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dewdropdinosaur · 2 months

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Fixer Upper

ALASTOR x (F)READER

Summary: Someone dared to break Alastor's precious radio and his wrath is inconsolable. But turns out you may have some small tricks up your sleeve.

Warnings: NONE

For the dearest @anon-of-the-void. My darling, it is a pleasure as always to write these for you.

In the bustling chaos of the Hazbin Hotel, where demons sought redemption amidst the fiery chaos of Hell, an unlikely friendship blossomed. Alastor, the infamous Radio Demon, found solace in the presence of Y/N, an inventive soul from the Victorian Era who had found herself amidst the peculiar denizens of the underworld.

Y/N was a tinkerer, always tinkering away in her workshop, concocting gadgets and gizmos that would make even the most adept engineers marvel. Alastor, with his vintage charm and macabre wit, found her creations fascinating, and the two formed an unusual bond over their shared love for innovation.

One fateful day, disaster struck when Alastor's beloved old-time radio, his prized possession from his living days, broke down. The demon was devastated, his usual jovial demeanor clouded by a rare display of anger. The residents of the hotel trembled in fear, knowing the havoc that could be unleashed if the Radio Demon's rage remained unchecked.

Alastor's crimson eyes blazed with fury as he prowled the halls of the Hazbin Hotel, his usual jovial smile replaced by a menacing snarl. The residents cowered in fear, whispering among themselves as they caught glimpses of the Radio Demon's wrathful form.

"You there!" Alastor's voice boomed, sending shivers down the spines of those unfortunate enough to cross his path. "Do you have any idea of the inconvenience of my beloved radio breaking? The nerve, the audacity!"

Niffty, the hyperactive cleaner demon, spoke with a frantic passion as she viewed the mangled radio."Alastor! I'll do it! Let me clean it please!"

Alastor's laughter rang out like a chilling melody, sending a chill through the air. "Oh, my dear Nifty, no thank you. This requires some…interrogation but feel free to clean up the aftermath."

Angel Dust, lounging lazily on a nearby couch, scoffed, "Oh, lighten up, Al, it's just a stupid radio. Besides, it's not like anyone listens to your old-timey tunes anyway."

The room fell silent as Alastor's gaze bore into Angel Dust, his smile twisting into a sinister grin. "Is that so, my dear Angel? Perhaps I should demonstrate the consequences of underestimating the power of music."

With a snap of his fingers, Alastor summoned a spectral microphone, its ethereal glow casting eerie shadows across the room. "Now, let's see who's laughing when I unleash the full force of my wrath upon this wretched offender!"

The residents of the Hazbin Hotel trembled as Alastor's menacing laughter echoed through the halls, knowing all too well that when the Radio Demon was in a foul mood, no one was safe from his terrifying fury.

As fear spread throughout the hotel, Y/N knew she had to act swiftly to quell the storm brewing within Alastor's heart. Ignoring the warnings of her peers, she clandestinely snatched the broken radio and retreated to her workshop, determined to restore it to its former glory.Under the cover of night, she stealthily crept into Alastor's room, her pockets filled with tools and determination. With deft hands, she dismantled the broken radio, each cog and wire familiar to her skilled touch.

Hour after hour, Y/N toiled away, her nimble fingers dancing across the delicate machinery. With each adjustment and tweak, the radio gradually came back to life, its familiar crackle filling the air once more. But as the night wore on, fatigue gnawed at Y/N's bones, her eyelids growing heavy with exhaustion. But she pressed on, fueled by determination and a desire to see her friend smile once more.

Finally, with a soft click, the radio sprang to life, emitting a crackling sound before filling the room with the familiar strains of vintage jazz. Y/N let out a sigh of relief, a triumphant smile gracing her lips as she admired her handiwork.

But as she stood there basking in her success, fatigue finally caught up with her. With a yawn, she sank into a nearby chair, her eyes fluttering closed as sleep claimed her.

Unbeknownst to her, Alastor had been silently watching from the shadows, his expression unreadable as he observed Y/N's tireless efforts to fix his broken radio. When he saw her succumb to exhaustion, a pang of concern tugged at his heart, softening the edges of his usually stoic demeanor.

Quietly, he approached her slumbering form, his footsteps barely audible against the creaking floorboards. Gently, he brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, his touch light as a feather.

"My dear Y/N," he whispered, his voice barely above a murmur. "Such devotion, such selflessness. You truly are a marvel."

A warmth blossomed in Alastor's chest as he watched her sleep, a feeling he couldn't quite put into words. For the first time in centuries, he felt something akin to tenderness stirring within him—a feeling he realized with a start was nothing short of admiration.

With a soft sigh, Alastor leaned in closer, pressing a gentle kiss to Y/N's forehead before picking up her form and striding over to his bed; tucking her in with the utmost care. As he stood there in the dimly lit room, surrounded by the quiet hum of the fixed radio and the soft breathing of his friend, he knew at that moment that he was irrevocably touched by her kindness.

And as the first light of dawn painted the sky, Alastor silently vowed to cherish and protect Y/N, for she had not only fixed his broken radio but had also managed to mend something far more precious—his wounded heart.

The next morning dawned upon the Hazbin Hotel, the air tinged with a sense of relief as the residents basked in the knowledge that Alastor's beloved radio had been fixed. Alastor strode into the lobby with a confident swagger, his usual grin plastered on his face. With a flick of his wrist, he turned on the radio, the familiar crackle of static filling the air before giving way to the melodic strains of love songs from a bygone era.

The residents exchanged puzzled glances, their confusion evident as they listened to the unexpected playlist. Angel Dust raised an eyebrow, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. "Well, well, looks like someone's feeling a bit sentimental today."

Alastor's grin widened, though there was a hint of something softer lurking beneath the surface. "Ah, my dear Angel, music has a way of stirring the soul, don't you think?"

As the love songs continued to play, the other residents couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth wash over them. Even the gruffest demons found themselves tapping their claws to the beat, caught up in the unexpected romance of it all.

But as Alastor's gaze lingered on Y/N, who stood among the crowd with a shy smile, a wave of realization washed over him. It wasn't just any love songs he was playing—it was a silent declaration of his growing affection for the inventive soul who had captured his heart.

And as the music filled the room with its sweet melody, Alastor couldn't help but feel a surge of hope coursing through him. Perhaps, in the midst of Hell's chaos, there was still room for love to blossom—a love that transcended time and defied all odds.

With a soft chuckle, Alastor stole a glance at Y/N, his heart swelling with newfound courage. For in that moment, amidst the gentle strains of love songs and the soft glow of morning light, he knew that he was falling—falling head over heels for the one who had fixed not only his broken radio but also the shattered pieces of his soul.

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iloveyouinred · 5 months

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Should have bought Oversize. | ft. Itto, Alhaitham, Kaeya

Asked by @coreakin-sakarat

𓇬♡ | Warning: NSFW, heavy on size kink, etc.

Alhaitham will be very careful. He knew his size is a bit.. over the standard. So he prepared you earnestly. Eating you out and fingering your cunt until it becomes a little bit too much. You think you have loosen up enough. And your mind is a mess already. You are begging him to put it in. To just fuck you here and now. And his pent up self doesn't really help with the face you were giving him.

Itto tried to deny your plea but seeing your lustful eyes, voice a little too desperate calling his name sweetly. Devoured by lust, he releases his throbbing length and rubs it on your labia. You choke on your own breath. A small gasp escaped your lips as you watched his true size pressing against your gaping hole.

“W-wait-” You chirp, nails pressing on his back. Scratching it as he pushes the thick length slowly. It's hardly in. Only the tips and few cm of the length and you already crying and mumbling ‘too big.. ‘s too much’ repeatedly like a prayer. Kaeya cooed at you and kissed your tears away. Singing you praises and trying to distract you by playing with your other part.

They will refrain themself from moving too much. Letting you adjust with his length, patience is key. He will train your body to handle his size. After all, if you can take him then no other man can pleasure you the way he did, right? When your soppy cunt becomes more relaxed and a little bit too wet from all your arousal, from him playing with other parts of your body, he slides in a little more easily. Although the thick length dragging along your wall leaves you gasping for breath. It's surely much better than not moving at all.

Once the entire length is in(it might be not for Itto part😞), with the tip pressing against your cervix nicely. He hummed in approval. Not moving just yet, the man will takes time. Strangely patience with the process, though you know how excited they are from the throbbing cock inside you.

Itto will be the first to lose the patience game and start pounding into you. He tried to be gentle, he swear. But he might be overcome with his own lust and drive you over the edge. You might be both in sitting position before, but once he loses his patience he will be grabbing your hips and moving your body to meet his thrust. You might want to hang your hand around his neck, mindlessly crying out his name. Babbling incoherent words when his ridiculously huge cock slamming into you, penetrating your inside with overwhelming pleasure. The size of it, which might have a rigged texture, hits your spots perfectly with a new feeling. This will also bring trouble because he could be one of the types who continue to swell. So once it's inside you won't be able to get it off. Not like you have the power left anyway. The way he hits your cervix will certainly make your mind go blank.

Alhaitham has a ridiculous amount of patience. He spent time working you up. Still playing with your breast. Leaving kisses and marks on it. Just about the right time when you call his name his hips snaps. You could be laying on your back one moment then being rolled to your stomach the next round. He loved watching your face twisted in overwhelming pleasure. Hanging by the thread to keep your sanity intact as he pounds the life out of you. But taking you from behind excites him also. For he could see your honest body language. Squirming under his touch. Your back arch back when his thrust went to the right spot. His hand is playing with your nipples while his mouth works on your back. Leaving love bites here and there. The aftermath of being fuck by Alhaitham, beside the limp(it implies to all the man here), you also will be left with a hell bunch of love bites which is hard to cover even if you wear a proper shirt.

Kaeya on the other hand is a tease. It's in his nature to leave you wanting him. Helplessly clinging to him when he play with your clit while still trying to pushing himself in and out your cunt. The stimulation is overwhelming. He might have been edging you for a while with his skillful hand. And with once or few thrusts you have come on his length.

“Easy there. You are quite an eager one, aren't you?” He will chuckle teasing you knowing damn well he is the one that make you come fairly quick with his hand playing around your body. While Alhaitham is focusing on training your body to accommodate his size and shape, Kaeya will toy around with you. Man know damn well he is big and he will fuck you mad. Then make you beg for it. He will be teasing you for annoyingly long enough but in the end he will fucked you mindless. Might be for his own pent up lust too. You will hear him degrading you and praise you in one second difference. Though every time he slammed his cock to your cervix your mind will become dumber and dumber.

Over all if you do get stuck, Kaeya will toy with you, making you move to get him off yourself only to slam you back in. The amount of back and forth in his play is crazy. Alhaitham will continue to fuck you(his reasoning is he will get smaller once he is finished, which leave you laying there trembling with his cum dripping down your hole). While Itto, honestly you will pass out first before he is done(from his stamina as an oni). Which you just realised he is stuck in you the whole night when you wake up the next day. And he will continue to fuck you until you are loose enough for him to pull out *sad Itto sound*.

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harrystylesfan2686 · 5 months

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Pieces Part 3

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: the aftermath of the break up has different effects on both, Azriel and Reader.

A/N: yall I'm sick🥲 the updates might be late but I'll try to post as much as possible. Hope you like this one!

Pieces Masterlist

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It's been one month.

One month of Healing.

When azriel left, I told myself that I will not contact him until I'm ready. Doesn't matter how much I'm missing him or wanting him. I will not talk to him until I know I won't take him back the second I see him again.

I gave myself two days. Two days to sulk all I wanted. I spent the whole time crying and feeling miserable about myself. Before Az left at least, I wasn't by myself. At least I saw him once a day.

Now? Nothing.

I am totally alone. His absence hit me Hard. Everything I saw, almost brought me to my knees.

The kitchen where we would make dinner together, laughing and joking with each other that many times ended with us covered in flour and syrup.

The couch where we would sit cuddling and talking until we fell asleep, always waking up with strained muscles.

His office where he would sit on his chair in front of his desk, writing out reports and whatnot while I sit in his armchair reading my book. Just enjoying each others company and occasionally taking breaks to make out on the very deck, and then some.

After those dreadful days though, I called Feyre and Mor and had a very much needed girls night. We took out a wine bottle and I spilled everything to them. My mind was too drunk to think my feelings about Elain might offend Feyre but she genuinely felt sad for me and embarrassed about her sister. The poor girl even apologised to my about Elain's behavior to which I immediately told her it wasn't her fault.

When I told them how lonely it got being alone in a big house like this, they suggested maybe I should get a job or something to keep my mind distracted and promised that they'll visit me often. So I did juat that.

I found a part time job at a local library. I have to admit, I'm really enjoying it. I'm the second assistant to the sweetest lady, Hilda, who owns the shop. I don't do much, just help her in small things like adjusting books on self or helping in shipping books out or in. Layla, the first assistant, handles most of the work around the shop. My job is basically doing what she asks of me. The salary isn't much but I don't care because it's never been about money.

The first week was very hard. Everyday after I came home, the silence felt like a slap on the face, reminding me of everything I lost.

But, slowly, I became comfortable with it. Now it's doesn't hurt me as it did before.

There were many times when I think of Azriel, tears filled my eyes, but I never let them free. I sucked them in and did anything else that didn't made me cry, like taking baths, baking my favorite chocolate brownies, reading in front of the fire place while drinking hot coco or calling my friends to take me shopping.

And as time went. I started to heal. I started to feel good, happier with myself. And without even realizing it, I started to love myself.

-☆-

Azriel

It's been one month.

One month of regretting everything I did to my mate.

I've spent my whole month sulking in this room, crying and regretting everytime I chose Elain over my wife. I haven't slept at all since I came here, just enough to keep me functioning. My appetite is gone. I don't eat unless Rhys come and force feeds me like I'm some baby.

I told Rhysand and Cassian everything the first morning i stayed here. Which earned me a flick to head by Cassian and a very disappointed look from Rhys. Even though they didn't give me any scolding(which I very much deserved), the flick and expression said enough.

Rhys has refrained me of any work, handling it himself or having someone else do it. While I have been sitting around here and hating myself. It seems like even my mind has declared itself an enemy, showing me memories of everytime I dismissed Y/N and hurt her in any way at most random times, cutting a deeper cut in my heart everytime.

"Hey Az, I was thinking if we could go out for dinner tonight? There is this new amazing restaurant I saw while walking near Sidra. I really want to try it." She told me as I put on my coat, ready to go.

"I can't, I have a mission for today. Rhys told me it's important so I can't skip. We'll go some other time. Okay?"

"Ok."

I could hear the excitement in her voice when she asked me and the hurt when I rejected her and promised to go another time. The time never came. She never asked again. And I never noticed.

"Az, are you awake?" She whispers in the dead of night. Both of us sleeping on the bed. My back to her, hoping to fall asleep quickly because I have early training tomorrow.

Cassian is spending time with Nesta more, so Rhys has told me to go to an illyrian camp to check how things are going. I have to wake and go there early to catch them off guard to see what's truly going on.

I can't do that if Y/N doesn't let me sleep.

I didn't answer her that night, hoping if i dont respond, she'll think im asleep and doesnt call me again. She really didnt call me again. I prioritized my sleep over her. Her voice sounded so small. She needed me. And I didn't care.

"So, I saw a really cute baby in garden today and..." I drone out her babbling and try to quickly I can get out of here, I promised Elain to help in her garden today. She'll be disappointed if I show up late.

"Az? You're listening to me right?" She suddenly questions, I clear my throat and answer a small, of course, she nods and takes a deep breath, not saying anything anymore. I sign in relief of the silence.

I put my head in my hands and tug hard on my hair, wanting to feel hurt, hurt the kind that she clearly felt and I didn't care.

I hate myself more and more as memories flash through my mind. I can't even cry at this point. I wished she'd hit me when we fought. Slaped and paunched some sense into me. I don't blame her at all for not talking to me. Gods, I wouldn't even blame her if she left me. I deserve it.

How do I fix this?

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Taglist: @cleverzonkwombatsludge @crazylokonugget @going-through-shit @wallacewillow0773638 @kalulakunundrum @cat-or-kitten

#acotar fandom #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar angst #azriel #azriel angst #azriel x you #azriel x reader #pieces

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koisuko · 6 months

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Pov: You are a cat (pt3)

how the mk1 characters react to you as a stray cat, one with an oddly familiar/fitting name

part 1, part 2, part 4, bonus

ft: Kuai Liang, Bi-han, Tomas, Johnny, Kenshi

TW: none, cute kitty stuff, fluffy, gn, this took way longer than the others

Kuai Liang

Kuai Liang often took leisurely strolls around the tranquil grounds of the Lin Kuei Temple during his moments of respite. The temple's surroundings were often blanketed in a soft, soothing layer of snow, but for the pyromancer, the icy chill of winter held no sway over him. His very essence exuded an inner warmth that countered the cold embrace of the environment.

On this particular day, as the delicate snowflakes gracefully descended from the heavens to blanket the earth, Kuai Liang found himself taking a deep breath, observing the intricate dance of the snowflakes as they twirled and twined their way to the ground. It was a serene sight, the aftermath of a recent snowstorm that had bestowed its wintry bounty upon the landscape. However, amidst this serene vista, something unexpected caught his eye. A small, light brown figure, in stark contrast to the snowy surroundings, lay curled in a vulnerable ball. Kuai's curiosity piqued, he approached cautiously, his steps leaving deep impressions in the pristine snow.

As he drew near, he realized the figure was not what he initially thought. It wasn't a person but a small, shivering cat, its fur glistening with frost, the cold wind nipping at its exposed form. You were too weak to flee, your fragile body barely holding onto the last vestiges of warmth.

Without hesitation, Kuai Liang swiftly but gently scooped the trembling feline into his arms. His inherent pyromantic abilities were brought into play, the heat radiating from his body increasing to provide solace to the freezing creature. He cradled you tenderly against his chest, his protective embrace serving as a barrier against the frigid elements. Quickly, he turned on his heel and made his way back to the warmth and safety of his quarters. The small cat, now in the care of the compassionate Lin Kuei warrior, was wrapped in a cozy blanket, offering a respite from the merciless cold that had threatened your life.

Kuai Liang settled onto the edge of his bed, you still nestled in his arms. His deep brown eyes reflected a mixture of relief and concern as he gazed down at your small form. "Feeling better, little one?" he asked softly, his voice a gentle whisper. In response, you emitted a delicate meow, your purrs growing in intensity as you basked in the newfound warmth and safety. With a fond smile, Kuai adjusted the blanket to ensure your comfort. His fingers traced gentle patterns on your head as he noticed a collar, the word 'Flame' etched onto it. It was a fitting name, considering the circumstances of you and his meeting. He held you a bit closer, and with a sense of contentment washing over you both, you drifted into a peaceful slumber within Kuai Liang's reassuring embrace.

Bi-han

As the sun climbed higher in the sky, its rays beating down on the earth in relentless waves. This summer was a scorching anomaly around the Lin Kuei temple, typically shrouded in snow or rain. Yet today, the weather was unforgiving, the heat making the air thick and uncomfortable. Bi-han, the cryomancer, remained unfazed, his naturally colder body shielding him from the oppressive warmth.

Returning from a brief mission, he noticed an odd mass slightly off the path, its black color stark against the dusty road. It might have gone unnoticed, but something about it drew his attention. As he drew near, the figure became clearer—a small feline, lying almost motionless and panting. Though Bi-han's expression remained stoic, a flicker of concern crossed his features. Kneeling down, he observed you, barely clinging to life as the heat threatened to consume you.

Uncertain how to handle the situation, he extended an ice-covered hand, hovering it near your limp body. The cooling sensation permeated your fur, offering brief relief from the oppressive heat. After a moment's hesitation, he scooped you into his arms, a determination in his gaze as he decided not to walk away from this. He navigated through the temple, giving a cold stare to anyone inquiring about the cat in his arms.

Reaching his quarters, he gently placed you on his bed, quickly fetching water in a small dish. Your weakened state required assistance, and he patiently helped you drink. Fearful of accidentally harming you, he handled you with care, holding you against his cold chest. A rare smile adorned his face as he stroked your back with a frigid hand. Your panting ceased, replaced by a soft purr. A collar around your neck bore the name 'Snow,' a subtle amusement crossing his expression, a chuckle leaving his lips at the contrast between your name and your black fur. "A brave little warrior, welcome to the Lin Kuei."

Tomas Vrbada

Tomas often found solace in Madam Bo's tea house, sharing his troubles with her during tough times. Today, however, a different kind of task awaited him and his brothers. Lord Liu Kang had assigned them the responsibility of testing two new recruits. The plan involved a staged "thug attack" on Madam Bo, with Tomas taking the lead to set the scene for his brothers, Bi-han and Kuai Liang. He stood at a distance, karambit twirling between his fingers, awaiting the orchestrated chaos.

As he stared up at the night sky, Tomas couldn't shake off the unease that Bi-han's recent behavior had planted in his mind. The Grandmaster had become colder, distant, and more callous since his promotion, leaving Tomas worried about the clan's future. The unknown intentions of Bi-han lingered in his thoughts like an unspoken threat.

His contemplation was interrupted by a sudden pressure on his lower leg. Looking down, he was met with the amber eyes of a small grey feline. A soft 'brrr' escaped your lips as you gazed at him, offering a momentary distraction from his concerns. Tomas' masked face softened into a smile, and he cooed, "Well, hello there, little one. Are you lost?" Kneeling down, he gently caressed the fur on your back, occasionally reaching up to scratch behind your ears. You purred, rubbing your body against his leg with your tail held high.

Tomas chuckled at the affectionate display, lifting you into his arms. As he petted your head, you playfully swatted at his mask. "You're so cute," he chuckled, noticing a shiny piece of metal around your neck with the name 'Smokey' engraved on it. "Seems like it was meant to be, mini smoke!" Tomas nuzzled his masked face against you before gently setting you back on the ground. With a loving tone, he said, "I must go. I'll see you after, little Smokey." Walking towards the tea house, he left behind the furry distraction and headed into the impending test.

Johnny Cage

The cold marble floor beneath your padded paws echoed your every step as you navigated the expansive mansion. Your tail swayed low, the anticipation evident as you sought out your human companion. The distant murmur of a familiar voice led you to the main living room, where Johnny, engrossed in a phone call with a client, occupied the elegant white couch. With a soft meow, you made your presence known, gracefully leaping into his lap. Johnny, unfazed by the interruption, allowed a warm smile to grace his lips, his hand gently stroking the top of your head. The white fluffy fur responded, obediently flattening against your small frame.

"Alright, yea, yea, I'll talk to you soon, bye," Johnny concluded his conversation, placing the phone down. He pulled you closer to his chest, addressing you with affection, "Princess, my sweet baby, what do you say we watch one of daddy's movies, hm?" Your enthusiastic, raspy meow signaled your approval, earning a chuckle from Johnny.

The two of you found yourselves engrossed in the second movie, your petite form peacefully curled up in his lap. Johnny continued to caress your fur, eliciting soft purrs that harmonized with the ambient soundtrack of the film. As a tender moment unfolded, Johnny couldn't help but gaze down at you, a genuine smile playing on his lips. An idea sparked in his mind.

A subtle 'psspss' sound reached your ears, causing them to twitch before lifting your head inquisitively, "brr?" The next instant, a pair of oversized human sunglasses adorned your feline face, prompting a slight recoil in surprise. Johnny, undeterred, exclaimed, "Look at you, Princess, now you're just like me!" You playfully wiggled your head, the sunglasses perched on your nose, gazing up at Johnny with a mix of curiosity and kitty confusion.

A vision of a perfect photo opportunity struck Johnny, and he swiftly retrieved his phone. "They will love you, Princess, say cheese for the fans!" he enthused. Clicking away, he captured the moment, immortalizing your adorable feline fashion statement. "So cute! Okay, one more," he declared, adjusting you on his shoulder for a different perspective. Setting up his phone again, he turned on the recording feature, transforming your lazy demeanor into an amusing cat dance routine. Your unamused expression didn't escape Johnny's notice, but the love between you two prevailed.

As he maneuvered your limbs in a playful imitation of a human dance, you yawned, the epitome of relaxed indifference. The entire scene painted a heartwarming picture of companionship and the quirky antics that made your bond with Johnny truly special.

Kenshi Takahashi

Restless, Kenshi tossed and turned in his sheets, his mind burdened with worries for his family and the constant pressure to break free from the clutches of the Yakuza. Blind, but keenly attuned to his surroundings, every other sense heightened to compensate for the absence of sight, Kenshi found himself unable to find solace in sleep. With a deep sigh of defeat, he kicked the blankets off, acknowledging that tonight, sleep was not his ally.

Deciding to channel his restless energy, he ventured outside into the cool night air. A thin sheen of sweat coated his skin, offering a stark contrast to the refreshing breeze that greeted him. A smile tugged at his lips as the temperature shift cleared his mind. Sento, his faithful sword, in hand, he stood on the grass, adopting a steady stance. Fluid movements followed, the dance of a man determined to regain control over his life. Each breath he took seemed to ground him, the rhythmic motions of his sword a manifestation of both skill and frustration.

Blindness had taken away his ability to see the world in all its vibrancy. Now, dependent on Sento and those around him, Kenshi grappled with the loss of independence. The dance with his sword was not just a physical exercise; it was a defiance against the constraints that bound him.

His movements grew more vigorous, muscles flexing, as Sento seemingly came alive, mirroring his every move. The dance reached its zenith, Sento flowing out of the blade, a spectral swordsman beside him. To an onlooker, it would be a mesmerizing spectacle, a testament to the bond between man and sword. Abruptly, the dance ceased, Sento returning to its sheath in a stream of ethereal blue.

Sensing eyes upon him, Kenshi pointed his sword in the direction of the unseen observer. "Who's there?" his voice, usually calm, now carried a commanding tone. "Show yourself!" Silence greeted him, the stillness almost convincing him that his heightened senses were playing tricks on him. Frustration etched across his face as he cursed the loss of his sight.

As he stood there, a small calico cat emerged from the shadows. Your presence surprised him, and he scowled, trying to discern if it was a figment of his imagination. You, undeterred, approached Kenshi, a silent companion in the night. His scowl softened into a smile as he bent down to pet you, his sword now sheathed on his back.

Unexpectedly, he felt something on your collar. Using his fingers, he traced the lines, realizing it spelled out "Sento." Kenshi's fingers lingered on the collar, feeling the cold metal inscribed with the name of his sword. "Sento," he whispered, more to himself than to you, a note of disbelief in his voice. You, seemingly unperturbed, purred under his touch, rubbing your head against his hand.

A soft chuckle escaped Kenshi as he continued to stroke your calico fur. "Well, Sento, it seems we have a namesake here. What brings you to my midnight training session?" he mused, as if expecting you to respond. You, of course, remained silent, but your presence was oddly comforting.

The night air carried a hint of mystery, and Kenshi, guided by instincts honed through years of combat, couldn't shake the feeling that this encounter held significance beyond the surface. "Perhaps you're a guardian spirit, watching over me," he mused, half-jokingly, yet a flicker of curiosity danced in his sightless sockets.

As if in response, you nudged his hand affectionately, a silent reassurance. Kenshi's lips curved into a genuine smile, a rare expression that spoke of a connection forged in the quietude of the night.

"Maybe I'm not as alone as I thought," he muttered, more to himself than to you.

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deadtired-highkeyenergetic · 2 months

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You're Not Alone (pt 2)

And here is the requested part 2 of vampire spawn!Tav/reader! I'm pretty sure I injected more fluff into this one after the very dark part 1.

Taglist (I guess I could do one in the future): @silverfangmarks @astarioffsimpmain

Summary: You and Astarion deal with the aftermath that is you being turned into a vampire spawn.

After the events of Cazador’s palace, the group quietly head back to the inn, covered in blood and downcast. Astarion keeps his distance from your limp body gently cradled by Halsin, gaze fixed on the ground and disappears the moment the party reaches the inn.

“Where is the vampire spawn going?” Lae’zel hisses. “He is the reason why Y/N is like this, he should be here.”

“Leave him be, Lae’zel. He’s taken the events hard, give him some space for now.” Halsin chides, setting you down on a bed. Your physical injuries can be easily healed with some blood, fortunately Cazador hadn’t gotten far with his poem before the party had crashed the ritual so your scars wouldn’t be as bad as Astarion’s but the main issue is the emotional scarring. Halsin had hoped Astarion would remain by your side so that when you woke up, he could help you but the vampire had gone off by himself and Halsin wasn’t sure when he’d return.

The druid slices open a wound on his wrist and lets the blood drip into your slightly ajar mouth. Your throat bobs instinctively, swallowing the precious fluid but your eyes remain close. At least you’re drinking the blood, that was enough at this stage. He continues letting his blood drip into your mouth until your eyelids flutter and you stir slightly.

“Y/N.” He says. You groan in response, eyes opening blearily.

This place smelled different, looked different. You were in a different place, where were you? You shoot up, eyes wide and muscles tensed, ready to fight. A quick glance around the place told you you were in a room of sorts and the only other person around was Halsin.

“Where am I?” You croak. Your body felt cold, sore and you wanted nothing more than to fall into a deep slumber.

“You’re at Elfsong Tavern’s Inn. Don’t worry, you’re safe now. Cazador is gone, he can’t harm you anymore,” Halsin reassures you, but keeps a distance away to give you some space. You press a hand to your head as memories come rushing back to you. Astarion’s siblings coming for him, you defending him, Cazador appearing and kidnapping you, Astarion’s cry for you, Cazador using you as Astarion’s substitute in the ritual, the pain that followed, the others rescuing you, Astarion holding you tightly in his arms, comforting you…

'“Astarion,” you whisper, “where…”

“He’ll be back soon,” Halsin says, but you can tell he’s lying.

“You don’t know!” You snap accusingly, “stop lying! Where did he go?”

“Calm down, Y/N. After we brought you back, Astarion left for somewhere, although none of us know where or how long he will be gone. He still hasn’t returned.” Halsin raises his hands in surrender. “I didn’t want to worry you after all you’ve just been through.”

“It’s just that simple! Just tell me! Like that!” You snarl, fangs bared. Halsin leans away so that your fangs are far enough from him and you realise what you’ve just done.

“I’m sorry. It’s not even your fault.” You sit back down on the bed, shoulders hunched. “Everything’s been so…much.”

Halsin shakes his head, “it’s quite alright. You have a lot to adjust to, with your new…condition.”

“At least the tadpole still lets me walk in the sun,” you give a hollow laugh, “if Astarion’s ability to do so is anything to go by.”

You smile sadly at the bed beneath you. “Things can never go back to the way it was, and I was so looking forward to doing so many things once we had our tadpoles removed too.”

Halsin remains quiet and you sit there in the silence with him, tears sliding down your cold cheeks. You curl up, hugging your knees to your chest, causing tears to stain your kneecaps. The warmth you once had is all gone now, replaced by a chill that reminds you of what you have lost, of what you once had.

“Are you still hungry?” Halsin quietly breaks the silence, extending his wrist towards you. You shake your head despite the sanguine hunger gnawing at you, afraid of what the act of feeding solidifies.

“Then I will take my leave first. Call me if you need anything.” The druid rises from the stool, sending you a look of concern but leaves you with your thoughts.

You stare at your hands, your cold undead hands and bite your lip. Your new fangs pierce through skin with ease, drawing a little blood and your nostrils flare instinctively at the scent. The sanguine hunger roars again, louder this time. It craves blood, it demands blood but you force it down as far as it can go. You hate it, you hate your new condition. You hate the thought that once your tadpole has been removed, you’ll never be able to enjoy the sun again, feel its warmth. You finally truly understand why Astarion had been so adamant about ascending, the temptation to do the same is strong.

Suddenly, a new scent floods your nose.

“Who’s there?” You call, glaring in the direction of the scent. Astarion steps into view, smiling a little too widely — a sign that he was nervous.

“You’re awake, darling. That’s good.” He moves to sit on your bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve just been turned into a vampire spawn?” He flinches at your words and you wish you could take them back.

“Sorry.” You mutter. “It’s just…a lot to take in.”

Astarion quietly looks down, fidgeting. The silence between the two of you isn’t the comfortable kind, the tension in the air waiting for one of you to cut it so you decide to take the initiative.

“What’s it like, being a vampire spawn. Is there anything I have to take note of?”

“It’s…something that takes time to get used to.” Astarion murmurs.

“Well, good thing I have you to guide me, don’t I?” You smile, reaching over to take his hand in yours. Both your hands are cold now, freezing to the touch, reminding Astarion of one more thing he has lost to Cazador.

“Even when permanently dead he still haunts me,” Astarion mutters, squeezing your hand tightly. “How badly did he scar you?”

The concern in his ruby red eyes is genuine, a softness you’ve missed filling the crimson orbs. You turn around despite everything in your body screaming at you not to, feeling yourself shake as you slip your top off, flashes of memories you’d rather keep buried burning through your mind. Astarion suppresses the angry growl that threatens to spill from his throat, hatred for Cazador burning once more and wishes he could drag the vampire lord from wherever dead vampires went just so he could make Cazador pay with pain a million times worse than yours.

You swallow as bile rises to your throat, the overwhelming scent of your blood filling your nose, screams of pain flooding your mind, then the scent you’ve saved as Astarion’s fills your nose as he wraps his arms around you, whispers of love falling from his lips.

“It’s alright darling, I’ve got you. I promise you’re safe. Focus on my voice, breathe together with me.” He whispers into your ear. “In…out…in…out…”

Through the haze, you struggle to regain control of your body, tears blurring your vision once more but with Astarion’s help, you find a breathing rhythm and grasp tightly onto it.

In, out. In, out.

When the room shifts back into focus, you realise that the scent of your blood wasn’t just a figment of your imagination. Long claw marks decorate your arms, your clawed fingertips stained crimson while the sheets beneath soak up whatever has dripped onto it.

“Shit, I’m a mess,” you whimper.

“Everyone is,” Astarion reassures you, pulling a bottle out. “Here, you’ll need to drink this. All of it. Don’t leave a single drop.”

The sweet scent of blood fills the air as he uncorks the bottle and your hunger growls, eager to lap it all up but you push his hand and the bottle away. “I’m not hungry.”

“Don’t be stubborn,” Astarion scowls. “I’m not going to let you starve yourself to death, trust me, you do not want to be starving as a vampire. It’s worse than death.”

“I don’t want to drink another person’s blood,” you croak weakly. The very thought of doing so makes you want to vomit, but your body says otherwise.

“It’s bear blood. I went out to hunt and came across a bear,” Astarion swirls the bottle. “I promise I’m not lying.”

You cautiously take the bottle from him, lifting it up to your lips. You have to trust him on this, it’s not like you know how bear blood smells like as a vampire. Locking gazes with him, you tilt the bottle, letting the sweet liquid wash down your throat. Strange new flavours burst in your mouth but it’s a pleasant taste and sends a tingle down your spine. Soon, you’re greedily sucking the bottle dry until there is not a drop left.

“There, not so bad, is it?” Astarion leans in to give you a peck on your cheek. “Now, your instincts should help but this is the best place to drink from on a wrist.”

He points to a spot on his wrist and lifts it up to your lips, “give it a try.”

You eye him warily and he sighs at your reluctance, “I can’t keep giving you bottles of blood to drink from, love. You’re going to need to learn how to feed yourself.”

“But I don’t want to,” you mumble. Astarion frowns but doesn’t push the matter further, instead he reaches for the medical kit Halsin has left behind and starts to clean up the dried blood on your arms. You let him, silently watching as the cloth starts to turn brown.

“There, all beautiful and blemish-free again,” he presses kisses along the length of both your arms, tossing the cloth aside. “Being…this doesn’t change anything about you, love. You’re still the same person, and that is more than enough for me.”

He cups your cheeks, letting his thumbs run over the skin of your cheeks. Leaning in, he presses his forehead against yours and feels you wrap your arms around him. With a small smile, he pulls you in, feeling your head rest on his shoulder as he embraces you tightly, breathing in your new scent. One of his hands gently rests on the back of your head, fingers running through your matted hair.

“You’re not alone. I’ll always be here for you, right by your side whenever you need me. That I promise. I won’t let you go through what I went through, I won’t let you be alone in this.” He swears, holding you tightly. “We’ll face this together, side by side.”

You clutch desperately at his tunic, crying for what feels like the millionth time today into his chest and he lets you, ignoring the way your tears dampen and stain his clothes. Instead, he curls around you, wishing he could shield you from the world and the suffering he knows is to come and cherishes the way you cling onto him, the way you so clearly trust him with everything you have. No one had ever bared their soul like this to him, even all his prey had always kept a thing or two from him, no matter how sweet the lies he used to ensnare them.

You were different. You had let your walls down around him, bared your sweet neck at him, let him drink the first night he had tried drinking your blood instead of staking him on the spot and in return he had fallen for you. He let you have his back, let you into the shattered pieces he called his heart and let you see his broken self, hoping it wouldn’t scare you off and it hadn’t. Now you were the broken one and you had let him see it all, returning the favour was only natural but it wasn’t the only reaosn he was doing all this. He wanted to help you without needing anything in return, he wanted to see you smile again, he wanted to…he wanted to show you how much he truly loved you.

He had changed, that much he knew. It wasn’t long ago when he’d have chosen to ascend no matter the cost, but that night when he had seen you bound by glyphs with Infernal being carved into your back, all he could think about was how if he ascended you would be sacrificed too. He couldn’t bring himself to do that, he couldn’t sacrifice you no matter what he would gain in return.

He wouldn’t have needed to consider that if you hadn’t been turned into a vampire spawn.

Years of self-hatred gnaw away at him, reminding him of his failure, hisweakness that had led to this whole mess. If only he had been stronger, faster, better, then maybe you wouldn’t have to suffer his fate, the fate of a vampire spawn. His thoughts tear into him again and again, berating him, a whirling wind of destruction that threaten to unravel him. Taking a deep breath, he closes his eyes, fighting the darkness that threatens to drown him. He doesn’t have time for this, he has to help you adjust, to be there whenever you’re drowning and he can’t do that if he’s wallowing in self-deprecation. Those damned thoughts can wait another day.

A quick glance down lets him know you’ve fallen asleep in his arms, worn out from recent events and he lets out a soft sigh, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“I meant everything I said, my love,” he says, knowing you can’t hear his words but that’s fine by him. He doesn’t want you to hear his next words anyways. “I love you.”

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x tav #astarion romance #astarion ancunin #astarion #tav x astarion #bg3 tav #tav #baldurs gate tav #astarion angst #astarion fluff

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elyvorg · 3 months

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Kieran Part Bonus: I AM SO PROUD OF MY BOY

And now for my really actually final analysis post about Kieran, covering both the epilogue and also his scenes in the League Club room once you’ve finished that. Somehow both of these relatively short pieces of content still managed to be packed with delightful nuance showcasing both how Kieran’s still struggling with his issues and yet also how much he’s grown since his main arc. They are absolutely lovely and fill me with so many warm happy feelings about my boy.

Honestly, it’s remarkable, not just from a Pokémon-writing perspective but as a piece of fiction in general, to have this kind of satisfying follow-up for a character arc. Usually once a character’s arc reaches a resolution, their story just ends there, and we don’t get to see more of how they’re processing what they’ve been through and learning to grow further in the aftermath. So it’s a really wonderful breath of fresh air to get to see something like that for once here with Kieran! The Pokémon writers absolutely did not have to make the epilogue and postgame content focused on showcasing this, and yet they did. I am, once again, pleasantly boggled by how much they cared about doing Kieran’s story justice. Just, wowzers, man. There really is no more appropriate word for my amazement than that.

(This is an epilogue, if you will, to my previous two analysis posts discussing Kieran’s character arc in The Teal Mask and The Indigo Disk! Reading those before this is probably recommended.)

Before even getting into things that are strictly from the epilogue itself, can I just say: I really love that Kieran took a mental health break from Blueberry Academy to give him some time to process things? (Okay, the game only calls it a “break”, but let’s be real, it is for his mental health, and this is Good.) It just makes me very happy that the writing acknowledged that he’d probably need something like that after what he’s been through instead of going straight back to business as normal at school – and in an in-story sense, it’s lovely that Kieran realised he needed this and didn’t try and force himself to just keep going as if nothing had happened. He’s starting to learn to take care of himself and not push himself way too hard!

Making new friends

The first lovely sign of Kieran’s growth that we see in the epilogue is that, not only does he want to catch up with you, he also wants to meet your friends from Paldea! He must have spent some time during his break thinking about the fact that you mentioned you had friends from there.

And the thing is, with Kieran’s insecurities, it would have been so easy for him to slip into a mindset of “your friends are probably way cooler than me, why would you need me”. But instead of letting himself get caught up in that jealousy spiral again, he fought against it and did the healthy thing of asking to meet them himself. Hopefully he can become friends with them too and then he’ll have nothing to feel jealous about! He outright says when he meets them, “Any friend of [yours] is a friend of mine!” Look at him go. (Arven should take notes on how not to act insecure about one’s best friend having other friends, because damn, Kieran’s managing to be more well-adjusted than him now.)

All this is also just a sign that Kieran’s hoping to try and make more friends in general. He’s such an introvert that he must have figured that’d be easier for him to do with people for whom he has a mutual friend to get to know them through. Plus, if they’re your friends, then he already has a guarantee that they’ll be good and nice people. Way more manageable for him than trying to approach complete randos.

And really, it’s such a huge remarkable thing for Kieran that he is trying to make friends now. Friends, plural! This is the kid who used to be so lonely and shunned by others that his big dream was to one day be like the ogre who, according to him, doesn’t care that it’s all alone. And maybe then, if he managed that, he’d be able to befriend the ogre – just that one other person who is also alone and outcast. It never even crossed his mind to try and imagine that one day he could be confident and worthy enough to just… have some human friends. That wasn’t even an option in his head – it was “learn to not care that he’s alone” or nothing.

And yet look at Kieran now, actively reaching out to try and make new friends! I am so proud of him.

Learning to ask for help

Soon after you meet up with Kieran, it becomes apparent that something is Very Wrong with his sister. According to Kieran’s account, it was shortly after he sent you the letter that Carmine became possessed, so it’s not that the letter was secretly a call for help in which he couldn’t bring himself to admit the actual problem.

And even now that you’re here… Kieran wasn’t going to tell you about this problem at all until Carmine happened to wander up and start mochi-dancing in front of you. He tries to play the whole thing off like it’s totally normal and she’s definitely just… excited to see you???, even though he has to know that doesn’t make any sense at all. On some level this is just because it’s really scary to admit to himself that something is very wrong and he doesn’t have a clue how to fix it. But it’s also because… he still doesn’t feel like he has the right to ask you and your friends for help.

This is one of the ways in which Kieran’s issues and low sense of self-worth from before are still lingering and have not just been magically, instantly fixed. While he may be making a conscious effort to fight through his insecurities to try and make more friends, he hasn’t started consciously tackling everything that was holding him back just yet. It seems like he imagines that asking your friends for help, these people he’s only just met, would just make him a burden on them and maybe spoil any chance he had of actually becoming their friend himself. (Although, even if you’d come to visit him alone, I suspect he’d still struggle to ask even just you for help, simply due to his old ingrained mindset that he’s not worthy enough to deserve it.)

Happily for Kieran, your friends are all good people who instantly unthinkingly offer to help without him even needing to ask them! Kieran’s sheer surprise and gratitude when this happens is so telling about his insecurities for why he didn’t feel he could ask, but it’s also lovely to see him starting to realise that his instinctive way of thinking about this is mistaken. Welcome to having friends, Kieran, this is how it works actually! Most people are good and will be happy to help out a friend in need! It’s okay to need help sometimes!

There’s another very innocuous line that I find interestingly telling about Kieran’s mindset regarding this. When you’re all at the community centre wanting to use the TV, Kieran laments that it’s stuck playing the tourism ad because the caretaker hid the remote, so Arven immediately suggests you all look for it. And Kieran reacts, in surprise, “Why didn’t I think of that?” It reads as largely rhetorical, but… it’s a good question.

Why didn’t Kieran think of just trying to find the remote? Because he’s spent so long stuck in a mindset where, if things are bad for him, it’s just what he deserves for being weak and there’s nothing he can do about it. His response to his problems during the main storyline was to completely separately fixate on making himself Stronger so that, in theory, problems would just stop happening to him entirely. It never occurred to him to try and just face and deal with his problems directly – at least not until the climactic battle with Terapagos, which was the first time he ever found the courage to take such an approach – so the notion to do so still isn’t quite habitual in his mind just yet.

Hopefully Kieran asking why he didn’t think of that wasn’t quite so rhetorical, and he was reflecting on it himself a little when he said it. He ought to realise that actually, taking action to directly solve his problems is a good thing and something he should strive to do more! He has already begun to do so in some ways by reaching out in an attempt to make more friends, at least.

Solving the problem

Kieran sure does get a lot more practice at Directly Solving Problems thanks to the events that go on to occur that night, doesn’t he. I love that the epilogue’s plot, while ostensibly just there to give players an opportunity to catch Pecharunt, is also a narrative that exists to let Kieran get to be a hero alongside you.

It’s somewhat low key, but Kieran definitely gets pretty freaked out about everything that’s happening. Which is really perfectly reasonable – though the effects of the possession are incredibly silly, it’s still got to be genuinely frightening to see people he knows getting controlled against their will by some unknown force, especially when this includes his own family. (One detail I love is that the game uses that lack of a highlight in his eyes during certain lines to communicate the fear he's feeling and trying not-so-successfully to hide; it’s a small thing, but it works so well.)

Once you’ve fought off his possessed grandparents, Kieran starts to panic, convinced it’s only a matter of time before it gets him (even though the evidence of how exactly the possession occurs is right there if he’d just stop to think about it for a moment). On some level, he must still have this sense that, if it can get all these people he looks up to, surely it’ll get him too who’s so much weaker than them. His inferiority complex is still there and affecting him, especially in this stressful situation.

Good thing Kieran has you by his side, the strongest coolest friend ever whom he knows he can rely on! If you hadn’t been there to reassure him and snap him out of it, he really might have lost himself to his panic. Or he might have just not even tried to battle the possessed people and do something about all of this in the first place – see the earlier point about how him facing problems directly is still not instinctive to him. He’s able to do so here, but a lot of that is probably thanks to being able to follow your lead. Still, this is bound to help him get better at doing so on his own in future!

Kieran’s also still a bit too liable to feel like things are his fault even when they really aren’t. He blames himself for not warning Arven and Penny about the mochi in time, even though he was literally about to do so when Pecharunt showed up and sniped mochi directly into their mouths. That can’t be called Kieran’s fault at all! He tried! (And, hey, it’s not like you made any attempt to warn them either.) But he still feels responsible for it anyway.

And he’s also still rather defeatist when it comes to facing Strong Opponents in battle. Kieran couldn’t defeat Nemona earlier in the day, so when it comes down to facing off against her in order to get to Pecharunt, he just feels like he can’t do it, end of. Really, that’s not necessarily the case – since this is an emergency and not a friendly battle for sport, there’s no reason you have to beat Nemona in a fair 6-on-6. Anything to get past her will do; the two of you could have taken her on in a 12-on-6 double battle, perhaps! Kieran did not need to momentarily feel useless in this situation, but he did, because not being able to win against someone still equates in his mind to being No Good At All. Kieran, nooo.

Happily, the narrative provides Kieran with something else to do with himself while you fight Nemona so that he is very decidedly not useless in the slightest – fighting off the entire town’s worth of people behind you??? That is equally as necessary as taking down Nemona, something without which you’d never have managed to get to Pecharunt, and it must take some incredible battling skill to be able to hold off that many opponents at once. Like, dang, Kieran. I really hope he’s able to reflect on this in the aftermath and realise how incredibly strong and cool that was of him, because it was.

(He was holding his own one-against-many, just like he always admired Ogerpon for doing!)

Kieran’s fear and pessimism also show through just a tiny bit as you’re fighting Pecharunt at the end, when he reacts to the fact that you were able to damage it. Apparently he was afraid that this thing would be completely invulnerable and it just wouldn’t be possible for even someone as amazing as you to beat it and stop the curse. Yikes, that must have been a scary thought. But still, it all worked out in the end! Kieran’s learning that even when things are scary and feel overwhelming, by facing up to them and doing his best, it’ll usually turn out okay! Especially because he’s not alone and has friends by his side to support him now.

And, hey, one way or another, it seems like the events of the epilogue did help give Kieran that last little push he needed to decide to go back to Blueberry Academy! I imagine he was already thinking about doing so – he is actually a very stubborn and determined person at his core, so I don’t think he could ever have been considering just giving up on it – but all of this probably helped give him the confidence to make that leap. The thought of apologising to everyone for how he acted must still be incredibly daunting – but, he’s begun to realise that he can face scary things!

His old Kitakami team

During the epilogue’s battles, I was absolutely delighted to see Kieran send out Poliwrath, one of the Pokémon he used in Teal Mask but not in Indigo Disk – because this is proof that he’s been reconnecting with the Pokémon friends he left behind back then! As it turns out, the rest of his team for these multi battles is the same as his Champion team, with only the Polis switched, but even so, Poliwrath’s presence is enough to be a promising sign for all of his old Pokémon friends.

And this gets further confirmed by his dialogue with Arven in the clubroom! Arven asks Kieran which of his Pokémon he’s closest to, and he mentions his Hydrapple (which has been with him since it was an Applin), his Poliwrath and Politoed, his Yanmega, and his Furret! This accounts for all of the Pokémon Kieran had in his Teal Mask battles up to the third one, after which he started to fixate hard on getting stronger to prove himself to you, so these are likely all of the Pokémon that were friends of his from the start. And he still considers them friends now, which means he reconnected with them all and apologised as necessary for any leaving them behind/thinking they were weak/etc that he might have done! Yes good, Justice For Furret was had, I could not be happier.

(Okay, we never saw the second Poli back then, but the way he talks about both Polis together suggests they’re a pair, so I imagine they were both his friends back then, too. He also never used Applin against you before evolving it into Dipplin – which is fair, Applin is very not good in battles – so the lack of us seeing another Poliwag/whirl is probably because he felt he needed to use a diverse team that didn’t have two of the same species. He doesn’t have to battle with all of his Pokémon for them to still be his friends, after all! He still doesn’t battle with most of them now in the clubroom battles either, which use his same Champion team, but that doesn’t stop them from being his precious pals!)

(On the other hand, since there is no sign nor mention of them in the postgame, I suspect that, like Cramorant before them, his Gliscor, Shiftry and Probopass from the final Kitakami battle got released. Kieran would have only had them for like a day or two during the events of Teal Mask, since he only caught them after he fixated on getting stronger, so I doubt he’d grown very attached to them during that time. Still, that’s okay, because hey, he did make them stronger, which is probably all they ever expected from him when they joined his team.)

Nemona is Good

One extremely delightful aspect of the epilogue and beyond is Kieran’s interactions with Nemona. It turns out that her outlook on battling is exactly the kind of thing Kieran needed to help regain a healthier view on it himself!

His feelings about his own battling skills are still very all-or-nothing at the beginning of the epilogue. When Nemona excitedly declares that she’s heard he’s really good at battling, Kieran’s pretty dismissive of that idea. He couldn’t beat you, therefore that means he’s Not Good At It, right? (Kieran, no.) He also says that Nemona “destroyed” him once they’ve battled – but based on the fact that she has nothing but praise for how good he is, I very strongly suspect that he actually gave her a really tough fight, and he only framed it that negatively because losing at all still makes his inferiority complex blow things way out of proportion.

Happily, delightfully, Nemona tells Kieran exactly what he has always needed to hear this whole time, which is that it shouldn’t matter whether you win or lose, because battles are fun either way! And with a moment to reflect on that, he agrees… yeah, they are, he had a lot of fun!

We’d heard from Drayton that Kieran was always a kid who’d deeply enjoyed battling, from the very beginning. But it seems that somewhere along the way he’d stopped loving it so much, at least when he’s the one battling - probably because he’d often lose, which would trigger his inferiority complex and make him feel bad. We only saw a small glimpse of his passion for battling ourselves at the beginning of Teal Mask, mostly when he watched you battle his sister, and a little bit in his own early battles with you, but he still felt bad over losing, poor kid.

But with Nemona’s help, Kieran’s been able to remember just how much he always loved battling and can just enjoy himself with it again! In your clubroom battles with him, he has a line just before he Terastallises where he says “these feelings never change” – and though he doesn’t specify what feelings he’s talking about, the one thing about Kieran that has never changed this entire time, even if he sort of lost sight of it for a while along the way, is the thrill he gets from battling! He also says in another line that he’s “having a blast” – which is phrasing that Nemona uses that Kieran never has before, so apparently he picked that up from her? Aww. I am so glad he could meet her; she is exactly the breath of battle-loving fresh air he always needed.

Kieran’s clubroom conversation with Nemona is also very good and helps him let go of his all-or-nothing mindset a little more. Nemona praises him for how quickly he climbed the ranks of the BB League, which he insists is meaningless because he pushed himself unhealthily hard and then still couldn’t beat you in the end. But Nemona helps him reframe it and think of it as: he was incredibly dedicated, and it must mean he really loves Pokémon and battling, which is true! This has to help Kieran view his training arc in a more positive light instead of focusing on the negative aspects like his toxic obsession and lack of self-care. Hopefully if/when he starts training hard again, he’ll be able to feel better about it and not associate it with all the bad things, thanks to Nemona! (But also, Kieran, please remember to not neglect self-care again, that was bad. I imagine he has indeed got the message about that, since the way he talks about that aspect in this conversation seems tinged with regret.)

Carmine is Trying

Another thing we see in the epilogue – admittedly only a small glimpse near the end, but it’s something – is that Kieran’s relationship with his sister seems to have gotten a little bit healthier? They each make equal-opportunity Sibling Banter jabs at each other, and Kieran doesn’t slump and shrink and look so defeated when she bites back against one of his. There’s probably still some ways to go here on their dynamic becoming completely truly healthy, but it’s definitely progress from before, which is good to see.

I think Carmine really must have reflected on her role in Kieran’s breakdown and is trying in her own fumbling awkward way to do better by him now. A delightful sign of this is one of her scenes in the clubroom, in which she resolves to be less protective of Kieran, even if it’ll make her lonelier without him around as much. That’s exactly what she needs to do! After all, this whole thing started because Carmine couldn’t bear to let her brother endure even the tiniest amount of badfeels that would have come from learning he happened to miss out on meeting the ogre. Carmine has realised on some level that she needs to have more faith in Kieran and his ability to endure and get through stuff on his own, rather than trying too hard to protect him from everything ever, which just results in coddling him and stifling his possibility for growth. She still does want to look out for him from a distance and be able to help if he really does need it, but she’s trying not to overdo it any more. Yes good, I am proud of her too.

Reconciling with his schoolmates

I said already in the Indigo Disk post that it’s incredibly brave of Kieran to resolve to apologise to everyone he hurt and make amends, and this is still true. That has to have been so scary, but he went and did it anyway! It seems he even apologised to the people who cared about him, such as his sister and Amarys, for worrying them with his behaviour – which also means he has managed to comprehend the fact that people cared about him, even back then when he was at his most unlikeable.

And by the sounds of what he says in his clubroom scenes, most people took his apologies well and are talking to him like normal now, which has to have been such a relief. It means a lot that Kieran wasn’t expecting anything of the sort and apologised anyway despite expecting backlash, simply because it was the right thing to do – but hey, most people are nice and can probably tell he was decidedly Not Himself during that time and are willing to put the past behind them! Social interaction isn’t quite as scary as he’d used to think, it turns out!

Even then, some things are still a bit weird, and with how far-reaching his impact as Champion was, Kieran’s bound to keep having to deal with this for a while. There must keep being more people he was a jerk to that he still hasn’t apologised to yet, people being intimidated by him because they don’t realise he’s changed, constant reminders of some of the hurtful things he said and did back then. Making amends is going to be a pretty long-term thing, but Kieran is putting in the effort to do so all the same, because it’s the right thing to do, and he is so brave.

Someone who is making this harder than it needs to be is Drayton, because of freaking course he is. He still insists on rubbing in the “ex-Champ” thing, even though Kieran has made it clear he does not appreciate being called that (of course, he no longer minds that he’s not Champion any more, but the fact that Drayton insists on constantly reminding him of his past self has to sting). On the one hand, Drayton is still concerned about Kieran in his own way, because he does effectively ask if Kieran’s eating better meals now, but on the other hand their entire clubroom interaction features him deliberately dodging Kieran’s genuine attempts to just engage with him in an effort to make amends, and, geez. This is exactly what he wanted from Kieran all along, and yet he is somehow still not satisfied. Seriously, Drayton.

At least Drayton is the only one of the Elite Four to be like this, and the others seem to be on good terms with Kieran now! Look at Lacey insisting that the past is in the past when Kieran acts confused that she’d want to help him after he was such a jerk to her. (Someone needs to take notes there, Drayton.) And it seems like Kieran’s got another good friend in Crispin, who’s in the same class as him! Our boy is making so many new friends and it is wonderful.

Of course, his insecurities are still around, and he’s still a little too liable to assume he’s doing something Wrong in social situations, as we see in a couple of his clubroom interactions. That one with Arven about his Pokémon is an example, as Arven phrased things as if he expected Kieran to have just one single closest Pokémon buddy, and Kieran seemed to feel bad that he actually had multiple candidates and couldn’t pick – but happily, Arven reassured him that it’s cool to not be able to choose, too! And in Kieran’s interaction with Crispin, he reflexively apologises for not having watched the latest episode of a show, but Crispin calls him out on the apology, and Kieran is able to question himself as to why he apologised and conclude that he didn’t need to, because it’s not like Crispin’s going to mind.

He is learning! He does not need to feel like he has to perfectly match his conversation partner’s expectations in order to be their friend! Kieran’s approach to his own issues has become so healthy and filled with self-reflection and growth, and I am so proud of him.

Friendship with you

Kieran is also able to be a whole lot healthier about his friendship with you, now that you’re properly friends again after everything! Possibly my favourite completely innocuous line in the epilogue is when he casually mentions that you and he became friends during the school trip to Kitakami. This is actually huge, because Kieran had spent so long utterly convinced that you couldn’t possibly have meant it when you called him a friend back then, not after the lie and all of his issues about being too weak to deserve it. But now, he’s been able to reflect on that and realise… of course you meant it. Of course you always wanted to be his friend, right from the very beginning! It wasn’t on purpose of you that he got left out of meeting Ogerpon at all, because you’re a good person and you wouldn’t do something like that, and he never actually deserved that after all.

(Perhaps sometime during his break, he had a proper talk with his sister about what happened and why she lied, and Carmine finally got to fully express that you and she never meant to hurt him and shun him with that.)

Kieran is still not over his idolisation of you, mind you. He reacts to you being the one to find the TV remote of all completely mundane things with “Wowzers! ‘Course you found it first!” – which, really isn’t a wowzers or an of course? Your magical protagonist powers do not and should not extend to this, and yet they still do in Kieran’s head. But even though he still views you this way, Kieran is so much healthier about it now. He’s no longer bitter and jealous and beating himself up for not being as perfect as he thinks you are, since nobody is (not even you, not really) – instead, he’s just so incredibly thrilled that he actually gets to be friends with someone so cool!

I really love that the devs went and gave Kieran a new losing animation for his clubroom battles, too. His previous ones always had him being varying levels of upset about losing, but not any more! He just stares in wide-eyed awe at your amazingness, and then breaks into a big smile and thanks you for the battle, because he still had great fun even though he lost! And he’s able to freely admit that he looks up to you because you’re so strong, or, in an optional line in the epilogue, he admits that he’s jealous that your friends are all really good people. He still has those feelings, but he’s able to healthily express them now without letting them twist him into something harmful.

It seems like he’s still a little insecure about if he deserves to be friends with you, though, based on a few small things. When he asks you for a trade in the clubroom, he appears hesitant to ask, as if he’s not sure he has the right to, and if you say no – even though there’s every chance this is just because you want some time to decide on an appropriately special Pokémon to give him – he slumps, probably having had his sensitivity to rejection triggered. And even once you’ve traded, he can later ask if you’re absolutely sure he can really keep the Pokémon you traded him, because he can’t quite believe he could get to have such a cool gift from you of all people. Aww, Kieran. Hopefully his hypothetical future interactions with you will help squash this insecurity of his further, because he deserves to feel comfortable in his friendship with his best friend!!!

Ogerpon

Another seemingly-innocuous but extremely good line in the clubroom is that Kieran can ask you if Ogerpon’s doing well and say that he thinks she’ll be pretty happy with you. He says this in a completely casual way, with no hint of bitterness – which tells us that he’s no longer jealous that you caught Ogerpon! It makes sense that he wouldn’t be, because he doesn’t need her acknowledgement any more like he used to think he did in order to feel worth something. He’s already got acknowledgement and self-worth and happiness now for so many other reasons, after all! So he can just be selflessly happy for Ogerpon that she’s found a trainer she can feel safe and happy with too, without being irrationally preoccupied over what she thinks of him.

It is interesting to see in this dialogue that Kieran initially calls her “the ogre” before correcting himself to “Ogerpon” – apparently, he’s only quite recently made an effort to shift what he calls her in his head. It’s true that in his reaction to her in the Champion battle, he did indeed just call her “the ogre”. It’d make sense that he didn’t actually work to shift his mental idea of what to call her during his Indigo Disk arc, despite knowing her species name, because the name “Ogerpon” likely brought back too many painful reminders of everything that happened in Kitakami. It was probably easier for him to just stick with “the ogre” and try to forget anything had changed. But he’s okay with what happened now!

And maybe Kieran trying to make a habit of using her name now is a sign that he’s started to realise that Ogerpon is her own individual who’s not quite the same as the mental image he always had of what “the ogre” was like? Maybe. It’s hard to be sure. Unfortunately the epilogue/postgame can’t do much with Ogerpon because it’s always optional for her to be on your team or even in your game at all (since you could in theory have released her or traded her away). But we can at least hypothetically imagine that in Kieran’s continued interactions with you, he’ll get the chance to hang out with Ogerpon a little and come to understand her better. It certainly seems now that he’d be able to hang out with both you and her without feeling uncomfortably jealous, which is a good start! (And Terapagos is on the list of ‘people’ he owes an apology to, so let’s imagine he gets a chance to do that, too.)

Moving forward

The “climax”, such as there is one, of Kieran’s mini-arc of scenes in the clubroom is him excitedly telling you that he’s had the BB League drop him from their rankings. Although your character seems a little bewildered by it (they are still a bit of a social dumbass), this is in fact an extremely good thing for Kieran! He’s taking a step back from the competitive side of things for the sake of his mental health, so that he can untangle himself from the toxically-obsessive mindset that he was in back when he was only focused on winning! Look at Kieran doing all this good self-reflection and self-care, it is so lovely to see. He doesn’t even seem to view this as any sign of him failing, either – he’s just comfortably acknowledging that he needs to do this for now for his own sake and there’s no shame in that.

Kieran seems pretty sure that he is going to want to get back into competing once he’s cleared his head a bit, but he’s already so much more casual and healthy about it! He says he’s going to shoot for the Champion title again, and even if you respond with a friendly taunt of “You still won’t beat me!”, he takes it so well. He’s genuinely okay now with the thought that he might never quite be good enough to beat you – he just wants to have fun trying. Look at how far he’s come!

In the meantime, while he sorts his head out, he just wants to spend time with his Pokémon (who mean a lot to him as far more than just sources of battling strength!) and his human friends (whom he has so many of now???) and figure out what he really wants to do with himself from here. Good for him!

Kieran’s still just a kid, and seeing him already learn how to grow from his mistakes and face up to his lingering issues and be just so emotionally healthy about things now is such a promising sign for wherever he’s going to end up in future. I love that the epilogue and these postgame clubroom scenes put so much effort into showing us this about Kieran now, reassuring us that he really is going to be okay. I truly could not be more proud of or happy for my boy.

#pokemon #pokemon sv #pokemon scarlet and violet #the hidden treasure of area zero #mochi mayhem #pokemon kieran #kieran pokemon #trainer kieran #rival kieran #character analysis #ramble #friends

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love-toxin · 1 year

Note

#the merchant not being IN the shooting range like he is in re4 gives me thots abt being bent over the counter too-//SHOT #luis promising u a prize if u beat his high score (its him he's the prize)

so u just gonna spoonfeed us some ideas then leave us hungry ⁉️⁉️⁉️ smh my head get to work /j

>:)

(cws: gn!reader, semi-public sex, jealousy, mutual pining, teasing)

You know Luis isn't gonna keep quiet while you're shooting away--honestly he has to stop himself from shifting around or adjusting himself because just the sight of you with a gun in your hands turns him on. He loves the way your shoulders tense when he gives you a compliment, how you glance over your shoulder and your grip goes slack when he flashes you a wink and a grin, because you just can't help being cute. You can act tough all you want, but you're adorable and he thinks you know that. If not, well, he's here to remind you.

"How about some pointers, mi vida?"

"I know how to shoot, Luis."

You huff and puff but you don't reject his approach, you don't shove him off when his chest meets your back and certainly not when his hands clasp gently over yours. You let him lead you, guide your hands up to aim the sights down at the target, and slowly squeeze the trigger-

"You're good at this, mi amor." His murmuring voice trickles into your ear, resonating louder in the aftermath of the enormous bang of the gun firing and the target blasting into pieces. His fingertips drawing down your arm leave shivers in their place, his warmth bleeding into every inch of skin....it's no wonder you lay the gun down and turn to face him, eyes gleaming with something akin to need that your hands convey so much clearer as they drift up his chest. Luis doesn't even have to speak, you can feel his intentions in the way he reaches around to grab for fistfuls of your cheeks, and lifts you up to sit you on the counter so you can look down on him.

"Oh, don't let me stop you. I'm just admiring the view." Such a tease. He's swift in feeling behind you for the gun and raising it up, his free hand coming round to shelter your head in the crook of his neck and cover your ears as he shoots off a few quick rounds. Looking back, you're met with a smoking gun and an empty chamber, plus six new holes in the last six targets you've spent twenty minutes trying not to miss. You roll your eyes and he tucks the gun away in your case lying just off to the side, but even though he's bracing the small of your back as he does so he never lets go of you completely.

"Alright, Sera. You win."

"I win, mmh? Win what?" He purrs into your skin, nosing your cheek just until you turn your head and find your lips barely a hair's breadth from one another. You really have no idea what your voice alone does to him--nor how lost he could get in your eyes and your warm breath on his skin.

"You win....twenty minutes. You can do whatever you want with me for twenty minutes." You whisper back, quiet and soft like you're afraid people will hear you. All your secrets are safe with him, though. They might be the only ones he can keep.

"Anything?"

"I'm all yours, Luis."

Those words could very well be a siren song to him, they're almost toxic in the way they singe their way through his veins and blur any sound thoughts from his conscience. But even poison would taste sweet if he drank it from you, and when he closes that distance to kiss you, that's all he tastes on your tongue. Sweetness.

"I could do damage in ten. You're generous, amor."

His heart soars as you lean in for him again, lips chasing his like that one kiss wasn't enough for you. Usually it's him that's doing the chasing, that's begging not to be let go, praying he's going to be held for longer than a second--you fill that need like it's as easy as breathing, so maybe you're not quite as poisonous as he might've thought. Loving anyone is dangerous for him...especially when he's so quick to realize it's really love, and not just lust.

Time stands still in those heated presses of mouth to mouth, breathing fresh life into his lungs, yet every other moment seems to blur together before he can try to hold it in place. Your clothing spills over your shoulders and down your thighs, bare skin meeting his palms as he vainly tries to consume as much of you as he can. How desperate he is to lower his head and fall to his knees before you, but you pull his face closer to share another kiss instead--and how could he deny you? This prize is meant to be his, but he gets so much more out of allowing you total control over his body.

Luis wouldn't have thought you could get cuter than that, but the desperate paw of your hands at his belt and the strain for more kisses blows that assumption right away. This clearly isn't a one-way street, you've been craving him just as much as he has you. Maybe this is what you were hoping for. Maybe this is what you've been building up to all this time, and why you've made him spend so much time here just to watch your hands fiddle with the trigger of your gun. He'd like to imagine you were envisioning it was him, and based on the confident way you grab hold of him under his jeans, he was right.

"We're short on time, Luis. Let's make this quick." Your lips against his ear as you stroke him feels like a rebirth, his knees buckling and his eyes halfway to rolling back in his head. How can you make him so weak? There's part of him that wishes it wasn't so, but another part shines through in his wobbly grin, one that whispers out 'I want more of you'.

The tips of his fingers part your kiss and dip into your mouth, your tongue like velvet as you suck down on each one. He just needs them wet but you go further; you lap up every ounce of him so all that remains is you. Your scent, your taste, your touch--much like what you do to him each time you brush by, your presence like golden light he can't help himself from basking in, and himself a heathen that craves your glow over salvation.

And as he pushes each one inside, your nails bite into his bare shoulders at the ache, the stretch ripping a gasp out of your lungs that soon dulls into the sweetest whines Luis has ever heard. You're so eager in your touch yet overwhelmed every time he indulges you, so he expects as much when his hand retracts and he replaces it by guiding the tip to your center. Were you really just pretending to be annoyed by him all this time?

Maybe some of it was real, surely, he knows himself well enough to anticipate it. But all of it is called into question when you grab his hips forward, forcing him to yield to your heat when he's entering you too slow for your taste. Now it's his turn to cry out, each breath stumbling on its way out while you pant and press your lips to his throat, his hips sunk all the way down to meet flush with yours. He must be so deep you can feel him in your stomach, and your crooning voice gasping about how big he is reassures him so. Moving feels almost impossible now, and yes, now that he's gotten this far he'd adore nothing more than to just stay in place and bask in your warmth forever. But you're so needy for him it seems, and the last thing he'll do is disappoint you--and that's what draws him back and pushes his hips forwards, your squeaky moans of ecstasy dragging out that animalistic pace he's been keeping locked up for ages.

"Imagine how much trouble we'd get in if Leon found out," He pants with a chuckle, hurrying his thrusts as the urgency of time finally settles on his shoulders.

"I really don't wanna think about Leon right now," You breathe right back, keening out a whine as your body adjusts to both the intrusion and the force of Luis slamming you back against the wood-grain countertop ad nauseum. As childish a thought as it is, he feels a smirk return as he thinks "good". As great as he is, there's a few things Luis would rather not share with that criminally handsome American if he can help it--and you're one of them.

"How's that feel, mi vida?" The sloppy, thumping rhythm of his belt buckle hitting the counter and your body clinging to every drag drowns out any half-whimper of an answer you give, your breathing peppered by echoes of his name and curses that would even make himself blush. Luis brushes a bit of your hair from your cheek and cups it with a ginger firmness, the gesture melting you in his palms as you meet his eyes and think of nothing else but him. Whatever the answer is, he can't imagine a string of flowery words as good as seeing you come undone in front of him. "Feels like a victory to me."

Your groan follows his smug comment either out of indignation or lust, if it even matters. But he's already getting close and he's praying you are too, if for no better reason than his own desire to feel you grip him so hard he bruises as you meet your end. That would be quite the way to show off. And when that blinding pleasure soon overcomes both of you and culminates in a kiss, one so much deeper that means more than either of you are willing to admit, that's when a fresh feeling of pride surges inside Luis as he hears the elevator doors swish open behind him--along with a low, soft inhale of breath being sucked through one's teeth in shock.

#luis serra #luis serra navarro #luis serra x reader #luis serra navarro x reader #gn!reader #spicy writing #re4make #resident evil #ellie writes #anons

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archie-sunshine · 12 days

Note

For the ficlet drift and his nubby tail or roddy and arcee

REUNION SEX MY BELOVED!

Rodimus sighed gently, nuzzling his face into the covers of his bed. Their colour and pattern suited him, Arcee thought, all oranges and magentas in the pattern of tiger lilies, soft and comfortable just as he deserved. She fought back a chuckle. It was odd to see her old friend, once squalid and unpampered, a frequent perpetrator of sleeping in barns for shelter, laid out across fine silks and downy pillows. She supposed the both of them had some adjusting to do, now that their comfort was all but guaranteed in the aftermath of what they believed to be an endless war.

She chewed at her lip, surpressing her satisfied moan as she sank herself into him. He was warm, velvety, familiar. He sighed again, breath hitched and ears twitching lightly.

“Good?” Arcee breathed, leaning down over him.

“Better than good.” rodimus confirmed, rolling his hips back to meet her. His tail twitched, attempting not to seem overexcited. She grinned, laying a kiss against his back.

She began to pump her hips, her eyelids fluttering. He felt so soft, heavenly and wet from preparation. She moaned in relief, tension oozing out of her as she continued to thrust. Rodimus swallowed thickly, panting and arching his back up into her. His tail began to swish of it’s own accord, fur swiping across Arcee’s chest and tickling at her belly. She snickered, leaning her chin against his shoulder and wrapping her arms around his waist.

“Aaww, did someone miss me?” Arcee teased, her own tail mirroring rodimus’ in its jubilance.

Rodimus flushed even further, turning his face away from her, but not quick enough to hide his bashful smile. Swallowing a moan, he wheezed out a halfhearted, “S-shush!”

Arcee laughed again, nuzzling her face into his neck to kiss wetly at his exposed skin. “I missed you too, roddy..” She cooed, affection blanketing her playful tone.

Rodimus whined joyfully, grinding back against her. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to.

#archie answers #transformers #my art #my requests #knightformers #/nsfw #/nsft #rodimus #arcee #my fic #rodcee #inbox game #ficlet frenzy

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hotgirlgraps · 9 months

Text

The Wembley Aftermath | Part Two

Synopsis: He won the ftw back and just like when he lost it, all he wants is you

Warnings: smut, but the loving kind. just a lot of sweetness all around

A/N: if you haven’t yet, you can read part one here. Still channeling the inner softer lovergirl in me so that’s exactly what this revolves around. Enjoy babesss!

They just didn’t make planes fast enough for him. He had an anxious knee bouncing the second he boarded and sat down in his seat.

It took him longer than he expected to catch a last minute flight. He should’ve been looking out the window onto the horizon but instead he just took his last steps on European soil.

He got situated and pulled out his phone, ignoring the numerous notifications filling his screen as he gave you a call.

You answered within seconds, appearing on his screen with that giddy smile he’s sure never left your face since he told you he was on his way to you.

“Hey angel ” He grinned as he adjusted the singular airpod in his ear. He tried to keep his voice to a minimum since the plane was so quiet. “I just got to my seat. Running a little late, but I’m finally on my way.”

You stopped the dishes you were doing and leaned against the counter, unable to contain that full fledged smile.

“Do you know what time you’ll be getting here?” You asked.

“Looks like I’ve got nine hours.” He sighs, “So what time is it right now?”

“Two-thirty” you nearly whine. Nine hours was far too long for you to anticipate.

“Damn that’s a big difference” he says as he glances at the screen in front of him. “It’s already night time over here.”

“I’d rather you not remind me how far away you are right now.” You tell him with a slight pout of your lower lip.

“Not for long though.” He beams back at you. “I’ll be there before you know it, little mama. Keep the door unlocked for me and try to get some sleep before I land.”

“I don’t know how you expect me to get any sleep knowing you’re gonna be here tonight” you chuckle as you lean your phone against the wall and start drying off plates.

“You’re right. Guess I’ll just have to tire you out instead.” He smirks before realizing, thanks to two people across from him shooting him a look, that he said that a little too loud.

You picked up on the crimson tinge across his cheeks and the way he immediately lowered his voice to a barely there whisper.

“People across from me just heard that. I feel weird as fuck now.” He tried to stifle the laugh he wanted to burst out by sliding his hood over his head and pulling the sides to cover his face.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his expense, especially with the way he sunk down in his seat.

“Maybe you should think twice before trying to talk dirty to me while you’re on a plane.” You tease.

“Maybe they should think twice before eavesdropping.” He counters with that infamous, knee weakening smirk he perfected.

“Is it really eavesdropping if you basically announced your plans to fuck me when you get here though?” You bantered back, playing back a little smirk of your own. “You’re never good at lowering your voice, baby. Probably the worst whisperer I’ve ever met in my life, actually.”

“Nah, you’re the one who has trouble with all that. Even burying your face in a pillow doesn’t stop the neighbors from hearing you.”

You felt your cheeks immediately burn, freezing for a second with a bashful smile.

“Well you’re right there with me.” You quirked a brow. “You don’t remember when your friend told you he heard you groaning all the way down the hall a couple days ago? His room was four doors down. No telling who heard what that night.”

He dropped his head for a split second trying to hide the smile.

“We don’t talk about that.” He tries to put on a stern face but fails. He catches the glances from the same people across from him and rolls his eyes behind the hood.

Just then, the plane finally started to take off. He was so caught up in your conversation he missed the announcement.

“Alright little mama, im officially on my way. I’m exhausted so I’m gonna try to get some sleep before I get there. You should really do the same.”

“Don’t know how that’s even possible for me but I’ll do my best.” You chuckle before grabbing the phone and holding it up.

“I’ll help you out with that if not. I’ll see you soon, gorgeous.”

“See you soon, champ.”

You got one last smile from him before he hung up, and over the course of those agonizing nine hours, you did any and everything you could to keep yourself occupied, all while he was fast asleep on the plane.

Eventually, somehow, around eight-thirty, you ended up laying down for a quick little nap. Your alarm was set for ten so you would be up when he walks through the door, but you slept right through it.

You were awoken by Tyler’s strong arms wrapping around your waist, his lips peppering gentle kisses to your neck.

“I’m back, mamas.”

His voice was groggy but he wasn’t willing to sleep. He only had one day to spend with you before he has to go home, then straight to Chicago right after and he wasn’t planning on wasting a single second.

You rolled over, your arms instinctively wrapping around him and he pulled you into his chest, holding you tightly, refusing to let go.

“Missed you so much” you muttered against his shirt, feeling his arms squeeze around you tighter.

“I missed you more” you feel his arms loosen a bit and pull back to look at him. Tired, low eyes and a relaxed smile plays on his face as he stares back at you.

You push some of the hair back out of his face and run your thumb over his cheek before leaning in and finally placing a delicate kiss to his plump lips like you’ve been wishing you could’ve done since he left for London.

That kiss that was previously so featherlight escalated into a passionate, rhythmic and breathy collision that lead to him hovering over you, his calloused yet gentle hand caressing your skin from your side to your thigh and back again.

Before he left for London the two of you had a long, wild night. One that left you with a sore throat from the high pitched moans, aching thighs and his fingerprints tatted on your skin.

He still had a few red lines patterned out on his back from your nails scratching all down it but it just served as a reminder of the memory every time he felt the sting.

Tonight, however, he wanted things to be different. He wanted to slow it down and take his time. There was no way to adequately compensate for the time you’d be apart again but he was going to do his best to try.

He may have had the most anticipation built up than he’s ever had but he didn’t want to take it all out at once. He wanted to make this moment last as long as humanly possible, which was why the kiss was so slow, the caresses were so tender.

He was savoring the flavor of you. The feeling of your smooth skin beneath his fingertips. He wanted to remember every last detail when he’s away from you again.

He could sense your pent up arousal and the eager anticipation running through you, but when you gave his hair an encouraging tug, he pulled back slightly to look down on you.

“Don’t worry, beautiful. We’ll get there. I just want to take my time with you. Show you how much I miss you every time I have to leave.”

He leaned back down and locked his hips with yours again. One hand cradled the side of your face while the other hand slowly made its way to your inner thigh, his fingertips hovering just over the trim of your panties without giving the full connection you couldn’t fight the urge for.

A soft sigh slipped past your lips, getting lost somewhere within his mouth and he had to try not to smirk at that.

You tangled your fingers up in his hair with one hand while the other one roamed all over every inch of his muscular back.

You could feel his hardness dying to be unrestricted from beneath his sweats and he was fighting for his life not to slide them off too soon.

“This is harder than I thought it would be” he manages to weakly chuckle, “guess I should’ve known by now that I can never control myself when I get you like this”

Your fluster only escalates when he rises up to his knees, his palms roaming up and down your spread thighs before his fingers hook underneath the thin strap of your panties and he slides them down your legs before tossing them elsewhere.

His licks his lips once, a gleam in his eye that you recognize all too well, but right before he goes to lower his head down, you reach out and intertwine your fingers through his hair to stop him.

“Save that for later, please baby, right now I just want you. Nothing else, just you.”

He felt his heart skip a beat but you didn’t know that. He nodded as he proceeded to slide his sweats down and found himself hovering back over you, the ends of his hair hovering against your forehead as his eyes dived deep into yours.

He held that contact as he pushed inside of you, even though his eyes threatened to roll back the second he was embraced by the tight warmth he’d been missing all too much.

You inhaled a deep breath and let out a relieved sigh as your hands instinctively reached up and your arms wrapped around the back of his neck, pulling him down to feel that intense closeness you’ve been needing.

He wrapped his arms underneath your back as he pushed in all of the way, holding still for a couple of seconds to really feel it all.

His thrusts were slow when he started moving, his lips peppering loose kisses to your shoulder as he buried his face there. He hugged you tight as he rocked into you, whispering a series of sweet nothings between every thrust.

“You feel amazing, mamas”

“Can’t believe you’re all mine”

“I don’t ever wanna go a day without doing this”

Though half of those soft spoken confessions were barely comprehensible to you with the way your heart was pounding in your ears.

He sped up slightly and leaned up, supporting his weight with his elbows digging into the mattress. He just wanted to take his time to look at you. Found himself adoring the way you moaned then smiled when he hit your sweet spot just right.

Your eyes locked with his when you were somehow able to peer them open, coming face to face with his heavy lids and furrowed brows. The puffy, parted lips tempted you and you gave in to those temptations within seconds, having no choice but to pull him down by the gold chain dangling to taste those lips again.

The second your lips connected, the thrusts slowed dramatically. He found himself so lost in the moment, as if a spell had been casted over him.

He felt your nails digging into the same places they did days ago, your thighs tightening around his waist and he knew that second what was next.

“Come on, mamas” he coaxed as his hips swirled with fluidity. “I want to feel you coming on me. You’re so fucking beautiful, feel so damn heavenly right now, you’re a goddamn goddess, and you deserve to be fucked like one every. single. night.”

He punctuated those praises with three snaps of his hips and you were absolutely done for. He wrapped his arms even tighter underneath you and buried his face back into your shoulder, keeping the thrusts strong and steady to prolong that high as much as he possibly could.

He felt it the second your orgasm powered through you. The way you throbbed around him, warmth spilling all over him. Your broken moans were the push over the edge for him when his name rolled off the tip of your tongue and by that point he couldn’t even hold back if his life depended on it.

His whole body stiffened, low groans and deep, raspy, breathy sighs filled up the room as he pushed his hips back in and out a few more times. You felt his entire body relax after that, as if he’d absolutely melted into you.

He slowly pulled out and used the very last bit of his mustered strength to hold himself up with those elbows, just to get the glimpse of afterglow on your face.

Your reddened cheeks and wildly sprawled hair was your dead giveaway. His droopy eyes and glistening skin was his.

The two of you looked at each other, both breaking out in smiles before he leaned down and placed a kiss to your lips.

He unwrapped one arm from underneath you and found your hand instead, intertwining your fingers as he slowly moved his lips with yours.

When the two of you broke apart, he rolled onto his side and pulled you into him. You traced the fresh tattoo on his chest as he absentmindedly ran his fingers through your hair, before you peeked up and caught the effortless, relaxed half smile on his face.

“Thank you” he hears you whisper, glancing down at you. “For making the time to come and see me. I know you’re so busy all the time, but the fact that you jumped on the first flight just to spend a little time with me, it means the world, Tyler.”

A softer smile replaced that previous one and he leaned down to place a gentle kiss to your forehead before he wrapped his arms tighter around you and pulled you as close as you could get.

“I’ll always make time for you, baby. You’re my number one priority no matter how busy I am with work or whatever else. If you need me, I’ll do anything I can to be right here. No matter what.”

#hook aew #aew hook #hook #hook x reader #hook imagine #tyler senerchia #hook nation rise #send hook

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lex-the-flex · 1 year

Note

hihihi sophie!!! i hope ur well!!🫶🏻 i saw requests were open and i wanted to shoot u the idea thats been hangin in my head for a few days. its an angsty one i hope thats okay🫡 6Leon gets called out on a mission, not knowing that his shared apartment with his partner had somehow been tracked and found by his target. when he arrives home from what he thought was a failed mission, having been unable to locate his target, he finds his partner in extremely rough shape on the floor after being interrogated by his target for info on Leons mission and whereabouts.

One Last Night

Leon S. Kennedy x reader

Word Count: 859

Warning(s): HEAVY ANGST, descriptions of injuries, action and violence, slight cursing, mentions of mission failure, mentions of nudity, MEGA FLUFF, reassurance, and lots of tlc.

A/N: It’s about time I get to my inbox after so long! Thank you for requesting my love and I hope you enjoy!

The bright purple neon lights slowly poured in from the aftermath of the flash grenade’s intensity. Regaining his bearings, Leon suddenly remembered where he was: downtown Ontario, and the street was completely torn apart. Staggering from his place on the cobblestone street, the smoke began to clear – along with the target.

Ada Wong.

Only it didn’t seem like her. It couldn’t have been her. Ada never wore blue, but people become desperate on the run.

****

A heavy sigh escaped his lips as Leon finally made it back to the shared private apartment that you and him call home. Checking the tiny mailbox, he fetched a few envelopes and a small package wrapped in paper before thanking the doorman. Adjusting his bags strap around his shoulder, Leon practically bolted for the elevator, wanting nothing more than to take a shower and to fall asleep in your arms.

Walking down the long hallway to your front door, Leon’s cellphone buzzed in his back pocket, alerting him of the time. 2:46 A.M. It was a Thursday, so Leon knew you’d be in bed as you had Friday’s off. Silently smirking to himself, a feeling of relief started to wash over his exhausted frame, but that was quickly taken away by the sight of a light beaming from underneath the back front door.

Silently pressing the keys into the lock, Leon slowly turned the piece of metal against the doorknob, and hesitantly opened the door. Coming face to face with an empty medium sized kitchen, he carefully put down his duffel bag by the counter, and reached for his trusty Matilda hidden in a secret cabinet.

Leaning towards the the brick wall that separated the kitchen from the large living room, one of the various vases shattered against the floor, breaking into multiple pieces. Hearing you scream, Leon bolted into action, and announced himself from his hiding spot. Within seconds he couldn’t believe what he was witnessing: you were on the floor, clutching your stomach, and bleeding from your nose.

Jabbing a taser into your side, Leon’s very target, the woman he was assigned to track down from his “failed” mission had infiltrated your home.

“Stop!” He ordered, stepping forward to Wong in blue.

“Leon, no don’t…! Don’t come any closer!” You warned, extending your hand to him.

Stopping in his tracks, Ada straightened from her towering form over you, and gazed at Leon with her black locks covering her barely sweaty face.

“Hmm, I take it that mission didn’t go well, Leon? Poor boy.” She mocked the man before you.

“How do you know about that?” Leon questioned, and his grip only tightened around his pistol.

“You really want to know? I thought I’d ask your lovey-dovey partner while she was out at the farmer’s market. It’s a shame, Y/N is really good at keeping secrets. Too bad her ribs are too bruised from being tased for two whole hours.” Ada explained, twirling the plastic device in her hands.

Writhing on the floor, you quietly reached for a spare butterfly knife tucked in your jeans, and Leon caught on once he realized this wasn’t the real Ada.

“Well, what can I say: as much as our relationship has been a thrilling chase, I’m happy with the lady I’ve got.” Leon declared, dodging the path of your blade.

Grazing the assassin in the shoulder, she winced in pain before zipping out the open window within seconds. Rushing to your side, Leon wrapped his leather jacket around your cold frame, and refused to leave your side.

****

5:21 A.M.

The police finally left the studio apartment after two hours of their seemingly useless questioning. Crossing the doorway into your shared bedroom, you were sitting in the edge of the bed, carefully tending to the bruises on your ribcage.

“You alright?” Leon asked, squatting to his knees, wanting to get a closer look.

“Just another day in the office.” You replied with a half smile.

“I’m so sorry. I should’ve been here for you, Y/N. I knew I shouldn’t have gone to Ontario.” He apologized, hesitantly touching your black and blue skin.

Taking his face in your hands, you cupped Leon’s cheeks in between your palms, allowing his worried blue eyes to meet yours.

“Leon, I’m okay. I promise. This is nothing a heat pad and painkillers won’t fix. I’m sorry about your mission.” You replied, reassuring him with your gentle touch.

“Okay…” He said with an understanding nod.

Rubbing your shoulder, he stood from his spot on the floor.

“Why don’t I make us some tea, and you get in a nice warm bath? It’ll make you feel better.” He advised, shrugging off his leather jacket.

****

Slipping out of his set of dirty jeans, Leon carefully stepped over the edge of the clawfoot tub, careful not to sting your skin. Sitting behind you, he extended his legs around you, and pulled you into his chest.

Surrendering yourself to the warm water, a deep sigh escaped your chest, and Leon wrapped his muscular arms around your body, finally enjoying a moment of comfort after one last night of pure chaos.

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#resident evil #resident evil writing #resident evil 6 #leon kennedy fic #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy oneshot #leon kennedy fluff #leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy #capcom resident evil #capcom #nick apostolides #matt mercer

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chrisevansleftpeck · 1 year

Text

Taking Care of You

Word Count: 614

Content Warnings: implied alcohol consumption, throwing up, drunk reader

A/N: Just Spence taking care of drunk!reader :)

You wobbled towards the toilet in Spencer’s apartment, feeling a gentle tug at the back of your head as Spencer grabbed your hair. You fell to your knees gently in front of the bowl as Spencer held your hair with one hand, rubbing your back with the other.

“I feel…” You paused, feeling the alcohol bubbling in your stomach, about to come up.

Spencer kissed your cheek gently, “I know, I know. It’s okay baby, I know. I got you.”

“I had too much-” Your sentence was inevitably interrupted by your body’s reaction to three shots and a large margarita. You lurched forward as Spencer pat your back lightly, helping you get it all out. You shakily reached to flush the toilet once you were done as Spencer pulled a soft square of toilet paper and wiped your lips.

You turned towards him, “I told you the club would be bad.” Spencer smiled a little, almost laughing at you, but in a way you knew you deserved.

“I don’t know, y/n, you seemed to have lots of fun at the club. I think it’s the aftermath you don’t like.” He released your hair and cupped your cheeks as he kissed your warm forehead. You giggled into him then sighed with relief. “Let’s get your teeth brushed. I want to be able to give you a kiss before bed.” Spencer got up, extending his hand to help you up too.

You grabbed his hand shakily, leaning forward into him. “You’d actually kiss me after I threw up?”

He gave it a second thought for a moment. “Yeah. I need my goodnight kiss. Helps me sleep better.” You both laughed, but as silly as it sounded you knew it was true. You couldn’t sleep without his touch either, leaving you restless when he was off on cases.

»»——————————————-　♡　——————————————-««

You lay in bed with minty fresh bed in your pj’s, snuggled against the crook of Spencer’s neck. It’s comfortably warm there, your forehead and nose pressed against his neck and your ear pressed to his heart. You feel him beneath you,taking a big breath in. He exhaled, relaxing into your body and wrapping his hands around you just a little tighter.

“What’s wrong?” You adjust your head to look up at him, something unfamiliar in the honey of his eyes.

“Nothing, my love. I just don’t like seeing my baby sick.” I ran his fingers through your hair as his eyebrows furrowed slightly.

“Oh,” You immediately feel regret for getting wasted at the club, knowing he’d be taking care of you. You had just assumed he’d be drinking too. “I’m sorry, I thought you were going to drink too and someone was going to take us home. You didn’t have to take care of me, I’m sorry.” You apologized profusely, genuinely.

Spencer immediately cleared the air, “Don’t ever feel sorry for me taking care of you. I’ll always take care of you. Even with my last breath. Okay?”

The way he spoke to you always soothed you, grounded you back on earth again. You lean up to kiss his precious button nose quickly. “And I’ll always take care of you, my beautiful boy.” You swooped his fluffy hair to the side to kiss his forehead too.

“Those sounded a lot like vows.” Spencer smiled, looking down at you wrapped up his bed’s covers and clinging to his waist.

“You know I’d like them to be one day.” You whispered, snuggling back into his chest comfortably.

Something about your reply left Spencer fuzzy and flustered inside. “Goodnight, baby.” He whispered over you, stroking your hair gently while kissing your head.

You look up at his quickly. “Want that goodnight kiss now?”

Without even thinking, Spencer grabbed your chin and met you with a sweet kiss. He released your face, letting you snuggle back into his chest with a full heart and a wide smile.

“Goodnight, Spencer Reid.” You whispered, humming against his belly.

#spencer reid #spencerreid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminalminds #criminal minds fanfic #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #fluff #fanfiction #love

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dracoxmalereader · 7 months

Text

Draco x Male Reader Headcanons Pt. 3

Summary: After you and Draco's rocky fifth year, this last part is centered around how your relationship evolves around him being a death eater and all that entails. Including the aftermath because I simply cannot contain myself. <3

The cover looks so much angstier than these are I promise.

Part 1 | Part 2

Word Count: 847

When Lucius starts dragging Draco down the death eater path he starts distancing himself from you.

He quits quidditch, too.

So there's no real way to know for sure when/where you'll be able to catch him.

I just KNOW this boy was doing everything he could to try and worm his way out of becoming a death eater.

Especially if you're not pureblood.

But, alas, he's made one regardless, tasked with killing Dumbledore.

At that point he'd try and do everything in his power to convince you to become a death eater with him.

He's just so afraid of losing you,

and he wants to keep you safe ❗

Even if you're not pureblood, he vows to find a way to fake it.

Offering to forge documents, vouch for you in trial, swear on his life that you and your family are pureblood to anybody that asks.

He doesn't want you or any of said family to end up being casualties in the war, but he can't stomach breaking up with you or having you not in his life.

You refuse to align yourself with Voldemort, and break up with him yourself to keep you and your family safe instead.

Even then you're still so reassuring,

Because you know he has no choice,

But you can't do what he's asking you to, even if you know it might be easier.

Many "I'll always love you no matter what"s before you part ways.

Probably one of the first times Draco lets himself cry in front of someone.

You go with your family to hide out through the duration of the war.

You keep your eyes all over the news as it's all going down though,

Just like Ron while they were finding the Horcruxes.

24/7 sat by the radio hoping everyone will be okay.

When the war is done and Voldemort is gone,

Draco shows up to your new place that you and your family moved to to get away from Voldemort's reign,

With Narcissa and everything.

Begs for forgiveness.

And how could you not take him back?

Much hugs and affection right there and then,

Right in front of his mom and he doesn't even care.

She wasn't even shocked when Draco told her you two were together,

Because lets be real, you two were so obvious you may as well have plastered it on the front page of the Daily Prophet.

She been knew.

They have your family move into the manor with them,

Narcissa loves having the company.

Makes the place so much more lively.

No Lucius obviously he's rotting in Azkaban as he should

Time skip any amount of time it probably isn't a very hard choice to make,

You both need to get away from magic for a while if you're gonna do any getting over the war.

So you end up getting a place together in the muggle world for a much needed break.

And you guys go visit the manor for holidays to see your folks.

Cue many fish-out-of-water scenario's of Draco adjusting to the very unfamiliar lifestyle of a working-class muggle citizen.

Because I imagine you already know the ropes, especially so if you're not pureblood.

He definitely tries to make grilled cheese in a toaster but doesn't put foil on it and just gets cheese all in your toaster.

Not because he thought it'd be cool, but because he genuinely didn't know how grilled cheeses are supposed to be made.

You talk him into going to all kinds of therapy to deal with his issues after the war,

It takes him a long time to let go of the guilt he feels for all of it,

some of it he never will let go of,

But your guys' quality of life skyrockets regardless.

You're both way happier.

The less impact the war has over him, the more you can see his personality shine through, too.

He starts teasing you again albeit lovingly.

He probably gets lippy with his manager at work and loses at least one job because of it.

Fast forward a bunch of years,

You two are definitely married and have a dog and cat together.

The wedding was full of tears from both sides of the family.

Narcissa cried enough for every Malfoy that didn't attend combined.

"How's it feel to officially be a Malfoy, hm?" he says, fully aware that he cried while planning the wedding because he didn't know whether he wanted to take your last name or for you to take his.

"How's it feel to officially be a L/N?" you say, because you guys hyphenated your last names.

He turns bright red every time he's reminded that he is, in fact, a L/N.

He's just so happy to be sharing a name with you, honestly.

You guys live happily ever after <3

Whether that means eventually becoming homeowners in the muggle world or going back to the wizarding world, getting more pets or acquiring children.

Whatever happens you two are just happy to be doing it together.

Can you guys tell I want to explode Lucius with my mind? He's like my second least favorite character after Umbridge.

As always lmk if there's typos I missed while proofreading pls <3 I have a silly goofy little wedding planning drabble planned for later today. Unless I fall asleep, then I'll post it tomorrow.

#draco x male reader #draco malfoy x male reader #draco x reader #draco malfoy imagine #harry potter fandom #draco malfoy x reader #x male reader #draco malfoy #tagging is hard #lmk if there's any typos #or goofs

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theplumsoldier · 7 months

Text

aftermath [5]

summary: after having finally found Jackson, Joel rushes to the infirmary to meet you, where he offers you to stay at his house, with him and Ellie—he says it's the least he can do, but secretly he just wants to keep you close by and help you adjust in this new world.

pairing: joel miller x reader

word count: 3,9k

warnings: vulgar language, reader injury, mention of cannibalism and killing non-infected, mutual pining, slow burn, angsty feelings and reader's self-doubt. pls let me know if i missed any <3<3

series: aftermath [4] + series masterlist

With a poorly treated wound and a heavy sword secured at your waist, what should have been a one-day journey ended up spanning over three days. You had clipped your wound closed with a stapler from home, and you were beginning to feel the importance of washing with spirits.

The map Joel had given you indicated you'd cover something around 19 miles by now, but your hurried leave had made your bad condition slip your mind. Your water supply ran up on the first day and although its absence unburdened you with some weight, you were forced to take several breaks due to fatigue.

When your weary eyes finally caught sight of the stronghold there was no doubt: You had arrived in Jackson. From the outside, it looked massive. Your mind must have registered the sight of it as an indication that you were safe then for your knees buckled under your weight and you collapsed, blacking out immediately.

Luckily for you, Jackson was heavily guarded and someone on patrol had seen you, sending two dogs to sniff you out, before they were followed by a small group riding horses.

You stirred awake as you felt the dogs licking your face and hands. Bewildered, you pushed them away to lean on your elbows, then noticed the group shuffling and yelling. While your senses came back to you, you stared dazedly at the dogs. You hadn't seen one since you were a child.

"She's infected!" someone barked.

That made you exert your last strength, and a panicked expression formed on your face. "No, no!"

Opening your jacket, you revealed to them the wound in your stomach. One of the dogs curiously sniffed closely at the wound, and for a second you feared it might dig in right then and there, shred you before you could convince them you were not infected—but instead, it sat with a thump beside you, looking up at one of the men as if telling him all was good. You decided that was exactly what was happening, for the tall man's cautious expression seemed to falter.

Another man, broad shoulders draped in a tight-fitting, denim jacket and slicked back jet-black hair, threaded his oiled locks with a tentative hand and spoke, "that don't look too good."

He was right. There was no bleeding, only a coarse layer that looked almost burnt from dark blood, it looked infected with bacteria, a yellow hue in the center lined with several small metallic clips.

You hadn't realized the man held out his hand before he asked you if you could walk. His southern accent was deep and it immediately reminded you of Joel's. You nodded, both answering his question as well as in a gesture to the stronghold behind them. "Is this Jackson?"

For a bit, he looked hesitant, but then something changed and a glimpse of a twinkle that reminded you of hope in a child's eye on Christmas Eve flashed in his dark ones.

"Sure is ma'am," he chuckled as he helped you up to your feet. He spoke your name curiously, hoping his assessment had been accurate. Joel and Ellie had mentioned you, you guessed, and he went on to tell you he'd heard all about you. Then he finally introduced himself: "I'm Tommy."

. . .

As it turned out, Tommy's drawl reminded you of Joel for a reason; they were brothers, reunited again after many, many years.

They had brought you to the infirmary and they had done a good job at making it resemble a typical visit to the doctor back in the day: the equipment was as modern as could be; a box-shaped monitor was hooked up to a clamp on your finger to observe your pulse, a pole with a bag attached with tubing connected to your arm, a silver tray was on the bedside table, clippers, scissors, and tweezers hiding under bloodied sanitary wipes and rags.

You had been given painkillers and penicillin, which made you wonder whether such things didn't have an expiration date, and if so, how it was manufactured in the new world. But that was not a pressing matter—as you had realized on your way to Jackson, stapling together a wound without proper care would likely lead to an infection.

The doctor, Clive Olson, insisted it was nothing that should trouble you for long and that you should rest until tomorrow—Tommy Miller promised to have some sort of lodging arrangement sorted out by then. It all seemed unreal, this place that a group of people had made their home, the community they had created, and their kindness toward a complete stranger. Were they really going to just take you in? Let an outsider roam their safe haven?

Perhaps they had deemed you harmless the minute they had seen you pass out from exhaustion, or when you had begged for your life in the snow. Maybe they underestimated your capabilities and neglected to comprehend the danger you might pose.

No, you thought. That couldn't be it. They would not have made it this far in life by misjudging situations. They had probably endured a lot to simply get by and fought a whole lot more to keep their people alive. The thought made you scan the room one over, looking to locate your sword and a rush of panic struck when it was nowhere in sight. It made sense for them to remove your weapon, but it didn't make you feel any less anxious.

You couldn't stay here until tomorrow, not when you were surrounded by strangers, not when you had no clue as to what they might do with you.

It wasn't the first time you had been in a settlement. During one of the first years after the outbreak, you found yourself coerced into joining a group. It consisted only of 30 people or so, but they offered food and shelter, and warm clothes, which was an offer you couldn't turn down as the winter ahead seemed like it would be cold and cruel. Looking back, the leaders were far worse than that winter, for the seasonal change caused a scarcity in food supply and some began to stir commotion within the community, which in turn made the leaders lock them up. In secret, the leader agreed they had to resort to cannibalism in order to survive—one less mouth to eat meant one less mouth to feed. The scarce amount of prisoners meant that at least one new person was imprisoned each week, and the remains of the tribe became increasingly suspicious when they were forbidden to see the people who had been locked up. There had only been around 13 people left when you were picked out. An opportunity presented itself and with an underhand attack you were able to escape. That was also the first time you killed someone not infected and you never joined another group again.

You found a nice piece of land that winter, hidden cozily away in the woodscape, and got to work on it in the summer.

Now you were here.

Before you could contemplate a plan of escape, you had swung your legs over the edge of the firm mattress, and having failed to realize how weak your body was, you landed on the ground with a thud.

It wouldn't have been loud enough for anyone to hear, but the IV bag that hung on the wheeled pole was connected to your arm by tubing and clashed beside you a second later.

You cursed, both from the sharp pain that strained in your side and your clumsiness.

Someone definitely heard that.

A moment later Clive Olson rushed in and Joel Miller tailed right behind him.

"What're you doing? I told you, you need to rest!" Olson grumbled irritably but hurried to help you back up into the bed nonetheless.

He was a scrawny man of about 70 and his back would never have made it without Joel helping out. You stared bewildered at Joel while the doctor's back cracked as he bent down.

It shouldn't have surprised you to see him. After all, this was where he and Ellie were headed after leaving a couple of days ago. Still, anything could have happened to them on the way, and you sighed a breath of relief knowing they had made it unscathed.

A heat crept up your neck and warmed your cheeks. Say something, a voice in your head urged and you tried but your lips failed to comply with the thought and instead, you settled with a firm nod of recognition, as if greeting an acquaintance you didn't quite care enough about to learn the name of.

Doctor Olson spoke your name pointedly. "Please, stay put now." Then he looked at Joel, then at you, then he left. You swung your legs back over the edge of the bed but stayed seated this time.

Joel had cleaned up since you last saw him. Tamed salt and pepper beard and clean hair no longer covered in hints of the wilderness. He looked nice in his dark blue washed jeans and green lumberjack flannel, his broad frame poking at the seams of the shoulders. You wondered if he had a girlfriend or a wife here. It wouldn't surprise you, and the possibility made a pang of guilt hit you as you recalled drooling over him while you had hunted together.

Clearing your throat, you managed to find your voice. "They took my sword."

Joel scoffed and pulled his hands out of his pockets. In long strides, he took a seat on the opposite side of the small room.

"You don't trust them."

You gave him a look.

A small sound escaped him, something between a chuckle and a huff, and he shook his head. "'S okay. I don't blame you. But I'm glad you decided to come 'round."

His admission made something twitch inside you and you couldn't bring yourself to tell him what had made you do so—not when he was glad. You looked away from him and hoped he didn't notice the blush in your cheeks.

"Anyway, Tommy, my brother, said you'd be staying—believe he's tryna fix you up somewhere right now, but I wanted to offer you to stay at my place, you know, with me 'n Ellie," Joel said lowly. You felt the little coil in your chest tighten with perturbation and your heart leap with excitement. Did he want you there? He had to have noticed the redness in your face by now. "You know, 's the least I can do. Since you let us stay at your place."

You nodded slowly. That makes sense. The thought didn't bother you as much as it probably should have. Perhaps that was because you had already shared a space with them before and found that once they had left, it was just unbearably hushed without them. You thought what it would be like and imagined quiet mornings, sipping coffee by the fire with Joel. It was cold but you would be wrapped up in a cozy blanket, finding peace in the crackle of the fire and Ellie's soft snores. But you were a realist and therefore a pessimist, and remembered that you were no good in social settings. Without the effects of weed coursing your system, you would make the situation way too awkward for comfort.

You swallowed. "'S just you and Ellie living there?"

"Just me 'n Ellie," he confirmed.

That would be good. They had spent enough time with you to know what to expect, and still, Joel offered you to stay with them. Did he want you to stay with them? Was he merely being polite? His hands fidgeted and the thought struck you: Was he hoping you would turn him down? He might already be regretting his offer. Your jaw ticked with apprehension and you parted your lips to speak, but couldn't muster up anything. A joint would have been nice right about now, you thought.

Joel sensed your hesitation. He moved back in the seat, which made him appear smaller; his broad frame presented him toughened, but there was a comforting mien to it like he offered you protection.

Then he stood up again, but his hunched shoulders made you realize that he was not overthinking the situation as you were. "Think about it, will ya? We've got a spare room, you can still have privacy."

The recent connection you had made with Joel helped you understand you would rather stay with him and Ellie than in this room. So you gave in, "okay, but I'll come with you now."

He looked surprised and scratched his beard. "I'll have to talk to Olson. Said he wanted to keep ya overnight and check—"

"No," you interrupted with resolution.

Joel shifted the weight from his left foot to the right. His lips were parted and brows furrowed, somewhat taken back by your tone. It dawned on him that you felt safer with them, with him, than with these strangers and he couldn't blame you. As far as he knew, you had come to Jackson because of his offer and the safety he promised—not for the strangers who had patched you up and taken away your only sense of security.

Licking his lips, he nodded agreeingly. "Get ready then, I'll handle Olson."

Disappearing out the door, Joel left you to gather your things. You still wore your bloodied jeans and tank top, but your jacket, sweatshirt, and boots had been removed and bundled up on the side table in the corner. As you crouched down to put on your shoes, it stung in your side. You hissed in pain and didn't notice the door opening.

"Might wanna be careful with that."

Looking up you saw a small woman with fair hair tied up in a ponytail, a pointed nose, and a thin smirk. The nurse removed the tubing from your arm and cleaned up the tray with medical supplies. With her back turned to you, she said: "So... you're Joel's friend?"

You instantly assumed she was a friend of his and not simply a curious nurse baffled by the fact that Joel "The Grump" Miller had friends.

The question threw you off though, suddenly wondering if that was what you were. "Friends" seemed too endearing, but "acquaintances" was just too not it.

You just nodded, hurriedly slipping into your sweatshirt again, pulling on the jacket as if it would help you hide away. You liked the idea—you hadn't had a friend in a long time.

"Cool," she said, a little too enthusiastically. The blonde looked as if she might burst with excitement, her own nosiness hardly containable. Her hand struck out so fast you flinched. "I'm Tiff."

Recovering, you shook it awkwardly and mumbled your own name.

There was a moment of silence before Joel practically barged in and you breathed out a sigh of relief. Your sword dangled from his right hand in an ungainly manner.

There was a tense expression on his face, one which — if you had been any better at reading faces — you might have considered protective. His wary eyes scanned the room and though the nurse posed no threat, he hurried you along. "Come on."

You followed him out the door and accepted your sword once outside.

The air was cold and in no way refreshing, the icy wind scraping at your warm cheeks as it blew by, clawing at your exposed skin. It felt cruel and unforgiving but gladly received when it tore through your throat, feeling like an itch scratched.

While you fastened the sword at your hip, you noticed the bag Joel was holding onto. He noticed your gaze and put the paper bag between his teeth while he slipped on his lined leather gloves. They made his hands look massive in comparison to your own. A comfortable warmth spread through your body when he placed a gloved hand on the small of your back, ushering you in the right direction.

"Goodiebag's filled with penicillin and painkillers. Half a pill two times a day," Joel relayed the information casually as you walked.

"Fun. Never done hardcore drugs before," you snorted and watched him from the corner of your eye for a reaction, hoping the joke landed right.

There was a brief lopsided grin, but then his eyes searched around him and it faded. It was enough to satiate your bleeding heart and bring a blush to your cheeks.

The walk wasn't far, still, you were out of breath by the time you reached his house. It felt a tad odd to be in Joel and Ellie's home. A house was sure to tell just about everything about the people residing in it. It was personal, a structure mirroring the traits, good and bad, of people living there so naturally you felt out of place.

Joel told you to have a look around and although he likely didn't mean for you to scour and assess the place in order to find out just what type of people they were, you did.

It was grand but homely, resembling the home of a lumberjack, or at the very least, what you imagined the home of one would look like. There was a warm atmosphere, like it had been lived in for many years, like many laughs nestled in every creek and crevice. A cozy mess was spread out on the coffee table, some candles, a mug of day-old coffee staining the wood, a comic book left open with the cover turned upward. There were books sprawled on every surface, and you wondered if Joel was as much of a bookworm as Ellie.

You silently prayed Joel would read your mind and tell you where Ellie was so that you would not have to interrupt the quietness. He seemed to have read you like an open book up until now, which you were thankful for, but nevertheless, it made you worry. You felt comfortable in his presence. You didn't tense up the same way you had when they had first entered your own little heaven—while it felt natural and, really, just plain and simple nice, it also felt wrong. Maybe that was because you had been so accustomed to being alone, constantly adding bricks and stones to harden your walls. Years and years had been put into the effort of making that same guard utterly impregnable, and yet here it was, smoldering at the hands of Joel. But was that a bad thing? Did it feel dangerous only because it was alien to you? And did that mean you were not as strong as you had thought? It was hard to believe it could be bad when it felt so good.

"Ellie won't be here for 'nother couple of hours," Joel said as he handed you the mug. There had been no quarrel, but it felt like a peace offering accepting it. His eyes dropped to the mantelpiece you stood by. "Whenever I'm on supply runs I bring something back for Ellie. Spaceship's her favorite, I think."

There was an assortment of little toys displayed atop the mantelpiece. Several plastic cars and animals, a Tintin-style spaceship, and Legos; all fallen victim to violent play and years of decay. It reminded you of your own room back in your parents' house, the chaotic scene of a pre-teen.

Joel crouched down on one knee, preparing the fireplace with fresh wood from a woven basket by your feet. You watched his arms flex beneath his shirt, the worn fabric looking as if it might tear from his muscles.

Inhaling sharply, you cleared your throat and took a seat on the couch.

. . .

Joel was surprised to find you having already dozed off while he had gotten the fire started. He supposed it made sense—from what he had heard you hadn't rested much at the infirmary since you had been brought in. He cursed himself for giving you coffee to wake up instead of offering an actual bed to sleep in. He felt like a bad host, allowing you to sleep on the couch in an upright position when there was a perfectly suitable bed in the spare room they had. Knowing himself, his body would pay for falling asleep in such an awkward position. Regardless, Joel decided it would be too bizarre for him to carry you to bed, so he covered your body in a blanket instead and carefully placed a pillow under your arm currently serving as one.

At least you had found the energy to put the mug next to the one he hadn't finished this morning on the coffee table.

Joel felt awful shushing Ellie when she returned utterly psyched from school, but he only had to nod in the direction of where you were fast asleep on the couch for her to understand.

"Ooh." Her eyes widened, scrambling to get her boots and jacket off. "When did she get here?"

"This mornin'. Showed up outside the gates, bleedin' from your needlework in her stomach," Joel replied.

A confused look twitched Ellie's face. "Thought you were supposed to work."

He was. For the last week or so he had been helping doing reparations around the sheds on which the winter had been particularly harsh. Tommy went to see him after having identified you and told Joel to take the day off if that was what he needed—which really he didn't as he was told you were out cold, still, when Joel had mentioned you after his and Ellie's return to Jackson, he might have let on you were more than just a stranger to him. It was deceitful of him, but when he told the white lie he didn't care, after all, there was a grain of truth in it. No specifics had been mentioned, but Joel had subconsciously expressed his troubles with leaving you alone out there.

It led Tommy to believe that his big brother had finally allowed himself some happiness and Joel wasn't bothered nearly enough to get into details. Joel let Tommy believe what Tommy believed, justifying it by reminding himself his brother was the one drawing conclusions from half-assed answers.

So today, when Tommy had found Joel and informed him that "his secret lover" had shown up on their doorstep, Joel realized he couldn't possibly let someone who was more than a stranger — as he had divulged when Tommy asked — wake up in an alien place.

"Got off," Joel shrugged and crossed his arms, leaning against the counter.

"To take care of her?" Ellie teased, jabbing her elbow into his side.

Joel knew she was joking, but he swore there was a hopeful glimpse in her eyes. It made him wonder if they were both more fond of you than they were letting on.

"Quiet fucking 'round, kid," he warned and hid his grin behind the coffee cup. "How was school?"

"Fine, good, cool—so, she stayin' here?"

Joel nodded. "Yeah. For the time being. Dunno, haven't really had the chance to talk much. She seemed pretty shaken up when I got to the infirmary."

Ellie liked to think she could read Joel better than anybody and in that second, she decided he was worried something had happened to you, something that made you come here in such a state. She wasn't far off.

"Give yourself a break, old man, she probably just wanted to see you again," Ellie skipped off, leaving Joel to munch on the obnoxious kissing sounds she made.

One thing was sure—Joel was sure as shit going to have a hard time figuring out how he was feeling about you with Ellie putting thoughts into his head.

#joel miller x reader #theplumsoldier #joel miller #joel miller imagine #joel miller fic #joel miller tlou #pedro pascal #the last of us #pedro pascal characters #tlou imagine #tlou #joel tlou

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hexonthepeach · 10 months

Text

a gentle tongue breaketh the bone | 0: prologue

pairing: fem hybrid fox omega!reader/hybrid Alpha!nct 127

tags: reverse harem, non-traditional omegaverse hybrid! cyberpunk au, pack dynamics, polyamory, slowburn/slowbuild, angst & hurt/comfort, heavy content warnings inc. torture, graphic violence, suicidal ideation, explicit sexual content

summary: the year is 2127. decades of eugenics and warfare have led to the rise of designated populations: the ruler Alphas and their rare, prized omegas sequestered from the Beta population. in the aftermath of the War of the Two Tigers, New Goryeo ushers in an Imperial dynasty determined not by birthright but by the alliance of the Syndicate's clancorps to choose the best pack of your generation. you are destined to take your place within the Imperial harem as a queen, and–perhaps–Imperatrix herself

but you have a secret, written into your skin and bones–one that could easily kill you, depending on who finds it out

ten years ago you chose your Alpha and their pack in a fateful meeting

now, you must make them choose you

[masterlist & glossary] [read on AO3]

It was always your mother's plan to escape the Dome when flood season began.

You think, maybe, the heavens had taken her prayers far too literally.

The rain had begun the moment you'd stepped foot on your commandeered fishing boat–forced to steer into the mist towards the neon skies so far off, away from the slums built up against the Dome’s seawall.

She’d guided your control on the craft rather than steer, barking orders at you over the buffet of waves. Over and over again she's told you the plan–the destination. The standard issue wrist agent with your seasonal background blinks with the coordinates she'd encrypted into it.

It hadn't been the first indication that she knew she might have to abandon you.

You wanted to be home. In two days you were supposed to attend your confirmation–the Imperial robes laid out in ceremony in your quarters, adjustments made up until the end.

They'd taken special care to incorporate your grandmother's engagement gown into the design, hand-embroidering yards of silk and transparent tulle to mimic the tail you had yet to fully grow. Your ears were just beginning to migrate, covered in hair in the awkward transition from the side of your skull to where a fox's should be.

This was supposed to be your moment. You were to be a Queen, finally allowed the freedom and company you’d been promised for so long.

Instead of a debut you're faced with a century’s storm, your hands torn to bleeding from hanging onto the rust-and-barnacle coated bars of an ancient fire escape as gale force winds try to tear you off.

A new gust of wind blasts you weightless as an NSMR autodyne explodes into view. Its searchlight darts from the abandoned boat smashed by the waves below to skitter across the decimated side of a neighboring building, swinging inevitably towards your mother’s feet as they disappear above.

"Hurry!" You hear her shout.

"Wait!" you scream out but it may as well be a whisper. Adrenaline propels you up–up–up–light cutting through the horizontal sheet of rain towards you, just as you're gripped and pulled into the nearest broken window.

"Down," your mother yells, pushing you to the floor. You lay prone against broken glass and debris, clinging to her arm as the bluish eye of the aircraft appears outside.

Mannequins are illuminated a ghostly white, green lasers criss-crossing their eyeless faces. When the searchlight passes, you both flatten against the wall, eyes shut against the dust from the tail rotor.

It feels like an eternity before the thunder of the aerodyne's blades recede, the ancient department store dark once more.

"We can't stop moving," your mother says, checking the sky before dragging your exhausted body up to your feet. "They'll be back soon."

"Where can we go?" you shout, terror making you combative. "We're trapped here. We should just turn ourselves–"

Her hand strikes your cheek hard, ringing your head. "If you go back, you die," she repeats for the thousandth time. "No matter what happens, you run."

And then she's rushing off again, leaving you nodding at her back as she heads deeper into the abandoned floor, a blur even after you've wiped the tears into your soaked windbreaker.

Deeper inside the building the screaming winds are replaced by the echo of water streaming down from points above, into an open space where escalators disappear into the darkness below. The grid is offline, but solar powered striplights outline the floors, shadowed by nature overtaking them. The central atrium is a veritable jungle, waterfalls from the leaking roof splashing on dinner-plate size leaves and hanging vines.

It's strange to consider that this place was once inhabited and purposeful; now it's a neglected cemetery stripped of everything valuable. The signs have been extinguished for half a century. Eerily dark storefronts like caverns encircle a central tunnel leading to the flooded waterline below.

"Do you hear that?" Your mother tilts her head, and your fox ears follow suit, perking forward. You grip the railing to peer into the chasm, seeing nothing but a deep void surrounded by concentric rings of blue fading into purple.

"It sounds like a river," you say.

"It's an old subway station.” She ignores your querying look, bringing up a map on her agent. “We're elevated enough to access a line that's not submerged. It's dangerous, but it's safer than being out there. We just need to find an emergency exit–"

"Wait," you interrupt, tilting your chin up as you look out from under your hood. A pulsing sound, like a heartbeat, grows louder, approaching. For a moment, you fail to understand the change in texture on the ceiling, a lightening of the green-black like the sun has emerged.

Then the thick, translucent layer fractures like ice, caving in.

The flooded rooftop's water appears to freeze in midair, refracting into a million rainbows from the searchlight of the autodyne hovering above it.

The illusion shatters as the break widens, a sinkhole in the sky.

There's no escape this close to the deluge of water and debris collapsing from two floors above. You're thrust against the guardrail as it buckles, plummeting into the darkness below with a scream that's engulfed by the roaring water long before you reach the bottom.

Breaking the surface is surreal. Your eyes remain open as you're plunged deep into the black depths feet-first, twisting your body to land with as little surface area as possible, immediately fighting to find up once the shock recedes.

A horrible cascade of broken sections of rooftop sink around you, trails leading from the silver plane above. You follow, lungs burning, almost losing your entire breath at the whump of impact as something huge and heavy hits, pushing you down.

Every muscle burns as you swim, swim, swim to the edge of the concrete block–climbing up and over until it's beneath you. The vacuum left in its wake sucks you down, but you keep kicking until you're free, finding the remains of an escalator to cling to and pull yourself up, using the thick roots entwined around its broken handrail.

You’re out of the worst here–just the patter of water broken by plantlife filling your mouth and nose as you cry out for your mother.

She's nowhere to be seen, or heard.

Something else answers your call.

A white light appears overhead, shadows scattering. The gusts from the hovering autodyne blow down, blinding you as the water is pulled into heavy chop.

"This is a NSMR rescue, stay where you are–" A robotic voice orders, distorted by the chamber.

You duck down underwater. This time you can see the horrible debris field beneath you, lit stark by the slanting rays of light.

The mossy bottom is closer than you imagined, brought near by a fresh layer of translucent plasticine and concrete. Air bubbles roil up, and you scan any of them for her–

–there, amidst the moon-like rubble, a white hand emerges along with a fall of dark hair.

You don't think, you act–taking a deep breath and diving back down. You’re tugged by an underwater current sucking you into it until you can grab onto a length of rebar from the section of roof keeping your mother trapped in the deep.

What you thought was just her hair is also a ruddy cloud seeping from a laceration across her forehead. Her mouth is ajar, spewing bubbles.

You have hope still, seeing that blood flow and that air.

All you need to do is get her out and force the water out of her lungs. She’s all you have left in this world, and though you’d resented her for ripping you from the comfort of your life you can’t imagine returning to it without her.

And so you work to free her, the seconds ticking down in your mind. There’s no give when you pull her arm. You crawl beside her, using your back and burning legs to push with all your might against the slab pinning her body.

You feel the slightest movement behind you, adrenaline powering your efforts to widen the gap as you readjust and push again, tugging on her clothing to try and loosen her.

It’s such a struggle that you don’t register the shadow of death falling over you both.

Suddenly there's something–someone–in the water, between you and the light.

You turn to see nothing that makes sense, darkness smothering you as an arm wraps around your neck and arm and pulls you up. You have to stifle the urge to scream, instead fighting back–clawing and twisting like a dying fish as your rescuer struggles to hold onto you.

Your immature frame is no match for an adult, male captor–not as you're pulled free and dragged towards the surface, hand splayed towards the blurring image of your mother's dying body.

There's only animal instinct driving you when you let water gush into your mouth, opening it underwater to bite, hard, into the pale flash of wrist encircling your chest.

Your teeth are sharper than most, your hybrid's jaw even stronger. You can feel the bone crunch as you choke.

You have a moment of blissful relief, suspended, before your oxygen-starved brain tries to breathe in one last time. The delicious taste on your tongue is washed away by brick-heavy, icy water.

And then you drown.

Dying feels strangely calm, in the face of everything else. Your vision goes red-to-black as you're swept deeper, that riptide current of an underground river dragging you away.

One last glimpse of your mother is captured in your mind's eye, as if a hallucination: her arm outstretched towards you, eyes open and unreflecting, beckoning you into the dark.

And beside her, something inhuman–monstrous–reaching to embrace you in her stead.

Blue-violet light seeps between your eyelids, your ears muffled.

You're drowning again–this time in air as you vomit up the fluid in your lungs. Your body is wracked again, and again, by its will to survive.

Gloved hands hold your face to the side, tugging wet strands of hair away and pressing against your pulled-back ears. It takes you a long time to realize that you’re being soothed like you were a child, this time by a stranger.

You can't help but cry, disoriented.

"Eomma, eomma," you repeat when you can speak, voice burnt away from choking.

"She's alive," someone says, handheld light arcing over your blinking eyes. “Good, less paperwork.”

“Shut up,” the person holding you says, voice bitter. “I need you on patrol in case he comes back.”

“He was fine before you shot at him–”

“I’m not worried about him.”

Your chest hurts so much, cold and stabbing with each breath. Your mouth tastes like you've sucked mud from a copper coin. Something other than bile burns your nostrils. It's a new scent–not the mildew and construction smell of the mall but frighteningly natural.

You've only recently come into your designation, you have yet to build your canid scent memory, but this is something utterly alien to you–green and citrus and–

"She'll make it,” the other man says.

The man holding you cradles you, rubbing your back as you splutter up what feels like another lungful. "Can you hear me, ____?"

At the sound of your name you twitch against his hold, kicking until he lets you go.

Run, she’d said. She’d told you to run.

You scramble in a layer of loam and dead leaves until you’re at the edge of the light, at the lip of the moss-coated pit. The water has already receded a few feet below, dark and calm.

"She's gone," the man grabs onto your shoulders to keep you from throwing yourself back in. "I'm sorry. We'll bring her home too, I promise."

You sob wordlessly, body folding into a circle as reality crashes down on you again along with the fierce pain flaring in your right shoulder, radiating into your skull and spine.

"I need to treat her. Arm with boosters and stay alert."

"He couldn't have attacked her. He did life support. It had to be an accident–" The man standing over you has a scratchy voice, deeper and more threatening as he protests the accusation.

"I don't care. If the kid doesn't bleed out she's at risk for bacterial infection. I have to treat her. You keep an eye out for Suh and dose him again on sight or I'll–"

"Or what, Moon? Last time I checked, Lee was in charge."

The man holding you trembles with rage. "Or I report this incident."

"You wouldn't dare."

"You know what the penalty is for going feral. And no anti-shift? At all? Just shut up and follow orders for once."

The other man goes silent, dropping the light to the ground and moving away from you both.

Your rescuer gently repositions you in his lap, exposing your neck and face to his scrutiny. At this angle you can see he has a serious but kind face, military haircut and NSMR name badge visible in the floodlight. Moon.

"Am I dying?" you croak out, raising your hand up to grip his vest as he rummages through a field kit.

"Not even close. But I need you to be a good girl and hold still. It's going to hurt."

"No," you say, eyes welling with tears. "Just let me go. I can't go back."

"Be strong for me, alright?" He holds your hand with his left in a textured glove, pouring something on your cheek. Suddenly you're burning alive from the outside in.

Even with your ruined voice, you're able to shriek.

The sound pierces the building, echoes disappearing into the static of flowing water. The fire in your skin rages with each new wash of antiseptic, the bottle emptied over you.

"Good girl," Moon soothes, his hand still in yours as he dabs away what feels like pure flame. He carefully unloosens your vise-like grip, setting you down to pull more supplies out.

"The worst part is over. We're going to bandage you up now. I may have to do stitches but I'll give you something for the pain first, okay? You're very brave–"

Tick-tick-tick.

You barely register his words, ears flicking towards the source of the sound–something rumbling overhead. Your gaze follows a moment too late as the shadow falls down from the thick foliage, shaking the ground when it hits.

"Fuck, Na–" Moon lets out a muffled yell as something huge descends on you both.

"No!" You croak, watching the medic swept bodily into the brush.

Bright flashes illuminate something terrifyingly large, moving at an otherworldly speed as it disappears into the leaves. More shots are fired, from another angle–somewhere overhead. The underbrush explodes with the return of the monster.

If the attacking creature was angry before now it's frenzied, rushing forward to swipe over you at the other man. You can't help but curl into a ball, afraid of the white flash of teeth and claws passing by overhead. Loam peppers your raised arms as you protect your fragile body.

And then, quiet. The breathing of the creature is inches from your nose–ribs expanding under an ocean of dark fur, as it stalks forward.

You brace for your end, knowing you can't stay quiet if he attacks you next.

"Stop. It's me." The other man shouts, voice changing pitch as he moves back. The gun clatters from his hand against a hard floor. "We're helping her."

The monster doesn't follow, crouched over you and snarling. You can see the flattened ears and broad-skulled profile of a large cat–not some jimseung hybrid form like in the war archive footage but fully animal, eyes slitted in rage.

The red tufts of tranquilizer darts emerge from its heaving side and neck. It doesn't appear to be going down anytime soon, roaring a final warning before turning its attention to its true prey.

You.

Instinct has you frozen, whimpering softly as that giant skull bends down to push your shoulder–testing if you're alive. You stay limp, shivering involuntarily. There's a hot chuff of breath on your exposed neck, and then the horrible sandpaper rasp of a tongue dragged across it, revealing wounds you hadn't even known were there.

There’s no way to stop from crying out at the new sting, the sound weak with the lack of energy left in your body.

Miraculously, the predator pulls away, giant form cringing. Through the slits in your closed eyes you watch it favor its right paw, licking at something shining in the LED’s glow.

"Dose him again." Moon's voice is a croak, the brush swaying a few meters away. You can’t help but be grateful he’s still alive.

“It could kill him.”

"I don't care." Moon says, exhausted. You hear a louder rustle as he drags himself back, the clicks of an ammo check and the cocking of a gun making your anxiety spike.

The cat snarls in his direction, collapsing beside you.

"Look. He's not hurting her," Na says. "He's protecting her."

You have no idea what's happening but the cat has settled beside you, choosing to lick your exposed forearm guarding your head. That warmth seeps into your frozen skin, threading deep into your pain-wracked limbs.

For reasons yet unknown to you, your body relaxes, tension easing by degrees as the animal that is your true self realizes there's no danger. Something else is making you act against any rational instinct, a hazily recognized similarity infusing your senses.

Protection. Home. Safety.

That green scent, bright with each rattling inhalation.

It's coming from him.

Agony and grief fade away, just background noise, as you move carefully to look up. The huge cat stills, mouth open. His amber eyes are mostly pupil with the infusion of drugs, unreactive to the bright glow of the lamp.

That alien gaze looks into you, something recognizable trapped within. You raise your hand, nails black with dirt and blood, quivering with the effort to stay calm.

His inky nose twitches forward, sniffing.

It feels like the answer to a question you hadn’t even asked when he pushes forward to rub against your offered touch, whiskers scratching your open palm.

The cat’s face rolls against your hand, dragging a hot lip and the edge of a thumb-sized fang to your wrist. You trace the dense fur over his dry nose up to the ridge of his forehead. Here the hide is softer, lighter and a different shade of black where rosette spots emerge.

You watch his eyes close in a vaguely human expression of pleasure. He makes a deep sound, that same rumble you’d heard before, minus aggression.

"Careful–" Moon warns.

"I'm fine," you say–knowing by the hollowness in your heart that you aren't, will never be.

At least this is within your control. Like a vignette from one of your leather-bound fairy tale books: the maid and the beast who’d decided it was better to serve her than eat her by some enchantment.

What enchantment? Something your mother had instructed in all those obtuse lessons about their methods of control–an easy thing that seems so hard to grasp with the pain and fear thundering within you.

When everything else fails, put them to sleep.

"You can sleep now, okay? Please sleep,” you urge the cat.

His purr seems to be an affirmation; he collapses in slow-motion, swaying a little as if fighting to the end. His head comes to rest beside yours, steam rising in the light with his breath–each more shallow than the last.

"Did you see that?"

The cat wakes at the voice, lip curling to expose yellow-white teeth again. A slow blink meets you eye to eye as you stroke his browline, soothing him into quiescence with the lightest of touches.

"We have a much bigger problem," Moon says, suddenly behind you. "I'm sorry, princess."

Something sharp pierces your neck, but you’re too tired to fight–too focused on staying quiet so the beast doesn’t stir.

There's a snarl but no movement besides the twitch of a paw, claws extending.

"Please . . ."

"What?" You have a glimpse of Moon's bloodied face. By the stinging in your own jaw you're a casualty of this encounter, too.

"Please . . . don't hurt him," you plead.

"No," Moon says, glancing at the body beside you. "We won't hurt anyone."

The other man appears over his shoulder, blurred by the sedative–eyes reflecting green in the dim.

"If you want to protect him, you'll keep quiet." The stranger says.

"Stop–" Moon says.

"You tell anyone and he dies, do you understand?" You know he's speaking to you, something flaring inside your belly. You can’t let anything happen to him–not your beast.

Your beast.

You nod, tears streaming from your cracked eyelids.

"Good girl," he says.

Movement in the corner of your eye surprises you, distantly aware of a rush of heat in the chill of the dank space. Your head lolls to the side, unable to register what you’re seeing–a drastic change in the hulking form before the floodlight is snuffed out.

His profile is burnt into your vision like an old photo negative, human shoulder dipping with each exhale, and a hand that was once a paw curled next to your own, as if reaching to hold it.

[next]

#agtbtb #nct x reader #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 fic #nct 127 fanfic #nct 127 omegaverse #nct 127 cyberpunk au #nct 127 imagines #nct fic #nct imagines

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androgynousrunaway · 3 months

Text

It's Our Word Against Theirs (Alastor x FemReader)

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I love a good song fic, so without further ado here is my first fic right out of the oven. It's a nice fluff to get your day started I hope you enjoy it. Also please let me know (nicely) if i missed any trigger warnings <3

This story does use she/her pronouns

TW: blood, drug use, mentions of death, alcohol, swearing, & minor gun violence

words: 2,808

⋆͛*͛ ͙͛ ⁑͛⋆͛*͛ ͙͛ ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ✩‧₊˚⋆͛*͛ ͙͛ ⁑͛⋆͛*͛ ͙͛⋆͛*͛ ͙͛ ⁑͛⋆͛*͛ ͙͛ ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ✩‧₊˚⋆͛*͛ ͙͛ ⁑͛⋆͛*͛ ͙͛

The battle with the angels was intense; you could barely hold your own against them. However, you were willing to die a second time to save the people who have become your friends. Sidestepping to avoid an angel blade, your gaze goes to the roof where Alastor and Adam are in a battle. At first, you thought Alastor could do it—he was beating Adam to a pulp.

“Don’t you know radio is fucking dead!” shouted Adam, and a burst of light flashed through the sky. Alastor took a deadly hit. “No!” you shouted, trying to run after him, but another angel blocked your path, threatening to end your life too. There was no time to mourn your friend; you could do that later over a drink. Now you have to fight to save your own life.

In the aftermath of the battle Sir Pentious was dead, Adam now lay dead on the ground, the hotel was destroyed, and Alastor was missing. The only thing left of the hotel was Alastors radio tower, somehow it had survived the final battle and it now lay there as a reminder that your friend was gone. You fell to your knees sobbing, your friends, your home they were gone, this all could have been avoided if heaven had just tried to listen to Charlie.

Sadness rattled your body as you wept a soft hand gripped your shoulder, it was Angel Dust, “Come on girly, we can be sad later.” He said in a comforting tone, “We need to help Charlie rebuild her dream.” Angel was right, this was Charlie’s dream and you believed in her, you could cry later it was time to work and rebuild.

With a little help from Lucifer and a song the hard work paid off and the brand-new hotel was finished better than ever before. You hugged Charlie, and told her how proud you were of her and then excused yourself to be alone, “Hey! Where are you going sad eyes, aren’t you going to drink with us?” Husk shouted after you but let it go when Angel hushed him. You needed to go and cry for your friend, out of everyone for some reason you had gotten close to the radio demon, maybe it was due to your shared hate of the Vox or your shared love of hard liquor. Whatever it be, you had lost your friend.

Bottle of rye in hand the stairs to his radio tower creaked as you climbed them until you reached the door. Opening it and going inside the room was dark and smelled like dried blood, a heavy feeling weighed in the air. Frowning and tears coming to your eyes you set down the bottle of rye on a table, and you took it all in. “Oh, Alastor.” You whispered. Suddenly you became very aware of radio static filling the air, causing the hair on your skin to stand up.

“Smile, my dear… you know you’re never fully dressed without one…” You heard a soft radio voice in the corner whispered to you. “Alastor?” You said softly your eyes now adjusting to the dark you could barely make out a figure hunched over in the corner, his red eyes now meeting yours.

“Alastor!I thought you were dead!” you yelled rushing over to him. “Don’t worry, my dear, radio isn’t dead… it’s just resting.” He said, “It's just resting.”

You crouched down next to him; he was holding his chest, dark blood covering his clothing and hands, you could tell he was not okay. Alastor always held himself to a high standard; you were not used to seeing him so vulnerable and small. “Hey, let me help you,” you say, giving his hand a light squeeze and running off to fetch a first aid kit from the hotel.

A few minutes later, you were back in the radio studio, carrying a box of everything you could find. “I’m here, don’t worry,” you said, reaching him and softly taking his hand away from the wound on his chest. Alastor wasn’t used to this kind of compassion from someone; he had to admit it was different. He was used to everyone being afraid of him or doing what he said. But right now, right here in the dark of his studio, he was willing to accept the help. He didn’t want to die.

“I need to cut away your shirt,” you said. Your voice snapped him back to reality. “Your blood, it’s sticking to it, and I need to clean you up.” You knew he did not like being touched and you wanted to make sure he was comfortable before you began.

He gave you a little nod and let you cut away his dress shirt, trying your best not to hurt him even more.

Bandage after bandage you tried to patch him up, Adam had definitely done a number on him, but finally the blood stopped soaking through the bandages, and you knew he was going to be okay. It wasn’t the best bandage job in the world, but it would have to do. “You need to change these in the morning and before you go to bed,” you said softly, giving him a pat on the shoulder and standing up to leave. “I’m glad you’re okay, Alastor,” you said, flashing him a smile.

Alastor watched as you began to leave. Why did he want you to stay? Was he lonely? Certainly not. But something about you there alone with him made him feel better. “Ma chère, would you mind staying with me for a bit?” he managed to squeak out. You turned and smiled this just confirming that The radio demon actually enjoyed your company.

Taking the bottle of rye from the table, you sat back down next to him. “And what are you going to do with that?” he asked, watching you pull on the cork of the bottle. “Drink it,” you replied, getting the top off and taking the bottle into your mouth, drinking down a few gulps. ‘Liquid courage,’ you thought as the liquid burned at your throat, going down into your stomach, warming it slightly. “And what are you going to accomplish? Are you going to get drunk and lose all your senses?” he chuckled, nudging you in the ribs. “I’m celebrating the fact that we are not dead at the hands of those winged fucks,” you laughed a nervous laugh, pushing the bottle into his hands and making him drink with you. He drinks, and the two of you sit in silence.

It was silent for a while. You had to admit even though the two of you were somewhat friends, he did make you slightly nervous. You took another sip and cradled the bottle for a second; the liquid courage did help loosen you up a bit, and now you hated the silence that was spread between the two of you. “Do you ever miss being alive?” you whispered softly, cutting through the stillness of the room. The question caught Alastor off guard. Did he miss being alive? No, but he missed his mother and the smile she always gave him; he missed when she would kiss his busted knees as a kid. But he did not miss being alive. Living was a cruel thing, and in hell, he was finally someone.

“To tell you the truth,” Alastor said, “I do not miss being alive. I didn’t enjoy it.” You looked at him, processing what he just said. “I get what you mean,” you leaned your head back on the wall, “My life was a shit show, but I do miss it sometimes.” He took the bottle from you and drank some more. If this was the conversation the two of them were having, Alastor needed a bit more to drink. “Oh yeah? Even the awful parts?” he said, taking a rather large gulp and wiping away alcohol from his chin.

“Yeah, I mean, I miss the sun hitting my face in the summertime. I also miss going to dance clubs; the 80s were fun,” you said in response to him. Alastor laughed at your response, not in a mean way but in a way that agreed with you. “Oh yeah, a dance club is where people go to listen to music and dance,” you continued on, making a jab about his age and nudging him with your elbow. “I know what a dance club is; we had them back in the day. We just called them something different,” he responded, a little annoyed that you were using his age against him. “I’m sorry,” you laughed more, “I just assumed since you are definitely from the 1920s, you didn’t know the ways of the future.”

“And how do you know I’m from the 1920s?” He responds by giving you a sly smirk, “I mean, the way you dress, the way you talk, and don’t even get me started with you trying to use any electronics.”

“You got it on the nose, my dear. I guess it is kind of obvious. I do not know how to use a cellphone to save my life.” He smiled at you, the air around you both feeling lighter.

You had always liked Alastor, the way he presented himself down to the way he talked. At first, you thought it was just admiration for the man; you had to admit he was ‘the cat’s meow,’ as he would say. But over time, as you got closer to him and your friendship blossomed, that admiration turned into a crush. You didn’t want to admit it at first; ‘he’s the radio demon for crying out loud!’ you would think when your heart would give that little pang when he walked into a room. Love does have a funny little way of showing up, though, so you had to admit you loved the radio demon. When you thought he was gone for good, it felt like your heart was breaking into a million pieces.

“I’m happy I found this hotel, you know?” you said softly, breaking the newly formed silence. “My home life when I was alive wasn’t great; I mean, my parents weren’t abusive or anything they were just socialites who would do anything to make themselves look good, even resorting to lying to keep up our appearance.” You began to tell Alastor, a little embarrassed actually, “You know,I nearly wrecked my life three times; three times I went crying to my parents, I begged them to make it all go away. Three times they fixed my mistakes, and it didn’t matter who got screwed or who they paid off. To them, an inconvenient truth could easily be erased.” You looked over at him; he looked back at you, listening to every word you had to say. It was the first time in a while someone actually seemed like they were interested in talking to you.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to talk about myself,” you uttered, feeling bad that you kept spilling things about yourself that he didn’t ask for. “It’s okay, my dear. I like learning about you; it’s nice because we are always with the others and I don’t get to see this side of you much,” Alastor reassured you, giving your knee a little pat, “I miss my mother,” he said, “I haven’t told anyone that actually. But I miss her very much; she would make me the best jambalaya from scratch and always believed in my dreams of being a famous radio host. It’s a shame I left her too early.”

“Do you remember how it happened? Dying, I mean,” you choked out, not able to filter your words anymore. Alastor was silent for a few moments, looking away from you for a second, trying to find the words to answer. Finally, he spoke about the subject that he had avoided telling you for so long. “Of course I do. I remember every detail of how it happened…” His words were cold like ice as he answered your question. You took a breath now, not wanting to hold back “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours,” you said, a red blush spreading across your face in the dark. He looked back at you with that smile on his face, that never left. “Okay, I was not a good man in my life, (Y/N). I killed men, not good men, but I killed them. I thought I was doing the world a favor by getting rid of them.” He spoke; you could tell he was getting uncomfortable, you took his hand without thinking and gave it a squeeze. He continued on,“ I became known as the Bayou butcher, of course no one knew their beloved radio host was responsible for a string of brutal murders. I must have gotten sloppy in the end, as I was burying my latest victim in the woods. I didn't see the sign that read, ‘Open Season’ and as I stood up from the freshly dug grave, a crack ripped through the air and my body filled with hot iron. A hunter shot me right between the eyes, he must have thought I was a deer; his dogs finished me off, tearing me to pieces until I was dead. The next thing I knew, I was down here in hell, and the rest is history.”

You didn’t know what to say, honestly, you were shocked and amazed at his story. You didn’t think Alastor would ever open up to anyone, but here you were sitting on the floor of his radio studio listening to him tell you his story. You were truly honored that he felt comfortable enough to share this with you.

“It’s your turn, ma chère,” he whispered softly, giving your hand a light squeeze. “Oh yeah, I almost forgot.” You said, “Well, I was 26, and I was living in New York, I had developed some fun habits. I definitely put my white blood cells to work. I remember it so clearly; I was home alone on a Tuesday night. My roommates had gone out clubbing without me; I just couldn’t seem to get my mind right. To level out, I popped some downers, I drew a bath, and slipped into it. I thought it might help calm my racing mind. While I was floating there, I suddenly became aware I couldn’t keep my head above the water, so I took a final gasp of air. As I lay there helplessly, I thought about what my parents might say when they found out their only daughter drowned alone in her tub. As water filled my lungs and darkness took over me, my final thought was of them telling people some lie about where I was.”

You hadn’t realized that you were crying until Alastor wiped the tears from the cheek with his free hand, the other had never stopped holding yours, “Come now, mi chéri, there’s no need to cry. You're here now with a better family” He cooed to you softly, reassuring you that you were now safe. “Alastor, I’m happy I met you,” you sighed, leaning in to hug him, making sure you didn’t hurt his healing wounds. He didn’t flinch or move away like he normally would for anyone else; instead, he just hugged you back softly, happy to comfort you.

The two of you stayed there in silence, holding one another; the sound of breathing was the only thing that could be heard. “It’s getting late,” you said in a tired voice, “I should get to bed.” You went to stand up only for Alastor to pull you back, taking your face in his hands and planting his lips onto yours. He didn’t know why he did it; maybe the alcohol had gotten to him, but maybe, just maybe, he had been wanting to do it all night. You kissed him back softly with enthusiasm, not caring about anything else in the world at that moment.

After a bit, you two pulled away for air. “I’m glad I got to spend this time with you, my dear. We should do it again where it’s just the two of us. I would love to hear more stories about you.” he said, that smile that never left still on his face, but this smile was a genuine one, one that he didn't have to force like he normally does. Giving him a peck on the cheek you left the radio demon there alone in his lair, his hand going up to touch where your lips once were a second ago. He now had another reason to live, another reason to break the deal that he had made. Alastor finally enjoyed the company of another person, and he didn't want to lose that person.

#hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor x you #fanfic #reader insert #x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin spoilers #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x you #y/n

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