#I don’t remember that being the case in the game but I could be wrong | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

a-spes · 1 month

Text

| PRETTY FACES, DARK SOULS - part two (4.070 words).

| Summary - you rob the wrong person, and she makes sure that you pay your debts, willingly or not.

| Tags & warnings - Men & minors DNI, Dark CEO!Natasha Romanoff x fem!Reader, nothing else for the moment (I think?)

| MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING

| part one. part two.

When Natasha realised that you left nothing to her, taking even her cheque book, she had to call her sister, asking her to come and pay for her. Even if she tried to be as nice as she could in such a situation, she couldn’t keep her words from being harsh.

She couldn’t even remember the last time she had felt so humiliated. Natasha Romanoff, known as one of the most successful entrepreneurs of her generation, having to explain to the waiter that she can’t pay, having to ask her sister for money. It is something that shouldn’t have happened, something that needed to be repaired.

If one thing was sure, it’s that Yelena has not been happy to be woken up by her sister’s bad mood, but she complied with her request without questioning it, knowing better than to argue with her eldest.

“Don’t you dare to say a word", she warned when she eventually saw the blonde approaching the table.

She had been sitting here for almost an hour, waiting for her sister who decided to take her time. It was a childish way of avenging the brutal awakening she underwent, and the redhead would certainly have laughed if she wasn’t already irritated, and the youngest’s attitude only made it worse.

On the contrary, when Yelena saw her sister sitting at the table, she forgot about her bitterness, realizing how funny the situation was. She never could’ve imagined her sister calling her because she needed money. She is one of the richest people that exist on earth, and one of the most far-sighted at the same time. She always has her phone, at least two cards, her cheque book, and an absurd amount of cash, just in case.

The smile that grows on her face as she realizes how improbable the situation is earns her a slap on the back of the head, and Natasha never holds back her strength.

“Ouch!" She said, rubbing where she was hit, “it hurts!” She complained, but her sister doesn’t seem to care. In a second, the smile disappeared, giving way to a dark look.

“Shut up", the redhead said, rolling her eyes. She knows her sister as the back of her hand, and she also knows that the strength she put in that slap wasn’t enough to hurt her. She probably barely felt it, and is just too much of a cry baby sometimes. Something that’s pissing off the redhead that is in no mood for that kind of game. “Shut up, or you’ll learn what real pain is", she added, not even trying to hide the threat behind her words.

“You’ve no right to snap at me when I came all the way just to help you", she protested, and if they both knew she was right, her words were greeted by a simple sigh from the redhead who ran her hand over her face. No apologies, just silence.

She couldn’t even remember the last time she witnessed her sister in such a state of distress, but she knows that nothing good came out of it. If she enjoys it when the oldest terrifies her men, she fears the incensed decisions she will inevitably make.

She could burn the whole city if she wanted to.

And Natasha has to admit that the thought crossed her mind a few times while she was waiting for the blonde to show up. She was barely able to control her anger, and couldn’t help but bounce her right leg under the table while her fingers were tapping on the table. But none of these actions helped to calm her nerves.

“I abandoned really important things, you know”, she added, as she took her wallet out of her pocket to put it in her sister’s hand. She had outstretched it toward her, and Yelena didn’t need words to understand what the redhead wanted. “All of that because you forgot your wallet …", she mumbled under her breath, but obviously the other heard it.

“I didn’t forget my wallet, it has been stolen”, she muttered, as if it could make the situation less embarrassing, as if she hoped her sister wouldn’t hear, but none of these statements turned out to be true.

“You’re joking, right?” she asked back, not believing the oldest. “You can tell me, I won’t tell anyone if that’s the case”, she added, sure that her sister was lying to her in an attempt to hide what she probably considered as a weakness.

That’s what her sister always does. Most of the time, she is perfect, but when she inevitably makes mistakes, she always finds excuses. She blames her men, runs away, or pretends it has never happened, and Yelena feels like it’s exactly what’s happening right now. She is thinking that her sister has forgotten her wallet, but doesn't want to admit it.

Maybe because the idea of Natasha being robbed sounds unbelievable.

“I am not lying, someone stole me”, she said again, and her sister better not make her repeat it a third time because she will really lose her temper this time. Everytime she said it out loud, it only made it a bit more real, as if she couldn’t quite believe it before. But the realization is now sinking in, and she feels like she is becoming crazy with all the thoughts that are crossing her mind at the moment. “They took everything", she angrily added, throwing the empty wallet on the table, only for the youngest to check.

And her sister was right. They took everything, not leaving a single penny. The blonde was so shocked that she didn’t even know how to react.

“But … who’s stupid enough to steal things from The Natasha Romanoff?” She managed to ask, once the initial surprise had worn off, “and how did that even happen?” she added, looking at her sister who was now pacing up and down the terrace.

But she knew she wouldn’t get an answer, at least no today. Her sister was ignoring her voice, too busy mumbling things to herself, and she would probably be thrown over the edge if she interrupts, so she waited for them to be in the car to talk again.

She didn’t even complain when the oldest stole her keys, deciding that she will be the one to drive without even asking first. The blonde slipped in the passenger seat, muttering a few insults that Natasha pretends not to hear.

“So, what do you want us to do?” she eventually asked after they’ve been sitting in silence for a few minutes. She was looking at the redhead, the one who was staring at the road, lost in her thoughts.

“Nothing,” she replied, and brought back to reality by the question, she started the car, trying to ignore the look of surprise on her sister’s face.

“Nothing?” she repeated, “so you’re just going to let them go away when they robbed you?” she continued, and the lack of reaction from her sister made her want to shake her sister to get her thinking straight.

“Nothing yet” she corrected her, putting an end to Yelena’s protests. Despite what the other may think, she doesn’t intend to let the culprit be forgiven. It has never been her intention, and she knows exactly what to do to get every penny back.

When she notices the determination in the eyes of the oldest, she knew the next months were going to be interesting. She smirks at the thought.

✧ • ✧ • ✧ • ✧ • ✧

This time was the last.

That’s what you said to yourself after every theft, and it has never been true, because you never earned enough to get out of this situation. What you were stealing was usually just enough for you to survive a few weeks, and even if you kept telling that to yourself, you stopped believing that it could become a reality.

It was nothing more than a dream, you head knew it, even if your heart never stopped dreaming about a future brighter than your present. Every night, the day you would eventually be out of misery was the last thing you were thinking about, and you spent hours imagining how it would look like.

You wanted an apartment that would be big enough to welcome the friends you would have made, and a job that you appreciate, but about which you would still complain.

At first, it was only about stealing the essentials, a jumper or an apple for which you would feel guilty for days. It’s when you stopped fearing that someone would catch you that you’ve started to think bigger. The few people who witnessed your theft generally decided that they weren’t paid enough to come after you, a little girl isn't worth their energy.

The years have gone by, and if the number of your victims increased, your wealth hasn’t. That’s when you realized that stealing money from the tourists in the street was not what would give you a better life, and decided to go after the richest people on the earth, the ones that probably wouldn’t even notice if you’d taken a few hundred dollars from their wallet.

One day, you’ll be making so much money that you will be able to pay for your debts.

Slowly, this need to survive has turned into a need for a life where you would have something to call yours. You didn’t want something to eat, you wanted an apartment. You didn’t want stolen clothes, you wanted something bought with your own money. Even a cup or a pen would be enough, as long as you could claim it as yours.

One day, you’ll deserve everything you have.

You stopped stealing almost two years ago, when you eventually raised enough money to start a new life, and the dream became a reality. It took you a lot of time and effort, but you eventually got exactly where you’ve been dreaming of being since your teenage years.

It was thanks to the inattention of this woman who hadn’t blocked her card when it was stolen, neither she declared her cheque book stolen, allowing you to use it as you wished for months. Usually, your victims are quick to solve the problem, leaving you only with the few notes you stole from their wallets.

But this time, you were left with more money than you ever had, more than enough to buy a ticket to another city, and still being able to buy essential supplies after. You could leave, rent a room for a few weeks, just until you find a job and get your first pay, you could even buy some new clothes, and you would still have enough money.

At first, you thought there was a catch, but the days have gone by, they became weeks, months, then years, and if the card and the cheque book never stopped working, nothing bad happened. No one ever knocked at your door, no letter got sent, and the feeling of dread you felt every time you paid has finally disappeared.

Maybe she forgot. Maybe she didn’t even notice. Maybe there was a problem that never got fixed. Maybe it’s just taking a lot of time. You have no idea, but you can’t help but wonder why, thinking about all the reasons that must have led to that situation.

It is fate.

That’s what a part of your mind is whispering to you, and you ask nothing more than being able to believe it, the other part trying to understand the situation without being able to make sense of it. Even after two years, the question was still in the back of your mind, and you’re almost sure that you could still use the card if you wanted to.

But you don’t, because you made a promise to yourself. You swore that, the moment you would earn enough money to support yourself, you would stop using hers. It has been a bit more than a year since you found your job, and this part of your life feels so foreign now. The only reminder of your past is that box, where you’re keeping all the cards, cheque books, and wallets you once stole. The one that’s hidden in your closet, where no one could see it, not even yourself. The one that contains a past you want to forget about.

You now have a job, an apartment, and you even made some friends on the way. They’re good people, hanging out with them makes you feel like you are too. They never asked questions about where you’re coming from, because they don’t need to know, they’re just appreciating you as you are. The grown-up version of who you were once.

When late at night guilt gnaws at your mind, you’re thinking about their compliments. When the sadness at the thought of your younger self never being loved that way, your memories with them remind you that you succeed to become someone that can be loved.

Someone that deserves everything she has.

There is only one person that had glimpses of who you were, and it’s Kate Bishop. Even if you’ve tried to keep your secrets away from her, it’s hard to do so when you’re spending all your days and nights with someone so curious.

Kate is a coworker, a roommate, but mostly your closest friend. It’s not because she understands you more than anyone else. It’s because she never makes a big deal of anything, and you know nothing you could tell her about you would change the way she acts around you. This girl is everything you want to be: free and happy.

Someone that doesn’t care about social norms.

She would sneak into your room in the middle of the night just because she heard you cry. She wouldn’t even ask questions about the reasons behind the tears, only complaining about how thin the walls are, and how she can’t sleep because of that.

She would go through your belongings when she needs something but she can’t ask you because you’re not home, only telling you when she gives the objects back.

She would answer your phone when it’s ringing while you’re in another room or your hands busy, holding the conversation as if the calls were intended for her.

That’s how she discovered you were looking for a new place to stay. You’ve only been coworkers for a few months when she answered your phone. It was the social worker who called to tell you that you’ll have to move out of your flat within the next weeks because you no longer meet the criterias.

Your first reaction was to yell at Kate. It has been the first and only time you’ve done it, usually not minding when she does it.

But this time it was different: you were scared. You didn’t know her a lot at that time, and you were fearing that this call would destroy the relationship you had started to build. You put so much effort into pretending that everything was fine, and had always been that way, that you thought the truth coming out would ruin everything.

She was the first relationship that you didn’t build on lies, at least not on the big ones. She also has been the first to be able to hold a conversation with you for a while. Not Lydia, or any name you might have borrowed by the past, but just y/n.

When you’ve spent your whole life lying, it’s not easy to know who you are.

It was a bad habit that you had a hard time quitting, still having the urge to lie about some details. Maybe to appear as a more interesting person, maybe because you are afraid to disappoint them.

No, it’s because it’s comforting.

It’s what gave you a bit of hope, what gave you the impression that you had a normal life. You’ve never been interested in living the marvelous lives of your alias, you just wanted a normal one for you. Maybe if you tell these stories a lot of time, your mind will accept them as reality.

Over the years, lying became more than a habit: it was an addiction. You felt bad every time you lied to the black-haired, even if it was only about small and insignificant things, like your favourite colour, but you couldn’t just stop. It’s only that day that you realised that it might ruin everything between the two of you.

Everything has been so easy since you met Kate. You never felt like you were too much, or in the wrong place, because she always made sure to integrate you into the team, and you’re still regretting the words that fell from your lips that day.

She was the first genuine friend you’ve made, and that’s how you thanked her kindness, with snide remarks that she didn’t deserve.

For a minute, you saw yourself back there. In that lonely and miserable place.

But she didn’t get angry. Nor for the lies, nor for the horrible things you said. She didn’t look at you with pity, but with something that was closer to surprise, as if she couldn’t quite understand your reaction, but knew enough to not judge. That’s when she asked you to be her flatmate.

Kate was the first one to learn about your favourite colour, the real one, and all your daily habits. From your favourite thing to eat for breakfast to the time you get up, she knows things you never thought you would share with someone one day. Kate has been the first one to see y/n. The one that doesn’t wear any mask, the one that does not need to pretend she is someone else.

Then, it was your turn.

Tonight, when you’re looking in the mirror, the only thing you can see is your smile. A bright, and big one. Even with makeup on, you are not looking or feeling as anyone else than yourself. Every choice has been made by you to suit your taste.

“Are you done yet?” She asked, and you could hear Kate’s muffled voice through the bathroom’s door, “we’re going to be late!” She complained for what’s probably the tenth time in the last quarter, and you wouldn’t be surprised if she was stamping her foot on the other side of the door, throwing a tantrum like a child.

“Isn’t it what celebrities are supposed to do?” you replied, a smug smile on your face as you eventually opened the door after spending more than an hour in the room.

Everything needs to be perfect, and perfection demands time, something your impatient roommate doesn’t seem to agree with. The second you stepped out of the bathroom, she grabbed your arm.

“That’s not funny!” she exclaimed as she started dragging you toward the entrance. You couldn’t help, but roll your eyes at her attitude.

You know that the real reason behind her actions isn’t a concern for punctuality, Kate always being late, but just a result of her excitement for the evening that’s coming: some friends of hers are going to play music in a bar, and she doesn’t want to miss even a second of the show. A simple glance at the clock confirms what you were thinking: you’re not late.

But you also know it’s useless to argue with the black haired woman when she is in that state of mind, so you just go along with it, letting your friend drag you toward the entrance. You have just enough time to grab your bag before you leave the apartment.

You are too focused on your footsteps to be listening to her rambling about the coming party, trying to not trip on your own feet. But she isn’t listening to you either, deaf to your pleas for her to slow down, or to let go of your arm, and it’s only when you arrive at the said bar that you get your freedom back.

✧ • ✧ • ✧ • ✧ • ✧

She never forgot.

She has been thinking about what happened that night every day since. The years have gone by, but it never left her mind, and picturing all the ways in which she could get back what you owe her was soothing her to sleep every night.

Despite her impatience, she took her time, waiting for the moment you would’ve forgotten about her, when you would let your guard down, thinking that your past mistakes had been forgotten, and forgiven. Maybe your previous victims did, but she has nothing in common with these guys, and chasing you wasn’t about the money. It was about dignity.

She needed to make you feel the same shame that she had that morning.

Some of her associates don’t understand her obsession, even her sister sometimes suggested that she let it go, fearing that it would jeopardize the company. But she stayed firm; you started a game that night, and she is not the kind that appreciates losing.

She is determined to show you that two can play that game.

It wasn’t difficult to track you down. The only obstacle had been the false identity you built for yourself, but it had only been a matter of months before she found you, there was no way she couldn’t recognize your face on the security tape. It was in the middle of the night, one of those where she couldn’t sleep, and eventually decided that she would rather look for you instead of tossing and turning in her bed, consumed by her thoughts.

That’s when she found it, a footage from a shop’s security camera where your face appeared. You were nothing like the woman she met at the party, from your hair to the way you were moving, you definitely had none of Lydia’s elegance, and she couldn’t even understand how you’ve been able to pretend to be her, and how you’ve possibly been good enough to fool her, The Natasha Romanoff.

But despite the numerous differences, she was sure it was you on that video. There were details you couldn’t change, and the shape of your jaw was one of them. She could still see your face as she had you pinned beneath her that night, her fingers running along your cheeks, wishing that moment would last forever.

Since then, she kept collecting these videos as a kid would collect cards, watching them regularly. The footage made everything make sense, and you seemed closer than ever as she kept hitting the replay button.

She had to admit that you are smart, but not smart enough, and everytime you used the card was one more clue guiding her in the right direction. At first, she was able to track your movements, it only took her a few more weeks before she discovered your identity, and more importantly, learned about your past.

A few weeks, that’s all it took, yet she had waited several years before going after you, deciding it was the right time only when you started building a new life for yourself. You moved to a city where no one knew your name, you got a normal job, and haven’t stolen since. You even made some friends. You got the life you have probably dreamed about since your teenage years, and she knew that perfectly.

She also knew that the moment she would break your illusion of peace, and steal your hope of a better life, you’ll be heartbroken. Hopeless.

She saw how, as the years went by, you started to be less cautious, thinking that your past mistakes were nothing more than faded memories in your mind. She saw how you eventually stopped looking around every time you were going out, how you started opening up to your friends, seeming to forget about what you have done.

But she didn’t forget, and she promised herself that you wouldn’t either. It’s only fair that you pay for your mistakes, isn’t it?

She started the car when she saw you, and Kate, disappear round the corner. You were obviously out for the night, and it was the perfect opportunity. No one would pay attention to the disappearance of a girl, not in a crowded, dark place that reeked of alcohol and illegal substances.

| MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING

| part one. part two.

| tag list - @thalia-is-not-ok / @tobiaslut

#a spes writing #pretty faces dark souls #marvel fanfiction #marvel cinematic universe #natasha romanoff fanfiction #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #black widow fanfiction #dark natasha romanoff #black widow x reader #reader insert #female reader

337 notes · View notes

ddarker-dreams · 10 months

Text

The Good Ol' Days.

Yan Alhaitham x F Reader x Yan Kaveh.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships and implied kidnapping. Word count: 2.1k.

The sweeter the past, the more bitter the present.

“Seriously, this isn’t fair! Let her roll again!”

“I’m not sure what you expected from a game that revolves around chance.”

You've heard this before, you think. Not the exact verbiage, no, but the sentiment strikes a chord. Plucks at your heartstrings in a familiar melody.

“Well, fine, let me lend her some of my money then.”

“First, we both know that’s against the rules; and second, even if you sold your single Mondstadt property, you wouldn’t have enough to cover the charge. Your strategy of holding out in case you land on a Waypoint is as brilliant as ever.”

The hot passion met by cool indifference that leaves you forces you into the mediator role. This position was specially formed for you, shaped in such a way that no one else could ever fit. Consequently, it adheres to your person too well, you can’t go forward or backward. You’re stuck. The more you struggle, the tighter your restraints become.

“You…! I won once, when I got all four Waypoints. It’s a viable tactic. Right, [First]? Don’t you remember how huffy he was the night he came in last? … [First]?”

When opposing temperatures meet, condensation forms.

“... You’re crying,” Kaveh sounds as if he’s seen a ghost, but it’s only you. “Is something wrong?”

The better question would be what isn’t wrong. He won’t ask that, though, so you’ll never get to properly answer. You sit as still as a statue on the couch. From your display stand, you sense you’re being stared at by two sets of eyes, one distraught, the other scrutinizing. The former comes from your left and the latter from across the table.

Kaveh’s hands cup both sides of your face. He wipes away the few wayward tears with the pad of this thumb, his eyebrows pinching together. Wordlessly, Alhaitham gets up from his cushion on the floor and takes his place by your right side. Their towering forms seal you in place.

“You made her cry,” Kaveh accuses, his eyes narrowing. “You should’ve just let me go bankrupt for her.”

“For someone who claims I have the emotional intelligence of a rock, you can be rather dense yourself. I sincerely doubt that has anything to do with this.”

“Then why is she—”

“I remember,” you somehow manage to squeeze the words out of your tight throat. Their attention returns to you. Your next words come out quietly. “That game, I mean. When you won. You had another glass of wine to celebrate, and… kept drunkenly throwing your victory in Alhaitham’s face. You slept through your alarm the next morning and missed a meeting with a high-profile client.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s right,” Kaveh nods along slowly. He’s using that gentle, soothing tone from when this nightmare began and he didn’t want to upset you further. You can tell he’s trying desperately to follow along despite not having the directions necessary.

“After that, you started a campaign to not speak to Alhaitham until he apologized, but he didn’t even realize you were ignoring him,” the sound you let out is in between a choked sob and laugh. Kaveh’s arms fall limp as if they’ve lost all strength. “He told me… ‘Lately, Kaveh is more tolerable to be around’, or something like that.”

You hug your knees to your chest. “Since you weren’t willing to talk to Alhaitham, you’d have me relay messages. It was silly. Eventually, I got you guys to make amends. It was like pulling teeth though. Heh. Thinking about it now, I can’t help wondering how many times I dug my own grave.”

Kaveh softly speaks your name, but Alhaitham finds words before he can.

“So that’s what this is about,” Alhaitham notes. When you first met the brilliant Scribe, you mistakenly interpreted his rationality for apathy. You know better now. If he were truly disinterested, he wouldn’t bother stringing words together, curt as they may be. “Dwelling on the past only leads to unnecessary grief.”

Kaveh sends a halfhearted glare in Alhaitham’s direction. “What he means to say is that you shouldn’t blame yourself.”

“Because it wouldn’t have changed anything?” You question, staring deep into Kaveh’s eyes, their color reminiscent of the burning sun setting over the desert.

He averts his gaze and swallows thickly. “Well…”

“What he wants to say is that yes, it wouldn’t have mattered,” Alhaitham chimes in where Kaveh is hesitant to. Such is the nature of their dynamic when you’re involved — barbed truths or coddling lies. “The future we were envisioning had already been decided.”

“The condemned can’t condemn themselves, huh?” You chuckle mirthlessly.

They both frown.

“You aren’t condemned, you’re— you’re free from having to worry about those things you used to stress over. Rent, bills, deadlines, you know. The worst parts of life. You can focus on your passions without any restraints now,” Kaveh reasons. Or so he tries.

You gnaw on your lower lip. It’s been a while since you’ve bothered arguing with either of them on the subjects that truly matter, those topics have been deemed taboo. You can complain about Kaveh’s clinginess when he’s drunk or how tight Alhaitham holds you at night, but should you try to steer the conversation toward your captivity, it’s shut down. Kaveh makes you wish you never brought it up whereas Alhaitham instills regret that you dared to try.

They’re both bracing themselves, you can feel it in the air. Sitting and awaiting a tempest of emotions that one will try to soothe and the other wave away.

You think about fighting then remember why you stopped, falling into this limbo of existing without living.

You could challenge Kaveh’s weak point. Demand to know why he doesn’t do the same then, never leaving the four walls of Alhaitham’s house, committing himself wholly to drawing up blueprints. Alhaitham might make some dry comment that he wouldn’t allow Kaveh to leech off him, or maybe Kaveh would apologize, and say that he didn’t intend to upset you. He would mean it too. You’d cry, beg, scream until your throat was raw and your voice scratchy, but in Alhaitham’s own words, it wouldn’t have mattered.

Their minds are made up. Their resolve is an unshakable foundation upon which your gaol is built. In the same way they soundproofed the house, so too are their hearts insulated from any argument that’d champion your cause. You tried and failed and tried and failed again.

At least if you don’t try, you won’t experience failure.

“... Alright.”

They exchange brief looks.

“Alright?” Kaveh parrots the word, but without matching your listless tone. “That’s— oh. Huh. Okay.”

He mumbles the last few words to himself, as if trying to process them aloud. You can’t fault him for his confusion.

It’s silent then, the kind that holds weight. You uncurl yourself from your protective shell. You feel like a specimen being subjected to naturalistic observation, neither researcher willing to interfere, lest it negatively influence their data’s results. There’s a lot you can get used to — you had no other choice, really — yet that never fails to make you uncomfortable in your own skin. Unwilling to endure it any longer, you quickly form an escape plan.

“Well,” you start, earning their rapt attention, “I think I’m going to, uh, call it a night.”

You stand up as you say this. There’s a light pressure on your wrist, chaining you in place.

“Stay,” Alhaitham’s voice urges. Your muscles go taut, then you hear a subdued sigh. “If you don't mind.”

Kaveh must’ve given him quite the nasty look for Alhaitham to get that close to saying please. You sit back down, almost in a trance, as if the Scribe had cast a spell. Glancing down, you realize it’s Alhaitham who grabbed your wrist. He doesn't let go when you situate yourself back into place.

Kaveh takes his chance to tether you as well. Lithe arms encircle you, gently pulling you into him. The side of your face presses against his chest, his bare skin exuding copious amounts of heat. He smells familiar, for this scene is familiar. Desperation with a hint of citrus and spice. He cradled you a lot in the beginning, shushing your sobs and drying your tears. At first, you’d resist, flailing your limbs wildly like you were a feral cat. Inevitably, his strength and stamina outlasted yours.

His nose brushes against the crown of your head. “I care about you more than I could ever properly convey. Whatever you’re thinking, I can take it. Er, we can take it. I’d prefer that over you blaming yourself for anything.”

Dazedly, you nod. He goes quiet, then, preparing himself for an onslaught you can bring yourself to unleash. Seconds bleed into one after another. You hear the furious pounding of Kaveh’s heartbeat. How if you twist your body, his breath hitches in his throat. It’s nice to know that at least his body will always be honest with you where his well-meaning words fall short.

“You’re trying to regain a semblance of control by thinking ‘had I done this, or had I not done that, it wouldn’t have ended up this way.’”

Kaveh exhales sharply through his nose. “Alhaitham, that’s enough.”

“Let me finish,” he continues. His fingers creep onto your chin and take your face captive. He peels you away from your position against Kaveh, who stubbornly refuses to relinquish his grasp on your torso. Alhaitham’s countenance is close to yours so as not to leave any room for you to cower away. Those analytical eyes that can pick apart the world have you in their sights. “Do you know why you’re here, [First]?”

In the past, when you struggled with an assignment or class, the infamously disinterested Alhaitham would take it upon himself to tutor you. He was a fair yet strict teacher. On those long nights spent hunched over a messy desk, he’d have a different air about him. He stretched you. In the moment, it felt like he was demanding more than what you could provide, but upon further reflection, he just knew what limits you could be pushed to better.

“I’d like an answer.”

You take a deep, shaky breath. “Because you both claim to hold some sort of affection for me.”

Kaveh would look like a kicked puppy if you said this to him. It’s Alhaitham, though, and his composure is infallible.

“Word it however spitefully you want, you get the gist of things,” he drawls. The intensity behind his gaze is enough to make you shiver. “If nothing you’ve been able to say or do has changed our mind now, why would it have back then? It might feel good to sulk, but your logic is erroneous. You’re making yourself miserable only to see if this wallowing is more palatable than the kind you’re used to.”

You hate when Alhaitham’s right. It’s a shame he so frequently is.

“Can you blame me?”

“... No,” he admits. “But this proto-nihilism is worse for your mental well-being than anything else you’ve tried so far. I’d like to nip it in the bud.”

Your smile is thin and far from kind. “Because it makes you uncomfortable?”

“I’ll leave that to your overactive imagination to decide.”

He relinquishes his grip on you, leans back into the couch, and crosses his legs. That posture positively irks you. Sparks from kindling flitter throughout your being like confetti.

“Seriously, you have no tact,” Kaveh rests his chin atop your head. “They should study you in a lab somewhere.”

“Says the one who’s taking advantage of [First]'s emotional vulnerability to cling to her like a parasite.”

“Hey! Don’t listen to him, [First]. He’s just being a grump. You don’t think that’s what I’m doing, right?”

“I’d like to roll again,” you adopt a sickeningly sweet tone while addressing Alhaitham. “Please.”

“... Right? [First]?” Kaveh tries again.

Alhaitham speaks up before you can even consider entertaining the whining male behind you. “And why should I bend the rules for you?”

You lean forward with enough momentum that you’re able to break free from Kaveh’s grasp. Newfound vigor burns inside you. Perhaps a day will come when it extinguishes, but as for now, the flame ignites anew. Hot and ready to burn.

Your lips brush against Alhaitham’s ear. “Are you afraid of losing?”

He looks at you from the corner of his eyes, bemusement evident. The start of a smirk dances on his lips.

“Not at all. Roll as many times as you please.”

And so you cast the die again.

Come what may — an unlikely win, tense truce, or total loss — you refuse to capitulate without trying.

#yandere alhaitham x reader #yandere kaveh x reader #alhaitham x reader #kaveh x reader #genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #my stuff

908 notes · View notes

okthatsgreat · 4 months

Text

rewording a post i made a while ago just bc it was a bit nonsensical but something that definitely needs to be examined in the danganronpa fandom is how a lot of characters seem to be interpreted through one single lens of intelligence. does that make sense. like in order for a character to be “smart” in this fandom they SPECIFICALLY need to be book smart and well spoken, regardless of their talents. we gotta shape up guys .. examining other types of intelligence is FASCINATING and really highlights each characters strengths and weaknesses, and this especially applies to emotional intelligence.

like is byakuya smart? absolutely. but is he emotionally intelligent? fuck no!!!! and aoi used that against him in chapter four!!!!!!!! and even though she is misguided as all hell, tenko has the ability to understand her opponent mid-battle and use that to determine how she continues the fight (likely something other fighting ultimates do as well!!!) which is crazy. mikan is able to read facial expressions well, even if she IMMEDIATELY misinterprets this as something she personally did wrong lol. these characters navigate through the killing game differently and in some cases survive because of it, and if you want something interesting to write on it’s definitely something to be examined!!!

also straight up sometimes the fandom interprets characters who don’t speak super formally/are optimistic as dumb too which is so strange. more of the “buff” talents like mondo and fuyuhiko need to understand battle tactics and serious team management/planning in order to get anywhere in their field, but are pushed aside quite a bit because theyre these super gruff macho characters that swear a bunch. sonia as well because she's a fish out of water type of character. and yes he isn’t very well spoken and is very trusting but gonta is an actual scientist guys… i could make a whole separate post about this weird trend of pessimism being seen as smart and optimism as stupid but yeah seriously

anyways all this to say, when writing for a “dumb” character take a step back and ask just what makes them dumb in your eyes. is it because they aren’t considered academic or a scholar?? is it because they’re a “happier” character that might not be as well-spoken?? theres nuance there and this obviously doesn't apply to all of them, like clearly akane isnt super good with emotions or smarts in general, but even THEN her spacial awareness and heightened sense of perception is something that is often under-utilised in fics!! it provides a whole lot of depth to remember that a lot of danganronpa characters are very talented and well versed in other forms of intelligence than what might be most obvious !!!!!

#nurse shes rambling about the murder video game again #but goddddd this is why i love writing from a bunch of different povs. theyre all so wildly different and interpret the world through very #different thought processes #danganronpa #danganronpa v3 #lee chat

252 notes · View notes

sunflower-lilac42 · 5 months

Text

✧ '𝐓𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 | quinn hughes ♔

summary: with you, always after a depressive state a wave of organization and the need to clean came over you. pair this with the holiday season and it was even more chaotic, pair this with not answering your phone and a worried boyfriend and it was a mess.

warnings: depressive state, motivation/organization, christmas (idk bro just in case)

notes: yes, i know that the hughes’ are jewish and celebrate hanukkah (at least i’m pretty sure don’t sue me if i’m wrong please), but this was inspired by me because this literally happened and is happening right now so the reader does celebrate christmas. and also the way she cleans in this and does stuff is literally how i did things because you all need to see how i function i guess. someone count how many times i said ‘decorate, decorative, decorated, or anything else along those lines. also add yourself to the tag list! ➺ taglist form

nhl masterlist | main masterlist

Quinn was worried. She had been in a depressive state for a couple of weeks now and this one felt like it was never ending. With the holidays coming up, he was even more worried because he knew before the small break that he had a road trip and didn’t want to leave her alone.

He knew about her routine when it came to her depressive episodes. He could always tell when it started, yet he couldn’t tell when it was going to end, no one knew. However, he did know about what she did as soon as she got out of it.

She on the other hand was not worried. She had been sitting in bed when the sudden urge to go shopping hit her. She hadn’t done anything for the holidays and with it being two weeks until Christmas, she had to get going. It was early in the morning, around 6 in the morning when it hit, Quinn had already left for practice, or morning skate, or a game, she couldn’t remember.

It didn’t take her much time to get ready and head out the door, and to her car. She sighed when she saw it and how messy it was, taking the time to clean it out and wash it off. It was cold in Vancouver, as it is a lot of the time. She was wearing one of her favorite sweaters and a pair of jeans, her winter coat thrown over. She took the time to do her hair and her makeup, it was the first time in weeks that she had felt this put together.

With her motivation, it only took her 30 minutes to clean her car. She got in, putting her Christmas/Holiday playlist on to listen to as she drove to Starbucks to get her coffee which was much needed for a day like today. She then proceeded to drive to the store, without a list because when this state happened, her ADHD spiked.

Pulling into the parking lot, it was five minutes after they had opened which meant that most of the things had been restocked. She grabbed the cart and put her coffee in the portable cupholder that she always brought to the store in case a cart didn’t have one.

She started at one side of the store, the holiday section, picking up some decorations that she hadn’t bothered to do beforehand. She moved towards the craft section so she could get working on the gifts she had to make. Even though a lot of her close friends didn’t celebrate Christmas, she still wanted to make them gifts for the other holidays that they did celebrate or even if they didn’t celebrate anything.

Quinn never really minded the Christmas decorations at their home, it always made her happy so it made him happy too. Somehow, she had always made it feel like home, including lots of blue and silver for Hanukkah and other things that made it feel like the holidays.

She practically skipped down the aisles, holiday music blasting through her earbuds and in between the songs, she could hear it through the speakers of the store. She had since moved to the food section, getting everything she needed for cookies and other sweets that she loved to give to the team, which they greatly appreciated.

An hour later, she checked out and unloaded everything into her car. She ran to put the cart away, the cold slowly starting to get to her, and ran back to her car. On the way home, Quinn had texted her but she was too motivated to let anything stop her.

Gathering everything from the car, she trekked up into their home and placed everything down right at the entrance. The first thing she needed to do was to get the cookies and other things prepped. She made all the dough that needed to sit for a while first, placing them either on the separate counter or in the fridge.

She then moved on to making the easier cookies and placing them in the oven, setting timers on her phone for each batch. She had gotten her computer for not only a checklist, even though she knew she wouldn’t stick to it, but also for music because it always sounded better coming from there when she was doing things.

As the cookies were baking, she started getting all the fall decorations put away and organized. Setting them into their storage room and getting their holiday decorations out, placing them in the living room. She first needed to finish cleaning before getting started on the decorating.

She started by dusting and gathering everything that was out of place and putting them somewhat together so she could go through it later. Yet, she was distracted by her books all over the place so she decided to reorganize it, leaving spaces for the decor. Then the first alarm on her phone rang and she took the cookies out of the oven, swiftly putting a new batch in.

Then, she organized her desk because she had been moving stuff around that it got messy, followed by her two carts that sat by it, holding pens and a mass amount of other things that she had to take care of. She switched the calendars on her bulletin board to December so she could view the events that were happening but also Quinn’s Jack and Luke’s schedules so she could watch their games when they were on.

After that, she had to write all of her weekly events and games onto her whiteboard which was time-consuming. Running back to the kitchen, she took the next batch of cookies and took the dough out of the fridge to get them ready for the oven, changing everything she needed to. When she looked at their bedroom she noticed the laundry all around so she cleaned that up and started a load as well. Organizing their closet and bathroom while she was at it.

She was a little worn out but she couldn’t stop now, knowing that if she were she wouldn’t be able to get back into this rhythm later. So she moved on to changing their sheets so they were blue with snowflakes and added a few Christmas pillows to make it feel like her. Then she added the other decorations she got for the bedroom as well.

Now it was time for the living room. She put up their fake tree that she had gotten in case they were ever too busy to get a real one. She put the first one up in one corner, beside the TV, and the other one on the opposite side next to the couch. She decorated the first one with multi-colored lights and all other Christmas-y things.

Then she took the bin labeled ‘Hanukkah Tree’ and placed it by the other one. She put more pillows onto their couch before making more cookies. Taking a break from cleaning, she made some chocolate, pretzel reindeer and put them on a decorative platter. She placed the other cookies she would take the team in different tins and placed them in a bag by the door.

She noticed the other bags by the front door and brought them into the living room, grabbing the two extra rolling carts from her office along the way. One cart was for her hot chocolate and snack bar that she and Quinn started as a tradition in college. She put that by the TV mantel, also placing the festive bins they had underneath and switching out everything from the fall to the winter bins.

By now, it had been two to three hours, it was now around 2 (taking a break to eat of course), her motivation kicking in, and Quinn had been texting her. They had a game and a morning skate that day so in between the two some of the team had decided to go out for food and hang out at Brock’s house for the time being. He was worried, but it wasn’t unusual for her not to. He thought she was curled up in bed either still sleeping or staring off into space, but he couldn’t be farther from the truth. When she was motivated, she tended not to look at her phone, knowing it would stop her from completing anything she wanted to.

He tried not to worry, with the game and all it kind of took his mind off of it. But he could never really be settled about the fact that his girlfriend hadn’t answered him all day even if it was normal. She might’ve gotten hurt or needed him so much that she couldn't text him. It bothered him throughout the whole day.

She was really happy and pleased with herself as she stopped to eat lunch and looked around their home. She watched ‘Home Alone’ as she ate, looking at her computer to see what she had completed. She was surprised when a lot of it could be checked off and there were only a few more things to do, the guest rooms and bathroom, along with a number of small other tasks. She finished baking for the moment, a lot of the other dough still needed to sit for a couple more hours.

She allowed herself to breathe a little bit, doing some work on her computer. She then laid out the gifts she needed to make in her spreadsheet, along with the cards and other copious amounts of things that went into gifts. It was one of her main love languages.

When she started up again, she tackled the bigger tasks first, the guest rooms and bathroom, getting it restocked and festive just in case there was an emergency need for a room. Then she finished decorating the house, putting some paper snowflakes that she had found time to make, putting the festive towels out (one more for Christmas and one for Hanukkah), and other finishing touches.

Then she put the bins away, keeping the tree stuff out for her and Quinn to do tomorrow when he had an off day. She collapsed onto the couch and looked around in amazement. It was really nice to see their home so clean after her previous state.

She continued to watch ‘Home Alone’ as she made gifts, sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table. When the time came around, she put the game on and cheered on Quinn. She would’ve gone if this motivation kick had come two days earlier and she felt bad. She hadn’t been able to come to a game in forever. Though, Quinn would be just as happy that she was feeling better and just watching the game from the comfort of their home.

Throughout the game she made more cookies and continued to make gifts, finishing a lot actually. In between intermissions, she gave herself breaks so she could get around and move a little more especially because after standing all day she was cramping from sitting down.

When the game was over, she switched it back to ‘Home Alone 2’ which was almost over, so she then put Elf on which is what she was watching when Quinn came through the door. He smelt the baking when he stepped in and furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

“Babe?”

Y/n got up from the ground and made her way to where her boyfriend was standing, “Hey Quinny! Nice job tonight!” She hugged him tightly kissing him on the cheek.

“Do you want some cookies? I made a lot today, there’s the bag of cookies for you to bring to the team. I also left the bin of Hanuakkah tree stuff out so we could decorate it tomorrow. I got the hot chocolate and snack cart put together and I decorated.”

“I can see. I can also see you’re feeling better.”

Quinn walked further into the room and placed his bag down in its respective place, watching as his girlfriend sat on one of the stools at the bar counter.

“You have a good day?” She nodded her head and spread her legs a little so Quinn could stand closer to her.

He kissed her head and smiled, “That's good.” He took his suit jacket off and placed it on the neighboring stool before kissing her on the lips.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better, sweetheart.”

“Me too, Quinny. How about you go shower and we can restart the movie and cuddle on the couch?” He nodded his head and headed to their bathroom to shower.

Thirty minutes later, y/n was laying on the couch when Quinn came back in gray sweatpants and one of his Canucks sweatshirts. She scooted over and patted the spot behind her, the boy fit perfectly, wrapping his arms around the girl’s waist.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Quinner.”

The two fell asleep not that far into the movie, sleeping in their newly decorated living room.

𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

if your name is crossed out it means i couldn't tag you

@lilyevanswhore | @shoesjr13 | @dancerbailey3 | @if-my-heart-bleeds

#sunny lune writes #hockey #nhl #quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #qh43 #vancouver canucks #canucks

314 notes · View notes

filmnoirsbian · 11 months

Text

Things read in May

Essays & Articles:

Ursula K. Le Guin on Being A Man

Investigating parents of transgender youth has agency on ‘brink of collapse,’ staff warns

Five Indigenous Speculative Fiction Authors You Should Be Reading

DECOLONIZING SCIENCE FICTION AND IMAGINING FUTURES: AN INDIGENOUS FUTURISMS ROUNDTABLE

Using Dogs As A Tool of Racial Oppression

Rings of Power: The new hobbits are filthy, hungry simpletons with stage-Irish accents. That’s $1bn well spent

First case of HIV cure in a woman after stem cell transplantation reported at CROI-2022

The Trees That Miss The Mammoths

NOPE’S SCIENCE CONSULTANT REVEALS THE NAME AND INSPIRATION FOR THE MOVIE’S ALIEN

Reflections on the Poetry of Eavan Boland

The dire state of trans healthcare in Ireland

How Letterkenny Got Indigenous Representation So Right

Einstein's Parable of Quantum Insanity

Surgical amputation of a limb 31,000 years ago in Borneo

Most Transgender Children Stick With Gender Identity 5 Years Later: Study

Were you a ‘parentified child’? What happens when children have to behave like adults

Fear of a Black Hobbit

It’s a ‘Full-Contact’ Haunted House. What Could Go Wrong?

The Craft: How a Teenage Weirdo Based on a Real Person Became an Icon

Remember When Multiplayer Gaming Needed Envelopes and Stamps?

‘We’ll Never Make That Kind of Movie Again’ An oral history of The Emperor’s New Groove, a raucous Disney animated film that almost never happened.

5 Incredible Sagas of Fandom Scams and Deception

I Used to Love British Period Dramas. Now I See Them as Colonial Propaganda

Why gender essentialism is a white supremacist ideology

Liberating Our Homes From the Real Estate–Industrial Complex

You Don’t Have To Be Pretty – On YA Fiction And Beauty As A Priority

Ten Years Later, There’s Still Nothing Like Tarsem Singh’s The Fall

Tolerance is not a moral precept

Scottish Poet and Publisher Derick Thomson 'Transformed' Gaelic Poetry

Poetry:

The Universe, as in One Last Song for the Lonely Hearts by Michelle Hulan

An Ordinary Evening in New Haven by Wallace Stevens

Heaven by George Herbert

Return from Death by Derick Thomson

Coffins by Derick Thomson

Chemin De Fer by Elizabeth Bishop

Yes, It Was The Mountain Echo by William Wordsworth

The Man and the Echo by William Butler Yeats

The Most of It by Robert Frost

Eros Turannos by Edwin Arlington Robinson

Books:

The Dark Yule by R. M. Callahan

The Invasion by K. A. Applegate

The Whisper by Aaron Starmer

House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski

Miss Iceland by Auður Ava Ólafsdóttir

#tcp #this is late bc i just kept forgetting to post it all lol #an open window #articles #essays #poetry

484 notes · View notes

hockeyboysimagines · 4 months

Note

can u do 1 and 17 of the smutty prompts with vince dunn please 🙏🙏 ur writing is so good

I got a little carried away, but here you are anon. I hope you like it🤍

There was nothing to be ashamed about in terms of lack of sexual experience. You’d been preaching it for years, mostly to convince yourself that you actually believed it, but also because you wanted to make it seem like you willingly didn’t have any.

That was not the case.

It was a you problem more than anything else. You just could not find anyone who got you going and the only person who would was emotionally unavailable.

You knew Vince well, through Jordan and Lauren Eberle, that you guys had become fairly good friends. In the past year you’d been hanging out quite a bit and while you liked him a lot, he was a walking red flag.

Not that he was a bad guy, he was in fact the opposite. You’d not met many people as sweet and caring as he was. And that was exactly the problem.

It was damn near impossible to dislike him and even if he had been a colossal douche, you still wanted him. You’d never made a move, for fear that he’d recoil like you were some kind of repulsive bug. Guys like him didn’t bother with girls like you.

But you were jarred from your thoughts when Vince himself materialized at your elbow with a small smile “Hey! When did you get here?”

“Just a little bit ago I-“

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere! I need a beer pong partner, come on-“

He grabbed your hand and you sucked in a sharp breath as he towed you through the people in the Eberle’s back yard to where two pong tables had been set up. The last time they’d had a gathering, you and Vince won 9 straight games and you’d regretted all of them the next morning.

“No way!” Jared yelled pointing at you “I’m not playing against her! That’s an automatic loss.”

“Ah! No backing out now!” Vince picked up the ball and chucked it at him.

It was a loss, and a humiliating one at that. If there was one thing in life you dominated at, it was beer pong. After your third win, your party mood completely died and all you wanted to do was leave. You tapped Vince on the arm “Hey I’m gonna head out.”

His smile dropped and he slouched “What? Why?”

You shrugged and jingled your keys “Just not feeling it is all. I’m tired.”

“Well. I’ll come with you.”

“No you don’t have to just stay-“

“Nah. I wanna hang out. Come on.” He once again reached for your hand and you felt a little flutter as his fingers intertwined with yours. This was extremely unusual for you and you felt a little uncomfortable. It wasn’t often that guys held your hand and you couldn’t really even remember the last time.

“So what do you wanna do?” He asked as you walked to your car. You glanced at him and then down at your hand, which he was still holding and took a breath.

Hes drunk. It doesn’t mean anything you said in your head, hoping he couldn’t see the redness pooling in your cheeks.

“Oh idk, whatever.”

You guys ended up in his apartment, seated in front of the sofa and two large windows that overlooked Seattle.

“Are you okay?” He asked handing you a glass.

“Yeah why?”

He frowned “It seems like something is bothering you. You can talk to me you know.”

“It’s fine. It’s a ‘me’ problem.”

“Come on. We’re friends, tell me.” He leaned forward a little “Maybe I can help.”

You chuckled “No I don’t think so. It’s just-I don’t know. Gets old being single.”

“That’s what’s bothering you? Being single? I thought you didn’t want a boyfriend, or is that not what you said?” He furrowed his eyebrows in thought “I kind of remember you being in the ‘no sec’ mindset or am I wrong?”

“I didn’t say I was against sex. I just said I wasn’t having any, and not because I don’t want to.”

“I don’t follow.” He shook his head and took a sip of his drink “If you want to have it you should, and don’t come at me with any nonsense about guys not wanting to date you, because it’s not true.”

“That’s not the problem. I don’t want to date them therefore I’m not having sex.”

He paused eyebrows raising as he glanced at you “Wait are you a virgin?”

“No I’m not a virgin, I’m just not…experienced is all.”

He stared at you blankly “But like…what do you mean?”

Your face was burning from the alcohol but mostly the embarrassment of having this conversation with anyone but especially him.

“I’ve had sex okay. Once and-“

His mouth fell open and he let out a breath “Once? Bullshit.”

You shook your head “No really but it-“

“Lemme guess.” He said holding up a hand with an eye roll “There was no orgasm.”

You looked at your feet and shook your head responding with a very small “No.”

He shook his head “Fucking figures.”

“What?”

“Just a guy thing. Most guys don’t really give a shit if their partner orgasms or not, just themselves. And it pisses me off that someone treated you that way. If you were my girl, I’d make sure you did every time.”

You coughed and crossed your legs “Well. As nice as that is it’s not your problem it’s mine.”

“I mean.” He looked out the window “It could be my problem. If you want it to be.”

When you didn’t answer he continued “Maybe i could give you your first.”

Your mouth fell open “I’m sorry what?”

“Why not? We’re friends. You’re hot.”

“You think I’m hot?”

“I have eyes don’t I? Of course I think you’re hot.” He rested a hand on your leg and leaned forward “And I wanna do this.”

You glanced at the large floor to ceiling windows and then back at him “Really? right here? you know people are going to see us...”

“So? Let them look.” He leaned forward suddenly, lips pushing right up against yours. You froze for a minute, shocked, until you felt his tongue swipe across your lower lip, and you melted like butter, kissing him like you’d never kissed a guy before. You felt dazed as one of his hands came up to thread through your hair. There was nothing that you’d experienced that even came close to kissing Vince. In fact you were so distracted by it you didn’t even realize that he was leaning you back on the sofa, tugging at your shirt. In no time, he had you down to nothing, right in front of the windows, where you were sure all of Seattle could see, but you didn’t care. Your breath felt heavy as he shed his boxers and settled himself between your legs, pressing a kiss to the base of your throat.

“Ready?” He breathed in your ear.

Unable to speak you nodded, eyes sliding closed as he eased in. You let out a long breath you didn’t know you’d been holding in as a wave of pleasure swept through you, and your head fell back as you arched up off the bed.

He pulled out and pushed back in, soon finding a rhythm. Your whole body felt like it was a live wire, nearly ready to catch fire. He bottomed out, and you let out a strangled moan, tensing up momentarily at the small ache of pain, and then loosening up again.

“You’re doing so good love” he said leaning down to kiss you again.

You felt a warmth begin to pool in your abdomen and your body started to shake. He smiled widely and started to push faster.

An orgasm, or at least you thought that’s what it was, washed over you in waves of euphoria and your eyes closed and you let out a long, low, throaty noise as it did, nails digging into his shoulders. His breath was warm on your neck as his pushes slowed down, and his head fell forward. You were a sweaty, shaky mess as he pulled out and leaned back, handing you a blanket to cover yourself with.

“So?” He asked smiling at you “How was your very first orgasm?”

You opened your mouth and then closed it finding the words after a minute “It was great, but I think my second one could be even better.”

Vince smiled and leaned forward to kiss you.

Maybe being inexperienced wasn’t so bad after all.

150 notes · View notes

dabislittlemouse · 6 months

Text

tainted angel 🪽 (pt.8)

PART 7 // PART 9 // THE FULL MASTERLIST

ෆ DABI X HAWKS’ LITTLE SISTER

ෆ cw: Dabi being a flirt and a pervert, corruption kink, smut and noncon/ dubcon.

ෆ A/N: this chapter took so long to come out :<<. My schedule is very busy and I don’t always have the energy/motivation to write, but I won’t stop writing this fic. I’m happy to see that yall are sticking around~

[Dabi’s POV]

By the time I get back to the hideout, the sun is rising as the early hours of morning approach. A normal person would be tired, depraved of sleep after a restless night. But not me.

I lick my lips, the taste of her sweet nectar still lingering in my mouth. I’m high, utterly addicted to her and her flavor, my blood pumping with adrenaline and full of energy. I’ve tried different kinds of drugs in my life, but this… this tops everything. I’m so tempted to go back there, spread those legs apart and eat the life out of her again and again. Just so I can get more of those delicious moans and cries, more of those soft thighs squeezing my head between them, more of her sweet cunt fluttering on my tongue. It took everything in me to not stuff her full of my cock too, the bulge in my pants growing and pressing tight against the fabric as I edged myself to her moans.

Though I have to be patient with my angel. Need to give her brain some time to comprehend everything that happened, all the shame and regret she’s about to feel and overcome soon enough. Had to give her a glimpse of what I can do to her, in order to have her addicted and needy for me.

I chuckle to myself, remembering the way she’d keep watch every night, ready to fight and shoo me away in case I came around. Actin’ all high and mighty, as if her pussy wasn’t clenching just at the mere thought of me.

You really need to step up your game if you wanna get rid of me, princess. But either way, I always win. And you’ll always be mine.

“You seem too energetic for someone who’s been out all night”

I find Compress sitting on the couch as I walk inside.

“Nothing escapes your eyes huh Mister?” I smirk, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of my pocket.

“I can quite assure you that’s not the case, though we all can’t help but notice the sudden change in you, Dabi”

I quirk an eyebrow, turning at him. “How so?”

“You seem more lost in thoughts during meetings and such. Not that you’ve ever been fond of them I know, but this time it’s quite different” Compress says. “I wonder what keeps you so distracted from the only mission we’re dedicating our lives to”.

I feel anger slowly creeping inside of me, irritation clear on my face.

“You trynna scold me now or somethin’? I told ya from the beginning, this whole lieutenant thing never worked for me, I choose to focus on more necessary things than playing commander and soldiers.”

“Oh don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to scold you” Compress shakes his head. “I don’t have any intention to do so, we all trust your capabilities. Though all we’ve been is just.. curious”

Tch. So they really want to know my life outside of the League huh. Can’t mind their own business can they?

From outside the door I hear a faint noise and whispers. I roll my eyes. “For how long will you two nutsacks spy behind that door?”

Immediately the door opens, Toga and Twice both entering inside, looking defeated.

“I told you to keep quiet Jin!” Toga scoffs.

“Did these two send you to make me spill some information?” I turn at Compress, who was now scratching his neck.

“Well…” he shrugs. “That may be the case”

“Oh come on Dab!!” Toga squeals. “I just want to know your secret girlfriend~”

The psycho is more than convinced that I have a girlfriend. Technically, she isn’t wrong. Even though she is delusional most of the time, she has a sharp eye when it comes to such things. Hell, she even had the audacity to tell me one day that I am in love. I held back the urge to puke.

A man like me could never feel love.

“And I really want to know why you can’t mind your own business for once, nutjob”

“It’s already boring in here!” she pouts. “No romance whatsoever, a girl like me needs some adventure and passion in her life!”

I roll my eyes. “Slaughtering people isn’t adventurous enough for you, huh?”

Toga turns at me again, grinning. “Not as adventurous as you sneaking out at night to meet some secret girl that you never tell anybody about~”

“Some secret girl?”

Everyone turns their heads to the direction where the familiar playful voice came from.

Ah, yes.. Hawks.

A smug grin spreads across my face as he enters our headquarters, already with a can of coffee in his hands.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, bird boy?” I raise my eyebrow and Hawks chuckles.

“Nah don’t mind me man, just trying to blend in and join the conversation..” he responds. “Seems like you all are talking over something that isn’t the mission for once. That’s rare to witness”

“We must not let such useless topics distracts us from our main goal!” Twice says. “Huh- Yeah I know man! Dabi has a secret girl that he never tells us about, can you imagine?!”

A suffocating silence enveloped the whole room, and I held back the urge to laugh and at the same time burn Twice’s ass for never shutting up. Toga seems to scoff in annoyance, pinching his arm. The blondie never trusted Hawks, nor did she like having conversations around him, can’t really blame her.

Meanwhile the hero in question is confused, that smile still frozen in his face as his eyebrows furrow.

“What’s with that face huh?” I snicker. “You never thought a man like me would possibly have a girlfriend?”

“Heh.. maybe” Hawks scratches his neck. “Never thought any of you guys would be interested in relationships and stuff, none of my business though.. good for ya!”

I can hear the uncertainty filling his voice. Poor hero, he can’t possibly think it’s his own sister now.. when he trusts her so much. What a shame.

Little does he know the taste of her sweet cunny is still rolling on my tongue as I lick my lips.

Lately everything happening is simply funny to me. Funny how a trusted hero of society is secretly part of a villainous organisation. Funny how the same hero is not loyal to the cause even though he pretends so hard to be. Funny how the hero’s sister is so needy for the dangerous villain, grinding her cunt on his face until she cums. And the most funny of it all: how clueless the said hero is about everything, despite from having sharp eyes and ears.

“Dabi, let’s have a word” Hawks says, heading outside. I follow, hands in my pockets, walking slowly behind him. At first we talk about the secret mission with the High-End nomu. After one week of preparing, the mission will take place tomorrow by the docks, then I can easily test my pet nomu and at the same time the hero’s loyalty. I’m curious to see which hero will tag along with Hawks tomorrow and fall in this little trap.

***

Later today I decide to pay my angel a visit after she finishes school. Wearing my hoodie and sunglasses, I hide in the shadows, keeping my distance from the building which she comes out from. Books in her arms as she walks without a care in the world wearing that short little skirt, her white wings fluttering in the wind. Gorgeous as always, I have the need to pounce at her at any moment. I look around to see if anybody has their eyes on her, ready to burn their brains out if they stare at what’s mine for too long.

I wait for the perfect moment until she reaches an empty road on her way home. Sure as hell she feels that somebody is nearby, looking at the way she turns back, all nervous. A scaredy little mouse worrying for any predators lurking nearby.

I decide to approach her normally, certain she might be still thinking of last night, maybe still afraid of me.

“Headin’ home angel?” I say slyly, hands in my pockets as I walk casually towards her. Still she gets startled, a soft blush covering her cheeks. Stopping in her tracks, she looks at me as if I am a ghost, her mouth falling open to say something but no words coming out.

“What.. got something in my face?” I come closer, touching my face while grinning at her. “Or you just too baffled since last night?”

“N-No it’s just.. what are you doing here? I told you I don’t wanna see you..” she stutters.

“Can’t I come to visit you under normal circumstances? Then you complain when I break in,” I laugh, watching her funny face expressions as she goes through different emotions, one of them clearly embarrassment.

“Just go away!”

“That’s not what you said last night.. my neck still hurts from how tight you wrapped those thighs arou-”

She has the audacity to push me away with both hands, but all she does is get on my nerves instead. I grab her wrist before she tries to get away, pulling her towards me.

“Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t want to see me anymore.. c’mon!” I growl, lifting her by the chin to make her look at me. Her whole face is almost glowing red, too flustered to even keep proper eye contact.

“Dabi.. s-stop!” she whimpers.

“Look at me. And say it.” I whisper threateningly, my face inches away from hers. As she looks back at me, her mouth fails to let the words out. Already uncertain and confused with her feelings, I might say I got her wrapped around my finger.

“I just.. the way you do things scares me..” she murmurs, looking up at me through her lashes. “Breaking in and stalking me.. it’s.. makes me feel uncomfortable and-”

“But you still like it don’t cha?” I interrupt her, and she bites her lip nervously. It takes everything in me to not crash my lips against hers, biting that plump lower lip until it bleeds. She doesn’t give me a proper answer, but her silence is answer enough for me.

“Knew it. You like the danger don’t cha?” I smirk. “You like some thrill in your boring peaceful life, something troublesome that has your blood boiling and adrenaline rushing.. isn’t that right doll? You like to play with fire, mess with the unknown, scared that you’ll burn and yet needing more. Confusing isn’t it?”

She closes her eyes, clearly too embarrassed to admit all of this as I read her mind.

“If you become mine.. I’ll give you whatever you want” I touch her lower lip with my thumb, whispering in her ear. I grab her by the hips, pulling her closer towards me. “I’ll give you the feeling you experienced last night.. and even more. Make you see the stars every night, wouldn’t you like that hm?”

She hums in response, shivering at my words and my touch while accepting my embrace.

“Speak doll.. y’know, I can’t do anything without your consent..”

The glare she gives me makes me laugh, knowing well enough that me touching her as she slept was far from consensual. Not that I need her consent for me to make her mine, I’m just putting on an act.

“That’s funny coming from you..” she pouts.

“Ah c’mon, you didn’t tell me stop though~”

“That’s because you kept my mouth shut,” she scoffs. I raise both hands in defeat.

“Tch, alright sorry.. this time I’ll be a good guy and ask for consent m’kay?”

“That’s the bare minimum you idiot!” she yells and I laugh again, certainly irritating her more. I can’t get enough of her when she’s mad, it makes my cock twitch, need to fuck that angry face until she is a gagging crying mess.

Soon.

“Let me make it up to you tonight, princess,” I reply. “I’ll take you out on a date, and I promise to not do anything creepy. Give me another chance will ya? I promise to make it worthwhile~”

She stops to think for a moment, scratching her neck nervously and letting out a deep breath. Clearly fighting with the demons in her head. Love to see it.

“Alright..fine” she sighs. “I guess I can give this another chance.”

From the way I ate you out, m’sure you’ll keep giving me more chances.

“Ah, just perfect..” I grin, patting her head. “See ya later then, sweetheart. Make sure your brother doesn’t interrupt us again”

She nods shyly, smiling a little as I kiss her forehead before parting ways. Going on dates and shit like that have never been in my focus, nothing but distractions from my goals. But for a reason, I feel thrilled to take my angel out tonight, show her a real good time that she’ll never forget.

🏷️tags: @dabislittlebeaniebaby @mostlyheinous @scariusaquarius @touyalove @awalkingshame @syrenkitsune @dabihawksluva

#B.writes #dabi #touya todoroki #mha dabi #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #dabi x reader #dabi x you #bnha #dabi smut #mha smut #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere fic #yandere dabi #tw: smoking

265 notes · View notes

devillime · 4 months

Text

Okay I’d like to talk about the treatment of the side characters and how empty the world feels so this is not proof read or anything this is a rant

Firstly

The world

We know that other students are there i understand that making a game takes time but for crying out loud the whole world of devildom feels so empty and yes we have the Little D’s but they are mainly in the castle with barbatos so they are practically diavolo servants like barbatos and even the recent event we are helping barbatos with serving nobles

NOBLES

Which is just baffling to me because games like arcana twilight that came out after obey me and are clearly inspired by obey me at least feels alive do we see full body sprites no of course not but we this

We can see what the characters look like to get a better understanding of how they look yet in obey me nothing really now I know if I remember CORRECTLY Nightbringer will be a continuation of the original game but it’s honestly stupid how a game like a obey me that been out longer than arcana twilight feels so empty

I’m asking for but if you want to write a good story and make me fee apart of it then take a moment to let us explore how the world works on OUR own.

Secondly

The side characters

Don’t get me wrong I love the brothers but I also love the side characters just as much but it’s ridiculous on how little screen time they have now is crazy not to mention the treatment of the new characters

First diavolo HES THE FUTURE KING OF HELL FOR CRYING OUT LOUD I believe he should get enough screen time but no the devs go against it

And before anyone say “well originally the side characters weren’t dateable” I only started playing after they were dateable but are doing some research the “side characters” have been dateable for a good while to the point they technically be considered they are perusing the mc minus Luke

So why are they still getting shit on by the devs? Probably because when most people think of the game they think of the brothers but honestly which character peaked your interest before playing the game because for me it was diavolo

And don’t get me started on the new characters this is more of a pet peeve with the fandom but why do you guys mischaracterize Mephistopheles and Raphael? Raphael has a similar if not same personality as belphie yet a lot of people say belphie is being cute while Raphael is being rude and Mephistopheles I’m sorry Lucifer fans but think of it from Mephistopheles perspective I’d be piss to if I was born to practically be someone right hand man only to get cased aside for something new?

A lot of you guys had mischaracterize thirteen when she came out but the devs oh god we barely seen thirteen and Mephistopheles in Nightbringer now Raphael I can kinda understand but the two that are in devildom with us don’t show up? That’s a joke like seriously

At this point why did they add them if they don’t appear as much hell I dare say obey me could have been a yandere otome game where the brothers became yandere after making a pact with the mc and the side characters like Solomon and Mephistopheles noticed this and try and help us but Solomon can’t tell Simeon and Luke because another war might break out again

But that’s all I have to say I brought up the world building or lack of in the official obey me server and people seem to say “but it be more pressure on the devs” I get that but this game gets a lot of money and I’m pretty sure it’s more pressure if they can’t keep the story straight because after lesson 40 I’m pretty sure we all have questions

And please PLEASE LET US SEE THE SIDE CHARACTERS MORE IN THE ANIME PLEASE

Rant off

136 notes · View notes

nebulablakemurphy · 1 year

Text

Moves & Countermoves (Part 4)

Summary: No one ever wins the games, even fourteen years later, Y/N is still playing.

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Caesar’s audience goes wild over Katniss. The volunteering, the dry humor and the dress to top it off. It’s more than her mentors hoped for; huddled at the viewing screen, on the twelfth floor. The people will remember her.

“How’d I do?” Katniss asks, immediately upon return.

“You were wonderful,” Effie rejoices.

The brunette looks to Y/N, tucked up under Haymitch’s arm. “Better than anything Haymitch could have scripted for you.”

He wrestles Y/N closer in retaliation. “Nice work, sweetheart.”

Katniss hasn’t known them for a particularly long time, but it is odd to find them so entangled without cause. Is something wrong? She has no more than a moment to ponder; now Peeta is in the hot seat.

“So Peeta, tell me, is there a special girl back home?” The master of ceremonies grins.

“There is this one girl who I’ve had a crush on forever.” He admits with the crowd now wrapped around his finger.

“Well, surely if you win she’ll have to go out with you.” Caesar laughs.

“No, I don’t think winning’s gonna help me at all.” His easy smile is lost, now solemn in this confession.

“And why is that?”

“Because she came here with me.”

Haymitch huffs a laugh, “kid’s got a knack for this.”

“Well that’s bad luck, isn’t it?” Caesar laments.

“Yeah, it is.” Peeta lowers his gaze. Earning him a few sympathetic sighs.

“And I wish you all the best of luck. Peeta Mellark!”

The audience cheers him off stage. Sending an unsuspecting baker’s boy into the elevator to meet the fuming girl on fire.

“She’s gonna kill him.” Y/N warns Haymitch, in a whisper.

“Relax, he’s helping her.”

“I don’t think she sees it that way.” Y/N knows Katniss well enough by now.

Her fears are confirmed when Katniss clamps her hand around Peeta’s shoulder and shoves him up against the wall. “What the hell was that?”

“Ahhh!” Effie squeals at the sight. These people are savages.

“You don’t talk to me, then you say you have a crush on me? You say you wanna train alone? Is that how you wanna play? Huh?” Katniss seethes, keeping her partner pinned there.

Peeta does not fight, makes no move to free himself.

“Stop it,” Haymitch shouts. Watching Y/N peel Katniss off of Peeta.

“Let’s start right now!”

“Stop it!” Haymitch repeats. Taking Katniss by the arm so Y/N can check on Peeta.

“You ok?” She gives the boy a once over.

“Yeah,” he breathes out, still in shock.

“He did you a favor,” Haymitch explains. Strategically speaking, she should be thanking him.

“He made me look weak.”

“He made you look desirable. Which in your case, can’t hurt, sweetheart.”

“He’s right, Katniss,” Cinna steps in.

“Of course I’m right.” Only been doing this twenty-four damn years. “Now, we can sell the star crossed lovers from district twelve.” Haymitch reasons.

“We are not star crossed lovers!” Katniss lunges for Peeta again.

“It’s a television show!” Haymitch snaps. Feeling Y/N’s hand on his back, steadying him. “Being in love with that boy might just get you sponsors; which could save your damn life.”

“Let’s get to bed, hmm?” Y/N pats Peeta gently on the cheek. “Tomorrow is a big day.” She steps around her husband to give Katniss the same treatment.

“Good idea,” Haymitch decides. These kids will be the death of him. “Maybe we can deliver you both in one piece.”

————————————————————————

“You stay away from the cornucopia, it’s a bloodbath. Look for allies, water and high ground; remember what I taught you. They’ll show the fallen tributes in the sky each night, incase you lose count of the cannon.”

Peeta nods, hands clasped in Y/N’s as they approach ground level. Katniss is with Haymitch, in the adjacent elevator, receiving similar wisdom.

“If there’s no water, that’s where sponsors come in. We’ll send it as soon as we can.” Y/N tells him. Cover all your bases, this is your last chance.

“What about Katniss?”

“Same goes for Katniss, whatever you need, I’ll do my best to get.”

“I asked Haymitch to throw my sponsor’s money to Katniss.” Peeta tells his mentor. “Save her, for her sister.”

“You have people rooting for you too,” she says pointedly. “Never forget that. If you change your mind about the sponsors just say so.”

The doors open into the scorching sun near the launch pad.

Peeta steps out, still hanging loosely from one of Y/N’s hands. “I guess this is goodbye.”

“Bring it in,” her arms open wide.

“Thank you, for everything.” Peeta hugs her, in parting.

“You’re welcome.” Y/N returns the embrace, just as tightly.

“I’m gonna make you proud.”

————————————————————————

“And that Claudius, is the familiar sound of cannon, symbolizing the end of another fallen tribute.” Caesar narrates.

Eight down in the blood bath.

Haymitch takes a steadying breath, the children beside them in the viewing room run about. Brother chasing sister with a toy sword while the parents look on and laugh.

Y/N is deep in conversation with Cashmere, paying them no mind. Pointing to the screen on occasion as they whisper amongst themselves.

The boy trips over his little sister, falling sword first against Cashmere’s back.

The blonde smiles, turning the plastic blade away, “you got me.”

The kids giggle and run off, leaving the parents to apologize. “We are so terribly sorry.”

“No worries.” The blonde is not here to mentor and doesn’t want to draw anymore attention. Excusing herself after a moment.

“Everything ok?” Haymitch asks.

Y/N nods, eyes trained on the monitor.

Haymitch knows better than to push for information she isn’t ready to give. Instead he focuses on the positive, Katniss and Peeta are still alive.

The boy forming an alliance with the careers. Stupid…smart if it doesn’t get him killed. The girl forging a path away from the excitement, she wants to go it alone. Stupid of a different variety.

In the games you pick your poison.

Part 5

Series Taglist: @praline357 @flowercrowns-goodvibes @justheretoparty420 @avocadotoastwithegg @officialjellydoughnut @whoreforfictionalpeople @treehouse-mouse @emo-markie @spilled-mi1k

#haymitch abernathy #haymitch x reader #haymitch abernathy x reader #haymitch fanfic #haymitch abernathy x y/n #haymitch abernathy fanfic #haymitch x y/n #haymitch abernathy x you #the hunger games #hunger games fanfiction

473 notes · View notes

thewinchestah · 2 months

Text

Strawberry Fields (sonhei com campos de morango) - Alastor X Reader fic

Summary: On a dreadful night, Alastor goes to collect one of his contracts. Something goes terribly wrong. He finds you.

Warnings: fem!reader, Human!reader, smut, 18+, period sex, overstimulation, light cannibalism, blood, A LOT OF BLOOD, general creeppiness, Alastor is in hell for a reason, oral sex, alastor kind of hunts reader down, possessive!Alastor

A/N: Soooo!! This was a long time coming but here it is. This idea has been on my mind for a long time now and I wanted to test the waters before i commit to a long fic. I hope you guys like it, i'm kinda on the fence about it. I'm working on the requests and they should be out soon I PROMISEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE. Also I got a little carried away, i'm sorry. Hope you guys enjoy it. It's always a pleasure to write for you. The visuals and the title for this fic are heavily inspire by this music video. Not the lyrics tho, i always felt like the singer did a poor job with this concept and i wanted to do it justice.

Taglist: @markster666@jyoongim@stygianoir @pepperycookie@fraspent @aether-th3-enby @lady-valtieri @karolinda007-blog @jesi-pinkman@polytheatrix If the tags aren’t working or you wanna be tagged, let me know.

You curse when another sharp stone cuts your feet.

You regret it a second later when you hear the ominous sounds that reverberate through the trees. They are closing in on you.

You don’t know how you got here, you just know now you are running for your life inside these woods now. The only guiding light, a full moon that looks weirdly otherworldly.

Adrenaline burns inside your bloodstream, the forest seems devoid of any living thing. It’s only you and whoever is chasing you. You wish you could hear gunshots, you wish you could hear screams. Anything besides the occasional twig snap or wind caressing the pine trees’ leaves. The eerie silence is deafening, and worse: the eerie silence makes you even more aware of your situation.

It’s incredible how everything gets clearer when you’re about to die.

Maybe you shouldn’t have traveled alone, maybe you shouldn’t have decided to go somewhere where the closest thing to civilization is the village’s old-yet-charming dinner.

You just wanted a little bit of quiet, a place that made introspection inviting. Next time you should go for a beach vacation.

Next time? why does next time sound so… far away? Somehow your feet carry you away from the forest’s well marked path and deeper into the thick vegetation, hiding behind a large tree. You gained a few minutes on them by taking a detour.

Breathe. Remember to breathe.

Right, your mind remembers. You’re being hunted down like prey in the creepy horror film woods, time to focus on surviving again. You can overthink later.

You assess your options: you can keep going into the woods, a deadly game of hide and seek. Zig-zag through the trees, keep them guessing. There’s a good chance you will find wildlife as you go deeper. This could be a problem, it’s too dark to make anything out, an encounter could cause enough of a distraction, you could take advantage of that. Or you could end up mauled. Plus, you are absolutely positive there are bear traps somewhere. If you're gonna die, make your death less dumb. Quite an embarrassing topic of discussion in the afterlife, saying that you died like horror film pretty girls making dumb decisions that you clearly would never make in a situation like that. You just know they are incredible hunters, you need to take them out of their element, expose them.

So yeah, going deeper isn't an option.

Something catches your eye, there’s a big opening in the thick vegetation, there’s a clearing ahead and… sparks? You definitely see a light. You were told by the locals how the population is scattered across acres and acres of practically untouched wilderness, there’s also the park’s rangers stationed on specific places that grant them a visual advantage in case of emergencies. A big clearing is perfect for that. Maybe, just maybe there’s hope.

Of course bolting there will make you terribly exposed, they will know your position all the time, and they can still hunt you hidden by the edge of the trail. Besides there’s no guarantee of what awaits you when you reach the promised land, they could have a partner waiting, there could be nothing at all there. Taking this risk for nothing sounds worse than being lured into a trap. You just have this gut feeling that’s where you should go. Your brain starts to pick the plan apart, this doesn’t sound good. Hesitation can be fatal. But you are all adrenaline and primal flight intistic -

The decision was made for you, you start running again. Taking advantage of the final stretch of cover you still have until you hit the trail again, you take several deep breaths. Oxygen needs to keep coming, so you can make decisions, so your limbs can respond quickly. Your peripheral catches something that’s also running. It’s a stag.

He’s also prey. He’s an omen. He’s your cue.

You leap across some fallen branches and your scratched feet land on the main trial. As soon as you complete your first step you hear movement and hurried voices. They are onto you. “What do we say to the good of death? Not today” you give yourself a pep-talk as you keep running. Maybe thinking this is all fiction will help you survive this, detach yourself from the situation, don’t think about the consequences, just act.

And like that, you don’t stop running. You sing your abcs to focus and stop spiraling. Evolution is truly amazing, the cuts you suffered don’t hurt anymore, precious shooting adrenaline, adrenaline that makes you tunnel vision towards your objective. By now you know where to step, when to dodge, when to slow down and when to go faster. Millennia of sheer force of survival catching up to you.

breathe, remember to breathe.

You inhale a good chunk of oxygen and look ahead. There’s a man on the edge of the tree line and a few meters left. Your mind wants to sing in victory, but you refrain from that, you know better than that it only ends when it’s over-

You’re positively sprinting towards the man right now, like he is your assured salvation. Something inside you screams louder and louder guiding you to him and you follow the sound.

You hear gunshots.

So noooooow they bring out the guns? That’s low.

But that’s a good thing right? If they are shooting they are getting out of time. A single gunshot can take you down and they can smoothly and swiftly carry you away, like it’s a normal hunt. No one will question shooting something they didn’t see getting shot so deep into these woods. But shooting a girl in front of a witness? that’s for amateurs right? So, the man is not a partner you decide.

remember to breathe, you are not breathing.

You are so close now, you see an outstretched hand coming your way only a few more steps

breathe.

You don’t, instead you leap towards your loosely established finish line and take the hand an-

Dirt greets your face as you fall face first into the trail, and you crawl like a zombie that just rose from its grave. You have a collection of new cuts and scrapes now, it hurts and you can’t bite your lip to suppress the pain. Still, you intertwine your fingers with his, your other arm aggressively seeking for leverage, clinging to your flesh lifeline. You blur out a bunch of incoherent things as he effortlessly lifts you up in one swift motion.

“Get behind me, my dear.” he asks. He has a weird voice almost like it leaves something in the air that caresses your skin, an inviting voice nonetheless. You hide yourself inside the crook of his arm, giving you the ability to witness just a little bit of the action there’s about to happen. You never let go of his hand. Your prince charming feels awfully cold.

Alastor waits, rather impatiently, for his clients to arrive. Making a deal with a human is his ticket topside and Hell is still terribly boring, even with the hotel. The Radio Demon was no stranger to contracts with humans, they were a win-win situation. Those who seek him always have a taste for the wicked and deranged, so it’s easy to figure out what they want and twist it for his own benefit. When they inevitably die, be it death by old age or death by occupational hazard, Alastor gets useful men from the moment they manifest in Hell. They always know exactly where they are and why, they are not confused sinners, petty crime or moral crime sinners. They are, most times, skilled killers who take no trouble doing Alastor’s bidding. An accomplished killer in life makes an even better prolific hellish soldier, someone who will continue indulging in their desires without the constraints of society, but eternally tied down by Alastor’s constraints. With the right incentive, they can rise in the ranks and become treasured resources for the overlord. Plus, the camaraderie isn’t all bad. Takes one to know one, they say.

However, humans these days are getting careless, sloppy. This entire display is proof of that, they should be over to kill and cover their tracks alone. The basics, for hell’s sake.

Alastor only takes care of the details. Tampering with some evidence here, getting a victim on the right place at the right time there. The occasional final encouragement to give into the darkness and finally kill, some advice. A self respecting killer should be able to kill and get away with it without the demon’s aid. He’s there for consulting and making sure there are no loose ends.

But never this. Having to intervene in the middle of a kill because his client made a very very big mess that screams “you’re getting caught!” is below him. Amateurs are not worth Alastor's time.

The two men approach the tree line, clearly worked up from the hunt and shocked to see him there. If Alastor is withholding a victim, something went very, very wrong.

“Good night my good fellows!” the greeting leaves his lips in an overly-chirpy tone. Is that static in his voice? Radio static? Is that what’s leaving goosebumps on your skin? The stress and the adrenaline are making you imagine things. You took the “pretend this is all a fantasy and you the main character” too seriously. Because now you are hiding behind Darth Vader’s skirts. That’s impossible, right? right?

“Great.” you can see the sarcasm dripping from one of your aggressors. “You’re here to watch?” the question asked all passive aggressive with an edgy tone. That’s definitely a teenager. What the fuck? you were being chased by a high school kid? This is ridiculous, utterly ridiculous, how can a teen pull this off? And you almost died? What? Your mind starts spirling.

Alastor ignores the son, is the father he cares about. They’ve known each other for years now, and he’s underperforming to say the least. He waits for the father to address him, it’s his mess after all. The older man gives his son a stern look and finally breaks the silence.

“Goodnight. We didn’t expect to see you here tonight, to be honest.’”

The second voice is much older. That doesn’t quiet your thoughts at all. Is this a cult initiation thing? Hunting girls down like they are prey? WHY DID YOU TRAVEL TO THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE IN THE FIRST PLACE??? OF COURSE THERE WOULD BE CULTS HERE, DUUUUH. IF I WAS IN A CULT THIS WOULD BE THE PERFECT PLACE TO HIDE. There are so many voices screaming inside your head now, you are shivering. With anger, anticipation, fear. Your inner monologue overrides your brain and you are not sure you can cope with everything that’s going on. The voices, all the voices, sound wrong. They land weirdly inside your ear and you need to think hard to understand the words, you know how crucial every piece of information is. They could make all the difference when you talk to the police. They could help a conviction when you are on the stand, giving your official statement. You are surviving this. You are going to watch these fuckers get life in prision or worse. You are surviving this right? There’s so much you haven’t thought through. Whose hand are you holding again?

“Oh please. Don’t act all coy now, it doesn’t suit you old friend” Alastor is starting to cross the line from nuisance to anger. He twirls his microphone in annoyance, and makes sure to sink it deep into the moist ground. “Let me remind you about the terms of our agreement. For each 2 kills you make, one soul is mine to take. Or am I wrong?”

“No. You aren’t”. The father answers through gritted teeth. “But I never thought you would want to collec-” Alastor tilts his head, his grin widens and he snaps “Never thought what? That I would claim what I am owed at my leisure? That I would stop waiting patiently for you, acting at your whim? You earned the privilege of killing unbothered by my vigilance. Because you always delivered your side of the bargain with excellence. I can revoke said privilege whenever I want. Especially after this pitiful performance.” The seasoned killer seems to slightly cower at Alastor’s words. Good. He always regarded the demon without fear or trepidation. His work was meticulous, spotless, basically perfect. And that gave him the justifiable confidence for going toe to toe with the Radio Demon during conversations, a bargaining chip during dealings of his contracts. Few could say that.

You feel nauseous. Reality is crashing down at you hard and fast. How many people have these people killed? They are trading lives like it is the stock market, and yet you can’t let go of your prince charming’s hand. There’s no rational thought to justify it, actually rational thought is also being slaughtered like a sacrificial lamb tonight, because despite the gigantic red flags you are not letting go of this man’s hands. Everything about him screams danger, everything about him screams your safety. He’s the type of paradoxical that messes with your primal senses, that makes a moth go to the lights that will kill it.

From the crook of his arm you finally gather the courage to open your eyes. You try to look up to your prince charming, but his face is concealed by the shadows of the night. Actually, everything of importance seems to be conveniently hidden from you. Your aggressor’s faces look distorted, recognizable traits melting together like watercolor painted by 100 shades of darkness, voices and words fuse together creating only cacophony. You hear things, you see things, but you can’t discern them. The three men keep going back and forth, but their conversation seems to dissipate into the air. Everything about this feels like a dream.

Of course you can’t register anything of importance. Alastor makes sure of it. You are a potential victim after all. A liability, capable of making a positive identification. It’s wishful thinking that someone would take your account of what’s happening on this dreadful night seriously.

Alastor has no shame in using the prejudices of your world to his advantage. If you were to tell, everyone would make the assumption that you are “just another hysterical woman, thinking too much about folktales”. You had too much to drink, partied too hard. Hallucinogens are a common party drug and this is the result of a bad trip. At worst, “someone tried to spike your drink, but nothing happened. You should be thankful, not getting in the way of important police work”. Alastor also knows that injustice is no real crime, and yet he decided to spare you. It doesn’t feel fair for you to perish in such crude ways, a practice run for a post pubescent, obnoxious serial killer in training. A precious thing like you should be honored, savored. In the odd chance that your voice was heard, the Radio Demon guarantees that no reliable information will come out of your mouth. His clients might be lacking, but in the dealmaking business your words are your worth and Alastor has a silvertongue. Surely that pretty mouth of yours won’t be a problem.

“I’m afraid I have to insist, my good friend. The pair of you caused enough damage already with these sloppy, impetuous spree killings. Your law enforcement is already on your scent, tracking the pattern and by the looks of it tonight’s mess will send quite a message. A message that I will have to make sure is delivered faultlessly. I will uphold my hand of the bargain, you will uphold yours. The girl will be spared. There’s plenty of prey out there, plus her death would only act as an aggravation, she’s not your type, and trust me, they will know you made a mistake, you will be exposed.” The Radio Demon’s patience is wearing thin. He shouldn’t have to justify his actions to humans. There’s no compromise to be found here, they went to him and the deal is always on his terms. You squeeze his hand really tight during the discussion of your scheduled demise, like a reminder that you are still there. Still afraid.

How cute. Alastor thinks. Your adrenaline is starting to wear off, dissipating into the cool forest breeze and opening space for a strong sense of false security, equally as inebriating. The smell of your sweet fear laced blood is unmistakable, assaulting your savior’s nostrils. Your knees buckle, and you struggle to keep yourself on your feet, clinging to prince charming’s hand for dear life. “Breathe darling, you are forgetting to breathe” He turns quickly towards you, his voice impossibly soft, shooting. You try to look up at charming’s face again, the only new discovery made is that he's awfully tall, and his face is still hidden by opaque darkness. You work really hard on breathing normally again, but you want to keep looking. Their faces are a monstrous distortion, vacant eyes that seem to cry blood. Your entire body tingles, you feel weird goosebumps. It takes all of your willpower to keep standing. You won’t lay yourself at their feat, defeated, like the corpse they would drag from these woods. But you just can’t keep looking, so you shut your eyes and grip the hand that has become your lifeline even tighter.

“You won’t even truly use the bitch, she’s no use for you” The entitled brat opens his mouth again. That’s the trigger.

The Radio Demon grows as tall as the native pine trees, his antlers furiously expanding and casting a shadow so dark over the two serial killers that the moon is completely obstructed. The only source of light in the forest now is the burning red dials of his eyes. The father sees the burning inferno of Alastor’s eyes and for the first time he is speechless. Maybe the realization of where destiny is sending him finally happens. The son sees raw, untamed power for the first time in his life and cowers like a scared puppy. Pathetic.

“Now let’s get something clear here. I’m only tolerating your insolence because of my decade long relationship with your father.” You shut your eyes harder, your eyelids a shield from whatever is about to happen. Foreboding making the forest air too thick for you to breathe. You finally break down and start crying, too fucking much. Alastor’s face meets the son on eye level. His teeth are bared, static picks up around the group to the point both men are struggling to breathe. A clawed hand traps the father’s face, a trail of blood dripping from the older serial killer’s cheek.“He’s as close to a professional as our kind gets. Shame the same thing can’t be said about you. This juvenile outburst does not make you more feared nor does it assert your dominance. It displays how weak you are, inept to succeed on this because you can’t keep your entitled demeanor in check. You are not owed anything in this lifestyle, if you want something you need to prove you’re worthy of it by taking it yourself. Whining like a petulant child won’t get you anywhere” You feel dizzy, the earth beneath your feet quakes, whoever, whatever is holding your hand is sheeting with rage so consuming the ground shakes with the intensity of their emotions.

Alastor’s attention is now focused on the father, the red inferno from his eyes making the man feel genuine fear for the first time in his long, violence-filled life. “Teach your spawn some manners and proper work, otherwise get him out of my sight. This was a courtesy. Fulfillment failings lead to contract termination, and contract termination means a lot of details appearing. You do not wish to make an enemy of me” Alastor delivers his last threat with a snarl. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up at the intensity of his words, you feel a powerful rush of wind, leaves ruffling, hurried steps and suddenly the world is at a standstill. The forest seems devoid of life excluding you, your mysterious prince charming and your two aggressors. All of your senses are assaulted with an overwhelming feeling of wrongness… darkness. Darkness that feels like the most luxurious silky dress on your skin, the most intense look of a passionate lover. It feels dangerously alluring and your will power is being gladly tempted by it.

You feel like you’ve been holding your breath for hours, the rollercoaster of adrenaline inducing hyperventilation and conscious calming breaths making your brain enter some sort of high. Is that what people felt after a battle in ancient times? Is that what It means to stare death in the face and come out victorious? You don’t understand what you are feeling, but when oxygen finally feels normal again, tall, dark and handsome is escorting you deeper into the woods and you don’t even care.

You’ve just slayed the dragon with your bare hands. You don’t care. You just want to bask on the feeling. To fucking feel. To remind yourself that you are still alive.

Alastor is drunk on something that he rarely indulges in. Desire. Pure, raw carnality that makes him antagonize one of his greatests clients. Someone Alastor awaited his inevitable death with anxiety and hopefulness, someone he could actually call more than a partner in crime when in hell. A friend. A friendship born from blood and gore but bathed in kinship and inexplicable understanding of one’s dark nature. And the Radio Demon almost killed the man and his useless spawn and fucked everything up because when he saw your running for your life something ignited inside him. When you squeezed his hand so tightly, with such abandon and trust, like he was an Angel sent from heaven to protect you when reality was the most wicked antonym.

Alastor spared you because you were prey. Beautiful, delicious prey that defied your destiny by accepting the nature of your condition. You didn’t dare to fight, you didn’t dare to think you could stand a chance against your hunters. You just fled. You fled and was perfectly lured into another trap, you doubled the bet when you held his hand and didn’t let go, serving all of your vulnerability on a silver platter to someone you deep down knew was way worse than any serial killer.

Prey, that will chew its own leg to get out of a trap. Prey, that will offer herself to the most ungodly creature around if it means she can survive a few more moments, just to spite those who started the chase. Prey, that now holds his hand completely carefree and all giggles while she is led to a much more final and insidious type of slaughter. Prey that he was now going to claim.

Your wounded feet start to land on soft squishy things, a familiar scent invades your nostris. From the scent of sweat, blood and gore now to the scent of juicy, plump strawberries.

“Hey, are we on a strawberry field?” it’s the first time you addressed him directly. You trail behind him, hurried steps crushing the strawberries on your way. You look up and for the first time you can see open skies. “You don’t need to worry my dear, you are perfectly safe now”

Are you?

You decide that he doesn’t sound like Darth Vader anymore, his voice is impossibly staticy, it prickles your skin and it feels like goosebumps that accompany butterflies on your stomach. He sounds like someone you would meet at a ball and have a cinderella moment with. The blanket of stars that illuminates the clearing you ferociously fought for grants you a better vision of his figure: scarlet red, snug tailcoat, perfectly tailored. Long legs and trousers that fit like skinny jeans. He dresses like the lead singer from a classic emo band. You can’t say you are complaining, you always loved the idea of a tall dark and handsome prince charming.

“So, you have some weird friends don’t you?” you ask him. You can hear him chuckle, it is a very pleasant sound. Suddenly the twirls you, a fucking disney princess’ musical number twirl, and you find yourself in front of very big bed.

With impeccable white sheets, you mind adds. Must be really hard to maintain white sheets in the middle of a strawberry field. Wait, what is a king size bed doing in the middle of th-

“Ah, I don’t really do friends, more like reluctant colleagues” bootleg brandon urie is the melancholic type, then.

Alastor finally takes a good look at you when you take your seat on the bed with a contented sigh. You look marvelous. Your hair is messy and wild, your cheeks and neck flushed red from the effort. Your eyes big and pliant, waiting for his answers. You look so human, so deliciously alive. He desperately wants to be the cause of your disarray, to make the blood rush to your face under his materfully wicked touch. To feel your pulse fluttering when he touches your neck.

You still can’t see all of him though. There’s stars, a big full moon whose light outstretches far, bathing the clearing in ethereal silver. The brightest lights cast the darkest shadows, your savior is always in the shadows.

By now you know he is purposefully hiding his identity from you, but you always liked a game. Plus you don’t really have anything to lose now, you just want to forget everything that happened to you tonight, you just want to inebriate yourself, and charming really looks like someone who could show you a good time.

Either that or you are having a psychotic break after enduring life threatening stress.

Anyway, you decide to bite. One possible psychotic murder, funny, charming murderer is better than two lukewarm ones.

“Do you always take random women to a creepy bed with impeccable white sheets in the middle of the woods or am I just special?” not a chuckle now, a laugh. A beautiful, full laugh. The residual static on your skin making you shiver.

Alastor completely understands what you are trying to do, and it’s truly hilarious. Your petulance and sarcasm towards him means to an end. You’re so precious, talking to him like this, thinking you could take him at his own game. What a beauty! Seeing you think you are succeeding in this only for him to take that conviction away from you at the last minute is going to be so entertaining. He wants you to dig your own grave, lay yourself at his feet.

He doesn’t indulge you, instead he takes a thick, silky strand of your hair and inhales deeply. You smell like sweet innocence and summer. It makes Alastor euphoric.

His head tilts down as he smells your hair. You don’t that’s creepy, it looks creepy, it sounds creepy, but you feel reverence in his action.

And then out of the shadows comes a revelation, you see his horns. You suspected his unhumanity, but the confirmation of it knocks the wind out of you. Your eyes widen, you simply cannot make sense of this night, everything feels too surreal and raw reality at the same time, it’s giving you whiplash.

“Are you the devil?” you ask him without much consideration of the weight of this question. You do your best to keep your voice from failing but it’s impossible. You never dropped his hand, in fact you feel like you are permanently attached to him, like a marble statue. Your fingers open and interlock again and again, reflecting your anxiety, but you don’t let go.

You can’t see it, but Alastor’s grin is as big as a cheshire cat’s.

“Do you seek the devil?” answering a question with a question. Smoke and mirrors. Alastor waits for you to answer, but you don’t. You don’t know what to answer, you try to contemplate if enganding further could mean eternal damnation, or if you are already damned. Is he going to make you an offer you can’t refuse? an offer you aren’t allowed to refuse? Alastor will blame it on lack of patience, but the fact is he can’t wait anymore to taste you, there’s a burning desire inside him, that only gets more and more ferocious as he tastes the inebriating smell of your fear blessing the air he breathes again.

He removes your interlocking fingers, his hand quickly trapping your tiny wrist inside. You hear heavy breathing.

“Or do you seek a taste of the forbidden fruit?” The demon licks the long cut across our open palm. His tongue is sensual and cold, the sensation of it slowly dragging across your wounded skin a soothing balm. You moan, he growls. “Forbidden fruit it is.” he announces, delivered like a sentence.

You are completely free of his touch for the first time since it all began, but it feels like you just suffered an enormous loss. You feel taunted, like someone just dangled a shiny new thing in front of you and took it away. It’s like your entire being has become tunnel vision and you need to get to the bottom of this, whatever this is. Consequences be damned.

You watch closely as your paranormal paramour moves towards the bed, he is completely concealed by the darkness. Darkness deep and palpable, he morphs within it. The visuals are beautiful, it looks like one of the art’s greatest masters is painting a watercolor in front of you. Darkness from absence of light floating and mixing with otherworldly opaque darkness, flowing like a river. You wonder if it would run through your fingers like water if you touch it.

Antlers. He has antlers, not horns.

The not-devil settles himself behind you, back against the headboard. He quickly maneuvers you onto his lap, grabbing you by the waist. You squeal in surprise as more of him touches you, now pressed flush against his hard chest you feel something you shouldn’t be feeling, nonetheless resistance is futile, you spread your legs giving him more access. He has barely touched you, and yet you are completely surrendered to him.

Alastor wasn’t joking when he established that a woman like you should be savored, slowly consumed so he can extract everything you have to offer. He knows your mind is exhausting itself trying to discern what is happening, how the body and the spirit get more susceptible to succumb to desire after surviving imminent death, and he intends to take full advantage of it. Alastor wants to see you writhe under his touch, pain and pleasure. He wants to torment you and make you pay for existing near him, for making him careless. For making him indulge in carnality and arousal. But mainly, he wants to punish you, because you battled so hard for your survival against them. When you should fear him.

The Radio Demon touches your neck, exactly where your pulse is, where he can feel your beating heart, full of life pulsing. Life that taunts him and seduces him. The thump thump thump of your heart beneath his fingers like a moth going directly to the light that will kill it. He holds your entire life, your entire existence under his clawed finger, it makes him delirious.

You feel a sharp sting on your neck, fangs that break your skin and spill your blood, red and ready for his taking. Holding your breath while he sucks the life out of you, your head swims, and you drown on the feelings. You feel pleasure, forbidden pleasure from having something hurting and feasting on you.

“If you are not the devil, are you a vampire?” It might be a dumb question, but it’s the logical one. Sometimes the obvious needs to be said. He laughs again, a full deep laugh,mockery dripping from it.

“Why? If I were a vampire would it make you feel better about spilling your blood for me?” he dodges the question again. Bait and switch. He’s feeding on you and you are enjoying it.. You don’t know what he is, you don’t know his name. It only spurs the burning desire in the pit on your stomach.

Alastor licks the entire length of your neck, his other hand applying light pressure on your pulse point. He bites down on you again, harder, going deeper. You roll your eyes and moan obscenely as he sucks on it. This is going to leave a mark for sure, but you don’t care, because whatever he’s doing to you feels delirious, it’s the best thing you’ve ever felt.

Your blood is dripping from Alastor’s lips, he licks it not wanting to waste a drop. He can taste your eagerness, your fear, your essence, your soul. The red liquid is solid proof of how alive and defenseless you are, completely at his mercy. You keep moaning and melting on his lap at his ministrations, a finger starts tracing your arm, feather light touch that leaves you shivering in anticipation.

He’s gently scratching, teasingly. It’s a claw, you realize. Another part of his unhumanity making you scared and deliciously trembling in anticipation. It’s Alastor’s turn to moan now, his clawed finger comes to torment your clothed nipple, he makes sure to do it tantalizing slow to give you just a taste of what it could be. He wants to hear you ask for it, beg even.

“I’m afraid I’m way worse than the Devil, little doe” his low, threatening tone makes you close your legs together and rub, desperately seeking friction, some relief.

“Re–really? You don’t sound that bad” A lie. You just want to say something back.

Your paramour laughs again, he takes your hand in his and starts making his way downwards.

“How precious are you, lying like that to me” He stops both of your hands on your lower belly, threatening to cross the point of no return. You squeal and struggle on a desperate attempt to raise your hips and get something more, anything.

Delighted in seeing you writhe this badly when he has not even properly touched you, Alastor squeezes your neck tighter, inflicting just enough pain and pressure to make you sing. The Radio Demon finally makes the decision and drops any pretense of moderation, hastily dropping the band of your panties and guiding your joined hands to your slit. “I can taste the fear in your blood, how your sense of pleasure has been forever skewed”.

The two digits tease your entrance that is coated with arousal and something more, his touch is masterful, like he knows the ways of the human body the same way a talented musician knows their way around an instrument. He makes you moan, he makes you sing with only the possibility of his actions. The idea of being taken by something unholy.

At last, Alastor finally enters your tight wet pussy, his finger guides yours as he undoes you in ways that should not be allowed. He pumps your cunt mercilessly, gone are the careful, calculated touches, he wants to make you crash and burn as quick as possible, he wants to make you understand that you crossed the most important line of your life. There’s no going back now, your pretty mortal body is forever tainted by unholiness, by his darkness.

“You spread yourself like this for me, a wanton little thing while I choke and feast on your blood”. Alastor curls the fingers inside you repeatedly making you move your hips in the maniac rhythm he has set. You ride your joined digits, moaning like a whore while your lover’s grip on your throat tightens and releases making your brain short circuits in pure unknown carnal feeling. “You are not the demure, feisty thing like you desperately tried to prove earlier. It only takes the slight touch of something forbidden to make you moan like a common whore” he adds another one of his huge fingers and starts scissoring inside you, the combination of two of his digits and your little one only adds insult to injury. You will never be able to replicate these ministrations, the feeling of being this full and stretched, you had a taste of the forbidden fruit, you are high on it and you will never get another hit on your own.

Alastor alternates between choking you and curling the fingers inside you, your lightheadedness combined with the assaulting pleasure making you feel feverishly delirious. Your body is hot from desire and adrenaline combined, a starking contrast to your mysterious lover’s touch, ice cold. The two of you distinct seasons, distinct stages of existence mixing together, life and death tethering each other, blurring the lines of worlds that shouldn’t exist together.

Orgasm building quickly, you grip the white sheets tighter and tighter and tighter but your fingers feel wet, you look down to see a mess of redness leaking from your core.

Oh fuck, you are on your period. You completely forgot about it. In normal circumstances you would feel mortified about being fingered like this while bleeding, but right now it makes things even more erotic, you’ve learned that your lover may not be a vampire, but he definitely has a thing for blood and something inside you ignites at the idea of letting him feast on your blood, eat you out while you bleed for him.

Your pussy flutters with the fantasy of that tongue working your pussy and with a particularly harsh pinch on your clit you are off. Waves of pleasure spread across your entire body like wildfire, he chokes you merciless making the urge to scream to the universe how fucking good you feel impossible. You want to scream his name, but you don’t know who he is, what he is. You just want more.

While you ride the waves of your orgasm unbothered Alastor takes the opportunity to take fingers from your pussy to his mouth, red with blood and slick with arousal, he moans audibly as he tastes you, the most intimate parts of you. Only a little bit of it inebriates him, this is better than 70% of what he does in Hell. This feels better than closing a new deal, watching the princess of Hell fail miserably at rehabilitating sinners. You taste so sweet, so alive and afraid. He’s hard with the conviction of how scared you are, of how he has permanently tainted something so innocent and pure. How you stupidly threw yourself to his mercy. Perishing at the hand of those serial killers is more merciful than him. And now you will know.

You must have babbled something while you came, about wanting to scream his name and not knowing it, because now you find yourself completely lying down, the bed feels soft like a cloud and you are sprawled like an angel, and he finally reveals something about him of his own volition.

“The name is Alastor, my dear. It has definitely been a pleasure meeting you.” Alastor, now you know, settles himself between your thighs and the pooling redness from your core. You feel him running his claws across the impossibly soft flesh of your inner thighs, you cover your face with your arm.

“Alastor I’ve never… No one has ever…” you trail off, you shouldn’t be embarrassed at this point, but nevertheless you feel your cheeks burning. Is he really going to eat your bloody pussy? fuck.

Alastor’s name on your lips sounds so soft, so pure. He wants to ruin it. He wants to destroy the careful constructed cognitive dissonance that makes you feel safe and comfortable around him. He wants you to be completely afraid and craving being scared of him, disrupting your sense of pleasure so he can ruin you completely, getting you hooked on him and delirious for more, willing to do anything for another taste of the forbidden fruit.

So, he makes you look.

“Look at me” you don’t want to. You feel a lot of things right now, but mainly you feel as if you really take a look at your dark lover tragedy is going to happen. Eros and psyche all over again, but bloodier.

He claws your thighs, you hiss at the delicious pain, but still disobey him.

“Look. At. Me” he snarls, definitely a threat. You feel yourself getting wetter.

Alastor slaps your ass, hard. He’s losing patience, his temper turning quick at the realization that you not knowing who he is isn’t a perfect plan.

You moan from the pain, from the sting. It feels wickedly erotic. You almost want him to hit you again. Since when pain felt so fucking good?

So you do, you finally look at him.

Red. The first thing that your brain fixates on is how much red there is. Scarlet red hair, red blood running down your core and staining the white sheets. Red claws that pierce your skin.

Red eyes. Burning red eyes that entrap you. It’s like you can see the blazing fire that tortures the damned inside those eyes.

If this is why people fall from grace, you totally understand the appeal now.

The second thing, the thing that makes you transfixed at the sight of him is how wrong he looks. His antlers are beautiful, growing from his scarlet hair beautifully adorning ears that look extremely soft, non-threatening, like a crown. His eyes are big and sharp, close together

while he stares at your soul, eyes of a predator in the middle of softness of prey. His grin is completely predatory, dangerous, sharp teeth that hurt and maul, but at the same time bite you just the right way to make you moan in raw carnality. The skin is pale, not in a michael-jackson-thriller-way but in an ethereal way. His voice is static that seems to tickle your skin, sometimes more than others. He’s paradoxical, everything you should be afraid of and the comfort you should seek at the same time. A force you shouldn’t meddle with. Primal and raw.

You may not know what exactly he is, but one thing is certain: he’s dangerously alluring, and you completely fell into his trap. But it hardly matters anymore, because he is about to drink blood from your pussy with that marvelous silvertongue of his.

“Fucking beautiful” you blur out, not realising he’s going to hear you.

One of Alastor’s eyebrows shoots up. He’s not regarded as beautiful often. Alluring, maybe.

He wants to make you pay for all the soft ideas you have about him.

You soon learn how hard it is to hold the gaze of your lover’s eyes, his burning red irises entrap you. It's impossible to look away but overwhelming to stare into.

“If all the mortal men you’ve been with are weak and pathetic enough to decline the dark gift of your bleeding cunt, then I’m honored to be your first” and without much more warning you feel a delicious cold tongue licking your entrance and you are off

Alastor isn’t eating you out, he’s feasting on you like you are his last chance of salvation. His face is completely buried deep in between your legs as his tongue assaults you at a merciless pace. He makes sure not to waste a drop of anything your gushing pussy gives him. His tongue enters you and the contrast between your tight heat and his coldness makes you delirious. Exquisite carnal pleasure, you could cum from it alone.

Alastor is having a hard time navigating this double edged knife: you don’t know who he is what is capable of, which means your aren’t near as scared of being this vulnerable with him as you should be, a literal cannibal delighting in your soft flesh, drinking the warmth of your sacred blood. You must taste delicious terrified. But the silver lining is that the fear he inspires would make any woman who knows more compliant to this, even offering this to him freely. You have no idea about his exploits, he can and he will tarnish you with all of his unholy darkness, wrecking your world during the eleventh hour when you realize what you’ve done, who you’ve so easily corrupted your morals and your spirit for. You’re so beautiful, so naive, so trusting, so alive. You moan “Alastor, Alastor, Alastor” soft ohhhs and aaaahs as he polishes your cunt, every sound you make, every twitch of your legs and roll of your lips reminding your ungodly lover of how delicate and rare you are, aiding him on his mission. Gripping the sheets isn’t enough anymore, you instinctively place your hands on his antlers, the texture indescribable. Again, the contradiction of the softness of his velvet and the sharpness of his teeth, wickedness of his tongue giving you whiplash. You start rubbing them furiously, trying to mirror his ministries on your swollen folds. It definitely is doing something to him because he drags his teeth along your inner tie, breaking more skin, drawing more blood, hissing. You scream at the heavenly pain mixed with unholy pleasure.

Normally, Alastor wouldn’t let anyone near his antlers, arguably the most sensitive part of his body. If worked right, the sensations take him to another level of desire, insane carnality. But you taste so sweet, rich blood mixed with erotic arousal on a soft flesh platter, he consumes your innocence as he coaxes another orgasm from you. You hold on to dear life on his antlers, his velvet shedding and bloodying your hands, running through adding to the painting of reds that connects you two. Something ignites on you and it’s the most intense orgasm of your life, you feel every nerve burning from everlasting fire, that transforms and transforms until it explodes in a supernova. You don’t have the strength to scream, so you whisper Alastor’s name like a filthy prayer.

He looks up grinning like a devil. Something makes you open your eyes as you ride out the waves of pleasure. There’s so much blood, blood dripping from his lips, blood on his nose, blood cascading down his bewitching face mixing in a flowing current of red, it ends in a glistening red pool where you meet each other in immoral sin, so inviting you could jump in. It’s like what would happen if the killers had caught you, but twisted into wicked, ungodly pleasure, it’s almost worse. Because well, if you’re killed you’d be dead and would never have experienced this, but now you have and the ephemerality of this night crashes on you and you feel conned, betrayed.

He licks his lips and stares right at you, a doe caught in the headlights of his eyes, you almost cum again.

Alastor feels delirious from the bloody mess in front of him, carnality so powerful it makes him insane, he needs to finish this. He needs to sink his cook deep into your slick cunt. Pushing himself up, he starts to position his cock on your entrance. He’s so tall, the shadows of his bloodied antlers cover you and hide the welcoming silver lighting of the moon. The stars look so different today, and the welcoming sight of a full moon looks merciless, devoid of warmth and hope.

“Women like you are not meant for mortal men. They cannot honor you, they cannot savor you, they cannot satisfy you. Once you take a bite of the forbidden fruit you understand your place. Pliant and submissive beneath me. To be ravished and tamed by something beyond puny mortality. You are made to me fucked, to be owned by the better man who defied destiny and transcended what the hands of fate enforced on him. You are Helen of Troy, tailor made to fit my cock, satisfy my thirst”

He teases your entrance with just the tip, making you greedly roll your hips towards him, a primal response to the ravishing words. Alastor laughs mockling at you attempt of getting him to fuck you on your terms, your time. You may not be aware of everything but by now you know you can’t outfox and fox on his own game.

“please. please. PLEASE” you scream the last word, you can’t take it anymore. A second without him touching your body feels like an eternity.

“Tsk. You look so pretty when you beg” the condescending compliment lands like music on your ears and he finally enters you. Inch after inch he spreads your tight walls open, practically breaking you. You understand now why people in times before yours had sex after battle. It’s the most rare and coveted feeling in existence, to greet imminent death, escape her fatal calling and then do the thing that undoubtedly proves you are alive. Only to meet her again at the finish line of carnal sensations and no rational thought. Primal need to feel, to live.

Alastor finally bottoms out with an animalistic growl, making your shiver under him. He fucks you at a merciless pace, he fucks you with haste, with urgency and abandon. He knows what he needs and he is going to take it.

“Hoooooly FUCK Alastor” you scream.

“There’s nothing holy here. Everything that’s holy has abandoned you. There’s only me, your wicked god who has you completely at his mercy, to fuck, to break” he takes it all out and enters you at once. You try so bad to look at him, to hold his piercing gaze with adamantine conviction but you can’t. It’s too much, overstimulation creeps on you and everything hurts. You shut your eyes.

“Look at me. Fucking look at me or I will stop” it’s not an order, it’s a threat. You should be scared, you feel scared, but tonight fear is diesel to your desire, and the pain makes you enter a mind numbing stage. The lines of torture and relief blurring together until you can’t discern a thing, you feel.

You do as you’re told. You look at him as he fucks you, thrusting like a mad man, obscene sounds reverberating throughout, you are being so loud you are sure they can hear you back on the village. The village, your cabin. You had a life before tonight. Will there be life after tonight?

You don’t have time to have an existential crisis because what Alastor does next gets your undivided attention.

“You will look at the demon who is ruining you, fucking you. You are no immaculate maiden anymore. You are a common whore for the Radio Demon” your eyes widen at the revelation. He is not a vampire, he’s not the devil. The fact that he is a demon and not satan makes you even more mortified, like you’ve settled for less. Just a little demon is what it takes to completely undo you.

Alastor keeps thrusting at a breakneck pace, feeling vindicated. He did exactly what he said he would do, he took the last fiber of comfort, of dignity away from you. He can see your entire world shattering on your beautiful doe eyes, making you finally feel the right amount of horror on the edge of a rapturous orgasm.

You feel true terror now, there was still a slimmer hope that he wasn’ evil incarnated, that he had a redeeming quality. After all, he saved you. Didn’t he save you? Or did you start something you are not even close to understanding? You feel terrified because there’s a demon fucking you, biting you, feasting on your blood and you fucking love it, you want it every night. You really took a bite from the forbidden fruit and ruined yourself.

“It’s too much, Alastor I can’t” the words leave your lips and feel like confession, like somehow if you admit your complete surrender it will absolve you of something.

“Too. Bad.” Alastor punctuates his point with delicious sharp trust after each word. He finally tainted you with his darkness and made you aware of it. He feels delirious, he feels like victory incarnated. Your moans grow louder and louder, now pleasure means pain, hell means rapture. Things that should not exist together making you feel the best you have ever felt. Tears spill from your eyes, the overstimulation something you’ve never felt before, mind numbing and life-altering.

In an act of paradoxical mercy, your demon lover rubs your clit and you’re out like a light. Your walls tighten around Alastor’s cock, and white hot pain, blinding red pleasure overcomes you. You feel like falling, you feel your literal fall from grace as your body tingles and burns with ineffable, forbidden pleasure. Alastor howls and cums inside you.

You land on silky, comfortable, alluring darkness.

The cool forest breeze greets your abused skin, it stings but feels soothing at the same time. Paradoxical, like everything from this night. Alastor holds you tight, cradling your head on his chest, petting your hair. He draws lazy circles on your hip bone, featherlight touch, careful and coy. You turn on your side to face him.

“Can you see it now? It’s beautiful, he’s so beautiful” your mind asks you. You agree.

You start giggling, laughing. It is also so funny.

“What’s so funny, little doe?” Alastor asks you, genuinely amused. He feels elated from this night. He feels satiated, contented. It’s a very rare feeling for him.

“For a while I seriously considered you are an alien” you tell him, you can’t contain your laughter now. You are so silly. Alastor’s eyebrow shoots up, quizzical. He chuckles and indulges you. “Alien, is so mundane. You could never be an Alien, it’s way too easy”. What your giddy minds means is that now you know Alastor is anything but easy, actually there’s nothing like him. He’s something else. Something entirely different, a delicious mystery that creeps inside your heart, haunts you forever.

You stop laughing when realization hits you.

“Will I ever see you again, Alastor?” you ask him, your voice failing, nothing more than a whisper. You feel the ephemerality of this night, you feel daylight closing, ruthless sun rising that ends this everlasting dream.

Alastor stares deeply into your eyes, he sees your wanton desire, your trepidant expectations. “That depends entirely on you, my dear doe. It’s time to make a decision.” his voice is so soft it fucking hurts.

You look at the fading moon on the horizon, the distant stars judge you, the earliest of birds sing for you.

Yet from those starts, no light but rather, darkness visible.

You open your eyes, you feel impossibly rested. Your bed feels soft and you want to visit dreamland again, but the noise stops you.

Songbirds and blazing sirens mix together a cacophony of urgency. You get up fast, trying to remember little bits and pieces of the crazy dream you had and run to the big window across the room.

You look down, you see ambulances, police cars, lab coats and tall guys in FBI jackets.

Something definitely happened here last night.

That explains it then, the nature of your murderous dreams. The sirens creeped their way into your subconscious making that murderous, dreadful dream. You take a quick look and your hands and see nothing. Perfect, unblemished skin.

It felt so real. Strawberry fields and blood.

Your neighbor from across the street gestures manically at you from her window.

Fuck, it must have been really bad. There’s a lot of people at your doorstep.

Hurrying to put your robe on, you fly down the stairs towards the bustling crowd outside.

You are dying to know what happened. You were always a vivid dreamer.

You reach the hall and open the door, a polite officer starts talking to you.

You don’t notice the old radio on your vanity, or the opaque darkness that followed you from the corner of your room to the world outside.

#alastor x reader #alastor x reader smut #alastor x you #alastor fanfic #hazbin hotel x reader #the radio demon x you #im insaneeeeeeeee #baixaria #im sorry everyone #alastor #the radio demon

87 notes · View notes

simlit · 28 days

Text

Chosen of the Sun | | dawn // forty-five

| @catamano

next / previous / beginning

ELION: Not at all. I’m simply accustomed to powerful women. Indeed, hierarchal structure is one of the few things in this world I enjoy. I can respect authority spoken by someone who knows firmly what they want; A commander that isn’t afraid to give commands. EIRA: But you don’t respect mine. ELION: That’s hardly the case. I respect you a great deal. But I also enjoy you greatly in other ways, so I’m inclined not to listen. It’s quite the paradox. A part of me does feel quite poorly. I’m just being ripped apart on the inside by my own internal dilemma— EIRA: Can’t you take anything seriously?! ELION: Yes. Yes I can. And I do. I’d like to get to know you. EIRA: Why? ELION: You ask me to be serious, then I will give you a very serious answer. I once loved a woman like you. You remind me of her in the most achingly beautiful way. It’s painful. And I want to feel it more. EIRA: …So it is a kink. ELION: Only partially. EIRA: laughs Ridiculous. Did she love you back? ELION: For a while. EIRA: Shocking. Let me guess, you drove her away? ELION: Not at all. I lost her. EIRA: Oh. She… I’m… sorry. ELION: She didn’t die, if that’s what you think. At least, not in that way. No, I imagine she lives, still. But the woman she once was… Death is simple, you see. We grieve in the face of it. And grief has a name and a shape. It’s understood. There are far worse things than dying. To carry on when there’s nothing left of us… That is suffering of another sort, entirely. EIRA: And I remind you of this? Shouldn’t you resent me? ELION: Not at all. I’m reminded of the fondest memories. You see, like you, she hailed from the mountain regions; One of the snow-touched elves of the north. I wondered if you might have had elvenblood yourself. That striking color of your hair… EIRA: I’m no elf. Just unlucky. ELION: Unlucky? EIRA: My parents were perfectly plain and human, in a village of other perfectly plain humans. I imagine that’s why they threw me out when I was barely strong enough to open my eyes. I’ve been putting people off since I was an infant. So forgive me if your advances don’t exactly stir my pot. ELION: Then, my apologies. I should not have expected you to respond the same. She was, I suppose, a particular case. EIRA: How did you… meet? ELION: Very accidentally. We met during one of my assignments long ago. She was no stranger to battle; A ranger, and better with a blade than I. They say poison is a maiden’s murder weapon, but she preferred a more direct approach, and I’d never been beaten so badly. EIRA: You were sent to kill her? ELION: No, I was sent to kill her client. And I did kill him, but she certainly didn’t make it easy for me. EIRA: Well, that’s a story if I’ve ever heard one. ELION: I have many. I expect you do, too. We could exchange them sometime. I can be quite civil when I need to. Dinner, drinks, I’ll even wear my hair up. EIRA: Tch. Do I look like the type to be wined and dined? ELION: I hoped not. EIRA: Then you weren’t wrong. But I’m no one’s replacement. ELION: I would never think to replace her. But then, seeing you, I considered maybe I ought to finally move on. EIRA: Find someone else. ELION: Ah, well. Suppose I should. I’m happy to accept when I’m defeated. But you must at least give me credit for trying. For what it’s worth, I was sincere. EIRA: … ELION: About what I said before… the trials… do be careful and look after yourself. EIRA: I— ELION: Yes, I know. You’re strong. And more formidable people than you have been ground to dust in those games. Even if you do survive… I hope that when you come out on the other side, you’ll still remember just how strong you were.

#ts4 #ts4 screenshots #ts4 story #ts4 bachelor challenge #chosen of the sun #cc: eira #oc: elion maharis #text readers: text is cut in half. it was much too long

54 notes · View notes

jjsmaybank20 · 2 months

Note

Would you be willing to write a carpenter sisters x sibling!reader who struggles with coping after the events of the scream films (nightmares mostly) and the sisters help the reader?

Nightmares

Sam Carpenter x GN!Carpenter!Reader, Tara Carpenter x GN!Carpenter!Reader

Summary: You keep having nightmares, but refuse to go to your sisters for help.

Warnings: Light angst, talk of nightmares, talk of the events of scream 5 & 6.

Word Count: 791

A/N: So so sorry it took so long!

navigation scream masterlist

---

You thought you were fine after the attacks. Maybe not physically, but at least mentally. You hadn’t been sleeping very well as of late, but that couldn’t be because of the killer that plagued your dreams. You were constantly paranoid, but you swore it wasn’t because of the surprise attack that led to you being stabbed by one of the Ghostfaces. You couldn’t make friends because you would never trust them, but there has to be a reason for that other than being betrayed by two of your best friends and your roommate in the span of two years.

Even though you tried to hide it, your sisters knew that something was wrong. You wouldn’t talk to them, which made them even more concerned about your wellbeing. They could see the dark bags under your eyes, and they knew you weren’t getting enough sleep. Tara remembers when she was plagued with nightmares every night. It was after the first attack, right when you guys had moved to New York. She didn’t have them as much anymore, but she remembers being in your exact position. She refused to get help, telling herself that she was fine, and to not be a burden. Those were the consequences of living with your mother. You learned to bottle it up. Push it down. Don’t be a burden.

Sam felt helpless. She thought that you weren’t coming to her for help because you still didn’t trust her, even though she knew that wasn’t the case. Even though that wasn’t the truth, she still had that little voice in the back of her head saying that because she left, you would never fully trust her again. She was finally able to get over this, though, when Tara brought it up as you played one of your noisy video games in your room. If you truly weren’t telling her because of a trust thing, then you would have at least told Tara. Still, the fact that you hadn’t told either of them was concerning all on its own.

They decided that waiting for you to come to them wasn’t going to work. Trying not to completely spring it on you, the two told you that they had to talk about something. You were suspicious, but you gave them the benefit of the doubt. You were really hoping that this wasn’t about what you thought it was, but you had a nagging feeling that they would be bringing up your lasting nighttime issues.

As soon as you sat down at the dining room table, your sisters could tell that your hackles were raised. Tara decided to start, knowing that Sam would push too hard too fast.”Y/N, are you doing okay? We’ve been worried about you.”

Immediately on the defense, you curtly answer, “I’m fine.”

Sam and Tara share a look, knowing they would have to push a little harder to get you open up to them. “We know you haven’t been sleeping. Please, we can help you.” You begin to protest, ready to fight with them until they leave you alone. But when you look up, you see the pleading look in Tara’s eyes, and the concerned and scared look in Sam’s. You sigh, realizing that this had been going on for too long.

“Okay.” Your sisters look at each other, surprised. They weren’t ready for you to give in that easily. “Okay?”

You nod. “Yeah.” You let out a sigh, calming your nerves. “I’ve been having nightmares lately. Like, really bad, really realistic nightmares. About… you know.”

Sam lets out a breath. “Why didn’t you come to us?” You look down at the table, feeling guilty. “I didn’t want to burden either of you. I know that you guys are dealing with stuff too, and you don’t want to add my stupid issues on top of that.” Tara’s chest fills with guilt, wishing that she had tried to help you sooner.

“We’re your family, Y/N. You are allowed to come to us. We want you to come to us.” You finally look up, meeting your sister’s eyes. They see the emotions in your own, prompting them to round the table and wrap you up in their arms. “We love you, okay? And we will always be here for you.”

You nod in acknowledgment, pressing your face further into Sam’s chest. Into her stomach you mumble, “Can I sleep in your bed tonight?” Immediately, the brunette agrees. “Of course. You can sleep with me whenever you want. My room is always open to you, honey. Always.” She can’t see the smile on your face, but Sam can feel it. A similar smile breaks out on her own face.

It may take some work, but you guys would be alright.

---

@alotofpockets @t-wylia @hehehehannahthings @ampitrit3 @didyoubringauntienat @jensortega813 @ortegalvr @natashamaximoff-69 @osnapitzmel01

If your name is crossed out, it means I couldn't tag you!

Join my taglist!

#sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter x you #sam carpenter x y/n #sam carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x y/n #tara carpenter #scream #scream 5 #scream 6 #scream x you #scream x y/n #scream x reader

93 notes · View notes

elvensorceress · 22 days

Note

So there is a "leaked" script that claims Eddie asked Marisol to move in, and is it just me, or is that completely out of character for Eddie? He dated Ana for longer, and they weren't living together. we are really supposed to believe that he would ask Marisol to move in after a few months of dating? Unless Eddie is unable to process anything after learning his Buck. Is dating a man that is not him, and instead of breaking up with her like he planned, he pulls a Buck and asks her to move in with him.

Eddie does not deserve to be stuck with someone like Marisol.

According to 7x04, he apparently needs a live-in babysitter so he can go out with his shiny new boyfriend. So… 🤣 And it took a whole relationship and a blackout before Ana was his babysitter! Just from that much I’m still going, yikes. Like, girl, do you not have friends? Do you not have someone who will tell you this relationship is red flags all over the place? Can we not call up your Folger brother and have him talk some sense into you?

You’re very right though. Eddie deserves so much better.

I have heard about the supposed leaked scripts and I’ll talk some about that under a cut below in case anyone wants to read my thoughts on it.

But what I’ll say in general is that in some of the interviews we’ve been seeing recently especially with canon bi!Buck, Mr. Showrunner had scathing things to say about love interests who are just there to be love interests. He didn’t like that they couldn’t interact with any of the other characters and that they weren’t part of the overall story.

Given we’ve had what, two? offhand comments and maybe five whole seconds of screen time this season with her, if they wanted to actually develop that relationship for the audience, they could have done that. And should have done that a long, long time ago. (For example, see Eddie and Tommy’s relationship. In one whole episode they did more to build that up than they have done for Eddie/allegedgirlfriendconfirmedterf in all of season 6 or 7.)

Instead, they showcased the bond between Buck and the Diazes and the trauma that Eddie and Chris still have over Shannon leaving and them losing her. And also Eddie’s new friendship with Tommy that sounded like they were both spending every day, every moment together.

So far for Miss Homophobe, we have—

hey mari it me eddie from the hardware store

the phone call where they set up a date

it's not MY date it's CHRIS' date (r u sure, dude? why is she there then 🤣)

her chaperoning Chris’ date with Eddie

her babysitting twice off screen

Obviously, she’s in the next episode and they have a pizza date while Eddie has to stare at his bestest friends while they’re on a date. But at this point, if you want the audience to root for the relationship or enjoy it at the very least, it’s a little late in the game for that? We have nothing to go on and it doesn’t make sense if we’re taking it at face value.

All this to say, if he does ask her to move in with him, there is no way for the audience to buy that it’s genuine, reasonable, or a smart move. It reads like Buck asking Taylor to move in with him because he cheated and he’s desperate and clinging. Even if Eddie and the terf show up and are all happy and handsy and lovey, it’s not convincing. There’s been no development. It would come across like Buck and Ali apartment hunting and being touchy and giggly, and then her dumping him at the end of the episode. It sets up a contrast between what we think is happening and what is really happening. Perceived happiness vs the reality of not knowing each other and their relationship crumbling.

I don’t remember who said it or when it was said, maybe it was Kristen? But I know someone talked about how Eddie rushed things with Ana and they were wanting to do the opposite when continuing his story. Dating someone for (how long has it even been? 2-3 months? Idek? Does Eddie even know?) Mere months and asking them to move in reeks of, “something is going wrong and I have to fix it by doing something rash and ill-advised to keep us together.”

Remind me to do a post about Eddie also being someone who clings and stays because it’s convenient and he doesn’t want to be alone.

It would be completely out of character if it is a sincere, legit thing. However, as a panic response? I buy it. But that also doesn’t bode well for their future. Darn. Hold on, I’ll get the champagne. That relationship is just waiting to be bones. And in an episode called, “You Don’t Know Me,” is where they’re putting their relationship under a microscope? Hildy, cue up the ominous music.

I doubt the glorious day we are free of her will be this week. I think they are just starting whatever they have planned. Unfortunately. I would hope they kept her around and brought her back for a reason like what they did with Eddie/Ana. I want there to be something satisfying about the end and the fact that we have to suffer through this. It just needs to happen quickly because I am so over homophobic terfs who know what fucking show they’re on and what the story is and still persist in their assholish bigotry.

Now? My thoughts on the leaks?

IF we are to believe they are legit, and who knows if they are. But if we are saying they are legit, then Buck comes out to Eddie at the very end and Eddie is surprised. So, Eddie likely wouldn’t be jealous or weird about Buck and Tommy dating if he didn’t even know they are dating. Plus, they just had a whole episode dedicated to jealous!Buck and it would be redundant to immediately take that into, now EDDIE is the JEALOUS ONE. I think they’d have to take the story further for Eddie to really consider how he feels about Buck and Tommy dating.

Maybe it will come down to him being displeased by it (for some unknown reason he just can't put his finger on) and grappling with how he genuinely likes Tommy a lot and that’s a new thing for him and one of Buck’s love interests? But it wouldn’t happen this week. In theory, this week is about Buck feeling like he’s hiding because he just realized he’s bi and hasn’t told anyone yet. Hence, more of the “you don’t know me.”

Obviously, I am rooting for Buddie. All the way. All the time. I like Buck/Tommy just fine but they’re not BuckandEddie. But I think it will take a while before we see anything that might really develop the Buck & Eddie storyline. They’re working on Buck’s bisexual awakening and his first time dating a man. WHERE OH WHERE ARE MY EDDIE STORYLINES. I just want them to do some justice for my boy. Give him something interesting! And for the terf to gtf away from him. :D

And apologies, I rambled a lot at you. Love and hugs!

#911 spoilers #911 s7 spoilers #911 season 7 #jenwyn gets mail #and talks way too much sorry #leaked scripts #?? supposedly? idk how to tag THAT #oh sorry this is so long 🫣#long post

43 notes · View notes

flame-resistant · 1 month

Text

He felt sick. Why did you look at him like that? Why were you being so nice? Why weren't you scared of him like everyone else? It made his skin itch just enough; he needed it to stop.

Content: stalking, death threats, yandere

He remembered you well, the look you gave when you offered him the soda. How you said it was an extra by mistake, a kind gesture that just didn’t sit well with him. What was your game? Didn’t know who he was? Even if you didn’t, how could you not see he was bad news, how disgusting he looked. A bitter feeling entered his chest as Shigaraki watched you leave, off to do God knows what, just a stupid little civilian who didn’t know any better. You made him sick.

It didn’t take him long to find your social media, only a few days of trying to fish for information. The area the two of you met in was near a university, you looked about his age, so a student fit and damn was he correct. Even there you presented as this kind individual who could do no wrong. Helping with the needy and deprived like some saint, an obsessive thought edging its way into his mind. What would happen if someone made you snap? A grin crossed his dry lips as the bright screen created a halo around his thin figure, but he was far from angelic, and he was damned to prove you weren’t as well.

“Hey who is this loser posting hate comments in your posts?” A friend had asked after you received a few hate comments, while cyberbullying and trolling wasn’t a new topic, it was odd that your small blog would be hit. Shrugging your shoulders, eyes skimmed the words from the anonymous user: “fraud”, “die in a hole”, “you think this makes you good?”; it almost seemed this user was taking everything personal. Though you couldn’t figure out just what you did to them specifically.

“It’s probably just someone mad and taking it out on random blogs, no? We never interacted before so we can’t possibly know each other. Look, we don't even follow the same accounts.” That was a good point, your friend mumbled in agreement. Perhaps it really just was some spam account, they only told you to be careful in case it got more extreme.

“Just be sure to take screenshots if they threaten you.”

And you did, the comments not stopping only growing by the hour. It got to the point you had to block the account, something you usually didn’t do but felt pressured due to the volume of spam comments and your friend saying they deserved it. A part of you was tempted to just reach out and ask what their problem was, an idea that was dropped when mentioned in your social group. Brows furrowed as the others called you too nice, that people don’t think like you, that some are just fucked up.

It seemed to be going well, after the block the hate comments stopped, and things started to go back into the boring norm of college classes and hanging out in your free time. A notification on your phone distracted you from the recent discussion with your study group. Blood leaving your being as you read the message sent to you, a new account, but the same words.

“Did you really think blocking me would help? I knew it, you’re just like the rest of the trash in this world. One day you’re going to wake up and everything around you is going to be dead, that goody-two-shoes attitude won’t be able to help you either. You’re all going to die and I’m going to do it.”

All attention was back on you when your phone dropped to the floor, your face pale from the feeling of anxiety growing inside you. Saying a quick “excuse me”, they watched you leave to the bathroom in a fit of paranoia. The mirror staring back at you showed a reflection that was never crossed before; widened eyes and mouth agape as you caught your breath. Mind raced with thoughts as you moved to check the stalls behind you, a breath of relief seeing that you were alone.

After the lovely encounter with your new pen pal, your friends convinced you to go to the police in hopes of finding the creep. Though it was shown they couldn’t pinpoint a good enough address, something about a VPN, your mind distracted by other things than computer tech. Looking out the window, every person became a possible threat. Was it the guy in the hoodie getting into a cab? Maybe the woman who was screaming at her phone while ordering a coffee. Your trust in humanity slowly dwindles, a hand on your shoulder breaking those negative thoughts as your friends give a few reassuring smiles. You weren’t fighting this by yourself, you had support.

Taking the police’s advice on blocking the account and switching your social to private, you had a bit more hope that maybe this would end. The small group headed back to your apartment as your friends discussed how crazy the person was. Your mind once more lost in thought on trying to figure out just what you did. The person said you were a goody-two-shoes, maybe they just meant your social media likes and posts, though something in your gut said it was more than just that. It was like they took your existence personally, as if you had truly offended them. A part of you wanted to at least try and apologize for whatever the fuck you did, but the other part knew it would anger the anon more. For now, you decided to push it aside, you did what you could.

Again, things seemed to be calming down, while it was frustrating to be on private, you knew you had to wait it out until things died down. A few weeks, maybe a month or two? God, you just wanted this to be over with, surely the person must have moved on by now, right? Someone couldn’t be that obsessed with freaking you out. So, after a month and a half you opened up your social to the public again. A few happy comments from some mutuals on seeing you back, glad to hear you were doing well. It felt good, almost therapeutic to have that control back.

Another week and still no hate comments from random accounts, maybe they really did give up? You could be so hopeful. Checking your phone for a notification at the store entrance, you moved to place it back in your pocket before being hit by an oncoming person’s shoulder. A quick apology was sent their way as you fumbled with your phone from almost dropping it. Not receiving a reply, you figured the person was just in a rush. The dark hoodie blending in with a crowd of bystanders. Hearing your phone beep caused your eyes to leave the crowd and until the new notification. A simple sentence message from a new account: watch it.

“So, the creep really does know you? We need to go back to the police!” After the encounter, you booked it to your friend’s place, not feeling safe going shopping alone. Shaking your head, you knew it would be pointless. You didn’t get a good look at the person; from what you could see they looked male but that was just a hunch. The police would just shrug it off like they did before, not enough evidence did nothing to help them possibly hunt down a culprit.

“They’ll just blow it off again, tell me to put my blog on private again. It was torture not getting to talk to my friends outside of our group, I don’t want to do it again.”

“Yeah, but this creep saw you! They literally shoulder bumped you!

“But I didn’t see them.”

The two of you fell quiet, a huff from them knowing you were right despite how annoying and stressful the situation was. “So, the guy can just keep stalking you and the police won’t do shit, ridiculous.”

It was, but it was also legal. An agreement came after this that you wouldn’t be left alone if it could be worked out. More eyes meant more chances of seeing who the guy was, which made sense. Part of you felt bad that your friends made sure to be around before and after your classes and even walking you home. They would reassure you it was fine, that they rather do this than hang up missing posters.

Every now and then a new message would surface from a new account, statements about what you were wearing, even pictures taken of yourself and your friends. Screenshots saved before blocking the next account. It was almost starting to feel normal, as if on cue you knew he would send you a new notification on the dot. And one of those days you finally felt bold, what could he do anyway, you weren’t alone so he couldn’t exactly hurt you, besides you almost wanted him to do something in public to put an end to this and call the police.

moth.eater sent: You should try the mountain dew, maybe it would give some spice to your lame life. netizen.55 sent: Why are you doing this? What did I even do to you? moth.eater sent: I just want to see you tick.

That was it, all he wanted was to piss you off? He was doing a shitty job at that, if anything he was just scaring you into a corner. A phrase you remembered from your psych class came back to your mind, anger was a secondary emotion usually from rejection or fear. This guy was trying to scare you to the point of anger, the thought alone didn’t settle well with you. That rush of adrenaline hitting you once more before you could rationalize your response.

netizen.55 sent: I’m not scared of you.

That seemed to do it, it was the first time he blocked you. A feeling of pride filled your lungs, it’s been a while since you felt this satisfied. You won this weird argument; the block proved it enough. He should leave you alone now.

It itched; his skin never stopped burning despite how much he scratched. Red eyes stared through the screen; past the words you so bluntly wrote. You weren’t scared of him? Maybe not right now, but you would be. Every single person in this stupid world would be, sensei said so after all. The chair rolled back behind Shigaraki as he grabbed his old hoodie.

Final exams were nearing, but now that your number one hater had been leaving you alone it seemed less daunting. Your friends were even able to do their own things again which helped the guilt die down, no more being some protected being. Picking up the last textbook from the library, it was a straight direction back to your apartment. The time showed just past 7:15pm meaning a few hours of studying before crashing. Sounded like a good Thursday to you, especially with no notifications! A need to skip home almost overcame you, though the look of bystanders kept you in check.

With the apartment door shut and books tossed on the desk, it was time to get to work. Cracking your balcony door just a bit to let a breeze in, your eyes moved to observe the text. It was a relatively quiet night, not yet the weekend in which other college students would be howling below after a few drinks. Sometimes a police siren would go by, nothing too dangerous from the sounds of it, besides a few heroes were patrolling the area. Getting up to take a break, the clock now showing 8:43pm, it didn’t hit you how long you had been reading for. A hand moving to massage your face and wake up. One more hour you told yourself as you walked towards the kitchen for a drink.

Weird, did you leave the kitchen sink on? Brows furrowed as you tried to remember each step you made when you got home but couldn’t really focus due to being in a slight daze. Maybe you washed a dish and forgot to turn the faucet off. Shrugging it off, you turned the handle and moved to the fridge. Cold pizza and a few beers stared back at you, a mental note to get more groceries this weekend was made as you went back to the sink. Maybe past you knew what they were on about with the sink being on.

Cup in your hand, you stopped dead in your tracks, eyes widening from what was staring back at you. The hallway that faced the sink was empty, a window at the very back that usually helped you see what was going on in the dark apartment was now blocked by the figure. Red eyes stared back at your own, each step you took to move back was followed by another from the person.

“You said you weren’t scared of me; you look like everyone else who sees me.” The voice sounded scratched, like he hadn’t drunk anything in years, as if he was the embodiment of a desert. If it didn’t hit before, it hit now on who it was. Quick to run to the bathroom door, the closest one that would get you away from the stalker, you let out a strangled grunt when you were shoved against it instead. Face now pressed into the wood as the palm of his hand kept you in place. “I knew it, once that little facade breaks, you’re just as shitty as everyone else.”

“Let go!”

Not caring about the panic in your voice, you tried to turn around or at least get him to move, a “tsk” was heard as the hooded man showed you the cup you were once holding. Confusion turned into fear as the cup began to turn into dust just by his touch alone, a silent warning that you would be next if you kept it up. Still processing everything that was going on, the only question that could come to mind was asked, your nervous system in full overdrive with logic out the window. “Why?”

“I told you; I just want to see what’s under that mask. You should really think twice on who you offer free drinks to.”

Darkness was the final reply you got, the world shutting down around you. If you survived this, you would keep the extra soda for yourself.

#flameresistant #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki imagine #shigaraki bnha #shigaraki my hero academia #shigaraki x y/n #yandere shigaraki #poor reader just had an extra soda

47 notes · View notes