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shiny-jr · 11 hours

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damnation (peek VI?)

Warning: Yes, this is a yandere thing. Gender-neutral reader.

Characters: Ortho Shroud, Idia Shroud.

Summary: When you commit a crime, you receive a punishment. This is especially true in your society. No matter the crime, your punishment is the same: banishment. But to where you will be sent in exile and how miserable will it be? No one knows, because no one has ever returned.

Note: I was looking back at previous sneak-peeks and I realized I've been kinda spoiling y'all with these. But, don't ever let it be said that I don't cherish y'all, so here you go. While I'm currently about 2/3 of the way towards completing the result (if I don't have to rewrite it or change scenes or do anything major), the sneak-peek is only about eight or nine pages. Which is still a lot when you consider that the end result will be anywhere from 42 to 45 pages. Let's hope that I continue writing at this steady pace. I will not give a date for when this is fully completed, so please don't ask! It's done when it's done.

I . . . II . . . III . . . IV . . . V . . . VI . . . VII

THE LORD OF THE UNDERWORLD

Cold metal. There was a slight weight on the top of your skull, like the heft of a helmet. Carefully reaching up, your fingers touched thin cold metal, but as you tried to gingerly remove it, it failed to come off. Gentle tugs become harsh pulls, but that only serves to form an ache in your head as if you were pulling on your hair. Was it some sort of deadly contraption placed on prisoners? Was this how they wanted you to die? By crushing your skull with this thing?

“Wh– Where am I…?”

As you stumbled over your own two feet, you stopped yanking on the metal on top of your cranium. Fear took root as you took note of your surroundings, dark and unfamiliar, those same qualities as the jail cell but this was unlike any prison. There were high walls with columns of gray and silver and gold, arched ceilings that were mixes of blues and grays and blacks which almost looked like painted murals that had been smeared across the surface. The floor was freezing like cement, but it was a smooth polished dark gray. With at least two floors, the second was accessible by some wide curved stairs which lead to more of the unknown. Your voice echoed in the space, leaving you to believe you were completely alone.

Skull-crushing could still be on the list of possible ways to die. Or would your punishment be isolation? Complete solitude was known to drive people insane. It didn’t even seem like a single soul alive was here, leaving only the sound of your heavy breathing in the otherwise unsettling silence. White flowers from large vases wilted, their petals suspended gray and limp like hanged bodies.

On the floors you nearly slip and hit your head, but you manage to grab a nearby column that was as thick and sturdy as an old oak tree. That’s when you caught sight of your reflection in a nearby huge vase coated with a reflective exterior. You were staring wide-eyed at an unfamiliar figure, so odd that it took a moment to register that it was truly you.

A long black cloth with dark blue meander borders acted like a shirt or a robe, wrapping over one shoulder and extending in different directions to act like a small cloak and cover part of your legs. From your hips to your ankles covered by part of the top cloth, were a pair of black pants with more blue meander borders decorating it. They were like modern day sweatpants and an ancient palla all in one outfit, which you might’ve admired if you weren’t currently filled with confusion and dread. That metal object on your head was like a headpiece, with two long thin black protruding pieces slicked back that glowed a slight blue. Like a demon’s horns. Impossible to remove.

You resembled a demon with these horns, a devilish little imp. When your eyes adjusted, the reflective surface of the vase was painted. Painted black and browns, like the famous Athenian ceramic styles with figures of black and brick red. Except, each vase depicted a different scene. A powerful muscled figure standing proudly and holding a bolt of lightning; a baby strangling two large snakes; a young scrawny man training beside a satyr and a pegasus.

“Get– these off…!”

An imp… you were an imp! Horror spread across your features, and the constant tugging to remove the metallic horn-like objects from your skull served pain stronger than a slap, to let you know that this was no dream. The judges had cast the final verdict, and as soon as you arrived you were destined to live as a miserable little creature to serve a higher being. A god.

A God of the Underworld, that wielded the deadliest of blue flames and kept all souls contained within his land of misery. A being of divinity who envied his family and others who dwelled high in the clouds of Mount Olympus, so he planned meticulously for years to lay siege to the mountain by freeing titans who would wreak havoc across the globe. Just as he sits on the throne where the God of Thunder and King of Gods once dwelled, the human son of that royal god arrived to face the dark god. That gloomy and dreary antagonistic god had three main underlings, two of which were imps he regularly abused and tormented.

Maiming, wringing their necks, burning them in blue fire, those were just some of the torture those imps faced at the hands of their master. You felt yourself fall to your knees in a heap, like a rag doll, by the overwhelming emotions weighing in your mind and the now new burden of survival on your shoulders. This was hell, literally. So caught up with this newfound revelation, that you didn’t even notice the vases become blank as if by magic, wiping the depicted scenes off their surface. Hallucinations!

These must’ve been hallucinations formed by your unstable mind–– You were especially sure of it when it felt as if the ground vanished beneath your feet and were surrounded by dark mists. The dark and elegant place you had once stood in, was gone, and you plunged into a dark pit. A small plunge, then you fell on rocky uneven earth, leading you to fall flat on your face. There was hardly any light, and the ceiling was low. But, there was a blue flame, a small glow to which you opened your eyes to.

In front of you was a young boy that looked more akin to an android. Surely, another illusion, but your certainty wavered when it blinked at you. It blinked with its wide bright yellow eyes. Its eyes were like a light, as was its hair made of what seemed like real blue flames that was like a torch in this small cave. Its body was dark and metallic, part of those metals extending over the mouth like a mask. “There you are! I was beginning to wonder if you chickened out. Are you ready to put on a show? Remember, we gotta make it believable, the hero won’t be the only one there! We gotta trick all the humans!”

“W-What…?” You watched as the android-like being opened up a hologram in front of him, and on the screen of light were various shapes and figures of numerous creatures and people alike.

Whatever this thing was, its voice became monotone for a brief few seconds as its pointer finger landed on the image of a normal young boy. “Selecting… Loading… Finalizing appearance.” In an instant, a light flashed over him and he became that little boy in the hologram. “What do you think? Pretty convincing, huh? Now, your turn!”

If you squint, it was like peering through glass, because at some angles you could still see the android. However, you had absolutely no time to question it, or the situation at hand, or what he could’ve possibly meant, because the quiet was shattered by the squeal of what sounded like a horse.

Scrambling onto your feet, you approached the thin tiny opening where light filtered in, far too small to squeeze through but just big enough to peer through. It took a few spare seconds for your eyes to adjust to the light of the outside on this cloudy day, but you could make out high rock cliffs as gray as the sky. And a white horse with wings, a pegasus, several meters away with two people. A young man in purple who looked quite ruffled and a muscular woman with auburn locks. You blanched upon recognizing the location.

The mighty hero was said to have fought his first life-threatening battle in a gorge, just like this one. It was a battle that nearly cost him his life. The human servant, obliged to serve the dark Lord of the Underworld, lured the hero to the gorge under the guise of an accident requiring urgent attention from a savior. When in actuality, the accident involved two children trapped under rubble where nearby the hydra lurked. And those two children? Were the two imps who also served the God of the Dead. One imp, you were one. And the other? Beside you now, which explained his matching metallic horns on his head. Meaning the hydra was near. Each breath you took increased in pace, on the very verge of hyperventilating––

“Help! Hurry! We can’t breathe!” The android boy cried for help, his little eyes peeking out of the same gap you were peering out of. Even his voice sounded different with whatever magic or technology he used to disguise himself. As the hero was running over and a crowd was forming a good distance away, your fellow imp looked at you and whispered in confusion, “Where’s your disguise? You can’t let her see––”

“Get me out…!! Please! Anyone! Someone!” You gasped, suddenly realizing just how small it was underneath this massive boulder. It was a miracle it hadn’t crashed down yet, killing you instantly like rock squishing an ant. But if the boulder didn’t kill you, then the hydra would. And that was what terrified you, causing you to scream for help.

The young boy’s eyes brightened up, looking a bit taken aback at your volume before he grinned. At least, he must’ve been grinning, judging by the way his eyes lit up. Pausing his very loud pleas, he whispered in amazement, “Wow, you’re really good at this acting!”

You were not acting. Especially not when help arrived in the form of the protagonist.

Instead of a man as depicted in the stories, it was a woman. A woman with innocent blue eyes and a kind voice that attempted to ease the worries of what she must’ve thought were two poor victims trapped beneath debris from a rock slide. Her eyes darted from what she saw as a regular little boy, then over to you. “It’s okay, I promise you’ll be alright.” Those eyes like the bright blue sky, softened with a hint of pity, maybe because you just looked that pitiful and on the verge of tears. Because you knew what monster would come lurking from the gorge just moments after you and the small horned being beside you are supposed to be saved.

Incredibly, with only a minimal amount of struggling, the hero heaved the boulder slowly above her head. Even though the rock was easily ten times her size, she raised it up high above her shoulders, allowing you and the boy to scamper out of the pit. Managing a charming smile despite the tons of weight she was holding, she began, “How are you holding up? Are you injured or––”

Running. You were running. There was no way you would waste even a second here, and become a victim to that three-headed beast. It sounded like the hero had shouted something as you fled, and were followed by the android boy still in disguise as he called for you to wait up. Climbing, climbing, you took what looked like a thin path on a narrow cliff’s edge until you reached a hollow cavity hidden by shadows and boulders. By then you were out of breath, heaving, the ache in the back of your legs screaming from all that climbing and your lungs burning.

However, it seemed as if your torment were far from over. As your gaze traveled up, you stilled like a deer in the headlights. There, engraved within the very surface of the rugged stone walls, was a mausoleum that appeared to be left abandoned. Its smooth columns held up ledges, and at the very mouth of the entrance was a throne of pure stone occupied by a stranger. A stranger that looked eerily similar to the android that had been your company.

A figure who sat looking quite bored upon witnessing a mortal with inhuman strength. There were no words, but just by appearance alone you knew that this was the divine god that ruled the underworld. Fire, blue fire, ran from the top of his head down his spine and over thin shoulders. He was covered from neck to toe, completely in robes of dark blues and dull grays. Long sleeves with meander patterns extended to his wrist, and even his bony fingers were pitch black either due to the fabric of a glove or it was his actual skin, you couldn’t tell. The himation, the cloth that pooled on the floor at his feet, was pinned by a brooch resembling a skull.

Chilling yellow eyes leered down at you, his blue lips pulled back slightly in a grimace to reveal unnaturally sharp teeth on his pale face. Under his judgemental gaze, you felt like a miserable little roach scuttering about underfoot. “This isn’t a theater, and you’re not Dionysus, tryhard. That was major overkill. You screamed so much I heard you loud and clear from all the way up here, pretty sure all those humans heard you.”

In the blink of an eye, the android’s disguise was gone and he floated beside you. Placing a gentle but cold metallic hand on your back, he eagerly piped up, “I think they did really good, brother!” Brother? The god, the villain of this story, was his brother? Well certainly the resemblance was there between the god and the being in the role of the imp. “Did you see the look on the hero’s face, Idia? By my estimations, the act fooled all mortal onlookers!”

Brother. But… that couldn’t be possible. Now that you were high up beside the god, Idia is what your partner in crime had called him, you were no longer so fearful of immediately becoming the hydra’s next meal. That wouldn’t happen, especially when according to the story, the lord of the underworld was the one who controlled the hydra. But now you were currently more concerned and fearful of the literal divine being sitting in front of you. The lord’s brothers were only supposed to be other gods from Mount Olympus, not a being that served him. What else was different about the story? More importantly, what would he do to you once he realized that you did not belong?

“Okay, fine. Stirring performance gets five stars from me. Definitely better than that uber cringe Oedipus play that came out a while back. Ortho, nice, you really played the cute little kid you gotta feel for, and you…” Idia directed his attention to you, and you froze in place under his gaze as he sized you up. “You actually weren’t that annoying this time. So congrats, I guess.” He added dismissively, apparently bored with this prelude as the crowd of humans down below continued to clap for the protagonist that had just saved two souls from the boulders in the gorge. Then, his gaze traveled over to the shadows, on a small cliff where a figure you hadn’t even noticed had been standing in silence. “And can’t forget you. A thumbs-up for the leading guy. Even a girl like her can’t resist you, huh, Meg? Talk about pretty privilege. It must be nice.”

Startled slightly by the new presence, you glanced over, spotting a slightly familiar face looking over the cliff. It was that man who had been accompanying the protagonist. A fairly handsome looking man with brown wavy hair, in a purple chiton and baggy loose gray pants. Again, there was that modern style mixed with ancient, making you question what time this took place in. But that question was so insignificant compared to the rest of your worries, that it would be pushed to the very back of your mind.

Looking from Meg to Idia, you compare the two faces. The God of the Underworld certainly wasn’t ugly, per say. In fact, he was ethereal in his own unique way. It was more of an acquired taste to appreciate the slight cheekbones, the aquiline nose, and the dim glow his fire blue hair provided in the dark space. He wasn’t exactly the beauty standard that could be compared to a warm summer day, but cold rainy nights could be just as beautiful.

“What are you staring at? Can you not? Seriously, don’t you know that’s rude?” The god muttered in a near sneer, his gaze unable to meet yours. In fact, he appeared to be looking anywhere but at you. Like he was nervous. But what would a god have to be nervous about? “When I leave home, I’d rather not be gawked at like some freak. I don’t need another reminder.”

Embarrassment caused your heat to creep up your neck and into your cheeks as you lowered your head swiftly in an apologetic nod. With your eyes now glued to the ground, you didn’t lift your head even an inch. It was a mercy that he didn’t appear to be a wrathful god. Cruel, perhaps, but apparently not quick to violence. If he was the hostile type, the last thing you would probably see was his calming blue fire turn an angry red before your body became nothing but ashes in the wind and your soul joining the countless in the river of the dead. In an effort to appease him so he wouldn’t believe you were staring for the wrong reasons, you began hesitantly, in a nervous tone, “I-I’m sorry–– I was staring because, well, you talk as if y-you didn’t have that specific privilege either.”

Because you kept your head down, you failed to see all three of them, Ortho, Idia, and even Meg whipped his head around to stare with their own forms of shock as you snapped your mouth shut. There was no room to question what was said and done.

“Not funny, didn’t laugh. I had no idea the role of jester was just taken up. Last I knew, we had that position available. Guess I was wrong.” He replied, unamused, and surprisingly not offended. At least he didn’t seem as if he was about to smite you for offending a god. It was jarring how lax he was, but he spoke with bitter sarcasm which actually hurt. “If I wanted a laugh, I’d probably watch you snivel and cry again, but honestly it’s way more pathetic than funny so there’s really no point in it unless I want to remind myself that there’s someone within a ten foot radius who’s giving me a run for my money in the pity department.”

“I don’t think any of you are pathetic or pitiful.” Ortho chimed in, throwing in his two cents on the matter. To which the god only glanced at. “Shall I search our records for the soul of a successful jester? I believe we may have a few that once served kings in past centuries?”

With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the motion while propping up his elbow on the armrest of the stone throne. “Nah, don’t bother, none of them are that funny anyways. It’s not worth the effort of fishing them out of the river of souls. Once we secure our win, then maybe I’ll consider it when Thalia runs out of jokes to tell.”

Thalia? Wasn’t that the name of one of the muses? Did he plan to use those divine beings as servants once he conquered Mount Olympus?

“Uh, you can scram now? I know your soul is probably drawn to the company of other mortals like pretty-boy Meg over there and that schlemiel Heraclea.” Idia scoffed, looking a bit bitter. Although, maybe that was his natural expression along with the constant gloom that seemed to permanently linger around the divine being. He rolled his eyes, murmuring the word so it sounded like an insult, “Mortals.”

“T-Then… I’ll talk to Meg.”

#yandere #ortho shroud #idia shroud #twisted wonderland #twst #yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #twst writing #work in progress #damnation twst au

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kurogxrix · 11 months

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Rust In Peace

Hobie Brown x Reader

IN WHICH a day in with your boyfriend Hobie turns into a play fight. However he often tends to forget how strong he actually is, and you suffer the consequences.

[ request ]

“That game’s rubbish, ain’t no spider movin’ like that i’m telling ya’” the deep sound of your boyfriend’s voice made you jump, nearly making you drop your controller as he appeared from seemingly nowhere. Obviously he didn't, because his dripping hair and loosely tied towel that threatened to fall off of his waist told you otherwise.

“How would you know that this is not how spiders move?” you rolled your eyes playfully at him, tone dripping with sarcasm as you turned back around to face the small TV screen.

“Ha. Ha. Funny.” Your boyfriend muttered out in a dry tone, much to your amusement. Hobie made his way towards you, both of your backs pressed comfortably against your couch as you sat on the floor. His hair dripped water everywhere, wetting your shoulder as you voiced out your complaints.

The loud sounds of your playstation probably overheating went deaf to his ears as he stared at you. His attention derived from the “Spider-Man 2” game that was currently running on the screen that you seemed so interested in. Without warning, Hobie threw an arm around you, pulling you flushed against his side as he laid his head above yours.

You paused your game immediately as you felt the wet sensation of Hobie’s hair drenching your own curls, creating a wet spot all the way down to the sleeves that covered your shoulders. The shirt wasn’t even yours in fact, the white ‘Misfits’ skull over the black fabric was evidently Hobie’s.

“God, Hobie move!” you yelled, half laughing and half serious as you tried to pry yourself out of his undying grip. Though the man only continued to pull you closer to him, this time, he pointed his hair towards you in an aim of intentionally getting you drenched. Your struggling only got the both of you shuffling along your apartment’s floor, entangling your limps with the unfortunate wires that were lying besides you both.

You could’ve sworn that Hobie had started tickling you at some point, or maybe you’d started laughing louder out of nowhere. You’d never know, Hobie just seemed to have that effect on people. He was everything that’d make a woman giggle, let alone laugh hysterically like you were right now. He was charming and a little bit tough spoken at times, two different natures that clashed together in the most attractive mix possible.

“Oh ya’ want me to move? Sure i’ll move for you sweetheart.” Before you could even register what was happening, his arms unlatched from your shoulders as you back hit the ground with a thud. You managed to save your head from hitting the floor, despite his move being unexpected. You nearly wanted to smash a vase into your boyfriend's face at the sound of his laughter, and damn did his move just declare an open war.

You sat up straight, hair chaotically out of place as you tried to puff it back to what it used to resemble. You crawled quietly towards the sofa as Hobie watched you between narrow eyes, he was no stranger to your intentions.

“I wouldn’t do that if i was you, darlin’' he spoke, but you paid no mind to it as a pillow came flying towards his face. Plainly missing him because of your shitty aim, Hobie’s expression contorted to one of amusement once more. With heavy footsteps, Hobie approached you with a near-maliciouslook in his eyes. And like a prey to a beast, you found yourself being enabled to move.

Soon enough, his large palms were at your sides. His calloused fingers slide underneath your shirt to grip at your naked skin, the rough skin of his hands itching at your own. Without a further warning, Hobie hoisted you onto his shoulders without much difficulty. You struggled in his arms, trying desperately to escape his hold despite the wide smile that occupied your features. A smile that mirrored his own.

To the open eye, it was odd to see a genuine smile gracing the man’s face. If anything, the maximum they’d receive was a cunning smirk or that sly grin of his. Though you were glad to be blessed with the ability to witness such a scene, it made you feel special - and in Hobie’s heart; you were.

Out of nowhere, you felt Hobie’s arms tighten around your middle, forcing a grunt out of you. Your blindness to the situation - given that you were literally facing the opposite side that your boyfriend currently was - made you unaware of his direction. You felt stupid for being unable to detect his route, because this was your own home. His spaced steps made it hard for you to even get a stable look at your surroundings, and unfortunately for you, you had arrived in your bedroom before you could even decipher.

He threw you rather disgracefully against your own bed, making the mattress recoil under the sheer force of his throw. Before you could even fully register things, the tall punk was hovering right atop of you. The sight of the setting sun’s orange hue hitting his dark skin was something that you’d wish to engrave in your brain forever. He was beautiful, an art piece sculpted in some sort of grungy museum itself. Though the sore sight of him made you breathless, for now you had a boyfriend to fight, so it could wait.

His hands attacked you first, finding your sore spots as he tickled you unrelentlessly. God and if you couldn’t breathe from the sight of him before, you most probably couldn’t now. With both your hands at his shoulders and feet at his waist, you attempted to push him off, but damn was he sturdy.

He wouldn’t move, stuck there like a damned plank as he continued to tickle you.

You were laughing, sure, and it was all fun and games until Hobie moved you up by the waist, the top of your head colliding painfully against your headboard. The pain was so unexpected that it took you a moment to react, simply lying there as your chest heaved up and down, trying to catch your breath.

Then, it all hit you. The awful throbbing that came as an aftermath of the hit. The staggering tingle that it left behind as it felt like your brain was having some sort of disco party in there. Then finally came the tears that prickled in your eyes involuntarily, and the unnecessary additional pain that came with you biting your lips and you tried to stop the tears from escaping. Damn did it hurt so bad but you couldn’t even blame Hobie because you knew that it wasn’t his fault.

It came to times like this where Hobie could forget how his spider-man powers enhanced his senses, thus including his strength that was already great before.

“Shit!” he muttered, his brain circuiting ever since he’d heard the loud thud that resonated around the whole room. Hobie had already climbed off of you by now, deciding that It’d be better if he sat besides you for now. He was too ashamed to meet your eyes after that, and it'd make a damn funny scene to you if you weren’t currently suffering. He watched as you cradled your head, eyes closed shut and your jaw tense as your teeth were clanged shut together.

“ ‘M sorry love, didn't think i’d send you up this forcefully.” he apologised genuinely, making a sliver of a smile raise onto your face. It wasn’t often that Hobie did apologise, and hearing him do it now made you feel more things that you wished you did. After a couple of seconds, you felt a pair of warm hands cupping your head. One placed itself on the side of your head, grazing your hairline with his thumb. The other one settled to cradle your head from behind, pressing painfully against your injury.

If it were for anyone else’s eyes right now, they’d judge you for being frail or sensitive. But no one else in this universe apart from the bad-guys knew how painful it was to be sent back by the one and only (not really only, considering they all meet everyday) Spider-Man. Additionally, Hobie wasn’t necessarily shaped like a bodybuilder, but his rippling muscles did little to appease your hit.

“I’m really a knob, ain’t I?” Hobie tried to joke, wondering if it’s better to leave your injury alone or if he should run a hand over it once more to soothe your pain.

“You really are.” you groaned your words through, although the laughter that came with after was enough to reassure Hobie a little. Now that the worst pain had passed, you were contemplating whether killing him or killing yourself before you developed a bump the size of the moon at the back of your head.

You closed your eyes for a second, exhaling loudly as you spread your arms out widely like and angel, taking up all space on your bed.

“Here, lemme help you,” Hobie mumbled with that deep British accent that made your insides flutter. The material of his worn-out sweatpants brushed against your bare legs as he climbed over you again. You’d try to convince him to get a new pair, but he’d always hit you with some ‘consumerism’ argument. Sometimes you really wondered where he got his clothing from, but that’d be a discovery for another time.

With both of his knees firmly planted besides your hips, Hobie hovered over you carefully. He didn’t even need to be sitting across your torso to hold himself up, because being spider-man surely meant that his thighs were finely trained. Next, Hobie grabbed onto your arms, though you were reluctant to give them to him as you brought them up towards your head. Pulling your arms back down, the punk that was currently above you now looked down at you with a long face.

“Cmon love, y’know I'm not gonna hurt ya’. Unless you’re into that, then we can totally arrange something.” he flirted, as suave as usual.

You fluttered at his words, finding it harder to decipher his intentions now. Hobie grasped your timid state to his advantage, taking your wrists into his hands again. He brought them up to your torso, cross-crossing them so they laid on the opposite shoulder. You bit your lip as you tried to retain your laughter, having now caught onto his intentions. Of course, there could be no other than Hobart Brown in this universe to injure you, then put you in a cartoonish vampire pose.

“We all lay here today-“ Hobie started, his deep voice wavering as he tried to retain himself from chuckling. “to honorate the unfortunate, sorrowful, forlorn, unluck- OW!”

Hobie rubbed his arm dramatically where you had lightly slapped him, having it of listening to him sputter a bunch of synonyms and what not.

You broke character for a second, seconds after having decided to play into his childish game, you smiled at the sound of his suffering. Once your smile faded and the unseen glare that Hobie sent to you had diminished, he began again.

“As I said, the unfortunate death of my poor girlfriend. Who she, died of an injury to the head, the perpetrator is still unknown to this day! Rust in peace.” he cried out, voice full of humorous emotions. God, he was so out of his own character that it made you want to burst out laughing, but for now you had a crowd to entertain. Even if that crowd was the bits of dust that flew ‘round your room.

“I’m so sorry to disrupt your little Bram Stoker fantasy, but I'm no Dracula. Normally, dead people aren’t posed like this.” you finally opened your eyes, pupils pointing towards your torso, your weirdly placed arms being in the spotlight.

“How’d you know, you’ve never been dead?” he sassed, quirking an eyebrow up at you.

“I’ve been to a funeral or two, m’sure that I know more than you.” you rebuked, lowering your arms and untwisting them from one another to lay them upon your stomach. Where they should’ve been.

“Wow edgy,” he rolled his eyes playfully at you, a menacing grin taunting his lips. “And excuse me for my lack of knowledge, but I'm pretty sure dead people can’t talk.”

At that, you simply stared at him with your mouth agape. Like a fish out of water, he mocked your action by recreating it. You winced as you tried to slap him upon the arm again, only for you to end up digging the throbbing part of your head down into your pillow. At last, Hobie finally softened at the sign of your fact twisting in an uncomfortable expression.

You didn’t acknowledge the sound of him leaving the room, his bare feet and sense of tranquillity created a cocktail of perfect stealth as he walked off across the concrete floor. You did, however, feel the sudden sensation of his hand pulling your head up. Then came the painful press of a freezing slip upon the back of your head. It stung at first, but you knew that it’d soon come to soothe your affliction.

You sighed in relief as you felt Hobie joining you down onto the bed. His antics were funny at first, but now you were just tired. You couldn’t wait for sleep to find you, no matter how hard it has been for you recently. Your eyebags are no stranger to yourself, and Hobie is no blind man after all. His hand cradles the back of your head as he finally lies down besides you, urging you onto his chest as his other hand lays behind his head.

Even in such an intimate position, he manages to look casual. Once your head dips to his chest, you’re already half-gone as a midday slumber engulfs you into its arms. Hobie grins warmly to himself, his hand holding the ice pack softly against your head as your head goes limp from the loss of consciousness. Chuckling to himself, he allows himself to close his eyes at his turn, though sleep does not find him. Spider-Man has no time for sleep, because even off duty, he has his own matters to attend.

For now, he’s not busy saving civilians from raging monsters, or travelling throughout the spider-verse to aid other spiders. For now, his mission is to keep that damned ice pack from sliding off your head, and he’s adamant on completing his job.

i was supposed to post this like 2 days ago but each time i had to edit it i kept on falling asleep😭

#hobie brown x reader #hobart brown x reader #atspv #atsp #spider punk #spider punk x reader #hobie brown #hobart brown #spiderman across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse

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scalingsvt8thusiast · 1 month

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Skin-Deep Chapter 1

summary: The one where you fall for Seungcheol amongst all the protests and insecurities. The one where you don't know that he's fallen for you too.

A/N: my very first fic ever. not proofread, except by my obsessive editing. this is just chapter 1, so it's going to be a series :D . please bear with me, I have the entire draft done already and depending on the reception I may release the other chapters. also you can probably tell from my grammar where I'm from D: .

All you could think about was the music. So loud that you could barely hear your own thoughts, so loud that it made this random individual standing too close to you think that it was alright to speak into your ear. You could literally feel their breath down your ear canal and their spit on your neck. The lack of distance between your bodies was making it hard to breath and you felt too warm to be comfortable.

You did not ask for this conversation, this person just thought you looked “lonely". Sure, standing in the corner next to the lamp and a vase made you look odd, but you were very content standing in the corner unnoticed, very content scrolling through Pinterest, very content left on your own.

You watched as their mouth moved, hearing nothing but “finance” and “investment”. On second thought, maybe you were thankful for the loud pounding in your ear, not wanting to subject yourself to this conversation even in a library. Occasionally throwing in a smile or nod when they looked expectant of a reaction, you tried your best to discreetly text Mingyu to come and save you.

Just as you were about to hit send on a poorly written text message, you felt an arm snake around your waist. Your eyes snapped up and a series of unsavoury words about to leave your mou-oh?

“There you are, princess,” that familiar drawl. Your turn and your eyes met a pair of familiar brown ones, your lips stretched into a smile. Not Mingyu, but this was much better.

That random individual immediately pulled back, it helped that Seungcheol had a larger build so he basically pushed the person away. You relaxed into his grip, relishing the feel of his arm around your waist. It felt like the music was drowned out in the time you looked into his eyes.

“Sorry, she’s taken.” Seungcheol had managed to pry his eyes away from yours to give the unwanted individual a hard stare. They seemed to get the hint and muttered an apology before slinking off, probably to bother another poor unsuspecting party goer.

You turn your body so you were facing Seungcheol, both his arms now around you and your hands rest on his hard chest. His eyes sliding back to meet yours, a confident smile decorating his face. The two of you could stand there forever if it weren’t for the loud music and rowdy party people. Someone elbowed you causing you to stumble further into this chest.

“Woah there princess, drunk already?” He leaned towards you, “knew u were a lightweight but come on.”

The distance between the two of you not leaving any room for Jesus. You could feel the butterflies in your stomach going feral and your heart rate speeding up. His eyes pulling you in further, his smile making your knees weak. Maybe you did need to get a health checkup.

“Y/N?” Both of you jolted out of your trance, realising the position you were in, you quickly pushed yourself away from him. His arms left your waist and all you could hear was the loud music again.

“Y/N? Y/N!” Mingyu pushed himself through the crowd, “there you are, my god.”

Mingyu ushered the two of you towards another part of his house, the music wasn’t as loud here as it was in the previous room. There were lesser people and it was much easier to have an actual conversation here.

“Gyu, I thought you said this was going to be a small party,” you say with your arms crossed.

Had you known that it was going to be such a big party, you would have rejected Mingyu’s invite immediately. You weren’t fond of large parties, preferring to spend your nights rolling around in bed with a good book and a nice cup of tea. When you did attend parties, you were almost always standing in a quieter part of the party scrolling through your phone and you only attended because of Mingyu’s constant pleading, he never liked it when you stayed at home for too long.

“Yea, that’s what I thought,” he said, looking exasperated, “I told Soonyoung and next thing you know half the uni’s at my house. His fault really.”

The three of you turn to stare at Soonyoung who was currently doing a keg stand with Seokmin and Seungkwan at his sides shouting words of encouragement. You and Mingyu rolled your eyes while Seungcheol chuckled.

Seungcheol gave you a pat on the arm before walking off to join Jeonghan and Joshua on the sofa. Watching his retreating figure, you hated to admit that you already missed his presence.

Once Seungcheol was out of earshot, Mingyu whacked you on the arm. “What’s up with the two of you?”

“Okay, ow.” You say while rubbing your arm, sometimes you wonder if he thinks everybody is as muscle-y as he is. “Nothing’s going on, he just saved me from some finance-bro.”

Mingyu made a face, he quickly excused himself when he noticed Soonyoung getting off the keg looking like he was about to throw up in a nearby vase. Luckily Mingyu managed to catch him in time to redirect him towards an empty bucket. Seokmin and Seungkwan, who you were assuming were equally as drunk, booed at Soonyoung’s bent over figure as he slumped into the bucket. Mingyu turned to look at you with a look of pure disgust on his face.

You grinned at him, not making any move to help. This was actually surprising, normally at this time of the night Mingyu would be the keg stand-er, everybody else would be drunk off their faces and you would probably be in Mingyu’s position right now. The only reason Mingyu was very sober, too sober he would argue, was because he had originally planned a movie night with your small friend group before it was clearly ruined by Soonyoung.

“And this is why we don’t tell Soonyoung anything in advance,” you muttered under your breath.

Honestly you, and probably Mingyu, didn’t know 90% of the people in the house. You shuddered to think what was happening in the upstairs bedrooms. The last time Mingyu threw a party this big was on his birthday and you had stayed back to help his house staff clean. Whilst going through the rooms, you found that each and every bedroom was occupied by a couple or multiple couples doing things that you wished you had not seen. You then spent a month after that regularly attending Sunday masses, trying to rid your brain of the unsavoury images. You weren’t even religious!

You found yourself an empty spot on the sofa and decided that was where you would stay for the rest of the night. Pulling out your phone, you were just about to resume your very interesting read on dating sims and it’s effects on one’s love life when you feel a dip on the sofa and someone settled next to you.

No doubt, it was another respectful individual trying to add you into their long list of women that they’ve hit on throughout the night. Maybe you’d be in this person’s top 10 if you were lucky. Once you’ve finally motivated yourself enough to greet the person, you planted a tight smile on your face and lifted your head. You were surprised to come face to face with your knight in shining armour.

“Don’t look at me like that, princess, you forgot to thank me for saving you back there.” He tilted his head in the direction of the room you just came from, his arm resting on the back of the couch behind you.

“I had it under control, my good sir,” your smile becoming more genuine, happy that you were finally in a softer environment where you could truly appreciate his voice.

“Didn’t look like it, milady,” he quipped with a playful gleam in his eyes, leaning closer to you. “You looked like you were 5 seconds away from investing in some poorly constructed pyramid scheme.”

“Was that what he was talking about? Honestly the music was so loud, all I could really feel was his spit.” you stick your tongue out, shuddering.

Seungcheol chuckled, that deep baritone chuckle that would have millions of girls, including you, swooning. In fact right now some girls were throwing you dirty looks.

“Why are you here anyway? You were pretty quick to abandon me for Hannie and Josh.”

“Aw come on princess, didn’t want your bodyguard over there t’have any reason to punch me.” Seungcheol gestured to Mingyu who patting Soonyoung on the back while Seungkwan and Seokmin danced around them. You were about to tease Seungcheol further when you felt a shadow loom over the two of you.

“Cheollie baby, you promised me a dance!” You swore it was the highest, whiniest, squeakiest voice you had ever heard come out of a person. Some girls you didn’t recognise had surrounded Seungcheol and were currently giving him fuck-me eyes and pulling on his free arm. They purposefully pushed between the two of you, blocking your view of him.

It was amusing how panicked Seungcheol looked. He eyed you, silently begging for help as the tugs got stronger and more violent each time. Some girls had, for the lack of a better word, started molesting his arms and chest.

“Don’t let me keep you, Cheollie baby~” You say with a pitchier tone and the brightest smile you can manage. You give him a slow wave as you watch him be yanked off the couch by the giggling banshees.

Turning your attention back to your phone, you hear one of them say, “Why do you hang out with her Cheollie? She has a job? She’s like poor!”

You weren’t sure if Seungcheol heard it. He probably wouldn’t care anyway.

Now, back to datings sims and your love life.

A/N 2: I always welcome constructive criticism. Send me something if you think I need to improve somewhere

#seungcheol x reader #scoups x reader #seungcheol fic #scoups fic #seungcheol fluff #choi seungcheol #scoups #svt fanfic #seventeen seungcheol #svt x reader #svt fluff #seventeen #svt #mingyu #svt fic

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lilystyles · 5 months

Note

For a no strings blurb could you write one about Harry being sick and y/n taking care of him?

delicate.

a @lilystyles blurb!

my masterlist & no strings attached masterlist & blurbs masterlist

authors note thanku gorgeous anon for requesting! and as someone who has been so sick lately i was so inspired. MWAH!

brief description harry is sick and y/n takes care of him.

warnings! none so fluffyyyyy wordcount (1.4k)

sick!nostrings!h x reader

* * * * *

Harry was a total and utter baby when he got sick. More than the average person, and though it could be annoying at times Y/n found it just as endearing as the rest of his qualities. He was too cute, how could she not?

She'd known this about him for years, and when they became roommates in Uni and she'd taken care of him for two weeks when he had a shocking fever the both of them should've known then they were destined for each other.

She was reminded of this fact when she got home, Y/n had moved into Harry's house fairly soon after the wedding. It just felt right, and now she'd added all her favourite decor from her flat and it felt a bit like the two of them now. Not just him. There were touches of her all over the house.

Flowers in vases everywhere, her knitted blankets lazily thrown over the couch and chairs, her coffee table, her books, her clothes, her smell, and most importantly her. Harry loved having her living with him again, and it reminded him how much he'd miss having her in his home. Sharing a home.

She called out kicking her shoes off and unbundling her scarf, as she walked inside the lounge room. Normally when she got home Harry was on the couch watching telly, napping, strumming his guitar or cooking. But she heard nothing coming from the kitchen, and he wasn't on the couch.

"H!" She repeated, curiously. She walked upstairs making her way to the bedroom. Surely he wasn't napping in there.

When she opened the door she found her boyfriend rugged up under the sheets. The only giveaway was his brown curls stuck out and the large Harry-sized lump under the dusty blue almost grey-coloured duvet. She walked over and dropped her purse and keys on the floor.

"Baby," He rasped out. "Is tha' you?" He asked. He sounded breathless and his voice was hoarse.

She kneeled on the floor so her eyes were level with his. "Hi, my love, are you okay?"

He shook his head, as he squeezed the blanket closer. His teeth chattered. "I'm cold, n' my throat hurts,"

His face was pale in colour, a glisten covering his face, and his eyes had deep purple bags. She leaned closer to him and placed her hand on his forehead. He was boiling. She frowned.

"Gonna check your temp quickly, H." She said walking into their main bathroom in the hallway. She grabbed her first aid box from under the sink and dug around. Eventually, she found the thermometer, and some strong Panadol for him. She walked into the room and when she asked him to open his mouth he groaned softly shifting in the bed. Once the temperature came back it read 39.1°, which meant he had a fever.

She sighed. "Oh, H, you aren't well. Do you want some Panadol?"

He nodded, she popped two pills out of the packet and handed them to him. Before rushing to feed him some water. He gulped them down and swallowed with a grimace. She stroked his arm.

"I'm gonna make you Mum's soup recipe for you." Y/n's mother was a Chef, she made the best food especially when Y/n was sick. One time during Uni Exams Harry called Y/n's Mum and she came down and visited and made a big batch of her soup and rubbed some weird-smelling cream on Y/n's chest and by the next day she was better, it was like magic in a bowl. Y/n didn't know how but she swore Mum's just had special healing powers.

She stroked his forehead, "And then you can have a bath, and you can try and get some sleep."

He nodded.

Y/n quickly made her way to the kitchen and grabbed all the things she needed. Her Mum had given her a book of recipes and she flipped to the page with the soup. Skimming over the words in her mother's soft cursive handwriting.

Slowly but surely she chopped up all the ingredients. It was mainly fresh herbs and vegetables. She put so much garlic she was sure their breaths would smell for weeks. But it always helped with a sore throat and made her feel better. She added lots of onions, celery, carrots, zucchini, and other vegetables Harry liked. Along with some freshly cooked chicken. She let it stew for a while, as the broth got its flavour.

She had a shower and changed into some pyjamas, combing her hair and applying some sweet-smelling creams to her skin while she worried about her sickly boyfriend.

When she checked on Harry he was fast asleep in their bed curled up on her side, hugging the pillow she slept on. She snuck back She flicked on the telly and sat on the couch while the smell of her wonderful soup filled the big mansion of a house. The telly was on some channel playing old reruns of films everyone's seen a million times. It was playing The Princess Bride. Y/n always used to watch this in bed when she was sick it was perfect because the kid in the beginning was sick too.

She loved this film. She'd seen it enough times to recite the words without thinking. After twenty or so minutes into the film, the soup was ready. She turned the stove off and put some bread in the toaster.

Just as she poured Harry his big bowl and coated his golden brown toast in smooth melting butter, she heard footsteps. He was standing behind her, the knitted blanket off their bed wrapped around him like a cape. He looked awful still, and sleepy. But gosh, was he handsome.

"Hi, Gorgeous." He said softly. His voice was hoarse.

She smiled. "Hi, I was about to bring you dinner."

"Heard the telly. Princess Bride?"

She nodded.

"Let's watch it."

She followed him with their dinner and they ate together curled up real close, the soup was heavenly and warm. It was so soothing and made Y/n feel like she was a kid again. The toast was crunchy and delicious. She had a few more pieces and a second serving of soup.

Harry grew sleepy toward the climax of the film, his belly full and his clammy body warmed right up. It wasn't long until his head found its way to Y/n's lap. She was rubbing his head softly, her fingers running through his curls. He was asleep not long after her touches and when the film ended she got him up the stairs and put him in a quick bath before bed.

She helped him strip and checked the temperature was warm enough in the bath but not too hot. He hopped in and she sat on the floor beside him, making sure he didn't fall asleep in there. She washed his hair massaging the curls of his hair, and cleaned his body of his sweat. Helping him bathe. His eyes shut in contentment. The steamy water had helped him breathe easier, and her soup was doing wonders.

When he got out after he was all clean Y/n helped him blow dry his hair quickly. His hands slid onto her hips under the big shirt of Harry's she was wearing and the loose tracksuit bottoms.

This was love. Taking care of him, and not complaining once. That's how Harry knew she was the one.

Once he was dry she applied that cream to his chest that her mother used to put on hers. It was a mix of all sorts of things. She rubbed it gently over the swallows and moth ink and all along his chest and shoulders.

"Turn around, I'll put some on your back too, H."

She gently massaged the cream onto his back and he sighed.

"I love you."

She smiled even though she couldn't see him. "I love you too, Harry."

She picked some fresh comfy pyjamas for him and then they went to bed. The whole night she held him close and soothed him when he woke up in pain. For the next few days, she took care of him and held him however he needed. He eventually got better.

When Y/n woke up with the same flu a few days later, Harry took care of her too. Doing all the same things. Even with a red nose and glossy eyes, and she was coughing up all sorts of gross phlegm, she was the most beautiful girl he'd ever laid his eyes on.

Harry knew he was going to marry her one day.

BYE LOVE U

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