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shiny-jr · 10 days

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I’ve just had a vision, what if a yan (e.g riddle or vil because they are most princess-ish) was a trapped in a castle away like in one of those stereotypical fairy tales and the reader decides to save them because they are a ‘damsel in distress’ and reader is like a hero… only to realise there is a reason why they were locked away (because they were batshit crazy)

Warning: Yandere. Gender-neutral reader.

Characters: Vil Schoenheit.

Summary: You are a thief with freshly stolen goods. Chased and hunted down, you avoid capture by finding a castle hidden in gloom and fog. Locals told legends of this place, saying a royal had been trapped within. Of course, you don't quite believe such tall tales. That is, until you discover the royal and learned that they were purposefully sealed inside...

Note: I think I'll call this one, not your valiant savior. It's just a placeholder name for now. Just a quick post, so sorry if it's bad.

It was too easy. What did they expect when they left out a priceless object owned by the royal family and estimated to be worth a fortune? Of course a famed thief on the loose such as yourself, would just be itching to snatch the relic. And snatch you did, living up to your reputation of thief. Each member having unique abilities to assist in stealing. Your mother had speed to outrun anyone in a chase, your grandfather had the talent of picking any locks, your great-grandmother could sweet-talk anyone then rob them blind. And so on and so forth.

And of course, you had your own talent. As quiet as a mouse and with fingers that stuck to valuables like glue, stealing became like second nature. Literally. However, it wasn't exactly a talent valued by the wider community, and if you stole enough you could end up on terribly drawn wanted posters. Which is why staying in one place wasn't wise.

From place to place, you went taking and claiming anything of worth. When you got very low on cash, you set your sights high: on the vault that stored the royal's priceless treasures. There was bound to be endless riches stored within, if only you could get your grubby hands on them. Well, after careful planning, you had. It wasn't a giant gem or sack full of gold.

Time was short, so you had grabbed the closest thing you could before guards could find you. A golden box encrusted with jewels. Who knew what was inside? Maybe some family heirloom, a magical artifact, or something else of high value. And with the box, you bolted, and the chase had begun out of the city and through the woods.

As fast as you could, you ran through the mystic woods, a forrest travelers and locals alike were all wary of. It was the safest place you could go when chased by frightening palace guards on horseback that would do anything to take back what you stole and drag you back to the gallows. Even the woods heavy with fog and dark from the clouds overhead, had deterred your pursuers enough for you to slip out of their reach and deeper into the forrest where there was no way they would be able to track you. Here, you would have to wait until tomorrow and depart early. Then, you'd be home free and rich beyond your wildest dreams.

After what felt like hours of walking, you stumbled upon a bridge over a gloomy lake. In the middle, sat an old castle of gray stone and dark windows. A castle once said to hold a royal captive, but of course, you didn't believe such stories that were so old they were told to your own grandparents. This castle would be your sanctuary for the night. And maybe, just maybe, you'd clutch the jeweled box and dream of simpler times when you were told fairytales of locked away royals waiting for a savior.

The castle was exactly like those set in spooky tales, haunted by vengeful spirits and claimed by ghosts. It appeared abandoned, that much was obvious by the crumbling stone bridge and the battered old wooden doors that once protected the inhabitants.

Cautiously stepping over the splintered debris of the front door, you didn’t bother boarding it up since no one would be stupid enough to follow you inside.

There was wreckage and ruin everywhere. If you had to guess, whatever happened here, whether the people were driven away by conflict or time, it was followed by the destruction of time. Time with weather were likely all factors that led to the disarray of what was probably once a grand estate. Strangely enough, there was furniture and decor. Everything coated in dust and grime, but still here. Had people been too afraid to enter the grounds? There were so many valuables that could've been looted!

"I'll definitely have to come back here later." You scoff, turning over a few clothes or broken furniture with your foot to uncover possible hidden goodies. Maybe something as small but valuable as a ring was lost somewhere on the ground.

Proceeding to carry the golden box under your arm, you decide to search for the cleaniest, not-so-moldy room where you could spend the night. On the third floor halls, you see ripped curtains and frames where portraits loosely hung. Every rug was brown with dirt and dust.

There were items left behind, which showcased the life one led here. A piano too big to steal, the skeleton of a chandelier and broken gems hanging from its limbs, empty glass perfume bottles now filled with dust. The place must've been wondrous once, but now it was like a tomb. A setting frozen in time.

When you found moonlight filtering through the open balcony of what looked to be the master bedroom, you paused to see the space wrecked more than the others. As if more than just weather and time had affected this place. The owner of this castle likely slept in this very room, on that very bed where the sheets were ruffled and unkempt.

"I wonder who used to live here..." You murmur to no one in particular, as you approach the balcony looking over the bridge and woods. This would be a good vantage point.

A heavy fog settled over the woods, extending over the bridge like water. Good, an extra layer for cover. You stepped back into the room, analyzing every carved piece of wooden furniture, makeup and brushes stored on tabletops, a separate room as long as a hallway and filled with all types of articles of clothing.

If all this was still here, then was it possible some jewelry was left behind? You scoured the room, looking for hidden compartments while murmuring to yourself to fill the ominous silence. As you pulled back a curtain against a wall, you furrowed your eyebrows when you saw an uneven lump underneath the wallpaper.

Could this be handle leading to a vault of treasures? With that in mind, you ripped off the old wallpaper. A glimmer of gold made your heart soar with hope, but when you caught sight of your reflection, you stopped and stared. A mirror. It was a large mirror, oval shaped, with golden borders so intricately decorated. However, when a hand suddenly appeared on the other side of the mirror, like a ghostly apparition, you screamed and stumbled back.

A hand– there was a hand in the mirror! You stared with widened eyes full of shock, as the hand pressed its palm against the surface of the glass. You couldn't see anything else, no one behind the hand. After a second, the slim pale hand delicately pointed a long dainty finger at the box you were holding in a vice grip.

"What...? This? You want this? But..."

You had worked hard to procure this golden box from the royals. Pursing your lips, you contemplated your options, with so many questions running rampant in your mind. What was that thing? A magic mirror? A magic mirror would be priceless, much more valuable than any gold. However, if it was magic, it would be tricky. Possibly even sentient. So you'd have to gain its favor.

"Alright, alright, the box. You know, I went through hell trying to get this."

You informed the mirror, unsure if it even understood you. You carefully set down the heavy box in front of the mirror, and watch as the hand made a motion with its fingers.

Click!

It had unlocked the box, without even a key or tool. A grin broke out on your face. Had it done it for you? Apparently not, because the box opened on its own and a heavy thick tome floated out from it and into the air. The hand beckoned the tome closer, and closer it came, until it was literally phasing through the glass.

"Hey! Wait––"

The glass shattered, the sound booming and ringing out in the silence like an explosion. You only had a second to react, instinctually using your arms to shield your face from the glass flying out in every direction. When it stopped, you looked around. The mattress was shredded, the curtains torn to shreds, wooden furniture cut as if done by an axe, but miraculously you were somehow unharmed.

A breath, not of your own, caught your attention. Your eyes darted over to the now broken mirror, awestruck at the vision of a figure stepping over broken glass. They were beautiful, gorgeous, stunning, more than any words could convey. Their hair like gold and eyes an alluring shade of purple like two amethyst stones, soft pink lips, and a tall slim pale figure clothed in odd robes. For a moment, whoever this person was, appeared disoriented for a brief moment, but they clutched the tome like a lifeline. The tome that came from the box you had stolen.

"Thank you––"

He breathed, his voice quiet as he attempted to stand tall and upright. When his legs nearly gave out beneath him, you were there to catch his hand and prevent him from falling as he looked at you with appreciation. You were just stunned, bewildered, in pure disbelief.

"You... You freed me. You returned my stolen tome...!"

He exclaimed in disbelief, as he restored his posture. Somehow, he was able to stand in heels, but heels were currently one of the least important details.

What did he mean freed?

There was no time to ask any questions. The loud sound of the shattering must've alerted any of your pursuers that had followed you thus far, because from the balcony you could make out the torchlights weaving their way directly towards the bridge.

The mysterious man from the mirror took notice of your expression of dismay as he glanced at the distant torchlights. Smoothing out his robes, he looked back at you and took in your expression. "Enemies of yours?"

"Yes..." You nod slowly.

"Now that just won't do. I can't have anyone harming, or even killing my savior. I've yet to even learn your name." Tapping some well-manicured fingers against the spine of the tome, he appeared to contemplate something. When he stopped tapping his fingers, he smiled so sweetly. "I am Vil Schoenheit, prince and prodigy. Here's my proposition to you, my savior: I will destroy your enemies for a small price. You must tell me your name, and I will grant you my protection."

Of course you gave him your name, and almost immediately you saw the fog below turn an odd color. The torchlights flickered out, you no longer heard their encouraged shouts to move forward but instead their screams echoing in the dark woods. All after Vil murmured a few words in a foreign tongue read from his tome, as he continued to gaze at your intently. What exactly was he to cause so much death in a single instant with hardly any effort...? And you were stuck in this abandoned castle with him.

The prince had no plans to abandon you, he's made that much clear when you attempted to casually part ways after thanking him for getting rid of your pursuers. Stay. I can make it worth your while. Once I reach my former glory, you'll be able to bask in it with me. Is what he said as you swore you heard the front of the castle be sealed shut.

The entire time he looked around the castle with disdain, cross as he complained about the state of his home. While helping him clean up some rooms, he told you more about himself. Vil was a prince who once lived in this castle, set to inherent the throne shortly after the death of his father. However, he was widely feared due to being a prodigy in dark magics and genius at brewing concoctions. For attempting to steal the life of a younger kinder foreign prince who specialized in good magic, he was trapped in a mirror with his tome being the only key to grant him freedom.

Vil actually appeared to be much too fond of you, which you attributed to his isolation. If you were imprisoned all alone in a mirror for centuries, you likely would've gone insane. It was a miracle Vil's mind was intact, but maybe he wasn't there entirely. Because what sane person killed people with the snap of their fingers while smiling so kindly at the one who set him free?

Pridefully he listed off his feats and accomplishments. Living prodigy. Most beautiful man in the land. Prince of the land. It felt too much like flaunting, as he wanted you to realize how truly great he was. He replaced your clothes with his own, and while combing your hair he reminded you that what's rightfully his will be returned to him one day, and you would be there beside him that day.

The crown was what he wanted, a crown he believed was stolen from him and passed down to the descendants of the very good prince he attempted to kill. He spoke of a future in the castle restored to its former glory, where citizens would be loyal to him once again, and those that wronged him will receive a fate worse than death. Positions were open for applying once he became king, he told you one day. He was still searching for a vassal, a knight, a jester, or a partner to wear a crown as well.

Was it the isolation that had driven him to become so attached to the one who set him free? It was possible, but you couldn't even be sure. For all you knew, he could've been like this before he became trapped in the mirror. What mattered now was that he did not make any effort to hide his attraction towards you. Vil was offering a thief all the riches he would attain after his plan for vengeance, and his heart in a golden box.

"Keep the knives I gifted you, although I doubt you'll have to resort to lifting a finger. Just allow me to handle it when the time comes. I want to extract vengeance slowly and painfully, make them hurt just as they did to me... And at the end of the day, you will be there, you little thief who stole my affections, to comfort me and drive away those memories of cold lonely centuries in darkness. You'll be there for me, won't you, my valiant savior?"

#twst #twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #vil schoenheit #twst vil #yandere vil schoenheit #not your valiant savior

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rad-batson · 1 year

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Headcanons of Tim and Damian’s Love/Hate/But-Mostly-Begrudging-Love Relationship (They’re My Babies)

They will take EVERY opportunity to be a little bitch to one another

Tim: “Don’t get too close to me. You probably have rabies.” Damian: *actually bites him*

Damian tripped Tim once, which started an all out prank war that lasted several months. It only ended when Bruce walked into a glue trap and couldn’t reach his phone to call for help. But he couldn’t figure out who put it there so they were both grounded. (It was Tim.)

Tim teaches Damian to finish his vine references when Bruce tells them they need to “bond.” They proceed to try and speak in exclusively vine references and TikTok sounds during patrol. Bruce benches them for his own sanity.

Damian: “I’m not touching you” *gets pushed down the stairs*

Tim: “I’m not in your room” *gets hit in the face with a book*

Tim calls Damian short even tho he’s only like two inches taller for quite a bit of time (and Damian never hears the end of it after Tim’s growth spurt)

Family Game Night could go in one of two ways: they’re opponents and spend the whole night one-upping each other OR they team up and wipe the floor with everyone else’s pieces

Damian: “Just trust me.” Tim: *remembering that one time Damian tried to kill him* “Okay.”

Tim: “Don’t ask questions.” Damian: *recalling the multiple genocidal Tim variants* “Whatever.”

During one Wayne Gala, they make up this game called Freestyle Checkers where they choose guests as their “pieces” then subtly manipulate them into walking to their opponent’s side of the ballroom without talking to someone from the other team or they’re out. No one can know that they’re part of a game or their opponent wins by default.

Bruce is proud of them at first for being more sociable during galas until he realizes what’s going on and immediately loses five years from his lifespan.

Both have attempted to fake their deaths to get out of the same school project

They’re both notorious for stalking people to get information instead of just…ya know…asking like a normal person. So they’re bound to team up one day.

Like maybe it’s Bruce’s birthday soon and both are like “No, I’m getting him the better present,” but then they run into each other in the vents trying to find out what he wants and they end up trading secrets. Just brotherly things

Tim: “I need you to follow this guy for me. I think he’s our culprit.” Damian: “I would rather die than take orders from you.” Tim: “I’ll buy you that fancy oil painting kit you want.” Damian: *already changing into his Robin gear* “Where is he?”

Tim makes Damian play the dumb, helpless kid in all of their covert operations, which pisses Damian off until he gets so good at it that he uses it to his advantage and annoys the hell out of Tim when they’re paired up for public appearances

“God, he’s so annoying.” “Yeah, totally.” “What the fuck did you say about my brother?”

Damian is the only person who can get Tim to actually sleep for once. No one knows how he does it, but the strongest theory so far is blackmail

Tim “I’m ignoring Bruce’s instructions because they failed the vibe check” Drake and Damian “I can totally do this mission that requires four people on my own” Wayne teaming up behind Bruce’s back and immediately getting into deep shit but somehow making it out alive with the bad guys behind bars.

During one of said missions, they thought they were going to die and said “I love you” to one another. After they survived, they silently agreed to never mention it again.

Damian gifts Tim a new board that he designed for his birthday. It took weeks. Tim cries

#tim drake #damian wayne #batfam #dc #dc robin #red robin #robin damian #batfamily #incorrect batfamily quotes #they love each other #dc universe #damian al ghul

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shadowystan · 7 months

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YANDERE! sugar daddy x f!reader — his lover ♡ (or lack thereof)

YANDERE! sugar daddy who's pathetic and naive enough to not realise just how manipulative his perfect, little darling is.

YANDERE! sugar daddy who's pretty much on his knees when you start crying those crocodile tears. Don't you worry, love, he's right here! You're failing that one class? He could always bribe the professor! Or simply threaten him. It's your choice, really.

Pretty girl, you're the boss here.

YANDERE! sugar daddy who lets you choose which car you want to ride in each day, every day.

YANDERE! sugar daddy who lets you sit on his lap as you pepper his face with kisses hopefully asking for a new pet.

(You hate having only him as a companion.)

YANDERE! sugar daddy, who's not only weak to your tears but your smile too. Curl your lips just right while wearing that shiny pink lip gloss and he's buying you a new Birkin without you asking.

And the day you actually do ask for something..

YANDERE! sugar daddy, who has the dopiest, most lovesick smile on his face when you drag him by the hand in the mall and make quick little turns here and there because you're just so excited. Aren't you just adorable?

YANDERE! sugar daddy who practically has hearts in his eyes as you try another dress. He's cooing; cheering you on with small compliments like, "beautiful!", "gorgeous!".

Act all shy. Like you actually care about draining his money after you've shopped for an hour or two.

He'd be charmed! He likes it when you're assertive with your wishes, he does. But what man doesn't just love a sweet, kind girl who worries about his pocket?

I mean you don't. But you can surely act like it, right?

Because after mumbling words of assurances like, "Don't you worry about the money, pretty." YANDERE! sugar daddy would be guiding you towards another posh clothing brand. And then another. And another-

YANDERE! sugar daddy who'd be damned to let you carry a single shopping bag. He's strong and still young. (Or is he?)

YANDERE! sugar daddy who has you move to his penthouse. You don't mind. Maids and the occasional Michelin Star chefs litter his house. You don't have to move a finger. Just sit pretty in your cute little sundress and wait for him to come home. All you have to do is flip through magazines! Dream life, right?

YANDERE! sugar daddy who somewhere along the way, forcefully blurs the line between a sponsor and a lover and becomes your boyfriend.

Or. Well. YANDERE! boyfriend.

YANDERE! boyfriend who shushes your cries with featherlight kisses. You don't want to date him. Why doesn't he understand?

YANDERE! boyfriend who tries bribing you with jewellery, clothes and what not. Your perfect girl persona slips but he doesn't seem to notice-

YANDERE! boyfriend who simply frowns when you call him delusional and try to leave the house. YANDERE! boyfriend who gently pushes your suitcases away and pats your head when you try to step away from his large form. YANDERE! boyfriend who smiles softly and speaks as if he's talking to a child when you throw another temper tantrum. He's blocking the door-

YANDERE! boyfriend who simply tilts his head when you turn into a complete bitch. The facade breaks and you can't be bothered enough to glue it right back.

YANDERE! boyfriend who considers baby trapping you when you outright refuse to plan the wedding.

(He's not good with decorations. He needs you for that.)

#yandere x reader #yandere x female reader #yandere x darling #yandere!sugar daddy #yandere!male

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luveline · 8 months

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I love bombshell!reader omg they’re so cutie. Im in an angst mood so imagine reader finally being hit emotionally hard on a case and asking spencer to stay with her in the hotel?? The rest of the team tries so hard to help but only Spencer can help her omg 🥹

thank you for your request ♡ fem!reader

Morgan has an arm around you. It's the first thing Spencer notices, and he thinks, Thank fuck. Thank fuck someone's holding you together. And then he thinks, Maybe I should be that someone.

He's never seen you shaking that hard. Your usual easy air, not unlike Penelope's, has shrunk to nought. There's no flirty smile sent his way as he approaches, no dramatic throw of Moran's arm. I'd never cheat on my baby, you'd say, though you and Spencer aren't really dating.

"You okay?" he asks.

Spencer feels powerless in the face of your despair. You're obviously not fine. Kids always hit you the worst, and so many? Your reaction is warranted if uncharacteristic.

You don't answer him. Morgan squeezes your arm and stands with a kiss to the top of your head. "I'll leave you in the best hands," he says in way of farewell.

Spencer sits in the space Morgan vacates, hand behind your shoulder, his fingers curling between your side and your upper arm. You've had blood wiped out of your eyes haphazard, crusting of crimson on your lashes like a morbid mascara. He feels like crying for you.

"Hey," he says, giving your back a slow, heavy handed rub, "Sorry I wasn't here."

"That's okay." Your voice is all shudders like a trapped moth. "I'm okay."

He steers your face to his with a cautious hand to look at you properly. With want of a better method, he takes your untouched water bottle and holds it to his sleeve, pulling it over his fingers while the fabric is still saturated to wipe away the missed blood.

You follow his touch, eyes closing with a quick, pained sigh. Like he's pricked you with a knifepoint.

"I know you think you have to be perfect," Spencer says, sleeve turning a dirty orange, "but this is enough to affect anybody."

"I am perfect," you say quietly. It falls flat.

Spencer cups both sides of your face. Your eyes flutter open at the feeling. "You're perfect. And a perfect person would handle this badly."

His hands look rigid compared to the soft slopes of your cheeks, but they're gentle.

Tears like silver line your eyes. You wear grief like everything else until suddenly you don't, a crack, a sniffle and you're turning your face into one of his hands desperately. Spencer knows what you need before you're moving, pulling you into his chest with a hand braced behind your neck.

"It's okay," he says, hoping that if he says it with enough conviction it'll be true. "It's not your fault. There was nothing else we could do."

You shake your head from side to side against his shoulder. "I should've been quicker. I knew what was going to happen, I knew. And I couldn't do anything about it, I couldn't–" Your sob is pulled from you on a hook, hard and sudden enough to end in a wheeze.

Spencer doesn't know what else to do but hug you and hope it calms you down. He's not used to being the most composed of the two of you, a disconnect between the salacious woman who hounds him relentlessly and the one who's falling apart in the circle of his arms.

You shake. Spencer rubs your back, shielding you from the cold weather until Hotch shouts for the BAU to fall in and get ready to leave.

"Will you stay with me?" you ask, pulling away from his chest reluctantly. "I don't want to be alone. The hotel's too…"

Spencer frowns, eyes closed, his face crushed to the side of your head. "Of course I will."

He knows what you were going to say. It's too quiet after all of tonight's noise. And alone, blaming yourself, he knows you'll scare yourself. Tear yourself to pieces. So Spencer sticks to you like glue from the SUV to the hotel to the jet the next morning. He'd do anything you asked him to do no matter how hard.

When you're ready, you'll fall back into your flirtatious routines. For now, Spencer takes your twitching hands under the table and holds them.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

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cryptidghostgirl · 2 months

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Hey so uhh, it said requests are open so I'm gonna shoot my shot ig. I have this fic idea but I'm a shit writer so here it goes.

Alastor x reader but the concept is that the reader is Alastor's shadow.

Now, hear me out: Alastor is said to be a powerful demon since his manifestation in hell, we know that it takes demons quite some time to accumulate their power before they become overlords.

If "The Radio demon" was an alias was that operated between more that one person, then it would make sense as to why and how he rose to the top very quickly (assuming we ignore the fact he made a deal with someone).

That and Alastor's black appendages and shadows seem out of theme for a demon who's primary power is based on Radio.

As for how they met, it could go two ways. Either with Alastor, a man hungry for power, strikes his first deal with Shadow!Reader to get them to do his bidding. Or Shadow!Reader offering Alastor their services after realizing that he has a lot of potential. Either way, their partnership blooms into a sort of kinship between the two of them.

Do with this concept whatever you want with it, I just wanna get this concept out in the world in the hands of someone much more capable of writing than I am.

Enjoy!

A/N please always shoot your shot. this is such a fun idea,, thank you so much for entrusting it to me. I've decided just to write their meeting for now but may continue it later on. I hope you like it!!

The Thing (Alastor x Gn!Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: Mention of cannibalism and the Donner party. I think that is it.

Word Count: 1,752

Master Lists:

Master Lists

Hazbin Hotel Master List

Click here and leave a comment if you want to be added to any taglists or send me an ask about it.

There was a secret, one that no one knew, one that would tear the demon realm apart at its edges if anyone found out. The illusive Radio Demon and his shadow were, in fact, just that: the illusive Radio Demon and his shadow.

Y/n was master of the immaterial, shifting forms and shedding skins the way others change their clothes. When Alastor arrived in Hell, they had long since been established as one of the many demons to be aware of.

Rumor runs rampant everywhere but especially in Hell where in controls, combines, and divides. Y/n was just that, a rumor. Never the same face twice, never in the same place twice. No one even knew their name, simply referring to them as the thing or the hunger. They snatched sinner's souls from their grasps and devoured them whole. An urban legend, a ghost story only here, all the ghosts were real.

Alastor was as observant in death as he had been in life, it didn't take him long to catch sight of the shadow. Though he had only been in Hell a few days when it had first appeared, he could tell it had nefarious intent.

The thing was a good actor, almost good enough to fool him. It lay in the reality of his own shadow, following his moves perfectly. However, no one is perfect and every once in a while, there would be a little slip. The first one which had caught Alastor's attention was when he had taken a step forward and it had gone the wrong way, quickly righting itself and following after the mistake.

Alastor pretended not to have noticed, but he remembered. He lay in wait for another such occurrence. It was not until two days later, when his shadow gave him four hands rather than two with no apparent explanation such as an odd angle to the sun or another body near him, that his thesis was confirmed. There was, in fact, something following him.

It stuck like glue to the heels of his shoes. Alastor was quiet, Alastor schemed. He had trapped it in a pure white room which he had fixed lightbulbs in from all sides. When he had turned on the lights, he had turned on them, arms crossed and foot tapping expectantly.

The shadow had looked this way and that, searching for a place to hide. When they realized it was no use, they had pulled themselves from the floor into three dimensions and faced him head on.

"Who are you?" Alastor had asked before quickly reevaluating his question, "What are you?"

It moved like liquid in the air, twisting and dissolving at its edges. Bubbles, or what was almost bubbles, what looked like bubbles, rose to the surface of it's body and as they popped, a demon began to take the shadow's place.

"I am everything."

They were many voiced. When they spoke, it sounded like a crowd of people saying the same thing in unison. Alastor stared at the demon, unamused. They were a full person now, about a head shorter than him and seemingly very calm considering he had them trapped. Then again, Alastor had only been in Hell a few weeks by this point, not nearly enough time to work up the sort of reputation he was hoping for.

"Is that a bad pickup line?" Alastor asked, "Am I supposed to ask what you mean and you'll say something like 'I could be everything to you?'"

The demon raised their eyebrows, shaking their head.

"It is the truth."

A tense silence fell between the pair. Alastor broke it with a sigh, rubbing his temples in irritation. He hadn't really known what to expect from this endeavor save an event to break up the monotony of his days. The demon was not delivering.

"Yeah, alright."

"Who are you?"

"You've been following me for what, two weeks? And you don't know?"

The demon shrugged.

"I was trying to be polite. It has been a while since I have spoken to anyone."

"Sure. Well," Alastor turned to the door, pulling a skeleton key from his pocket, "this has been interesting. Enjoy eternity alone in a well lit room."

Alastor opened the door. The demon made no move to follow him out of the room, no move to escape. They simply watched him in curiosity, their head tilted slightly to one side. Alastor hesitated, his body blocking the exit and his back towards them. He watched them over his shoulder as a thin black smoke seemed to emanate from the outline of their body.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

An empty threat, barley even a threat to be honest. Alastor stepped out of the room, closing the door firmly behind him. Once he was sure it was locked, he slipped the key back into his pocket. He made to leave, intending to go out on the town in a desperate attempt to find entertainment. Barley two steps forward, and shadows began to pool on the floor before his feet, blocking Alastor's path.

He watched in a mild interest as the demon pulled themselves from the shadows, taking on a different face than they had worn in the room. Now they were broader, taller, stronger. They looked mean.

"I told you."

"Is this what you meant when you said you were everything?"

The demon nodded once. Their wide eyes were unblinking, unchanging, as their form mutated again. A spider demon now with many arms and a lanky figure. Alastor raised his eyebrows.

"So, you let me catch you."

"I was bored. No one ever notices me until it is too late, except you."

"I find that hard to believe. You were easy to spot."

The demon's eyes widened slightly at this, something similar to surprise but halfway to fear.

"Like I said, Alastor the interesting." they mused after a moment.

Alastor bowed his head slightly in recognition of the title.

"I could take your soul, destroy you. Why were you so willing to risk all that? Surely a bit of entertainment can't be worth that much to you."

He was trying to get a gage on the creature, and he knew they could tell. It was a mild threat, one he couldn't follow through on even if he wanted to. Sure, he could maim the creature, cause it great pain, but beyond leaving them formless for a few days tops he was powerless. He knew that, but he didn't know if they did. Either way, the situation would play out to his advantage. It would either give him more information, or the upper hand.

They considered the situation for a moment before answering. Alastor couldn't figure out if it was because of their interest in him, for fear of him, or some third, other undefined motivation. No matter what it was, he didn't care. This was the most engaged he had felt in weeks.

"You aren't an overlord. You can't make a contract."

"And you are?"

"No."

"Too weak?" Alastor teased and the demon glared at him.

"Far from it. I don't like being seen."

"But you're letting me see you."

"I am allowing you to see a face. It is not mine."

Alastor fell silent. He had figured that the demon before him didn't have a true form, or if they did, that it was shadow. Things were becoming curiouser by the second. He was no longer regarding his attempts to trap the demon as a waste of time.

"So, you want power but anonymity. Those things don't go hand in hand."

"I know. You want fame and lack the power. Another unmatched set."

Alastor's ear twitched at that, displeasure running through his veins and clouding his sight. His hand tightened where he held his microphone.

"I have power enough."

"What use is a Radio Demon with nothing to broadcast?"

"Are you suggesting a deal?"

The demon smiled a smile that was too big for the face it wore. Alastor had to admit, they were unsettling. He understood the rumors.

"I've heard of your... reputation shall we say? But if you think I will trust someone who's face I have never even seen, you are dead wrong."

"Was that a joke?" the demon tentatively asked after a moment.

"Not on purpose but I supose so."

The thing seemed to roll the idea over in their mind as their form changed once again, this time becoming a demon with the body of a shark. They seemed not even to notice they were changing as their eyes flicked back to Alastor's.

"You want information. Then you will be open to the idea of a partnership."

"This was your goal all along, a partnership as you put it."

A statement, not a question. The demon smiled, their eyebrows slightly raised.

"Oh, was it now. At least I had an end goal to this little... situation."

Alastor scoffed, looking away. They were right. He had come up with no ideas past capturing the thing that had been following him. He was in the dark. They had everything figured out.

"Show me your real face. Then we can talk."

"Alastor Hartifelt. Died 1933. Louisiana famed radio host and serial killer cut down in his prime by a hunter who mistook him for a deer."

"Are you trying to intimidate me?"

"Not at all."

The demon shifted once again. It took them longer to find form this time, remaining as a black cloud for a few moments before at last settling on an almost human body. They were shorter than he had expected, smaller too and decked out in what seemed to be colonial dress. They held a hand out to him.

"Y/n L/n. Died 1846. Newly wed and member of the Donner party."

"Cannibalism." Alastor mused, gently taking their hand in his.

He had expected them to be cold, immaterial. He had expected his hand to slide right through theirs. Instead, the demon, Y/n, was warm and solid to the touch, just like anyone else. They smiled, mouth full of needles.

"We all take what we are given."

"I suppose."

Y/n dropped his hand and crossed their arms. Despite their stature, they radiated authority and poise. It was almost impressive.

"If you will be the face, I will be the force."

"No soul binding."

"I couldn't if I wanted to. Not an overlord."

Alastor looked them up and down. His smile grew.

"Not an overlord yet."

----

tags:

@willowshadenox @i-love-jafar @elfyeet @reader3 @lazygirlfanfic0-0

#hazbin hotel #x reader #hazbin alastor #alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x gn!reader #gn reader #gender neutral y/n #gender neutral reader #gender neutral pronouns #they/them reader #alastor x reader #the radio demon x reader #hazbin hotel x y/n #alastor hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x gn reader

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ddejavvu · 11 months

Note

this has been in my mind for awhile but like poly!marauders sirius where james and remus after a long day go inside the bedroom to find you and sirius beside eachother on the bed both in hair rollers and just doing spa/salon stuff. LIKE JUSTDOING EACHOTHERS HAIR AND JUSTCLEANING CUTICLES AND NAIL HEALTH AND SKIN CARE

also sirius helping you wax your legs and james is just staring down you both with wide eyes horrified on the brink of tears because the idea of waxing just scares him to death and remus is beside him trying not to laugh PFFT OKAY BYE

Sirius is just smoothing the wax strip over your calf when Remus and James walk in. Remus recognizes the item from tv shows and movies, but James is none the wiser.

"Woah," James laughs at the curlers set in your hair, as well as the matching ones in Sirius's, "Wasn't aware there was a new hat in fashion."

"That's 'cause you dress the same every day," Sirius scoffs, "What do you know about fashion, basketball shorts?"

"You insult me," James throws a hand over his chest in mock indignation, while Remus sidles up beside the bed, holding out his hand for you to take.

"-but I know you like the way my thighs look in 'em," James grins devilishly at Sirius, who rips your wax strip off to avoid answering James's loaded accusations. You inhale sharply at the pain that shoots through your system, up your leg like someone's doused your skin in gasoline and dropped a match. You squeeze Remus's hand tight and in an instant, James's face goes from cocky to horrified, eyes widening and grin dropping.

"Mother of- Sirius! Don't- what are you doing?" He rushes to swat Sirius's hand away from your leg where he's reapplying the strip, fretting as the stickiness has already settled over your skin again. He tries peeling it off slowly and carefully, ignoring the way that Remus laughs at his skittishness.

"You're evil," James gushes at Sirius, who's giving you a look like he can't believe James has survived this long with the little intellect he's showing now.

"Ripping her bloody skin off," James mumbles further, whining low in his throat when the strip refuses to budge, "Darling, I- I have to rip it off quick, and it's gonna hurt, but-"

"Stop being a baby," Sirius gripes, reaching for the strip quick as a flash and tearing it off once more, "It's supposed to hurt."

"James!" You call as the man only worsens in nerves, probably ready to throw a punch or two at Sirius in defense of your honor, "I asked him to, love. It's a wax strip, he's waxing my legs."

"Waxing your- what?" James watches warily as Sirius applies the strip again, then rips it off to show him the discarded hair stuck there.

"It's easier and quicker than shaving," Remus explains, "But it does hurt for a bit."

"Yeah," James exhales shakily, flinching at the rrrip of wax on skin, "I- are you sure those are supposed to be used on skin? I thought those were for killing flies."

"That's a glue trap, darling," You hum, hissing as Sirius finishes off your lower leg. Remus drops your hand so that you can feel for any missed patches, and James eyes the used strip like it'll affix itself to his hair and tear it all out.

"Right." James nods, out of breath like the wax strip pulled it from his lungs, "Uh- darling, next time you want smooth legs, I'll shave you."

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evilminji · 2 months

Text

You know what's my JAM?

Extremes being treated as the Serious Dangers they ARE, even when they aren't "oooh its a spooky Grey morality and BADness!" Extreme.

Like? No, people. ALL of them are bad. They are ALL face melting dangerous. The void may crush your soul, but look upon the Face Of GOD? Not gonna be having a fun time! Doesn't MATTER if he's a cool dude! Face melting!

We are creatures of BALANCE. Tiny, fragile, little motes of dust. That can only exsist in the careful, blended, dances of territories and powers that be. We squishy.

Ghosts? Less squishy.

Poor impulse control, too. Especially ones with Fenton genetics. ABSOLUTELY ones with Fenton genetics and a trauma based aversion to therapy. That one? Pretty hardy. Made pretty tough, what with being Fates third favorite chew toy. But? Still gets the Sads, you know? The slightly longer then just seasonal depression.

Would medicine and some therapy help? Oh like a dream!

If medicine WORKED on his Ectoplasmicly contaminated ass. And he TRUSTED therapists.

But... surely, Danny thinks, as he sits grossly in his Depression sweatpants and eats suspect pizza on the floor of his moldering shoebox of an apartment, there must be SOME way to address his Depression? He should... he should DO something about it. Take a break maybe. Look up some ghost doctors or something.

.....

Oooooooooor..... >.>

He could break out that OMENIOUS af, bound in suspect leather, Big Book Of Forbidden Knowledge(TM) that he got from Pariah's.... what, fourth? Fifth? Library? Fuck that Lair is huge. He's STILL cleaning it out and it's been over half a decade. He swears it spawns more floors just to mock him. Bastard. Don't know HOW a building can be a Bastard, but it sure found A WAY.

Anyway!

Book it is! *horrifying Eldritch light as he opens it* huh. Neat. Comes with its own visual effects. *another bite of suspect pizza* Funky.

And so! Danny, the depressed King Of The Zone... fucks of to go cheer himself up in the Fields Of Bliss(TM), an area of Absolute Bliss. Which! Sounds GREAT in theory, now don't it? Lovely even.

Remember that little comment about extremes?

You can ENTER those fields. But no one leaves. No one CAN. The deeper you go? The more doomed you become. Less will to do anything at all. Eat, talk, move. So much as think. Like ALL extreme "Goods", it sounds lovely, but the reality is no gentle little thing.

It's a glue trap.

But how could Danny have known? Honestly, who would have TAUGHT him? Textbooks can only go so far, after all. And placing blame will not rescue the young monarch.

I imagine it's one of his helpers that pieces together what's happened. Come for further clarification on WHERE exactly he wants certain statues moved. Only? Your Majesty? Your Majesty...? Where ever could he BE? Oh? He's left out some of his books. Well, I'll just assist by putting them away for-.....

Oh.

OH ANCIENTS, NO.

But! What can the poor man DO? Ghosts are Beings of Will, Emotion, and Obsession. Were it some sort of Holy Blade or Sentient Tree, you know, something INDIVIDUAL with a will they could FIGHT? Oh no problem. But an area of effect? Especially an EMOTIONAL area of effect!? Ooooooh, this is bad. The Zone can't AFFORD to lose ANOTHER King!

We JUST GOT THIS ONE!!!

Wait. He's heard that there's an organization for this! That loudly cursing fellow who got violently thrown back into the Zone. "Ruined his fun" and all that! Perfect! He'll just hire THEM!

Smashcut? To a nice, peaceful, everybody's screaming Justice League Meeting. John's cursing life, extremely hungover. Zatana still has three cracked ribs. Wonder Woman is enjoying the new sword she... liberated... mid battle. Truely stunning craftsmanship. When?

Knock Knock!

Heads swivel. There... is a glowing green... accountant? Dandy? Dandy accountant. With an equally radioactive day glow green Actual Pirate's Chest Of Treasures, floating next to him. In the void of space; Just beyond the glass. What, the, fuuuuuu-

He seems to be under the impression they are some sort of Heroic mercenaries. And has come to request the retrieve-

"NNNNNOPE! Pariah can SHOVE it!" Snarls a suddenly very awake John Constantine, sitting up straight for the first time in hours. The rest of Dark grimly nod in agreement. Let the fucker rot. It's a kinder fate then he deserves.

No, no, NO! King PHANTOM! Pariah's SUCCESSOR by right of combat! They are not, and were never, allied in any way!

Well, all right then. Road trip to save a young idiot then.

@the-witchhunter @hdgnj @hypewinter @lolottes @mutable-manifestation @nerdpoe

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #minji's writing

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wileys-russo · 5 months

Text

stuck with me II k.cooney cross x reader

"-so i said we would babysit for a few hours." kyra shrugged, dropping two bags onto your bed as you raised an eyebrow. "you mean i'll babysit. when the kids are around you are not the responsible adult in the situation ky." you raised an eyebrow as your girlfriend pulled a face and kissed your cheek.

"don't act like you wouldn't have said yes in a heartbeat. everyone knows you're harleys favorite anyway!" kyra cheesed hitting you where she knew would work, your ego. "can't argue with the facts. what's in the bags?" you sighed and questioned with narrowed eyes as kyra clapped happily.

"i know its not december yet but i thought since we're as close as we'll ever get to being in the snow for christmas and its the last camp for the year we could-" the girl jumped onto the bed and rifled through the bags. "-build gingerbread houses and make ornaments!" she pulled out the boxes with a gleeful grin and you melted at her obvious delight.

"where did you even get these?" you laughed, picking up one of the diy bauble kits and reading through. "kyra! this very clearly says ages 10 and up, harper and harley are not 10!" you warned, eyebrows furrowing at the toxic warning for the glue.

"it's fine babe! we'll be supervising and doing it with them the entire time." kyra waved off your worries, moving onto her knees and knocking the box from your grip, hands pawing at your hoodie.

"baby!" you laughed as she yanked you down onto the bed and hovered over you with a grin, attacking your face with kisses. "now say; thank you kyra. you are so smart kyra, what a great idea kyra!" she demanded cheekily between kisses.

"like the sound of your own name do you cooney cross?" you teased, grabbing the back of her neck and guiding her lips to meet your own, smiling happily at the waves of pleasure which washed over you at the feeling of her soft lips moving against yours.

but the moment was cut short as rapid knocks sounded, all too familiar voices crying out for the door to open as you gently pushed your girlfriend off of you, pecking her pouty lips a few times and watching her face light up as you promised to resume what you started later on.

you'd not even opened the door more than a few centimeters before two tiny bodies barreled inside, darting through your legs with gleeful cheers as kyra dropped down to the floor to grab both young girls in a bear hug.

"thank you for this." katrina sighed gratefully pulling you into a hug, having been called into an unexpected zoom meeting with some perspective new clubs for the afternoon.

"neither of them have napped so they should hopefully crash within the hour." tameka added on, down for press conference duty with tony this afternoon. "please, like ky will let them sleep." you chuckled, the midfielder calling out hello's to both older women who smiled seeing her spinning around both harley and harper in her arms.

"call us if anything happens yeah?" katrina warned as you nodded, promising you would and taking the girls backpacks from tameka as you waved them off, both their daughters yelling out goodbye before the door closed and they were gone.

"and where's my hug?" you gasped, crossing your arms feigning annoyance as both girls tried to scramble for you, kyra trapping harper in her arms as harley leapt her small body off the bed causing you to scramble to catch her.

"i'm like a superhero!" the three year old grinned as you twirled her round, blowing a raspberry to her cheek. "let her go!" you laughed at your girlfriend as harper wiggled and whined in her grip.

"what are we doing today?" harley asked eagerly, jumping up and down on the bed once you placed her back down, scooping up harper and flinging her up and into the air, catching her as the girl giggled.

"well. aunty ky has some cool activities for us to do, but only if you're on your best behavior." you warned with a smile, both girls yelling that they were good over and over as kyra moved to grab the bags. "okay okay! we get it, you're good girls." you laughed, taking harleys outstretched hands and swinging her around like you knew she wanted.

"okay!" kyra clapped for everyones attention as you took a seat on the bed, harley scrambling to sit on your lap as harper tucked herself into your side, making you grin as her little head wedged its way under your arm.

"we're gonna make...." kyra trailed off, drumming her hands on the nightstand as the suspense built. "gingerbread houses!" she yelled happily, causing you to wince as the two girls beside you screeched in delight.

"ky, i really don't think its a good idea to let them eat so much." you warned, harley sat on your lap as harper sat on hers, both of you tucked up against the desk in the corner building your respective gingerbread houses.

you'd watched with a sigh as kyra would every now and then allow both girls to consume a lolly, which eventually escalated into her giving them permission to eat whatever they wanted so long as they left some to decorate with.

"why? it's fine!" your girlfriend waved it off, moving to help harper glue a few candy canes to the roof of their house. polar opposite to theirs, harley had wanted a much more organised look, taking her time to make sure it was neat and tidy which made you smile.

"because kyra, what goes in must come out!" you warned, already starting to see harper perk up a little more. "what? they won't throw up they're little but they're not babies." kyra scoffed with a roll of her eyes, whining as you reached over to sharply pinch her thigh.

"hey! mummy says no pinching." harper piped out with a scowl in your direction as kyra stuck her tongue out at you, dismissing your worries and returning to helping harper as harley bounced in your lap demanding your attention.

turns out, you were of course correct.

"woah woah! where did you get these?" your eyes widened as you scooped up harley and grabbed a pair of craft scissors out of her hand. "found em." the girl beamed, wiggling to be put down as you tucked her under your arm.

"kyra that is a terrible idea." you warned sternly as the midfielder pulled out the ornament making kit.

"no its not it'll give them something to do with their energy." the brunette huffed, practically pinning harper down who was doing her best impression of a lion, teeth nashing and trying to bite the older girl.

"harps no biting!" you groaned, adjusting harley under your arm who was furiously trying to get away. "see what you did!" you scowled at your girlfriend in annoyance, putting harley down and grabbing harper.

"three minutes for biting." you warned, sitting her down in a chair facing the wall. "harper." you repeated in a serious tone as she tried to get up, the toddler sitting back down and crossing her arms frowning adorably.

"kyra!" you whined seeing her setting harley up with a bauble and a glue gun. "you got any better ideas babe?" the girl raised an eyebrow challengingly. "nap time?" you sighed, wincing as two very loud protests were yelled back at you.

"not on the bed." you grabbed harley under her arms and swung her into a chair as kyra moved beside her. "done now?" harper peeked over the top of her own chair as you sighed again. "done biting?" you questioned with crossed arms as harper nodded.

"go on." you gestured for her to get up as she ran over to kyra, climbing up into her lap as you stepped out to go to the bathroom and clear your head, the christmas music kyra insisted on blasting from her phone not helping the chaos.

"see babe? piece of cake!" kyra chirped quietly, nudging her shoulder into yours as the two of you stared down at the pair of sleeping girls in bed. "they're covered in glitter." you sighed running a hand through your hair with a shake of your head.

"occupational hazard, it washes off." kyra dismissed your concerns with a wave. "come on baby. we did good! no one got hurt, nothing got broken, they're safe and fast asleep." kyra pressed a kiss to your cheek as you rolled your eyes.

"high five for top babysitters!" kyra murmured happily, holding up her hand and wiggling her eyebrows. "you are such a child sometimes." you sighed but smacked your hand into hers none the less.

but when you tried to pull away, alarm bells sounded.

"kyra. why is your hand stuck to mine?" you asked calmly, your girlfriend shrinking a little at the question.

"please tell me you washed the glue off." you spoke again, the brunette avoiding your eyes as you pinched the bridge of your nose with your free hand.

before you could say another word there was gentle knocks at the door, your girlfriend hissing a little in pain as you yanked her toward it by your conjoined hands. "hope they weren't any trouble?" katrina smiled, her and tameka moving inside as you and kyra backed off.

"no trouble! never trouble." kyra replied nervously, katrina instantly picking up on the shift in tone, shooting the younger girl a weird look over her shoulder as she picked up a still sleeping harper.

"do some arts and crafts did we?" tameka laughed at the glitter all over harley who stirred. "we'll drop the baubles off once they dry." you smiled nodding to the desk where they sat among a pile of glitter. "they're so cute." tameka grinned, kyra having done her best to help them both write their names.

"really cute." katrina echoed, though her tone conveyed suspicion as you and kyra did your best to hide your conjoined hands. "well we have to shower and get ready for dinner!" you smiled nodding toward the door, tameka thanking you both and promising she owed you one before leaving.

"you right min?" kyra smiled nervously as the shorter woman stared you both down. "fine. what are you two hiding?" she adjusted harper in her arms, eyes narrowing again as you both rambled out nothing. "its my fault." kyra blurted out as you glared and rammed your elbow into her side.

"ky shut up!" "what is your fault?"

"babe!" you groaned as kyra held up your stuck together hands. "i don't get it." katrina frowned on confusion. "they're stuck together. i had glue on my hands and i didn't wash it off and then we high fived and-" her nervous ramblings were cut off by the laughter from the woman in front of you.

"oh my you two are unbelievable. good luck! see you at dinner." with that she quickly left the room, ignoring the two of you calling after her for help.

your girlfriend withered at the glare you fixed her with, the two of you taking a seat on the edge of the bed. "where did you get the kits from?" you asked firmly, your girlfriend stuttering out an answer as you grabbed her phone and did a quick google, which proved to be incredibly challenging with one hand.

punching in the number you dialed the store kyra snuck out to you quickly explained what happened to the manager who assured there was a dissolvent they could order in to arrive tomorrow morning, the canadian clearly unable to hold back his amusement as you thanked him and hung up.

thankfully the game was not until the weekend as you explained the situation to kyra, the blunt tone of your voice meaning she knew exactly how pissed off with her you were.

"baby." you turned to look at her with a raised eyebrow. "what?"

"there's no one i'd rather be stuck with than you?"

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #kyra cooney cross x reader #kyra cooney cross #woso blurbs #woso #woso community

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stubz · 4 months

Text

"Human Max?"

"Mmyesh?"

"Why'd you ruffle my feathers?"

"Oh, I used to do that to your sister when she came here. I won't do it anymore if you don't like it though."

"No. I liked it. It was kinda like when Mom and Dad clean my feathers. Tickly and scratchy."

"Well that's good."

"...Human Max?"

"Yes?"

"Why did you ruffle Salia's feathers?"

"Hmmmm, Iiiiiii don't know. I just did it without thinking."

"Why?"

"Maybe because my family did that to me when I was a kid and so I wanted to continue that with you kids."

"Why?"

"Why I wanted to continue it or why my family did that to me?"

"Both!"

"Emira why do you do this to me. Oookay! Lemme think for a sec" they said while thinking of an answer to hopefully prevent the why apocalypse.

"Uhhh-I think it's because humans just like physical touch from people we like, love and care about...Yeah! In fact, if we don't get enough we get touch-starved."

"This sounds like a trick."

"Would I ever trick you?"

"Yes, you said that humans will die from loudness to keep us from screaming too much."

"...you got me there but I promise you I am not lying."

"...you really get 'starved' if you don't get touched enough?"

"Erm, by 'touched' I mean hugged, high-fived, hand-holding, head pats, stuff like that. Not something that sounds like the start of a dirty joke..."

Few days later~~~

"Max! Get in here! Now!

"What?! Did someone get hurt?! Did Qiqi eat glue again???"

"Look."

Max finally came around the corner and saw the other human trapped in the most adorable way ever imaginable. Younglings hugged and clung to Kim like they were a lifesaver in a terrible storm. Legs were trapped and sat on, weighted to the ground by children. Waist and torso were covered by living backpacks/frontpacks. Arms shaking while trying to hold the younglings in their arms while steadying the ones clambering on their shoulders.

"Help. Me."

"Let me get my phone I need this as my new wallpaper."

"Max! I'm seriously about to crush like 10 kids with my fat arse if I don't stand properly in the next 10 seconds."

"Got it, can't have you manslaughter children. Hug time's over kids, off of Kim."

"But Maxie if we do then Kim will die!"

"Marl for the 5th time I'm not dying."

"But your starving!"

"Sweetheart please, I am most defiantly not starving."

"Emira said so tho!"

"Yeah! You were stuck in your room for days with no one to hug you! And Max told me that if humans don't get enough hugs or pats you'll starve!!" her beak quivered, eyes starting to get glassy.

"Oooh, Emira, kids, Kim is fine. Yes no one was there to give Kim hugs but she's fine. For a human to starve for hugs will take some time, and Kim wasn't gone for that long."

"Really?"

"Really, besides I was there to give her soup and high-fives so she wouldn't get lonely."

"...can we still hug you for a bit longer?"

"Of course, but let me sit down so I don't fall down."

The younglings clamber of her and allow the human to sit and then climb back ontop her. Noting how not everyone got to hug Kim, Max came in and together the humans were trapped by a mesh of children clinging tightly to their favorite humans.

"Max."

"Yeah Kim."

"As punishment for what happened your buying lunch...and carrying me to lunch cause my legs are in a coma right now."

"Fair enough."

#humans are space oddities #humans are space orcs #humans in space #the adventures of kim and max running a space child care centre

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ravenelyx · 5 months

Note

Hello! Do you take requests? If so I have oke for you :)

It’s similar to the recent one about Sebastian hugging the reader. Could it be with Omi this time?

I love your writings, btw.

I absolutely can !!! And thank you so much ♡♡

Let me in. - Ominis Gaunt

Pairing: Ominis Gaunt x Fem!Reader

Words: 1k

Warnings: fluff, kissing, angst and comfort, Ominis is touch-starved, Ominis is insecure, neck kissing, fuck the Gaunt family all my homies hate the Gaunt family, we all know Omi's past, cuddling and snuggling, House is not specified, (implied) established relationship

Summary: Ominis Gaunt has never learned how to love. But he has you, and you're willing to teach him.

A/N: I hope you like this!! I followed a different tangent than Sebastian's.

Masterlist

you can find the whole fic here on ao3 as well

Sebastian's version

He wishes love were easy.

But nothing had ever been easy in Ominis Gaunt's life.

When he opened his heart to her, he opened something deep. A Pandora box of sorrow and grief and everything he'd buried so deep he'd forgotten about it.

Unfortunately, his body never forgets. It shows when she takes his hand. It unleashes when she brushes his hair. That gnawing, scorching flame burning where her touch remains.

She asks him how he's doing, he doesn't answer, words trapped behind his teeth like in a prison of jelly and guilt. He thinks she doesn't really want to be bothered by his problems.

She takes his hand while walking, he moves it away, clutching it to his chest in an attempt to build back that armor she threatens to break every time.

"Ominis," she speaks quietly in the night, when he keeps her always at an arm's distance. "Please, come here."

He wants to cry.

"I don't know how."

The smell of her hair lingers on the pillow when she leaves, and he quietly brings it to him, burying his face in the softness of her girly perfume. Even then, he feels too much freedom; taking up a space that isn't his own. He turns his back to it.

She seems tired today.

"Ominis." Her voice is weary, sad. She's near the fireplace, brooding. He feels like he's done something wrong.

"What is it?"

He balks before approaching her, his voice coming out in a sycophantic squeak that makes his blood run cold. He is afraid: afraid she'll find him some day. That she'll offer her hand and he'll take it with no qualms, allowing her to pull him up, away from those doubts cramming his mind when she gets too close.

"Why do you never let me in?"

He's drowning.

Why? Why? The answer is immediate, pulled right from his brain by that tight awareness that has always been more of a curse than a blessing. Because Ominis Gaunt feels that he is phrogging in other people's existence until they get tired and throw him into the nearest garbage. Because he has never found a place where he could sit down, wind his legs and feel at peace. Because if one day someone finds him with his defenses down, when he hits the bottom of the bin headfirst, he will never forgive himself.

"I don't know how." His inveterate answer comes, drawing a sigh from her. She always drops the subject after, and he feels safe.

This time, she breaches the armor again, and he has got no time to glue it back.

"Come here."

His hands tremble when he follows, sitting down next to her. She opens her palm to him and he feels it on his leg.

"Take it."

Her fingers feel soft to the touch, slipping between his as if filling up a space in his heart he had missed, pushing back his doubts and making a home for itself. He holds her hand and runs his thumb on her knuckles.

"What does this mean?" He asks feebly.

"That you can do much more."

He feels the corner of his lips push down in a grimace. "I don't know h—"

"I'll show you."

Her movements are languid and elegant like a snake, and he feels like she might strangle him and cut his breath and leave him for dead. But he wants to keep holding her hand.

"What do I do?"

"Come here."

This time, he listens.

She lets him move first, wrap his arms around her, as if testing her shape. He runs his hands over her delicate ribs, then down to the soft curve of her waist, then around her; feels the weight in his arms, like she could crush him at any moment. But she doesn't.

She lets him pull her on him, giving him her body. His hands are shaking and he feels inadequate to hold her; to keep her safe and not let her fall.

"Just do what feels right," she whispers.

None of this feels right. But it feels comfortable, and it feels different, and it feels like his heart is slowing down and his weight is meeting the ground and pushing against it like he will never need to get up anymore.

And there are her lips. He feels them with his fingertips; the curve at the top, the soft flesh, the sticky texture of her lipstick. He brings his trembling mouth to hers for the first time and pulls away just as quickly.

"I'm sorry…" he almost cries again.

"Do it again."

He swallows and pushes his lips against hers. He doesn't have the courage to move and breathes against her mouth.

She giggles and his heart breaks, because of course he was doing it wrong. "I'm sorr—"

Her mouth moves against his, takes his bottom lip in a quick suckle and then frees it again. He holds his breath until he can't stay still anymore.

"How does that feel?" she asks.

"More…"

Something inside him cracks open at her taste, pushes and pulls and crushes him, and he holds on to her. It's all too much and it's all not enough. He licks his lips and tastes her lipstick and he wishes he could see her.

When she cups his cheek, he flinches.

"This feels…"

Horrible. Good. Terrifying. Perfect. Different.

"We can go slow," she says, and it's more than he could ask for. "But I'm here, and I'm yours."

He nods and attempts to find her, and he presses his forehead against her collarbone. She's warm there.

"Thank you," He's crying against her skin, and she skims her hand against his back.

He feels naked, a brush of cold hair against his chest where his defenses have cracked. She's pulling his armor down with a gentle touch, and he lets her until he hears it hit the ground loudly.

"You can relax now." He thinks he hears her say. Perhaps it was a dream. And when he hesitantly brushes his lips against her skin, he allows her in.

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midnightwriter21 · 6 months

Note

can we have the first meet soulmate thing for sorcerer! reader please?? w gojo only

jjk hcs: satoru meeting sorcerer!soulmate!reader

characters: satoru gojo x reader, megumi (mentioned), yuji (mentioned), nobara (mentioned)

warnings: u kill a cursed spirit, possible injury but not rly, mature language (reader cusses gojo out lmfao), the kids & reader lowkey bullying gojo lol, gojo is kinda suggestive at the end

AN: soulmate au where the first words your soulmate says to you are tattooed somewhere on your body!! read the non-sorcerer version HERE

SATORU GOJO

being called in as back up for a mission involving a 2nd grade cursed spirit was not on ur to-do list today

but guess where you are!!

an empty mall!!

an empty mall where you’re currently watching 3 teenagers run around like headless chickens

the curse is ugly… as most of them are but..

this one is NASTY looking

several different colored eyeballs sticking out of various places on its body

it’s oozing some sort of greenish brown liquid

and the smell

dear lord it’s bad

the poor pink haired kid is simultaneously holding his nose and trying to fight the curse with one hand

and it’s main attack seems to be the ability to spit that greenish brown liquid at whoever it’s attacking, rendering them immobile

almost like a glue trap for mice

the curse backs the three kids into a corner and prepares to spit that sticky liquid at them

and that’s when you decide to make your entrance

jumping from the second floor of the mall, in front of the kids, and drawing your weapon

you block the attack and jump towards the curse

severing it’s head and therefore exorcising it in one quick movement

you sheathe your weapon and turn to the kids, “why the hell are you three taking on a 2nd grade mission?”

the pink haired boy from earlier explains, “our sensei was supposed to be with us but when we split up he went to the food court… and uhhh… we haven’t seen him since.”

you give the kids a sour look, “your sensei must be a complete moron”

all at once the kids agree

“he is” -the girl with the hammer

“yeah, pretty much” -the boy with the black spikey hair

“i mean.. kinda, sometimes” -the pink haired boy

you sit the kids down on a bench so that you can check over them and access any possible wounds

mama bear mode activated.

you ask the boy, who you now know as megumi, to get in touch with his sensei

when his sensei answers the phone, megumi explains that the curse has been exorcised

but before he can explain about your presence, you snatch the phone from him and let out a string of expletives directed towards the man on the other end

“you must be a fucking idiot huh? your kids could’ve died taking on a 2nd grade alone and you’re off being an irresponsible jackass somewhere-“

before you can continue you hear the dial tone

he hung up on you

without even saying a word

nearly growling in anger you shove the phone back to megumi and move over to yuji

you take his hands in yours and begin to wrap his hands in bandages saying, “you know, if you keep punching through walls you’re going to end up really hurting your knuckles”

as you wrap his hands you’re not really paying attention to your surroundings, so the smug voice coming from behind spooks you a little…

“it’s good that a pretty little thing like you came to the rescue or else my kids could’ve died since i was off being an irresponsible jackass”

he’s throwing your own words back in your face

whipping your head around fast enough to give yourself whiplash, you prepare to launch into another ass chewing

but your words get stuck in your throat when you’re met with a tall, blindfolded, white haired man

a man known to everyone in the jujutsu world

Satoru Gojo

in response to your stunned silence he lets out a chuckle, “what? cat got your tongue, pretty?”

his mocking snaps you back into reality as you fire back, “no, i’m just surprised on how someone like you can be such a complete and utter dumbass!”

“awww cmon is that the way you’re supposed to talk to your soulmate?” he smirks down at you

you give him a confused look before it hits you

his first words to you from earlier…

“it’s good that a pretty little thing like you came to the rescue or else my kids could’ve died since i was off being an irresponsible jackass”

those exact words are printed on your back underneath your shoulder blade in neat handwriting

looking up at him with wide eyes, you watch as he turns his back to you, pulling off his uniform jackets and lifting up his shirt

ignoring the faint gagging sounds from his students

and there it is, printed in the exact same spot as yours, in your handwriting

“you must be a fucking idiot huh? your kids could’ve died taking on a 2nd grade alone and you’re off being an irresponsible jackass somewhere-“

“no. fucking. way.” you say in disbelief as he turns back to face you

“you have a dirty mouth, sweetheart,” he leans in and whispers softly in your ear, “can’t wait to see just how dirty it can get,” he leans back and says in his normal voice, “but we’ll save that for later!”

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