so many succumb to it, but with you by their side, none would die such a harrowing death.

Taglist: @warenai @capricorn-anon @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @dont-mind-me-just-existing-sadly @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @mxblobby @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce

#x reader #cod mw2 #cod mw2 x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost mw2 #konig x reader #konig mw2 #Eldritch horror!reader #monster 141 #monster cod au #monster 141 au #konig cod #könig x reader #könig #könig mw2 #blood and gore #canibalism

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puhpandas · 9 months

Text

Vivid Phantasm

(2,408 words)

Vanessa has a bad and vivid nightmare. Gregory helps her calm down when she wakes up.

(warnings: mentions of innards being outards, blood, gore, descriptions matching a zombie, panicking, unreality, mentions of death, corpses, maggots, etc. please be careful and take care!)

This morning feels off.

It's the same as any other morning, is the thing. Daylight is shining through the small window in her apartments kitchen, the TV has some Halloween baking show on that she can hear playing behind the island window, and Gregory is pouring an abundance of sugary cereal in a bowl even though breakfast is being cooked, like always.

Save for the fact that Vanessa's the one sitting at the table, instead of being at the stove cooking breakfast. Freddy took over that burden for her, if his hulking frame clutching a spatula and the smell of bacon and eggs is any indication.

She would feel grateful, that Freddy decided to use his steadily growing cooking skills to give her a peaceful beginning of the weekend. But the thing is, she cant remember waking up that morning. She cant remember getting out of bed, or having her morning cup of coffee, or Freddy taking over for her at the stove.

No, she shakes the thought away as soon as it enters her mind. Vanny is gone. For good. She isn't coming back.

Despite her own reassurance shooing away the paranoia (it's her old friend at this point), the feeling that somethings off continues to linger. It's like the very air is suffocating, feeling wrong against her skin.

Gregory finally sits across from her at the table, and despite his full bowl of lucky charms, she can't find it in herself to reprimand him. The feeling of wrongness is too strong.

So she just defaults to the question she asks every Saturday morning, and ignores the swimming uncomfortableness in her stomach.

"So," She begins uncertainly, fingers drumming on the dining table. "how has school been?"

Gregory doesn't respond. All he does is leave his bowl of cereal untouched and stare at her.

The wrongness washes over her, a sense of dread crawling under her skin. She shifts uncomfortably, eyes wandering across the kitchen just so she doesnt meet Gregory's eyes.

Her breathing picks up when she notices small oddities; Gregory's drawings on the fridge are muddled, like if she'd imagined them and couldn't paint the full picture. The cat clock that normally sits on the wall next to the fridge is completely missing. Freddys body looks like his old, company manufactured shiny one, no homemade mismatched casing or scrapes and scratches to be found.

She tries to lower her heartrate, taking deep breaths to stay calm in front of Gregory. She repeats her usual reassurances in her head, but the scenario that none of this is real, but more like a pale recreation of what she does know lingers in the back of her mind.

Gregory, who's been so still this whole time, suddenly begins to laugh. Vanessa startles, the sound that normally brings her joy just making her feel unsettled.

When she looks over at him, hes grinning, so wide his cheeks could crack, and he's cackling, like she just said the funniest thing in the world. His eyes bore into hers, looking so unlike the Gregory she knows.

It echoes in the suddenly silent room. She can't hear the TV anymore, and the sound of frying bacon is completely absent.

She trembles under his gaze, her heart in her throat. She swallows, feeling sickness coat the back of her throat. "...Gregory?"

The smile is off of his face immediately, faster than she could blink, and all shes left with is him boring into her with a blank expression. "You really think this isn't real?"

Vanessa goes rigid, because it's almost like Gregory read her very thoughts. "Um..."

Gregory's empty eyes stare right into hers, and she feels like hes looking into her very soul, judging her. "I bet you want it to be. I bet you want the things you did to just be a bad dream."

Vanessa feels nausea curl in her stomach when Freddys head is suddenly flipped backwards, staring at her with the same lifeless eyes as Gregory. Gregory cackles again, but when Vanessa looks over at him, he's still completely stoic.

"The things I did?" The question leaves her mouth without her permission. Her back aches when the wood digs into it as she tries to lean back as far as she can. Away from Gregory.

"You killed me." Gregory tells her, an edge to his voice. "I'm dead. I'm not really here."

Vanessa freezes, her body trembling so hard her shoulders shake. "What?" She whispers.

"You killed me." He repeats, eyes dark and devoid of any life. Theres zero shine to them, like hes just a copy. A cruel figment. "I havent been here in a long time. I died in that room, Vanessa. You killed me."

Vanessa shakes her head, and despite her wobbly knees, she stands abruptly and sends her chair squealing against the floor. "No..." She backs up, shaking her head almost deliriously. "No--

"I was trying to save you." Gregory stands himself, movements unnatural and rigid, and Vanessa feels her heartrate spike and her stomach drop when Gregory begins to stalk towards her.

"I was so close." Gregory says, blood seeping from his mouth and dribbling down his chin. The very same slice she remembers making on his face as Vanny, the one she always used as an anchor, a sign of hope that it was all over re-opens, blood leaking sluggishly out of it. "But you stopped me. You stopped me from freeing you."

Vanessa shakes her head, eyes blown wide. No. She remembers him saving her, the way she dropped like a puppet with its strings cut. The way he'd looked at her and smiled, and for some reason, forgave her for everything at that very moment. This isnt right.

"You stopped me." Gregory repeats, and hes suddenly in his old blue polo, rips and tears near his stomach. She feels sickness crawl its way up her throat when a dark spot appears in the same place, and the blood from his mouth dirties his collar. He takes another step. "Because you didnt want me to."

"No." She squeezes her eyes shut, back hitting the wall. She slides pitifully down the wall, knees giving in. "No... I-I never wanted to--"

"You wanted me to die." He says, anger lacing his tone. He takes another step. "You wanted to stop me. So you could continue killing."

"I didnt..." She mumbles, tears slipping past her eyelashes. She sits on the floor, knees pulled up to her chest and arms shielding her from the world. "I dont... I dont. I dont want to."

"You still believe that?" Gregory demands, with a kind of anger and hatred that shes never heard from him before. "I'm dead! I'm dead because you killed me Vanessa!"

"No..." She sobs, daring to peek at him, just so he can see her and know she didnt mean it. She doesnt want to. "I'm-- Im sorry--!"

She regrets it as soon as she sets eyes on him. Gregory's shadow looms over her, shirt half ripped and his intestines flopping out of his stomach, his eyes are wide and bug-eyed, like theyre supposed to be unseeing, but arent. Blood is smeared across his face, on his chin, under his fingernails, and she can see it trail after him on the floor.

"You did this to me." He says, voice sounding so unlike himself. Like hes a different person. "I hate you. Vanessa. I hate you!"

Vanessa sobs, cowering in the corner of the room and shielding herself. "No! I'm sorry!"

She can feel something grip her on her arm, an iron grip that sends waves of pain down her forearm. She cries out, and feels the color drain from her face when she follows the hand grabbing her to its owners face.

Gregory stands over her, slouched over with his face staring directly at hers. His skin is a horrible sickly pale green, with eyes and teeth a rotted yellow. Dried blood is caked around his mouth, and his cheeks are sunken in, with maggots crawling out of open wounds in his skin.

"I'm dead, and you're still pretending." He whispers, but it sounds so loud in the silence. She trembles when his bones crack as he rolls his neck unnaturally. "You'll never escape, Vanessa."

All Vanessa can do is cry. She buries her face in her knees, desperately begging for her to wake up from this awful nightmare. Gregory cackles above her, a demonic, horrible thing.

"Vanessa!" He yells, grip tightening. "Vanessa, wake up!"

"Vanessa!" Theres another grip on her shoulder, and she shoots awake, eyes flying open as she gasps for air.

Gregory winds backwards, narrowly avoiding getting headbutted. "Woah!" Gregory cries out. "Vanessa, hey-- calm down!"

Vanessas eyes dart around, desperately scanning the room for a decaying body, or straining her ears for laughing, but theres none. She takes deep breaths, and only after she has her breathing under control a little more does she realize she was matching Gregorys.

Gregory.

"You okay?" He asks when she finally looks at him. Her heartrate spikes again when all she can see is the shadows of his face -courtesy of her blackout curtains-. All she can see when she scans over him is blood leaking from his mouth, or holes in his skin with the writhing of maggots, or dirty fingernails that show evidence of a fight.

Gregory seems to notice, he always does somehow, so he throws the curtains aside, almost ripping them off the wall with how intense he rips them open. He clicks on the light, and only then does he return to her side and settle on the foot of her bed.

Shes still breathing erratically, and horrible anxiety is eating away at her stomach. Her shoulders are hunched and her heart is going ten miles an hour.

She revels in the sight of Gregory okay, alive, and concerned. No trace of the anger and hatred pinching his face. His eyes look just how she remembers them, big and alive, but her eyes lock onto the scar when she sees it. Its fully healed at this point, just a thin line across his face, but it stills brings her more comfort than anything else.

Gregory saved her. She soaks in the thought, the reality. Hes alive. He survived her. He's okay and hes the reason shes okay, too.

She tries to unwind her tense joints, sinking into her sweaty pillow as her shoulders still tremble. Gregory's concerned look is the last thing she sees before she shuts her eyes, trying to relax her body.

Images of intestines dripping blood on the floor, lifeless eyes boring into hers, accusing stares, and decaying faces flash behind her eyes.

Nope. She rips her eyes open just as fast as she closed them, rubbing at them one at a time as if she can scrub the visions away.

"Nightmare?" Gregory asks her, startling her. She just sighs and nods, sticking her clammy hands under her comforter. She averts her eyes, even if she shouldn't, because she doesn't want to see lifeless, bugged out eyes and red stained teeth when she looks at him.

"Scale from one to ten?" Gregory puts a hand on where he thinks her knee is under the blanket. It's a question they ask eachother a lot, when they both have nightmares. None of them like reliving the memories, so this way, they can know how bad it is without having to talk about it.

This dream, no, nightmare is one she really doesn't want to talk about, so she just sighs shakily, and with a still hammering heart, says "Eight."

Gregory whistles low and long. "That's pretty bad."

Vanessa nods, and despite herself, tears slip out of her eyes. She tries to cover them up with her hands, but Gregory just takes them in his.

"Nope. None of that." He says. "Can you look at me, Ness?"

Vanessa doesn't want to. Lest she see a face pinched with hatred boring into her, but she still does. And instead of what she was fearing, Gregory's understanding, concerned, kind face is looking back at her. No malice detected.

"Whatever you dreamed about," He starts. "Its not true. You weren't the one to kill those people, it was him. You never killed me, either. I'm right here, and I forgive you. Me and Freddy both do, okay?"

Vanessa dares to nod, soaking up the reassurance like a sponge. The idea, no, reality that Gregory doesn't hate her, that hes okay and alive is so overwhelming, her shoulders sag and she breaths out a long, deep exhale.

She takes one more long glance at his scar, and nods more surely this time. "Okay." She sighs. "Okay."

"Cool." Gregory smiles, and it's nothing like the lifeless, uncanny grin nightmare Gregory had pointed at her. This is Gregorys smile. The crooked one that shows off his permanently missing front tooth. "I woke you up 'cause Freddy's cooking breakfast today and it's almost ready. He wanted to let you sleep in."

Vanessa's heart shoots to her throat at that, but it quickly calms, and she feels herself get clammy again. She tries to ignore it, relaxing her body and breathing deeply. "I think we should eat in the living room today."

Gregory lights up. "Can we watch YouTube?"

Unconsiously, a smile stretches across Vanessa's face. "Sure, kid. Anything you'd like."

"Cool." Gregory grins. He grabs her hand from under the covers, yanking her up with suprising strength. "C'mon then! The breakfast Freddy cooked for us is waiting!"

Vanessa laughs, and to her surprise, it comes easy. Some of the uneasiness melts off of her and dissipates from her stomach, and she scrambles to keep up with Gregory, not bothering to make the bed as he drags her to the kitchen. "Slow down! I'm coming! At least let me have some coffee first."

When they're sitting on the couch, Freddy next to Gregory and Gregory next to Vanessa, and they're sharing a throw blanket and they're chewing on slightly burnt bacon and runny eggs, and the video Gregory put on is surprisingly making Vanessa laugh, she smiles.

Because her kid is okay, and he doesn't hate her, and somehow, he did that thing where he somehow distracts her from her demons effortlessly. She can hear him laughing beside her. With her, and she smiles knowing how much her family loves her, and how much she loves them.

ao3 link

#oneshot #pandas writes #3 star fam #fnaf fic #gore warning #body horror #panic attack #nightmares #unreality #blood #blood and gore #gore #gregory #vanessa #freddy #fnaf #fnaf gregory #fnaf vanessa #fnaf security breach

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pryce0 · 1 year

Text

The Tables Have Turned - Ghost x Medic!GN!Reader

gif by: @daniel-bruehl

summary; You get shot during a mission and now it’s Ghost’s turn to make sure you live to see another day. Reader is gender neutral, callsign is Savior.]

abbreviations; gsw = gunshot wound

[warnings; blood and gore, descriptive injury, angst, hurt/comfort + cod violence. medical inaccuracies.]

word count; 1,865

masterlist; here

———————

What I expected was a clean cut mission; arrive on site, grab the intel and get out. What I didn’t expect was the whole thing being a set-up, getting separated from the entire team, and to get a 5.56 to the side and smash my head into a wall.

I gasp for air when I awaken from my nonconsensual slumber and I can’t hear anything besides ringing. I try to open my eyes, but it’s like the world’s strongest person is pull my eyelids down by my eyelashes. I gasp again; it’s like I suddenly have no idea how to breathe, my chest burns, my side burns, it burns, it fucking burns-

Within a second, my hearing returns and I’m able to open my eyes; all I hear is gunfire, I smell gunpowder and smoke and I’m met with the sight of a run down room with the windows busted out. I look around slowly as I try to get my bearings and I reach forward for my rifle and that’s when the pain hits me.

“Fuck!” I whimper out, my head throbbing and my abdomen feeling like I just got pierced on the top of fucking Lady Liberty’s torch. One of my hands fly to my abdomen and I pull it away from whatever hurts to see blood, and lots.. lots of it. I breathe out a laugh of shock as I press my hand against the wound again, knowing that this isn’t something that can be fixed by ignoring it. I try to properly sit up against the wall and I immediately want to throw up, my head begins to fucking spin and I can borderline feel vomit in the back of my throat.

“Savior, how copy?!” I hear Price’s beautiful voice ring through from my comms which makes me let out another laugh, but I grimace from how that irritates whatever the fuck got me. I shakily grab the sides of my radio and press on the talk button. “I’m.. I’m here.” I sound like death itself, except with an edge of humor. “So glad to hear your voice, Captain.” I let go of the button and I grunt out in pain as I slowly but surely get myself against the wall properly. “Where are you?” Price demands, but I know he’s not angry towards me. I can hear gunshots through the comms, so he must be in the middle of a firefight. “Uh.. Some building, there’s a..” I glance around but it’s really hard to really find any distinguishing features, especially when my damn vision is swimming. “..There’s a broken down red door in front of the building, I, uh..” I hesitate as I force the vomit back down my throat. “I got hit, there’s.. There’s a good amount of blood, Cap. GSW, I think. No confirmation, I can’t see shit.”

“Shit,” I hear Soap’s voice over the comms, and like the sweet guy he is, his concern is audible. I look around the room for my med-bag and that fucker is gone. “My bag is MIA, the best I can do is.. ugh, fuck-“ I glance down at my body, my vest and I witness how my clothes are darkening from my own blood. It’s an odd warmth too, and my head goes back to spinning. I vaguely hear Gaz shouting over the comms, saying something about me. I lift my hand up which feels like a thousand pounds and press the talk button, slurring my words, “I don’ feel so good, guys. M’applying pressure, I..”

I blink slowly as it feels everything begins to move in slow motion. I blink again and I lose my hearing again; or is everything muffled? I begin to lean to my left side—or is it my right? I don’t know anymore. I see a shadow by the door and then a big man, dressed in almost all black. My heart slips a beat; I’m not about to let some fucker slaughter me. My hand goes for my pistol from the holster on the front of my vest. I take it out and the weight of it is transferred to my hand. I aim it at the man and before my shaky thumb can pull the safety down, the man grabs the pistol from me. “No-“ I whisper and reach for it, but I see a skull glove grab my shoulder. A sliver of hope fills my chest and I look up at the man; and it’s indeed my Lieutenant, Ghost. I blink and try to watch where his mouth would be; the material of his skull mask is moving, but I’m hearing absolutely nothing. He keeps speaking to me, but my eyes move up to his eyes instead. Those beautiful brown eyes with his beautiful blonde eyelashes.. His eyeshadow is covering his eyebrows, but I can focus my eyes hard enough to see his concerned expression. His usual hardened look is there, but I’m reading a level of worry which is.. relieving, for some reason. My hearing returns to me like a bag of bricks being slapped in my face, but I’m met with a voice that I never expected to be so relieving to hear. “Savior, can you hear me?” Ghost’s gruff voice fills my eardrums and I smile lazily.

“Now I can, L.T.” I breathe out. His eyebrows raise ever so slightly before he puts the pistol beside me on the ground and grabs the front of my vest. “I have to take this off, gotta assess the wound.. Wounds, I should say.” He murmurs, glancing at somewhere on my head. “Mhm.” I reply as my eyelids begin to close. I feel him rip open the velcro of my vest and put it aside. His gloved hand gently pats my cheek. “Keep your eyes open for me, alright? I’m going to get you out of this.” Ghost’s voice is firm and so confident.. I open my eyes to look at him. “You sound so sure, hehe..” I reply. I shudder as he lays me down flat on my back, which causes the back of my shirt to soak up more of my blood. “Because I am.” He replies. “Keep pressure on that wound, I’m going to look for your bag.”

“M’kay..” I reply with a light tone. My eyes flutter ever so slightly and I think I blacked out for a moment because next thing I see is Ghost lifting my shirt and my hand is off of my wound.

I blink again and I’m crying out, met with a blurry vision of Ghost with tweezers. My eyebrows raise as I look at Ghost with confusion and fear, and then my head rolls back.

—————————

The smell of anti-septic and the sound of buzzing of florescent lights is what wakes me. Then I’m met with the beeping of a heart monitor, and then the feeling of wires. I groan as I feel my abdomen pulsing and it feels as if my organs are about to spill out of my gut. My head is killing me, too. I slowly open my heavy eyelids and squint as I’m trying to understand where I am and what happened.

I blink to focus my eyes and I’m met with the familiar walls of the medical unit of the base and I let out a shaky breath, incredibly relieved. I scrunch my nose and go to scratch it, but I find an oxygen tube around my head. “Wha..” I slur and I look beside me and I’m met with the sight of Ghost, slumped over in his chair, manspread and his arms crossed. “Lieutenant..” I croak, moving my hand over my stomach. Ghost is immediately roused and he blinks before looking at me. He perks up and uncrosses his arms, his large frame leaning towards me. “You’re awake. Welcome back to the land of the living, Savior.” He says quietly, a relieved tone to his words. I laugh gently and then I grimace from the pain that sprouts from my wounds. “What happened?” I ask before I cough, a hand going to my throat. Before I even ask for water, Ghost leans over to the side table and opens a fresh water bottle for me. “Thanks..” I whisper and I go to grab it, but I realize I’m barely able to grip the air. My face heats up as I glance at Ghost. “..Can you help me? I’m sorry..” I mutter. Ghost wordlessly helps me sip the water, the room temperature water quenching my thirst. I lean away from the bottle once I’m done and he screws the plastic cap back on. He places the water bottle back on the side table and looks back at him, clasping his hands together. “I was going to wait for Price to give you the run down, but I know you’re an impatient bastard.” He murmurs softer than usual. I smile at him and nod. “You know me so well.” I quip.

Ghost fixes his skull gloves absentmindedly. “We were given faulty intel, and we were led into a trap.” He begins, keeping eye contact with me. “It was a set-up. Remember, we got ambushed when we got close to the location. I’m not sure what happened with you exactly, you went bloody MIA. No one knew where you were.”

I’m silent as he continues. “After you woke up and gave the vaguest description you possibly could, I found you.” I laugh softly and lean my head on my own shoulder. “I’m sitting in a hospital bed and yet, you still find time to rag on my ass, L.T.” I reply and he raises his eyebrows with amusement. “Well, of course. It’s required.” He replies before standing up and standing beside my bed. “You were shot with a 5.56 round. It did a good amount of damage and you lost a lot of blood, and you hit your head pretty hard,” Ghost pauses and sighs, glancing away. “You died for a few minutes. I nearly lost you.”

I blink at him as the silence in the room weighed heavy. I died? “It was that bad, huh?” I murmur, scanning his stance and face for any emotion. He’s tense. Ghost nods and drags the chair closer to the bed, his gloved fingers grabbing my hospital gown at gently pull on it. I look at him curiously and he just seems so.. out of character. “I’m still here, Ghost.” I put my hand over his which causes his head to whip over and look at me. There’s a layer of vulnerability he’s struggling to keep hidden under his mask; more metaphorical and physical. He swallows his spit and nods. “You are.”

There’s a layer of vulnerability Ghost seems to allow with me he doesn’t allow with anyone else. Only I get to see the softer side of Ghost, the side where he touches me first, the side where he allows more than seriousness to display.

He surprises me by slipping his gloved hand into mine, squeezing my hand gently— like I’ll slip away forever. I smile at his gesture and lean closer to him. “I’m still here, Simon. I’m still here.”

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