#Day 1: Highest Bidder | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

potofsoup · 1 year ago

Note

i love your fourth of july comics every year but this years feels extremely optimistic about biden’s abilities in the face of him letting roe get overturned and funding a gen*cide at worst or letting it happen at best by taking the bare minimum of regulatory action… i mean can he really be trusted at all anymore to do the right thing or act in line with the people’s demands? and how do we know the people behind project 2025 won’t just rig the election again to get in under false pretenses?

Hihi! Thank you for reading and enjoying my July 4th comics every year! I am in a non-US airport en route to a month-long trip in a place with sketchy internet, so sorry in advance for sloppiness in my response (and potentially going radio silent).

But:

I don't think he "let" Roe get overturned, since that was the Supreme Court's overwhelming conservative majority, which really started with Mitch McConnell refusing to approve Obama's appointee and forcing it into a 2016 election issue. The fact that Trump got to appoint 3 Supreme Court Justices is what got us here.

Re: Biden and the Israel/Hamas war ... on the one hand, there's definitely more that he could have done, but on the other hand, they are a whole other country over there. It's Hamas that initiated the Oct 7 attacks and took the hostages. It's Netanyahu and his right-wing government who decided to retaliate to such extreme extent. Biden can talk about how he would really like Netanyahu to stop fighting and step down, but at the end of the day that's not his call, any more than he can stop the Sudan fighting that is near-genocidal either.

So, to come to your question #1: "Can he really be trusted at all anymore to do the right thing or act in line with the people’s demands"?

For me, it's a resounding YES. Guyz, he has passed so much good domestic policies. My spouse works in green energy and the passing of the Inflation Reduction Act halved his anxiety and gave him legitimate hope. The tumblr post I linked to in my comic has links to many of the other great things that Biden has done. Tbh I voted for him in 2020 because "a moldy onion is still better than Trump", and I've been pleasantly surprised. Like how he tried to cancel student loans, the Supreme Court overturned it, and then he came back 6 months later with a different way to do it that didn't lead to a court challenge.

Is he perfect? Hell no. There's tons of stuff that I wish he did more about, or he went further on, but also he's just one guy heading one branch of government who is heading into an election year. (Just like FDR promising not joining WWII, while behind the scenes doing all the Lend-Lease Act stuff). And "the people" have lots of demands, many of them conflicting.

I'd also like to push at the unspoken part of your question... "Can he really be trusted to do the right thing..." compared to whom? Because right now the answer is "compared to Trump." And compared to Trump... I don't even trust Trump to respect the results of a legitimate election. Heck, he might just take his favorite state secrets, sell them to the highest bidder (or just show them off to someone for funzies), and then claim Presidential immunity. A decent Democrat who got stuff done vs someone who probably wants to pardon himself and all his friends and do Project 2025 stuff is not even on the same level. (Do I wish that there was a viable Democratic alternative to Biden? Sure! But who?) Heck, at this point -- imagine if it's Kamala Harris vs. Trump. Who would you vote for?

As for your question #2: "How do we know the people behind project 2025 won’t just rig the election again to get in under false pretenses?"

We don't. But also what can we do besides showing up to vote?

Actually, I need bullet points for this:

The 2022 midterm elections brought in fewer-than-expected election-deniers into crucial electoral offices at the state level, which means that hopefully most state electoral boards will continue to have integrity

Yes, voting is harder but at least we can still vote. So it's about getting out there and getting your vote counted. For some states, it involves waiting in 8 hour lines. For some states, it involves bringing 2 forms of ID. Document. Track. Make sure it's dropped off in a real ballot box and not a fake one. Don't believe messaging that the voting is happening on a different day or location, etc.

A 50.1% majority is easily challenged. A 55% majority, less so. Which means getting people out to vote.

The more people know about and think about the reality of a second Trump term (versus being disappointed by a Biden term), the more they will be motivated to vote against Trump.

Finally, let's be real here: I'm braced for a 2nd Trump term. That said:

I'm still going to go and vote for Biden, because the only way to prevent a 2nd Trump term is to vote.

A Trump term where either the House or Senate is controlled by the Democrats will be *very* different from a clean Republican sweep.

Even with a clean Republican sweep on the federal level, States have so much more power now, and voting the state level stuff will help shore up Democratic goals for the future. States get to draw voting districts however they want. States get to decide on abortion policies. If you live in a deep Red state, there still might be things to vote for that make it easier to live in now, and turn it purple a few elections down the line.

So at the end of the day, it's "Vote AND". Vote and keep living your best life. Vote and tell others about Project 2025. Vote and have hope. Even if Trump wins, at least you'll have voted against him. Vote and stay to build up a progressive wave for the next election.

#long ranty reply oops #fun fact: my congressional district had a tied vote during the primaries... so literally every vote counted #and then was recounted and one person pulled ahead by <25 votes i think

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some-bunniii · 1 year ago

Text

Lucifer meeting an artist reader

・❥ The King of Hell admires your paintings

x: reader is g/n :) no use of pronouns or y/n

warnings: some raunchy details of your painting & mild swearing

When you arrived in Hell, the first thing you did was scream.

Where were you? Why was it so hot? What happened to your bed?!

“You’re in Hell, kid.” A blue bat-faced man had broke the news, as you stood helpless and confused on the street.

Hell? Like, demons and dark satanic magic kind of Hell?

That couldn’t be right. Were you that bad of a person to deserve such a fate? Did the few times you passed the Salvation Army donation bucket without dropping a coin damn you to this place?

Your death was fuzzy, a trail of shattered memories that could only give you bits and pieces of your final days. Did you go quickly in your sleep? Maybe, you hit your head so hard it caused you some kind of post-death amnesia?

Whatever had happened, you were here now with no way out.

During your first few days scouring for answers, you began to notice that Hell had an eerie similarity to life above ground. There were clubs, casinos, concerts. Heck, even TV! Sure, the things broadcasted were dark and sometimes disgusting.. but at least you had something to watch.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad after all? At least, compared to being thrown into dark, fiery pits for all of eternity like some cruel game of sink or swim.

Minus the people, of course. Most of them were pretty bad. Your first day watching a man get shot in the chest and lines of cocaine across tables in a diner made you decide to stay away from the streets of the city.

Which meant you had to get busy making a life for yourself. It started with working odd jobs as a bartender or a bell-hopper. You’d scrap together enough money to head to the nearest art supply store, and fill your bag with paints and charcoal pencils.

“You an artist or something?” The clerk had asked you as she scanned your items, taking note of your vast amount of diverse tools you were slowly collecting every time you stopped by.

“I usually paint, but yes, I used to do all kinds of mediums professionally when I was.. alive,” You had whispered that last part out with a pang of sadness, the reality of your situation still a fresh wound in your mind.

You had found an ad for an art studio, ran by a demon named Alexandre. You had showed him a few of your pieces, some pretty landscapes, a rendition of the Starry Night Sky which you had replaced the backdrop to be Pentagram city instead of whatever little village it was originally, and a self portrait.

“You got talent, i’ll give you that,” He had hummed, as his eyes scanned your paintings with intrigue, “But the subject? Not really what we’re looking for.”

“What do you mean?” You had asked, confusion evident in your voice.

“We’re in Hell, demons ain’t into pretty ponies and happy, little trees. They want more— eh how do i put this — sinful behavior?”

“Like…?”

“Like tits or anything that can be turned into a kink. They like blood and guts, and dead people splayed around. Dead angels too. Stuff like that.”

Tits? Dead people? You didn’t have much practice with that! At least not enough to make a career out of it.

But you had agreed anyway, this was your only shot. You stayed up late into the night, sometimes even into the early mornings, perfecting your skill when it came to much more risqué visuals. You would buy stacks of pornograohic magazines, flipping through for poses to memorize.

Slowly, you began to master the craft, and your time at the studio increased as you finally settled into life in Hell.

All you had to do was churn out painting after pastel after acrylic in the little cramped room you now called home. Alexandre would then take your pieces and sell them to the highest bidder. You’d get a percentage of the commission, using the money for whatever necessary.

Seeing as you could be mugged at literally any point in time, or anywhere for that matter, you made sure to keep a large sum of cash locked away in a double-bolted safe.

“You know Ozzie’s, that club down in the Lust Ring?” Alexandre had approached you one day, excitement in his eyes.

You shook your head as you sat behind the easel, your brush an inch from the canvas.

“Run by Asmodeus, one of the literal seven deadly sins?”

You shook your head once more.

“Fuck, you still have a lot to learn. Well, he really likes your art. He wants to buy a bunch of paintings for his club, and he’ll drop a shit ton of cash too. Ya think you can handle it?”

Your eyes had widened when he told you the exact price this sin guy was willing to pay. You had jumped from your seat, shaking his hand in profuse thanks, before scurrying off to gather more supplies.

And for a time, that’s how it went. You’d sell your steamiest paintings to Asmodeus, and other private commissions you took one after the other.

Apparently, your painting hung up in Ozzie’s was getting a lot of attention. Especially from a certain spider demon named Angel Dust.

After hearing Charlie’s decision to look for another member of their staff— someone who’d be in charge of decorating the premise with promises of love and tranquility up in Heaven— Angel Dust had taken a few snaps of your work with his phone, before showing it to Vaggie and Charlie. He had complimented your work, claiming it was ‘the best’ oil paintings he’d ever seen.

Although, in his line of work, he probably hadn’t seen many to compare yours so.

“ls this what we want in our hotel?" Vaggie had asked, motioning to a woman on the canvas that was drenched in sweat and white fluid, her private parts exposed to the audience as she posed suggestively on a stripper pole.

To which Charlie has responded, "I think it's... unique! You can definitely see she knows how to, um, really bring the scene to life! l'm sure she'll be open to creating our vision!"

Your phone had rung one night, with a voice on the other end begging you to come to her hotel and at least hear her offer for a new job.

Which lead you to the Hazbin Hotel, a slightly run down building that obviously needed more work. Inside and out.

“Oh my gosh! Hi there! My name is Charlie, and this is my hotel! it’s such a pleasure to meet you!”

“Thanks.. but I don’t see many guests around.” You had told her, your eyes darting around the lobby as you absorbed your surroundings.

“Well, we’re still trying to get our name out there. We’re not just any hotel, we’re a hotel set on redeeming sinners!” She exclaimed with pride.

“Redeem?” You had asked her, an eyebrow raised in disbelief.

She shook her head vigorously, “This hotel.. it’s going to be amazing! We’re going to turn Sinners into well.. non-sinners! They’ll be rehabilitated, and have morals! And honor! Heaven won’t be able to do anything but welcome them as angels!”

This idea had sounded a little far-fetched when you first heard it.

“You’ll be in charge of making art that reflects such views! Something that will make Sinners go, ‘Wow! Now that’s where I want to go!’”

“What’s in it for me?” You had asked.

“Well you’ll have your own room, and your own little studio too! I’m sure it’s much bigger than the one you already have. Plus we have a bar, and good company!”

You turned your head to the small crowd of demons a few feet away. A pornstar, a gambler, a snake guy with weird little walking eggs, and a really creepy man in a red coat that shot you a wide smile with eyes that seemed to stare right through your soul.

This was good company?

You contemplated her words, thinking deeply. Did you really need to leave the studio you were already a part of? You already had a room and place to paint, anyway.

Charlie must have noticed your hesitation to accept before quickly adding,

“Anddd you can sell your pieces here too! Plus, you can keep a hundred percent of the earnings.”

You perked up at that, the money made from your art would be... all yours? And, you’d get a breather from the drawing people having sex? That didn’t sound so bad after all!

“Deal!” You had reached out a hand, shaking hers with delight.

It had taken you a day or two to map out the interior of the hotel and figure out what could go where. You began to slowly brainstorm, what could make a sinner stare at a canvas and want to redeem themselves?

During your time on earth, you studied many artists through history. Most notably however, were those from the Renaissance. You remembered walking through the Sistine Chapel when you were younger,

staring at awe of the paintings of winged angels and heavenly skies.

You perked at that thought. That was it! The inspiration for your paintings, an ethereal perspective on what one would find in heaven. The feelings of bliss and care-free joy.

You spent your first few days in an undisturbed area of the hotel, it was a large room on the farthest side of the lobby. It must’ve been a guest room at one point, but other than a bed and few cushions that the ‘Radio Demon’ had placed for you, it was empty.

It was quiet enough that you could sit there, undisturbed, as you drew upon your memories and vast knowledge of histories in art as you slowly began to bring your ideas to life. Slowly, the room also took form into being yours, personal knick-knacks and stacks upon stacks of blank canvases waiting to bring your visions to life.

At the end of every day, you'd come out with your hands covered in charcoal and paint, your hard work on full display.

You had even grown closer to the other residents in the hotel, beginning to see them as more than their initial appearance. Even Alastor, who still kind of gave you the creeps, you had regarded as someone you could speak to without hesitation.

You’d sit on the couches with Angel Dust, drowning in popcorn as you watched whatever was on TV for the night. Sometimes, you’d sit with Husk at the bar as you listened to his stories from his days at the casino and as an Overlord.

It was there, when Charlie had summoned the courage to call her father, Lucifer, the King of Hell, to come visit the hotel and decide on getting her that meeting with the higher powers in Heaven.

Upon hearing about Lucifer's impending visit, you felta mixture of nerves and excitement. You've heardstories about him-his charisma, his power--but you never expected to meet him, let alone showcase your art to him. Would he even like them? He's no doubt seen much more beautiful sights.

As preparations for Lucifer's visit got more chaotic by the minute, you found yourself back in your Atelier, quickly cleaning up your room and berating yourself for any little mistakes you found in your paintings. Each stroke of the brush carried with it a sense of urgency, a desire to impress not just your friends at the hotel, but also the King of Hell himself.

The current piece you were working on was your most intense one yet. It depicted that of an almost nude man, flying high in the skies. His back was faced towards you, his face hidden from view. He was faced towards the sun, which bathed him in a warm glow. Arms outstretched, knees curled in, it seemed as if the angel was going to give the sun a large bear-hug.

It wasn’t until you heard loud commotion in the lobby did you realize Lucifer had arrived. Quickly dropping the brush you were holding, you sneaked down the stairs and quickly neared the archway of the lobby.

Peaking your head out, you canned the large room. Until your eyes locked in a pale figure. Lucifer.

He was beautiful, definitely held the looks of an angel that fell from heaven. His light blonde hair curled elegantly around his face. The candles from the chandelier above basked him in an ethereal glow, as though he could replace the sun itself. Just like the angel from your painting.

His eyes reminded you mostly of a snake. Calculating and cold, but holding so much wisdom and depth. There was a slight sadness there as well, as though itate at him slowly, consuming his soul. It was masked incredibly well though, and you only caught a glimpse before it disappeared.

His attitude toward his daughter made your heartmelt, it was obvious he cared about her in the way heacted and spoke to Charlie, even if his absence didn't speak so fondly of him.

As Lucifer and Alastor butted heads, you quickly scurried back to your room. You had hoped to finish your work-in-progress by the time he arrived, but the struggle to get those damn angel wings to be anatomically correct was a pain.

You hurriedly continued your work, trying to calm your nerves by busying yourself with the painting in front of you.

Charlie's voice broke you out of your concentration soon after, multiple footsteps closing in on where your room lay. You shot up from your seat, and stood up straight, ready to meet the man of the hour.

You couldn't help but feel a flutter of anticipation mixed with apprehension as they approached your make-shift gallery.

Charlie, Vaggie, and— wow, he looked so much better up close— Lucifer stepped through the doorway.

“Dad, this is the newest addition to our staff! They are in charge of helping to inspire our future guests through the power of art!" Charlie proclaimed with glee, pulling you by the arm towards her father.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, your majesty. I apologize for being so messy, I was just finishing up another painting." You had greeted him softly.

"Don't worry, you look great," He assured, a gleam in his eyes, "and the pleasure is all mine, anyone who is willing to help my little girl is someone worth meeting,"

You stood there for a moment. Unsure of where to go next, before you felt a slight nudge from Charlie that pulled you back to reality, "Why don't we take a look at your paintings? I promise you, Dad, they are amazing!" She squealed softly.

Beckoning Lucifer forward, you took him through each painting. You described your feelings for each piece, and what made you choose them for the hotel.

You rambled on and on, and Lucifer never said anything, he just listened as you spoke.

Which made you nervous, what was he thinking? Did he like them, or was he just waiting for you to stop talking so he could quickly escape to something of more interest to him? The thought made sweat dribble down your forehead.

To your surprise, Lucifer's reaction to your art was not what you expected. Instead of dismissing it as mere frivolity, he studied each piece with genuine interest, his expression thoughtful and contemplative.

He mostly stayed quiet, but once in awhile would throw in a joke here and there if he noticed anything of interest in the paintings.

His goofy nature that you caught onto watching him earlier was barely evident though, unlike when he was trying to impress his daughter.

After finishing the small tour, you turned to him in anticipation. Your hands nervously rubbing together, as you shot a glance to Charlie, and she gave you an uncertain look. You both held the same question in your gaze: What is he thinking?

"These paintings.." Lucifer began, his voice low and melodic, "Are different than most i've seen down here, not just some scandalous display, but with real meaning. They evoke emotions long buried, memories of a time before.. all this."

His words caught you off guard, and you found yourself nodding in agreement, unable to tear your gaze away from his intense eyes.

The one he was staring at in particular was a recreation of The Garden of Eden by Jan Breghal, a painting that depicted the place where humanity was birthed, and where it fell.

“Does it look like.. how you remembered?" You had asked slowly, if anyone could validate the truth in your work, it would be him.

"Actually, this is much prettier. The real deal doesn't do your painting justice," He replied, "It was so boring, just green on green."

Also," He added, "An unfortunate lack of ducks. Humanity should be grateful that I got them out of that forest, so they could see something actually worthwhile.. and with ducks."

You giggled softly at his words, have you ever met someone that seemed to love ducks as much as him?

As Lucifer continued to explore the room, you couldn’t help but notice the way he lingered on certain paintings, his fingers tracing the delicate lines with reverence. It was as if he saw something in your art that no one else did, something profound and personal.

Perhaps your choice of baby-faced angels, and ethereal landscapes brought back memories of his time in Heaven. Hopefully, that wasn't a bad thing.

When Lucifer finally turned to you, his gaze softened, a hint of something unreadable lurking beneath the surface. "You have a rare gift," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "To create beauty in a place like this... it's truly remarkable."

He looked at you for a moment, before a smile crept onto his lips. He was Lucifer, he knew exactly what you meant. It's what drove him to manipulate Eve to eat from the Tree of Life in the first place.

Was he finally getting a glimpse of the good free will brought to humanity? Was there actually meaning in his past actions that sent him to the depths of Hell?

His gaze narrowed in on the canvas behind you, and he slipped past you. "What is this?" He asked with intrigue, pointing towards your unfinished painting.

“My final piece. I've been working on it for days, but I just can't get the wings right.. believe it or not, i've never actually seen angel wings in person." You said that last bit as a joke.

His smile sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach. For the King of Hell, it was surprisingly warm, and kind.

Then an idea struck you, but you tried to desperately to push it down. Except it seemed like the only time you could ask someone with angel wings to let you use them as a reference. How many fallen angels were in Hell, anyway?

"I'm so sorry if this is out of line, but. could I, um, borrow you for a little bit? I've just been having trouble drawing the wings correctly and you, well, have them?”

His eyes widened, and his chest puffed slightly at your question. He shot you a toothy grin, “Paint me? Why didn't you mention that earlier?! I have the perfect figure for such a thing.”

Behind him, Charlie rolled her eyes, a hint of a smile on her lips. You smiled too, you should've known he'd have no problem with it, he was the embodiment of pride after all.

He plopped down on a stool before you, and removed his overcoat. Beneath what seemed to be a red and white gatsby vest that hugged his frame perfectly. Jeez, he was almost too good looking.

He stretched out his large wings, folding the otherfour behind him, only revealing the two much largerones. They were breathtaking, truly. They looked so fluffy too!

You guided him on the exact position you needed them to be in, before making your way to the canvas and getting to work.

Assuring the group you only needed to get a visual on the canvas, the actual work you would do on your own. Slowly, you traced the frame of his wings, etching out the soft lines of his feathers and the curvatures of its form.

You could only imagine how soft those feathers were and what it would be like to curl around them like a pillo-

You shook your head to rid those thoughts. Why were you thinking such things about Lucifer like that? It's not like he would even want to let you go anywhere near him or his wings.

Would he?

You continued your painting, trying not to meet his gaze as you would occasionally peak your head from behind the large canvas to get another good look at his wings.

There was a moment when you two did lock eyes, and he sent a half-lidded smirk in your direction. Thankfully the large object between you two helped hide your growing blush. He was obviously just trying to get you worked up, you assured yourself. Just like he did with Alastor. In a different way, of course.

"This reminds me of when Charlie was younger" Lucifer began, filling the silence, "We sat for a good few hours trying to get a family portrait painted and she would just not sit still!”

“Dad.. please, not right now." Charlie growled out in embarrassment, her cheeks flushed. Vaggie only smiled beside her, listening intently as Lucifer filled everyone in on her younger years.

“lt got to the point where I had to summon her favorite toy to get her to stop squirming, everything was smooth sailing after that.

"And what was her favorite toy?" You inquired softly behind the canvas

“A rubber duck! Like the ones you play with in the bath? She could not get enough of it whenever it squeaked. One time the squeaker broke, and I went to my workshop and crafted her a magical one that meowed instead! Haha!"

Okay, this family really has a thing for ducks!

“She hated it, but that only inspired me to keep making more. Sometimes, we'd sit together on the work bench, and I would just come up with ideas like confetti-spitting, or color changing ducks. She wasn't too good at speaking at that time, so every time she'd laugh that was my clue that she liked it!"

It was sweet, the way he rambled about his daughter. He never spoke of himself or his accomplishments, despite embodying the sin of pride. It was almost like his only pride was his best creation, Charlie.

He continued, the room full of jokes and laughter, even from Vaggie, regarding Charlie's life as a youngling. You listened intently to his stories, his voice dripping with amusement as he recounted story after story.

lt was so sappy and you loved it. Which made you grumble quietly to yourself, why did you have to have a thing for DILFS?! Concentrate on the painting!

After a moment, Lucifer's eyes turned back to the paintings around him, his gaze scanning each painting once more. "I've noticed that you seem to have a repetition in your work.. not that that's a bad thing!" He quickly corrected.

“But in all of your paintings featuring angels, there's always a swan swimming or resting nearby. Do they hold any significance, or are they just a passion for you?"

You looked up from the canvas, and also traced the angelic figures across the room. He was right, with the images of the divine beings also came the appearance of the large, white water fowl. Lying lazily beside the angels, or swimming across pools of water as the care-free beings danced and frolicked.

You contemplated for a moment, before speaking truthfully.

“I just think Swans are elegant and ethereal creatures. They embody the purest of souls, untouched by the taint of sin that consumes the world, just like how their feathers remain untouched from the waters they glide on"

Lucifer's eyes lit up slightly, drinking up your words.

“Plus," You continue, "they mate for life, and allow themselves to just.. decay once their significant other departs from the world. It's very romantic, and love is one of the purest emotions in the world."

Lucifer wasn't looking at you when your eyes met his again, his stare was far off. Past the room entirely, as your words echoed through him. There it was again, the glimpse of sadness that he tried to hide so painfully well.

“Does such love like that exist?," he murmured so softly you had to strain your ears.

There was a few moments of deathly silence before Charlie piped up, asking her father something about heaven. You tried to listen, but your mind was stuck on his words. Lucifer was in heaven once, and he still didn't fully believe in such things?

If there weren't others in the room, perhaps you would’ve asked him.

It took a few more minutes before you were able to wrap up fully, but you had no regrets of asking this man for help, the angel on the canvas actually looked like he had wings, not just stumps of white tuft.

You got up from your seat and walked towards him, noticing that Charlie and her girlfriend were not present anymore. It was just you and Lucifer in theroom now.

“Well, thank you, Your Majesty. You really helped me out here, and it'll go a long way to make the hotel look even better"

“Please, call me Lucifer. The formalities are only for subjects, not friends," he replied, "l did really enjoy getting to see your paintings, you are quite a phenomenal artist. I wasn't lying when I said your work was different from the rest. If only you were around for those family portraits."

You were so taken aback by his praise that you only shrugged it off, like it was no big deal. Even though, coming from the King of Hell, it was.

Glancing behind him, you saw Charlie and Vaggie whispering to each other in the hallway outside of the door. You assumed they probably wanted to finish up so they could get him to agree to the meeting with Heaven.

lgnoring his previous statement of formalities— he was the king, you thought, you weren't going to just pat him on the back and say 'see ya! —you lowered your head and bent down to curtsy, just like you were taught when you were younger, placing your hand slightly in front of you.

Usually, you'd use that hand to shake or grasp the other person's, but it felt wrong to treat this powerful angel like any other man.

Suddenly, you felt the soft touch of fingers gliding across your hand. In confusion, you looked up at those golden eyes and that charming smile. Trying to get a glimpse of what he was thinking.

His hand gripped yours gently, and with a bow of his own, lowered his lips, and pressed a soft kiss your knuckles.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you feared to blink, soaking in his beauty for as long as you could before he had the chance to pull away. You wanted to say something, but your tongue was refusing to work as your mouth opened and closed silently.

When he finally released your hand, he adjusted his hat and turned towards the door. Leaving you standing there, your face burning hot

He cleared his throat, and turned his head slightly, his eye catching yours. A playful smile dancing on his lips.

“l look forward to our next portrait together, hopefully where I am the motivation behind your strokes. Not just these dull wings."

And with his words hanging in the air, you were left alone, with the growing itch to press your face into a pillow and squeal.

——————

awww man, my first fic! I was trying to make this more dating-centric, but i couldn’t stop writing for their first meeting and it got too long haha! If y’all like this one enough, i’ll make a dating version!

let me know what you think 🙏 i reallyyyy appreciate all comments and criticisms!!

wonderful art i commissioned by DawnDrawnS on twitter! <3

#Hazbin hotel #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #hellverse #OOC Lucifer?#He just ain’t as goofy #But I HC he’s only like that around Charlie :)#fanfiction #writing

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doitforbangchan · 1 year ago

Text

All Bark and No Bite

Chapter 1

It's here! This is the first chapter of my first real fic here on tumblr! I am not the best writer so please be kind :')

Series masterlist

Alternate Universe SKZ!

Chan x reader (y/n) x ot8

Previous - Next

Summary: There's no turning back now, not when you know what you left behind. A dangerous situation now replaced with another. After the omegas disappeared you have to extra careful, especially now that you have left your pack and family. What happens when your car breaks down on another pack's land?

Series Warnings: Fem reader, Smut, verryyyy nsfw, chan x reader, OT8 x reader, A/B/O, m/m/f smut, possessive! SKZ, possessive! Reader, anxiety and depression, fluff, angst, virgin!reader, cursing, violence, pet names, dom/sub dynamics, Sub reader x mostly dom SKZ, misogyny and sexism, Ateez are depicted as terrible people (sorry Atiny!)

Chapter warnings: Angst, anxiety, reader is VERY sad, minor violence, cursing, A/B/O (pls let me know if I missed any!)

MDNI 18+

Wc: 2400 ish

Disclaimer: The names and faces used here are just that, names and faces, and in no way reflect the real people the characters were designed after. The views and actions of these characters do not reflect the real Stray Kids in any way shape or form. This is all for fun let’s keep it that way please.

You should have known better. All those hushed conversations your parents have been having, all the phone calls your father excused himself to take, even the trip to your packs doctor for a very extensive physical. None of it set off your mental alarm bells and that made you feel so stupid. But how could you have known that your own parents, the people who raised you and were supposed to have your best interest at heart, were planning on selling you off to the highest bidder once you became mature enough.

That's life for omegas these days, though. After a worldwide virus a few decades ago, omegas just stopped being born. The virus wiped the gene out almost completely, leaving a very small percentage of omegas left. Unluckily for you, you happened to be the only omega born in your area in the last 40 years. That made you highly sought after by alphas, especially dangerous ones.

Your hands were still shaking. It had been hours since you escaped your parents house in your car, yet you couldn't get your hands to stop shaking with the immense adrenaline you’re feeling. You had no plan, no money, nowhere to go and no one to help you. Your only friend, Ash, was a beta girl in your pack and as much as you liked her you knew she could do nothing to save you now. At least your car had a full tank of gas, the only good thing your father had done for you was allow you to drive to Ash's house on occasion.

All the adrenaline was starting to wear off as you drove, the realization of what this would mean for you and your life now starting to sink in. The constant looking over your shoulder, the uneasiness you will always feel, it was almost too much to handle. No. What would have been too much to handle is letting that filthy man get his hands on you. Kim Hongjoong.You had heard about the things that alpha had done to claim power over his pack. From sabotage to murder, none of it was good. From what you could gather he was on the search for an omega to complete his pack and somehow had heard whispers about you. The only known omega within a few hundred miles. He wanted an omega to raise his children and help him lead his pack and would do anything to get his hands on one; whatever necessary.

You imagine the sum of money he offered your parents was just too good for them to pass up on. Your alpha father was too proud to accept anything less than a hefty amount. Your mother was an omega through and through. Obedient and submissive to her alpha. Just as she raised you to be. She herself was a rare omega. Though back in her day the omega population wasn't as low as it is now. Now the numbers have fallen to less than 0.2%. Your mother molded you into the perfect little doll. Almost. Never in your wildest dreams did she or your father imagine you, their doll, would be disobeying and running from all you had ever known, yet here you are. That's what real fear does to a person. Fight or flight. All your life you had been all bark and no bite. Now this is your way of biting back.

All you had to your name was this old car (technically your fathers), an old backpack with a few changes of clothes, and couple cans of spaghetti o’s. Luckily this car had an old map in the glovebox. Better than nothing especially since you had no gps and no phone. You knew better than to take the main roads. Your pack would undoubtedly be looking for you and the car. Back roads it was then.

You couldn't tell exactly how many hours you had been driving at this point, too caught up in your mind to really pay attention to the time but by now it had gotten very dark and you found yourself on this old road going through a small town in the woods. You vaguely remember passing through the small community about half an hour ago. Of course you hadn't stopped in the town in fear of being noticed or recognised somehow. But now you’re wishing you had stopped at that little gas station and at least tried to get an ounce of gas with the spare change left in the middle console. The car was officially running out of gas. In the middle of nowhere. Just your luck.

“Are you serious?” You asked no one with tears starting to fill your eyes.

Feeling the difference in the vehicle causes you to pull off to the side of the road with a groan. You know it won't be going any further with the way it just gives up there on the side. Turning off the car and leaning your head against the wheel you let out a light sob. This wasn't the life you had envisioned for yourself. Once upon a time you thought one day you would meet your true mate, a caring alpha who would love you for you and want to make you happy. Seems as though that was just a fairytale after all. Even your parents weren’t true mates. They just settled for each other. You knew you couldn’t let that be you. You wouldn’t settle, especially not for a vile man you didn't love.

It was too late now to leave the car. This is where you will be staying for the night. Good thing it was late spring and not winter or you would freeze out here. Once your tears have slowed and the sobs have ceased you took a deep breath to calm yourself.

“You will be ok.” You repeat to yourself a few times. “You will be ok. You will be ok.”

Will you though? It didn't matter. You had to be. With one last sigh you locked the doors and climbed into the backseat of the old car. Its seats were worn and uncomfortable but it somehow felt comforting. It felt like the last remaining bit you had from childhood. When things were simple for you. Were things ever that simple as you remembered it being though? Before presenting as an omega when you were 16 things were definitely simple. You had assumed along with everyone else that you would be a beta and go on to have a normal life. Sure sometimes you were a little agreeable and always had a gentle nature, but you had just thought you took after your mom in that aspect. Little did you know you would take after her in a different way. It wasn’t until you presented that it made sense to the pack why you were that way. It was then that the looks began from other pack members. The way their eyes would linger on you a little too hard. The way their nostrils would flare when you entered a room. It made your skin crawl thinking back.

From that point on there was no more public school for you. You were homeschooled the last few years of high school for your protection. “We're doing this to protect you not punish you, Y/N.” your father had said when he forbade you from going back to school. “You can't trust anyone these days. Not around an omega.” He was right. The thought never crossed your mind that you couldn't even trust your own parents. You wished you had been born a beta like your sister, or even an alpha like your brother. Being the youngest out of three you figured you would be like them.

The worst part was you didn't have the suppressants you had been taking since you were a teen. They were almost impossible to come by normally, but your father had somehow gotten his hands on a steady supply and had been forcing you to take them. Another thing that was for your protection. To keep alphas from detecting you by scent. You hadn't taken any this morning before you left so you imagine your scent was going to start leaking out for any one nearby to smell. Great. Another problem for tomorrow.

Adjusting yourself on the seat to lay down as much as you could, you closed your eyes and focused on your breathing. It wouldn't be long before sleep overcame you. The exhaustion of the whole ordeal catching up with you.

__________________________________________________________

The sun peaking through the trees awoke you from your surprisingly restful slumber. It seemed to be early morning if the dew on the windows was any indication. Peeking out the window you saw nothing around. Not even any animals. Perfect. You slowly unlocked the door and crept out quietly shutting the door behind you. Taking careful steps a few yards into the thickets ahead of you and relieving yourself helped you feel a little better. You made your way back to the car and took a second to breathe. In and out. In and out. The air was crisp and refreshing and helped you clear your head.

Now feeling a little better you noticed how bad your stomach was growling at you. Reaching into the trunk of the car you pulled out a small can of spaghetti o’s. Not your first choice of a meal but when you panic you grab what you figure will be easiest to take with you. Plus you could use a can as a weapon if needed!

Eating was the last thing on your mind yesterday, but now you knew you could no longer put it off. Popping a can open and taking a seat on the hood of the car with a spoon you dug into the food. It was….. food . Cold and disappointing but at the same time satisfying as you had an empty stomach.

There you were, sitting there on the old car contemplating your next move from here with now a half full can of disappointment, when you catch a scent in the air getting stronger with each passing second. It was another person, no it was people. More than one.

Fuck

You have been found. Whether by the packs that were after you or by a stranger it didn’t matter all you felt was terror.

There was no time to flee. Before you could even move from the hood you could feel a pair of eyes on you to the right of you. You twist your head to face the eyes that are peaking out at you from the trees ahead.

The stranger takes a tentative step towards you and comes out from hiding and you immediately go into fight or flight.

With an alarmed shout “NO”, you launched the half full can of spaghetti o’s at the intruder, hitting him square in the chest and sending the cold contents all across his shirt.

“What the fuck?!” the possible assailant yelled.

Spotting another figure approaching the first one you threw yourself back off the hood and onto the ground, then as quickly as possible you yanked the door open to the car and jammed yourself in locking it immediately. You made yourself as small as possible as to not be seen by them but you knew the damage had been done. There was no way out of this. No gas in the tank and even if there was you had no idea where your keys had gone.

You could hear them talking but you were too frightened to pick up any of the words except girl, mess and Alpha. Now you really felt terror. Without realizing how close they had been to you, you let out a shriek when there was a sudden knock on the window next to you.

Not daring to look at them for even a second you yelled through the glass “Please go away! Please please I don’t deserve this!” tears filled your eyes.

__________________________________________________________

The smell of your distress was making Seungmins and Jeongins eyes water. They had never experienced such a powerful scent before. Not even the odor from the Spaghetti Os covering Seungmins shirt would distract from the one coming from within the vehicle. The beta wanted to be mad that she had pretty much assaulted him, but at the same time couldn’t find it within himself to care much given how much pure terror he smelled coming from the young woman. The omega.

The young alpha Jeongin felt similarly now that he had eyes on her he felt this overwhelming urge to protect. He had never encountered one before and honestly thought he never would but now that he was laying eyes on her he felt his alpha side perk up. A part of him never wanted to stop looking at her.

Honestly the boys didn’t know what to expect when they came out here to investigate the scent that had appeared on their land late into the night. They truly didn’t expect the cause to be an omega girl that was holed up on the side of a path.

Seungmin tried knocking again, a little more timid this time so as not to frighten her more. “Excuse me, we could smell your distress. Do you need any help?” He asked slowly.

You spared him one quick glance then shrunk into yourself again. “No thank you, please go!”

He sighed and stepped back a few feet to look at Jeongin in amazement at the situation. Giving him one small nod he said “ We need to call Chan.”

__________________________________________________________

What felt like hours, but was probably only a few minutes, passed and you stayed in your same position. The boys had remained there but not so close to the car anymore to which you were thankful. They were quietly mumbling amongst themselves, no doubt about an omega being caught out here alone. Every so often you would move your head just slightly to peer over at them. You hadn’t noticed before in your initial panic but they were pretty cute young men. A beta and an alpha from what you could tell. Even covered in your thrown breakfast (a shame about that really) they still managed to carry themselves proudly. Though your smell is causing their faces to scrunch up, you could tell it was taking it's toll on them.

Not even a moment later after taking another look at them you could feel the change in the air as another pair of people was approaching. Not just anybody was coming this way, it was an Alpha. A very strong one at that. The smell was starting to permeate all of your senses and was quickly becoming intoxicating.

You could sense him before he even appeared. No matter how intrigued you may be though you can’t show weakness.

‘Keep your head down and wait it out’ you kept telling yourself like a mantra.

You knew he was approaching your door. It took everything in you to remain still. Then as if struck by lightning you felt your body alight like it never has before.

“Omega..”

(A/N: Please do not steal my writing and content! Reblogs and comments are encouraged tho 😙once again i would LOVE to hear your thoughts and theories! This has not been beta read all mistakes are my own.)

©doitforbangchan

TAGLIST

@ihrtlix @realrintaro @meowmeeps

#stray kids x reader #skz smut #bang chan #lee know #changbin #hyunjin #han jisung #felix lee #seungmin #jeongin #ot8 x reader #skz ot8 #skz abo #omegaverse #stray kids #abo #dom chan

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innerfare · 10 months ago

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Nightmares - Part 1

Summary: What sorts of nightmares do they have about losing you?

Characters: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Ace, Sabo, Law, Kid

Genre: Angst

CW: SFW // that being said, caution- contains mentions of death, suffering, and slavery

———

Luffy:

He grins at the sight of you standing on a cliffside looking out over the water, tranquil in the peace of night. He hurries toward you and puts his hand on your shoulder to turn you around, ready to place a happy kiss on your lips, only to stop short at the sight of your face. You’re completely devoid of joy, the life and will to live sucked out of you by a force he can’t control. You’re a husk, and he’s powerless against it. He realizes the darkness isn’t from night, that there are no stars glimmering in the sky, that the world has had the goodness sucked out of it, yours along with it, leaving you empty. He wakes up with tears in his eyes and buries his face in his pillow to muffle his sob.

Zoro:

It was an accident, and he watched it happen. If he’d been just a little stronger, a little faster, a little better, it never would have happened. It was an accident, but it was his fault. He stared down at your lifeless shape covered by a funeral shroud, grinding his teeth in rage at the sight of all those flowers left by mourners. You would have loved to have seen those flowers, to have picked them up, buried your face in them, and inhaled deeply. You would have loved the weather that day, too, bright and sunny, as though the universe was taunting him. When he wakes up, he’s in physical pain from the amount of tension in his muscles.

Sanji:

You’re in the clutches of his brothers while his father watches on in approval, and he’s trying to save you but to no avail. Suddenly, he’s seven years old again- too small, too slow, too weak to put up a fight, completely at the mercy of his brothers. Only, they aren’t tormenting him, they’re tometning you, and from the looks on their faces, they sure are enjoying it. The look on your face, though, is one of complete anguish. And then you scream in pain, and he’s awake again, sitting up in bed with a sheen of sweat on his skin, the image of your face in such pain burned into his brain. He doesn’t register that it was only a nightmare until he puts eyes on you, and even then, it takes him several days to recover from the nightmare.

Ace:

It starts off normal, him approaching you on deck and wrapping his arms around you, intending to say a joke in your ear that will have you giggling and him grinning proudly. But then you shove him off and sneer at him. He doesn’t recognize you, doesn’t recognize the look on your face as you look up at him. You look disgusted, completely and utterly grossed out by the mere idea of his arms around you. You begin taunting him, saying all the things he’s used to others saying but never you. “You’re a monster. You were never supposed to be born. How could I possibly love someone like you?” When he finally wakes up, he doesn’t thrash around or cry. He’s completely paralyzed by the nightmare, by the fear, and accustomed to the feeling of rejection, even if it hurts more coming from you. Even when he wakes up, the nightmare isn’t really over.

Sabo:

You’re on stage in an auction house being sold off to the highest bidder. He’s there, but he can’t get to the stage, as if he’s trapped behind invisible glass. He’s screaming his head off and throwing himself at the glass, but everyone just ignores him, the slave auction continuing as though he’s not even there, Sabo completely powerless against the injustice of it all. You’re crying and struggling in your shackles, but it’s no use. He wakes up thrashing, ready to fight anyone who stands between him and you. When he’s met only with darkness, he doesn’t relax but instead gets dressed and wanders off to find some work to do, the sound of your shackles clanking as you struggle against them stuck in his head like a sick song, the sight of Celestial Dragons bidding on you like an object lighting in him a fire that will burn down every auction house in the world.

Law:

Bang! He never sees the nightmare, but he always hears the gunshot. He wakes up in a cold sweat, shivering beneath his covers, the taste of metal lingering in his mouth and the gunshot still echoing in his ears. He’s awake, but he’s back in that treasure chest, and this time, you’re the one laying dead in the snow. Alternatively, you’re in a hospital bed, writing in pain, screaming in agony, calling out his name, pleading with him to save you, and he’s in sea prism stone handcuffs, forced to watch you succumb to an illness only he can save you from. Again, he wakes up in a cold sweat, the sheets tangled around his legs, trapping him and making him feel like he’s still in that nightmare, completely and utterly useless. He has to climb out of bed and walk it off, might even train a bit with his sword to regain a sense of control.

Kid:

It’s never like it happened with his first love, Victoria. And it’s always some way new. You fall overboard during a storm and drown, Kid diving into the water to save you but sinking due to his devil fruit ability, Killer diving in to save him but leaving you to die. You get deathly ill and he enlists the help of his ally, Trafalgar Law, to save your life, but he betrays Kid and kills you. He gets captured by a crew of enemy pirates, and when the crew comes to save him, you get killed in the crossfire. The nightmares just keep coming like this, you dying because he couldn’t protect you or expected someone else to do it for him. And each time he wakes up, it is with a renewed certainty that the only way to keep you safe is to do it himself.

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

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sakur4ii · 5 months ago

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Code Name: Rabbit

Prologue (?

prologue(this) | part 1

Living in Wayne Manor is both the best and worst thing that has ever happened to you. On one hand, you no longer had to worry about money, you could eat more than one meal a day, and it was a safe place. But on the other hand, it was a sad, empty place, without love—at least not for you.

Jason Todd's death severely affected your father, Bruce Wayne’s, mental stability. If he didn’t pay much attention to you before, now you barely saw him at all.

After your mother’s death, you ended up at the manor. It was difficult—your father, Bruce, didn’t seem happy about your presence. He was fighting an internal battle you could never understand. Dick was also going through a rough time. You didn’t know what his problem was, but he seemed to be fighting his own internal war, though completely different from Bruce’s.

So, you were mourning. Your father didn’t want you, and neither did your older brother. Only Alfred, the butler, seemed to acknowledge your existence.

Then you met Jason. He had been at the manor longer than you and was your age. He was excited to have someone his age around, and you were happy to finally have someone who cared about you.

You and Jason pretended to be twins—a running joke you kept up at Gotham Academy. People actually believed it. You spent so much time together that it wasn’t hard to figure out that he was Robin, Bruce was Batman, and Dick was Nightwing. What did surprise you was finding out that Barbara Gordon was Batgirl.

Jason’s death hit you hard. You didn’t leave your room for days.

You thought that after such a catastrophic event, you and Bruce could support each other. He had lost a son, and you had lost a brother—Jason Todd was gone for both of you. But instead, the opposite happened. Bruce didn’t just blame himself—deep down, he blamed you too. He thought you knew what Jason was planning. He believed you could have done or said something to stop him. But in truth, Jason never told you about his intentions.

So, while Jason was supposed to be dead, you found yourself completely alone—even as more people joined the family, filling the void Bruce needed to fill.

Aside from the arrival of Tim Drake, Stephanie Brown, and Cassandra Cain, you also suffered an attack at the academy. Some lunatic with an axe left a deep wound on your face, running from your lips to your right eyebrow. And yet, your family still didn’t seem to care about you.

By the time you turned 18, the wound had turned into a scar (one that would take a decade or more to fully heal).

You were tired of being ignored by your family, so you and a girl named Lyara—whom you befriended after the attack (and whom you were a little in love with)—decided to buy a building together. You turned the first floor into a nightclub/bar, the second floor into a high-end club where the dancers were well-paid, didn’t have to sleep with anyone, and could wear animal masks to protect their identities. They set their own rules. The third floor was a cozy space with pastel colors, where the dancers could change, relax, or sleep. And finally, there was your office (technically only yours since Lyara preferred having fun as a dancer and scamming rich men instead of handling paperwork—she only managed salaries and kept an eye on things).

The plan was to turn the place into a safe haven for desperate women.

Even though you knew how to handle a variety of firearms (your mother noticed your natural talent for marksmanship and encouraged it by taking you to a shooting range, and you kept going even after her death), and you had training in boxing and some martial arts (Alfred signed you up for classes to help you cope with Jason’s death), it wasn’t enough to protect your workers or the entire building.

So, with Lyara’s approval, you put your hacking skills to use—gathering and selling information to the highest bidder, whether they were rich, poor, criminals, or vigilantes… as long as their requests didn’t go against your morals.

In just one year, your building was mostly protected by criminals, and you had become a highly respected source of information. You remained anonymous, wearing a chilling black rabbit mask with glowing red eyes whenever you showed your face.

"If you need information—any kind—Rabbit will have it. You just have to meet her requirements."

You never found out about Jason Todd’s resurrection.

You never knew about your half-brother, Damian.

You never heard about Duke Thomas joining the family.

At least, not until you turned 21…

---

Extra details!!

• The building is under both your name and Lyara’s, but you both used your mothers’ last names to make it harder to track you.

• Lyara has dyed bubblegum pink hair and is about three centimeters shorter than you.

• Because of your scar, you always wore a mask and sunglasses, but Lyara eventually convinced you to stop.

• There are lots of photos of you and Jason around the manor, taken by Alfred.

• There are going to be a lot of original characters, because I don't dare to use some Batman villains and mischaracterize them.

#batboys x reader #batfam x batsis #x female reader #x reader #x fem reader #dc x reader #bruce wayne x reader platonic #dick grayson x reader #jason todd x reader #tim drake x reader #damian wayne x reader #cassandra cain x reader #stephanie brown x reader #duke thomas x reader #batfam x reader

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blingblong55 · 4 months ago

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A story- 141

Heii! I love your writing n was wondering if you could do more platonic!tf141 x reader? I'd love to see you do an angst one where reader almost dies or actually dies from the enemies hands, like maybe by poison or freezing to death bc readergets captured by them? :D ---- GN!Reader, angst, mentions of child!abuse ---- A/N: I apologise for writing this late. Fixed things with Tumblr and I can see all of my requests :)

The room is dark, there is no silence just a hum. It's eerie. Four guns are looking for reasons to shoot. There is a body, lying right by the door, and as the four men step deeper into the room, more bodies lie on the floor. None of them were the object of their mission. So many were just nameless bodies, some were part of the bravo team and then...the object of their mission.

Was it worth calling it for what it is over the radio? ---

About fifteen months ago, Task Force 1-4-1 received a fresh out-of-training soldier who passed selection with flying colours—recommended to Kate Laswell by an old friend. "I think this kid will fit perfectly with your team. I sought thatthey were ready to be recommended." the man said to her.

From then on, it was set, that Y/N would be a part of the Task Force. Days blended in and Y/N couldn't wait for the day to come to work with the most infamous team that had come out of the SAS. When they met the team, it had been set in motion, this soldier belonged with them. They were made for this kind of life. It didn't take much after they joined to demonstrate why they were recommended to the team.

Ghost saw some of himself in this young soldier. Price saw visions of his younger self in them, it was odd... having a person their age brings in more reasons to keep going. Gaz knew there was something about them, he took them under his wing. And Soap, the youngest candidate to pass the SAS selection, saw the bright future this new soldier has.

It didn't take long before this brotherhood was at the doorstep waiting for Y/N to join.

Their first-ever mission showed the skills that were once on paper. There was a chance, one that would dictate if this kid would wear the patch of the team.

The bullets blazed through the young soldier but they pushed past the storm, ran behind enemy lines and proved the patch on their arm would be permanent. It was bold, sure it was impressive but it was ballsy. There was no punishment just a light scolding.

By the time they had been with the team for a whole year, another mission would be called upon, this time, no one knew the result.

Would it be victorious? Shall we even say a horror?

Ghost executed his moves, knives ended up in men's throats because of it. Soap had a bullet to the arm, shit was fucked if this bloke had been hurt. Gaz had been waiting in the getaway car, you see this was meant to be a quick mission. Price yelled over the bullets that hit the wall near him.

Y/N, yeah...they're the reason the team got away from this mess. But...it wasn't until late that the team realised Y/N hadn't gotten in the humvee with them. ---

It had been one official week since then. Enough time for Laswell to mark this soldier as M.I.A.

Price went through all of the mission, wondering where it all went wrong. It was the entrance or the time, hell not even the place was wrong. So what had gone wrong? Surely it couldn't have been the week or the month. Surveillance had proven that the intel given to them was wrong, resulting in the injury of Soap and now the evident torturing of Y/N.

You had been stuck in a cell, occasionally dragged out of it to be tortured in different rooms according to the highest bidder. It was hell but at least your team wasn't the one in your place. You had grown fond of them and considered them all family by now. You were a kid in their eyes, something that always made them care for you like big brothers would for their younger siblings.

At pubs, they always made sure you only drank one nice pint and that was it, no need to get a kid like you drunk. There were cigarettes shared, never a cigar because you must have three successful missions before Price gives you that privilege.

Now, stuck in a dark cell with bruises, cuts and a possible broken bone, you can't help but feel desperation cover you whole.

They'll find me. I know they will.

Just another beating, nothing new.

Just another stab, what more?

A little blood loss never hurt anyone. ---

This was just like when you were a kid. Getting beat by your dad, mum and even when you were taken away, the next family would do the same. It was a never-ending story for you. But leaving, that was a hell of an idea to have.

You were fifteen, with a weird feeling that if you didn't leave you'd end up dead, gone and buried. That or by your own hands. So, you left, you walked away or if put in legal terms, you became a ran away. So there you were, with nothing to your name but a backpack with all the important paperwork one needs and in an office to a man who would help you get a better home until you could join the military. ---

Present day

The room is dark, there is no silence just a hum.

Price leads the team deeper into the room, then...there was you. Lying unconscious on the floor. Stripped to only a white tank top and underwear. Soap was the first to rush in, covering your body while the rest of the team cleared the remaining rooms. By the time the team cleared the rooms, Soap had let them know you weren't moving but still breathing.

A couple more beatings were okay, so as long as your team was away from harm's way.

There was so much they needed to say to a kid like you, so much they wanted to share with you. Hell, smoke a cigar after the doctor clears you, per Laswell's request. But most of all, they wanted to teach you so much. Not just about war or whatever else a soldier might need to know but about life.

A/N: this isn't an angst as much as I'd want it to be.

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fidesvirtusobsession · 4 months ago

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Echoes of a Thousand Nights

Yandere Vampire x AFAB reader

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3

Description: For centuries, Alaric has walked the earth, bound by the cruel hand of fate. A vampire of old blood, he has seen empires fall, lovers turn to dust, and the world reshape itself around him. Yet, through the endless nights, one thing remains constant—her. The woman who haunts his past lives, slipping through his fingers with every rebirth. She never remembers, never knows who he is, yet he finds her, lifetime after lifetime, only to lose her again.Now, in the present day, her scent resurfaces in the most unlikely of places—an underground auction house where humans are sold like cattle. But Alaric will not let fate steal her away this time. This time, he will keep her.

The auctioneer’s voice droned on, emotionless, detached. Another night, another human sold to the highest bidder.

Alaric stood near the back, his gloved hands folded neatly in front of him, expression unreadable. Only those who knew him well would recognize the flicker of tension in his jaw, the way his shoulders squared just a fraction tighter than usual.

Her scent was everywhere now.

It filled his lungs, wrapped around him like an unshakable chain, clawing at the patience he barely clung to. He forced himself to remain still, to not react too soon. He couldn’t risk alerting anyone to his interest—not yet.

“Starting bid: 5,000.”

A vampire near the front raised a hand.

“6,000.”

“10,000.”

Alaric exhaled slowly through his nose, irritation crawling up his spine like a slow poison.

“20,000.”

The scent of her blood—faint but present—itched at his instincts. He could hear her heartbeat, feel the weak but steady pulse of her life on the other side of the room.

And yet these vermin—these insignificant leeches—dared to treat her as a commodity.

“30,000.”

“50,000.”

His fingers twitched.

“100,000.”

The murmurs in the crowd stilled for a moment. Some bidders hesitated, others cast wary glances toward the back of the room, finally realizing who they were up against.

Good. They should know better.

But not all of them did.

A slow chuckle broke the silence.

“How interesting.”

Alaric didn’t turn immediately. He recognized that voice—young, arrogant, and profoundly stupid.

A vampire stepped forward, casual in his movements, clearly enjoying the sudden shift in tension. “You seem rather eager, Lord Alaric,” he mused. “Now why would that be?”

Alaric remained silent, watching. Waiting.

The vampire grinned, flashing his fangs. “150,000.”

The room stiffened. Fool.

Alaric tilted his head slightly, his patience razor-thin.

A few bidders shuffled back. Others, wiser than their reckless companion, were already withdrawing from the auction entirely.

The auctioneer hesitated. Even he knew this was a dangerous game.

Alaric finally spoke.

“You misunderstand.”

The younger vampire raised a brow. “Oh? And what exactly am I misunderstanding?”

Alaric stepped forward. His voice was velvet-wrapped steel, low and deliberate.

“This isn’t a negotiation.”

Silence.

Then—the snap of a bone.

No one saw him move. No one had time to process it before the arrogant vampire’s wrist was crushed in Alaric’s grip. A sharp, choked gasp left his lips, his bravado evaporating into raw pain.

Alaric leaned in, his voice barely a whisper.

“Sit down.”

The younger vampire swallowed hard, his face paling.

“Now.”

With a strangled noise, he stumbled back, clutching his broken wrist, and did exactly as he was told.

Alaric turned back to the auctioneer, smoothing his coat as though nothing had happened. “Continue.”

The man barely managed a nod before stammering, “S-Sold to Lord Alaric.”

And just like that, the room breathed again.

His focus was solely on her.

She sat on the cold stone floor, shackles biting into her wrists and ankles, head lowered as if she dared not meet the gaze of her captors. What little remained of her clothing could hardly be called garments—more like strips of fabric barely holding together, dirt-streaked and frayed from mistreatment.

The scent of her blood clung to the air, faint but enough to make his grip tighten at his sides.

He inhaled slowly, willing his anger to settle beneath the surface.

He could not afford to be reckless—not with her.

Not now.

His footsteps echoed through the now-silent chamber as he approached. She stiffened, her shoulders tensing, a telltale sign that she was aware of him—that she feared him.

Of course, she did.

She had seen how the room had shifted upon his arrival. She had seen the wary looks, the hushed silence.

And she had seen what happened when someone dared to challenge him.

She had seen his wrath.

He slowed his steps, his usual imposing presence now carefully controlled. When he finally reached her, he crouched down, lowering himself to her level rather than towering over her like the others had.

Her breathing was shallow, her gaze flickering up at him only briefly before darting away.

“Look at me,” he murmured, his voice softer now. Not a demand—a request.

Hesitantly, she lifted her head.

Even beneath the grime and exhaustion, she was still unmistakably her.

Still the same soul.

Still his.

Alaric exhaled through his nose, schooling his features into something gentler before shifting his attention to the chains around her wrists.

His next words were quiet, but there was no room for argument.

“The shackles. Remove them.”

The auctioneer—who had been lingering in the background, avoiding direct eye contact—hurried forward, fumbling with the keys as he obeyed.

The metal bindings clattered to the floor one by one, leaving raw, reddened skin in their wake.

She winced as she tried to move, her limbs stiff from the restraints. Before she could attempt to stand, his hands were on her.

Not rough. Not forceful.

Steady.

One arm beneath her knees, the other around her back—lifting her effortlessly into his arms.

She inhaled sharply, her fingers instinctively curling against his chest, her pulse spiking.

Fear.

He could feel it in the way she stiffened against him.

His grip on her tightened—not in restraint, but in reassurance.

“You have nothing to fear from me,” he murmured, his voice just above a whisper.

He could feel her heartbeat against his own, erratic and unsure.

Alaric turned, stepping past the remnants of the auction, past the lingering stares, past the world that had sought to reduce her to nothing more than a prize to be won.

They would never touch her again.

Not while he still walked this earth.

The heavy doors of the auction chamber had barely shut behind him before a voice cut through the dimly lit hallway.

"Was that really necessary?"

Alaric didn't pause. He continued walking, his grip secure around the woman in his arms. She was trembling, but whether it was from exhaustion or fear, he wasn’t sure.

The younger vampire, cradling his broken wrist, stepped forward, glaring. His face was twisted in irritation, but there was something else lurking beneath it—curiosity.

"You didn’t have to break my wrist over a mere human," the young vampire scoffed, voice tinged with both pain and indignation. "I was simply bidding. Isn't that the whole point of an auction?"

Alaric finally stopped.

The hallway was empty except for a few scattered auction staff who quickly averted their gazes, unwilling to involve themselves in whatever this was about to become.

Slowly, deliberately, Alaric turned his head, his gaze settling on the younger vampire like a predator sizing up insignificant prey.

The young one hesitated but held his ground. "I just don’t understand," he continued. "You’ve never cared about these auctions before. You don’t even feed like the others do. Everyone knows you prefer blood banks over—" He gestured toward the woman in Alaric’s arms. "—this."

There was a long, heavy silence.

Then, in a voice so calm it was almost unnerving, Alaric spoke.

“Have you ever seen a lion allow scavengers to pick at what is his?”

The young vampire stiffened.

Alaric’s eyes darkened, his patience wearing thin. "I don’t care how these creatures conduct themselves. I don’t care what you think is fair or not. She is mine. She was never meant to be here in the first place."

His words left no room for argument.

But still, the younger vampire—perhaps emboldened by youth or just sheer foolishness—pressed on.

"Then why the sudden interest?" He tilted his head, eyes narrowing. "Have you changed your mind about drinking blood?"

Alaric’s expression remained unreadable.

For a brief moment, the thought of answering crossed his mind—but it was fleeting. He had wasted enough words on this one already.

Instead, he turned away.

And with that, the conversation was over.

The night air was cold—biting against the skin, sharp like the world they had just left behind. The stench of blood and desperation still clung to him, but he forced it from his mind as he stepped through the auction house doors and out into the darkened street.

His car was waiting, sleek and black, its windows tinted enough to keep the outside world at bay. The servants stood nearby, silent and watchful. They did not speak, did not question. They had served him long enough to know when their master’s patience had worn thin.

Alaric barely spared them a glance as he moved, his focus entirely on the fragile weight in his arms.

The rags they had left her in barely deserved to be called clothing, the fabric hanging off her like an afterthought. He could feel the faint tremors of her body, the way she curled inward, as if trying to disappear.

He exhaled slowly, steadying himself before lowering her feet to the ground.

The moment she was no longer against him, she wavered, unsteady from exhaustion and the cold.

Without a word, he pulled his coat from his shoulders and wrapped it around her. The heavy fabric draped over her, its warmth a stark contrast to the biting cold. It was large enough to wrap around her completely, enveloping her in his scent—leather, a hint of smoke, and something undeniably him. The weight of it settled over her shoulders, shielding her from the night’s cruel air, a silent reassurance that she was no longer exposed.

She flinched slightly as he adjusted it, pulling the edges tight around her form.

“Better,” he murmured, his voice softer now, no longer carrying the weight of authority it had inside the auction hall.

Her wide, uncertain eyes flickered up to meet him, watching him carefully, as if trying to decide what kind of monster he truly was.

He didn’t linger.

With one hand, he reached for the car door and pulled it open, stepping aside so she could climb in.

For a moment, she hesitated.

Then, cautiously, she moved, sliding into the plush interior, still wrapped in his coat.

Alaric followed, his movements fluid, practiced. The door shut behind him with a quiet finality.

Outside, the servants remained still, shadows in the night. None of them dared speak.

The engine rumbled to life.

And without another word, the car pulled away, disappearing into the darkness.

The drive home was cloaked in silence, save for the low hum of the engine and the occasional sound of tires cutting through the damp road. The air inside the sleek, blacked-out car was warm, a stark contrast to the night’s bitter chill, but tension still clung to the atmosphere like a fog.

She sat stiffly in the seat, wrapped in the heavy coat he had draped over her, fingers curled into the fabric as if anchoring herself. Her mind raced, thoughts spiraling faster than she could keep up with. Who is he? Why do others fear him? How powerful is he? And why—of all the others—did he claim her as his?

Her gaze flickered toward him, stealing a glance from beneath lowered lashes. He sat across from her, poised and composed, as if the events of the auction had barely ruffled him. But there was something too calm about him, a quiet intensity that unsettled her. The way the other vampires had reacted—how they had shrunk in his presence, the way the younger one had paled when Alaric broke his wrist—told her more than words ever could.

He was old. Powerful. Dangerous.

And she was now his.

Her breath hitched slightly at the thought, her grip tightening on the coat. She didn’t realize her nervous energy was bleeding into the air until he finally spoke, his voice low, steady—measured.

“You’re overthinking.”

Her heart jolted at the words.

His eyes, sharp and piercing even in the dim light, remained fixed on her. He wasn’t accusing, nor was he mocking. If anything, there was something almost familiar in the way he said it, as if he had seen her spiral like this before.

“I have no intention of harming you,” Alaric continued, his tone softer now, though it did little to smother the gravity beneath it. “No one will touch you again. You are safe.”

Safe.

The word should have been comforting, yet it only added to the storm in her mind. She swallowed, her throat dry, but said nothing. She wasn’t sure she believed him—not yet. But the way he was looking at her, as if he already knew every thought racing through her mind, made it impossible to deny that he understood.

And that, somehow, was even more unsettling.

Taglist: @yune1337 @mybones537

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j-richmond · 6 months ago

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Yeld Promotion Drive 2025!

Hi everyone. My name is J. My brother and I make an indie TTRPG called The Magical Land of Yeld. This month we have a special Yeld project we hope you'll help us with!

The Yeld Promotion Drive!

Yeld: 2nd Edition is brand new, and we need to get the word out. We really want you to help us. In exchange we have something cool to share with you (see below)!

We're a very small company, and we really rely on fan support and word of mouth to let people know about our game. So this month we're doing a Promotion Drive! You can help us out! We would REALLY appreciate it if you'd take a few minutes to do one of the following:

1. Share our post on your social media. Like this post! You can also share on twitter (eww, I know), Bluesky, instagram, Facebook (also eww)

2. Write a short review on DrivethruRPG, itch.io or Tabletop Bookshelf.

3. Share a post of your own anywhere you like telling people why you like Yeld! Make sure to tag us!

Want to help more?

- Ask your local game store to order Yeld: 2nd Edition from our distributor Indie Press Revolution (IPR).

- Record and share an unboxing video of your Yeld book or box set!

-Join our Discord! Be part of our community!

- Honestly, just tell people about Yeld! In any way you can!

If you can help our posts get 300 combined shares on social media by the end of January*, we're going to release some cool new Yeld content for free! See below!

*If you share our post somewhere like a Discord channel, or you post a review, or you promote Yeld in some��other way, please let us know!

Thank you so much for your help! We really appreciate it!

Okay, here's the cool new thing we're going to release for free!

Trade Jobs are a brand new type of Job for Yeld. We've come up with 4 new Trade Jobs, and we'll let you vote on which ones you want to see for free this month! The most popular will be released as a free mini expansion for everyone. The second most popular will be released as new content for Yeld Patreon backers! You can vote for your favorite on the Yeld Discord.

The new Trade Jobs are:

Mercenary Maid: “My services include cleaning clocks and taking out the trash”

Mercenary Maids are brawling caretakers that sell their services to the highest bidder!

Deep Fisher: “Opportunity lay just below the surface for those who have the patience to wait for it”

Deep Fishers hunt the most notorious and dangerous fish on behalf of the Deep!

Dentist: “A tooth a day keeps the Dentists at bay”

Dentists use skills learned from Toothfacers to harvest teeth. They can use their own teeth to cast Math Magic!

Goat Squire: “Being liked by a Goat is better than being liked by your own parents”

When a goat chooses you to be their squire, you don't say no!

#ttrpgs #indie ttrpgs #ttrpg community #try a new ttrpg #D&D alternatives #rpg #roleplaying game #tabletop roleplaying #fantasy roleplaying #yeld #ttrpg design #game design

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mothhball · 1 year ago

Text

five-finger discount

Pairing | Neil Lewis x Reader

Warnings | 18+ SMUT, DUB-CON, fingering, p in v sex, unprotected sex, blackmail, sex on camera, brief edging, creampie, cheating, cursing, Moth pretends to know anything about movies

Summary | You’ve been trying to make easy money, but you’re not as subtle as you thought. Some lessons need to be learned the hard way.

Words | 4.4k

Notes | FINALLY DONE. and vaguely inspired by 70s porn haha

MINORS DNI

INT. GUMSHOE VIDEO – THRILLER AISLE – DAY

“No, it's not. That's not what she said. Someone is in trouble. Something bad is happening!” squawks a woman from the running TV in the background while your fingers trace over the backs of the VHS as you walk past the shelves.

1 PM on a Wednesday certainly is no rush hour at Gumshoe Video. Even the most annoying film bros don't come here at this time of day to flaunt their knowledge of the craft and subsequent absence of social skills. You're in the clear, pretending to deeply think about your choice in entertainment for the end of the day, even though that couldn't be further from the truth. Throwing a glance over your shoulder, you spot the business owner, entranced by the film that he put on to pass the time, and you can see his plush lips silently mouthing along to the dialog. Cute. And easy to trick.

It's not your first time here. No, you made sure to become familiar with the place over the course of months now, learning where each genre and title has been sorted into its rightful place.

Certain old VHS-tapes can sell for a small fortune online, and for every tape you rent, you take one for free with the plan of selling it to the highest bidder. Currently, you have a stack at home, waiting for you to finally stop procrastinating and open up that damn eBay account.

Your pinky catches on a specific tape. 'A History of Violence', currently estimated to lure an additional 199 bucks into your greedy bank account. Quietly, you pull out the film, leaving a gaping hole in the neatly sorted row as you slip it into your purse.

With nimble hands, you try to rearrange the tapes to make the missing VHS a little less obvious, but in your haste, a few of them escape your clammy grasp and clutter to the ground. A head of silky brunette hair whips around, and you're met with pretty blue eyes as the store owner turns to face you.

You let out a giggle, trying to sound as vapid and innocuous as possible. You’re in character now. The persona you chose? An unassuming, ditzy little thing that’s hot enough to distract him, but stupid enough as to not get suspected of any wrong-doings. You’d say you’re a good actress. A fantastic one, even.

"Sorry," you purr, batting your eyelashes at him. "I'm a little clumsy today." You're already bending over to pick up the tapes when he makes his way over to lend a helping hand, and you make sure to show off your cleavage in an intentionally accidental way. You know he’s into you. You’ve been seeing the heat in his gaze for weeks now, along with the occasional crack in his voice and an almost endearing desire to impress you. It’s his biggest weakness and the reason your plan has been working flawlessly until now.

"Hey, hey, no worries. Uh, gravity wins sometimes. Don't sweat it," he grins at you, brushing his fingers against yours as the two of you work together to put everything back into place.

"What exactly were you looking for anyway?" he suddenly asks, breaking your focus for a second.

"Uh, Moonstruck," you mutter, completely on autopilot. The store owner nods, pursing his lips as he mulls over your answer. You’re aware of your blunder before he even answers.

"Moonstruck? Then you're in the wrong section. You know, with how often you come here, I thought you got the hang of our layout by now." Fuck, he’s got you. Play dumb. Play dumb!

Your poker face almost cracks, but you keep your composure. Or at least you try to. "Huh? Oh - I... right. God, I'm just all over the place today." You giggle again, relieved by the way his grin seems to soften. Hook, line and sinker. He may think he’s detective Sam Spade from ‘The Maltese Falcon’, but you’re Brigid O’Shaughnessy. Or he’s Batman and you’re Catwoman. Or – well, it doesn’t matter. Baseline is, you’re snatching tapes right from underneath his nose while he’s too busy fantasizing about what’s underneath your clothes.

The store owner speaks up again, lazily rubbing the back of his neck as he leans against the shelf, and his free hand wanders and gestures around a bit as if he’s trying to figure out which pose would look the coolest and most effortless.

“Right. Actually, that wasn’t really fair of me.” You tilt your head at him, eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly which prompts him to elaborate. “Some of our tapes went missing. Y’know, some of the oldies and goldies? That’s why I didn’t stock Moonstruck this week.”

Your lips part in surprise, but all you can reply with is a soft ‘oh’. The store owner shrugs, leaning in towards you. There’s something conspiratory about his expression which makes your stomach churn a little. “Yeah. But I do still have it. It’s just in my office.”

There’s a beat of silence as you mull over the unspoken offer. Your plan is built on the one tape you always rent for cheap. No one would think you’re stealing if you’re actually paying for something, right? Despite this, you wonder if you should call it a day and head home with the stolen film hidden in your purse. Alibi be damned.

“I… That’s great. Uh, actually, I was just about to –“ he cuts you off with a casual wave of his hand, and the grin on his face widens once more.

“Don’t worry. I’ll even give you a discount. Just follow me.”

INT. GUMSHOE VIDEO – NEIL LEWIS’ PRIVATE OFFICE – DAY

The private office of Neil Lewis, cinephile and pop culture enthusiast, is decorated with a distinct Film Noir charm, lovingly empathized by leather chairs and a checkered floor. Not to mention the letters on the door. He calls himself a private investigator. A joking title that makes you palms sweat ever so slightly. You notice that he set up a small camera on his desk, but he brushes it off as a regular procedure.

"So... Moonstruck,” he starts, gesturing for you to take a seat. Which you do. “Great pick. Just curious - Why did you go for that one?" The question makes you pause for a second.

"The... the cover spoke to me,” you casually lie, trying to sound somewhat cute, but it doesn’t land. Neil’s expression quickly betrays his skepticism, and his lips part while his narrowed gaze wanders around the room for a minute. "Hm. And what about the other one?"

"What do you mean?" Play dumb, play dumb, play – but he’s not letting you off the hook so easily.

"The other tape."

Silence fills the office, and you swear the VHS in your purse is starting to burn a hole right where it’s settled in your lap.

"Which... other tape? I just picked out this one."

"Ohhh, right. Sorry. My bad. Just… Moonstruck." The way he’s saying this makes it seem like he enjoys the taste of the letters on his tongue. You nod, a little too eager to get this conversation over and done with.

"So you won’t mind me looking through your purse?" Neil leans forward in his seat, folding his hands on top of his desk. Your eyes briefly fall onto the little desk name plate that’s undoubtedly just made out of shiny, golden plastic. But it does the job. It intimidates you. At least to a certain degree.

“No,” you lie through your teeth, trying to shrug off the tension. “I… it’s certainly no problem, Mr. Lewis. None at all.”

Neil lets out an apathetic sigh as he rises from his seat, causing the leather to squeak. His steps seem a little too confident for a video rental owner as he moves around the desk to first walk over to the door and lock it. “Neil is fine. I’m not a big fan of… formalities,” he starts, coming up behind you to set his hands on your shoulders. His hands are gentle but firm, causing your body to warm right down to the deepest layers. To make his control over the situation even more apparent, he splays his hands, tracing your collarbone with his middle finger. It’s subtle enough that he could pass it off as a figment of your imagination if you should choose to speak up. But you don’t. You stay quiet, even as he leans down and you can hear the murmur of his voice right next to your ear.

“Open your purse.”

You bite your tongue, slowly opening your purse to find Cher’s face grinning back at you. It’s Moonstruck. In all of its romantic glory, and it makes both you and Neil freeze for a moment. You lick your dry lips, saying the first thing that comes to mind.

"That's mine."

"Yours?" You wouldn’t know, but his eyebrow twitches upward at your ridiculous claim.

"Yeah. A... personal copy." Great, now you’re doubling down.

"With my name on it?" Silence, yet again. You could basically hear the dramatic music that the producers of any reality TV shows use in the background of any tense scene. But this isn’t scripted. No, all of this is improvised.

"... what are the odds?" you croak, feeling how your throat goes dry in real time. Neil scoffs in reply, shaking his head, and his grip on your shoulders tightens a tad before he lets go entirely. His expression is stern as he steps in front of you, leaning against the desk and crossing his shapely arms over his chest. For a moment, he’s silent, letting his eyes wander all over your form in a slow, appreciative way that makes your palms get sweaty. “You do know I have to call the police, don’t you?”

“What?” Your breath hitches in your lungs, and you blink a few times, almost in an attempt to shake yourself out of this very strange dream. “This… this is just one tape. Isn’t this kind of excessive?”

“Yeah, maybe it’s one tape today. But you’ve been coming here for weeks.” Your jaw drops, but you can’t seem to come up with an appropriate response. You’ve been had. For the past months, you were convinced that he only saw you as a little piece of eye candy wandering through the store, but he’s been seeing right through you all along. Now you definitely don’t feel like Catwoman anymore. When he notices that you’re not going to say anything, Neil continues.

“Did you really think we don’t have security cameras all over the place? Well, I’ve been watching you the entire time, playing along when you pretended to be all ditzy and cute. It’s not just one instance. It’s a whole case, baby. And you’ll go to jail.” That makes you break out of your stupor, and you can feel your pulse speeding up.

“No- wait, no, no, no. Please, can’t we just talk about this for one second?”

“I don’t bargain with thieves.” He’s smug. Too smug for your liking, considering that he’s threatening you with the loss of your precious, precious freedom.

“Please, I’ll do anything,” you plead, fixing him with the biggest puppy dog eyes you can muster in an attempt to appeal to the soft, awkward side of him. And he cracks. At least the tiniest bit.

“Maybe… maybe we can work something out. But I’ll need to search you first. Who knows what else you’re hiding.” He gestures for you to stand, and you get up from your seat, causing the leather cushioning to faintly squeak once again. “Spread your arms. To the side.”

Your expression settles into a pout, but you do as you’re told, much to Neil’s satisfaction. He returns to his previous position behind you and starts by touching your shoulders, slowly trailing his hands down your arms. His fingers leave tingles behind on your skin, and you’re even more aware of how close he’s gotten when you feel his breath on the back of your neck. His cheeky hands continue to wander, making their way down your sides, softly squeezing around your waist before he moves on to your hips. You try to think about it as a TSA search, but it’s a little hard to do when his hands linger for much longer than necessary on your thighs and your calves as he crouches down. Once he’s satisfied, he straightens back up, and you almost think he’s done before he leans in to rasp into your ear.

“You’re gonna have to take your clothes off… so I can search you more thoroughly.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you’re about to protest, but he’s already pulling your top off, tossing it aside before he moves on to your shorts. A sigh escapes him as he pulls them down along with your panties, and he doesn’t give you even a second to recover before he’s gripping and caressing the curves of your body. Leaning his chin on your shoulder, he runs his fingers over your hips, feeling how your skin warms beneath his touch. “Take your bra off.”

“What? There’s no way I could be hiding a tape in there –“ In response, Neil lightly pinches your thigh, causing you to jump a little and let out a soft whine. Seems like there’s no way around it. With shaky hands, you reach behind yourself to unclasp your bra, and Neil leans back ever so slightly to give you the space to move. That is, until your tits are exposed, and his body is glued against yours once more. The feeling of his hardening cock pressing up against your ass sends heat into your core, and you instinctively clench your thighs together. Of course, this catches his attention.

“Ah, so you are hiding something.”

He wraps his arms around you, steering the two of you over to the mirror he hung on the wall next to his ridiculous little costume rack. You watch your own flushed expression as his hand slips between your legs to let his fingers trace over your already wet folds. With a groan, you try to avert your eyes before he corrects you with a rough grope of your breast.

“No. Eyes on yourself. I want you to see the guilt on your face while I search you.”

Reluctantly, your eyes return to the mirror, just in time for him to plunge a finger into your velvety pussy. Your lips part, and as much as you’d like to keep quiet, your resolve crumbles immediately when he finds that sweet spot inside of you. Within minutes, the office fills up with the sounds of your pleasure and the obscene squelching of his fingers in your wet cunt. And he’s thorough in his search, quickly working you up from one finger to three, making your toes curl against the checkered floor. For a moment, he drives you up to that delightful edge, only to pull his fingers out of you at the last second.

You don’t have the capacity to complain when he lifts his hand towards the light, showing off his glistening digits. Both of you are entranced by the sight, and Neil lets out a soft wheeze before he licks his fingers clean.

“Yeah, I made up my mind. Get over to the desk and bend over.”

“I have a boyfriend,” you whine, turning your head to give him your biggest puppy dog eyes.

“Well, you should’ve thought about it before you stole from me. Losing those rare tapes was a financial disaster for me. I’m risking this store. And I’m not gonna do it without something in return.” He finishes his sentence with a light smack to your ass which only manages to get you even more riled up. It’s hard to disagree with him when he knows just how to get you going.

Neil drags you back over to the desk, angling the camera in just the right way before he hurriedly tears his clothes off completely. The sight of his urgency makes your chest fill with butterflies, but you still need to protest. You have to!

“I don’t usually do this… what if my boyfriend finds out?”

“That’s one more reason to behave. You wouldn’t want him to see this little clip, right?” he asks, although the question is entirely rhetorical. You’d love to feel guilty, but you can’t bring yourself to it.

His hands run from your shoulders down to your hips, kneading your flesh with the attentiveness of a potter crafting a masterpiece, and he leans over you to place open-mouthed kisses down your spine. You shiver, drawing your bottom lip between your teeth to stifle the noises that are threatening to escape your mouth. With a quick movement, Neil reaches under your knee to guide your leg on top of the desk, and you let out a soft sigh when you can feel your arousal rolling down the inside of your thigh as he spreads you open with two fingers.

“You know… nice girls wouldn’t get this wet in situations like these. Then again, you’re a filthy thief, so you’re the furthest thing from a good girl.”

Neil wraps one arm around your waist, pulling you back against his chest so he can latch back onto the side of your neck, sucking and biting while he uses his other hand to guide the tip of his cock against your drooling entrance. His naked skin against yours fills your head with need, and you press up against him a little more to feel him more closely as he slowly pushes inside your velvety cunt. Both of you let out a hiss, and Neil follows it up with a needy whimper as he stills for a moment.

“Fuck… oh fuck,” he breathes, causing your lips to twitch up in subtle amusement. Neil’s hand shakes as he adjusts the camera, making sure to get everything in frame, and in this moment, you clench around him on purpose, causing him to moan right into your ear. “Jesus Christ, don’t do that –”

The slap to your ass is meant to punish you, but it’s doing the exact opposite, and you let him know this by moaning his name. His lips return to your pulse as he pushes his cock deeper into you, stretching you so perfectly that it sends goosebumps over your skin. Or maybe it’s because of his warm breath on your ear. Or his hands diligently kneading your tits. The cocktail of heated touches and sensations is literally making you feel drunk.

“Your cock feels so good,” you whine, causing him to suck in a sharp breath at the praise.

“Yeah?” he chuckles, bottoming out inside of you before he starts to set a slow, sensual rhythm. “You’re such a depraved little slut… getting off on your punishment. If only your boyfriend knew.”

Neil rolls his hips against yours, drawing a moan from both of you that would fit perfectly on the set of a porno. Maybe you’re hamming it up a little to feed his ego. But that isn’t very hard to do when he fills you up so deliciously, making you wetter with every thrust.

You’re already starting to feel breathless when he slowly speeds up, drilling into your dripping pussy with even more fervor. Words are starting to become a little difficult, but you try your best anyway. “You’re better than him. SO much better –“

Your reward is a second smack – aimed at your chest this time.

“You’re damn right I am,” he groans, sucking another hickey into your skin and adding to the little necklace of bruises he’s been placing around your neck. “Suck these for me, will you?”

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, but it doesn’t last long when he brings his fingers up to your mouth, and you eagerly latch onto his digits, still faintly tasting yourself from earlier. You suck them down to the knuckle, running your tongue in between them in a way that makes him groan and pound your cunt even harder. Once his fingers are sufficiently coated in your saliva, he pulls them free from your lips and reaches between your legs to rub your clit.

The one leg you’ve been standing on threatens to give out immediately, but he holds you up with his other arm, and gently guides your hands into place to better support yourself on the desk. Neil nuzzles his face into your hair, breathing heavily against the shell of your ear.

“If you promise not to steal ever again, I might let you cum on my cock.”

His words are intercepted by quiet grunts and whimpers, and you find yourself agreeing pretty quickly, blabbering out promise after promise.

“I’ll never – never steal again! I swear, I swear, I swear, please! Please, please let me cum –!”

You’re almost not recognizing your own voice due to the desperately needy tone that’s laced through your pleading, but Neil doesn’t mind. Quite the opposite, really, because you can feel his thrusts picking up in intensity. He rewards your obedience by rubbing your clit a little faster, and you have to bite your knuckle as to not cry out his name. Fuck, it’s only noon and you’re approaching your release at breakneck speed.

“Fuck… I – I’m close,” you breathe, turning your head to look at him from over your shoulder. His teeth are back in your neck as he kisses and bites at your skin, and his voice sounds strained as he answers you.

“Go ahead… let go for me. If only your boyfriend knew, hm?”

That’s it. Your orgasm rips through you, and you let out a whine as you claw at the surface beneath you. Neil is generous enough to let you ride out your climax, but you can tell how impatient he is when he suddenly pulls out, swallowing heavily.

“On your back.” He doesn’t have to tell you twice. It’s a little awkward, but you manage to scramble and reposition yourself, lying back against the desk and looking up at him with flushed cheeks and tousled hair. Neil is in the same state, licking his lips and swallowing dryly as he guides his cock back into your cunt, aided by his thumb on the base of his length.

“Fuck… how can you still be this tight? Shit, FUCK…” He’s cursing and muttering under his breath, having half a brain to readjust the still rolling camera as to not miss a single second. His hands guide your legs around his waist, and he leans over you, staring at you through blown out pupils that clash against the vibrant intensity of his ocean gaze. His pretty face is red, and sweat beads on his forehead, causing his hair to stick to his skin. Without thinking, you reach up to push it back, causing both of you to still for a second before Neil finds his tone again.

“M’gonna fill you up… and send you back home to your boyfriend with a creampie in that pretty cunt. Alright? Alright.”

You can only nod in response, hearing your own racing heartbeat in your ears along with his continued grunts and moans. His hands on you are gentle, but his thrusts definitely aren’t as he pounds you against the desk. Neil’s hips smack against yours, causing every novelty item around the two of you to tremble along to your feverish rhythm. You tilt your head back but he goes after you, finally capturing your lips in a hungry kiss that he’s been trying to hold back from the entire time. But now that he’s rapidly approaching his own climax, the self-restraint is completely out of the window.

Your tongues clash, and you moan into his mouth when his hands find yours, linking your fingers together. Neil’s lips faintly taste of iced coffee as he licks against your tongue, and your grip on his hands tightens when his movements start to become erratic.

Your lips stay locked the entire time, even as he lets out a guttural groan when he finishes inside of you, thrusting into you a few more times to push it in as deep as possible. Finally, he stills and pulls away from you, unable to resist stealing one last peck from your swollen lips. You’re still breathing heavily as his hands roam over your body once more, relishing the feeling of your skin beneath his fingertips. Now that he has material on you and you promised not to steal again, he’s gentle. Almost too gentle, and you have to clear your throat to snap him out of it.

Neil catches himself, blinking down at you with soft eyes while he wipes some sweat off his brow. There’s a subtle twitch in his lips that tells you that he’d love to keep touching you, but he’s aware of the setting you’re in. Almost reluctantly, he pulls out of you to let you retrieve your clothes. While you’re getting dressed, he checks the camera and stops the recording before he speaks up.

“You’re free to go, then. You know what happens if I catch you stealing again, right?”

The question prompts you to nod in response, and you mumble out a “yes” as you pull your top back over your head. Once Neil confiscates the VHS from your purse, you’re free to exit the store on trembling legs, cringing a little at the feeling of your combined fluids leaking into your underwear. But God, this heist was worth it.

INT. YOUR PLACE – LIVING ROOM – DAY

As expected, the house is quiet when you get home, and you let out a deep, satisfied sigh as you throw yourself onto the couch to decompress for a moment.

Not even 20 minutes pass until the front door opens, and you hear familiar footsteps. A lazy smile spreads over your face, and you sit up, watching you boyfriend as he kicks off his shoes and throws his jacket over the coat rack on the wall. He makes his way over, leaning down to press a sweet kiss to your lips, and your vision is filled by ocean eyes and faint freckles. Neil chuckles softly, placing the camera onto the coffee table before he sinks down on the couch next to you and pulls you close. “I’m glad Lucien agreed to take over the rest of the day.” You hum in agreement, closing your eyes when he brushes his fingers through your hair to massage your scalp.

“I think that was our best one yet.”

FIN.

tags: @ellebelleshelby @cilliansprincess @mcumorningstar @x0xomady @mandies24 @detroitbecomevenom @pretty-bluebird @ink5ouls (couldn't tag) @flwrs4aust @vampmary1411 @ashdrinksoatmilk @luvizuku @nnattu @ptolemaniac @kiss-me-cill-me @celebrities-imagines

#neil lewis x reader #neil lewis x you #neil lewis smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #watching the detectives #.moth writes

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queenshelby · 2 years ago

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Auctioned (P. 1)

Pairing: Dark!Thomas Shelby x Virgin!Reader/OC

Warning: Darkish Themes, Prostitution, Smut, Eventual Loss of Virginity, Dubious Consent, Corruption, Destructive Behavior, Massive Age Gap

Notes: Damn, I had this in my drafts for a while but could not publish it as I was a little afraid about how it would be perceived. Also this is the first time I used an OC, so be gentle with me.

The rain fell relentlessly, a steady rhythm that matched the pounding of Y/N's heart as she walked down the dimly lit streets of Small Heath.

It was a neighbourhood perpetually caught in the grip of shadows, where whispers of danger cascaded through the air like an ominous secret.

Clutching her coat tighter around her trembling form, Y/N navigated the labyrinthine alleyways towards her destination. The wind howled, carrying with it a sense of desperation that seemed to echo her own.

After mere minutes of walking down the street, the brothel she had worked at as a waitress for the past two years stood ominously before her, its ornate facade a stark contrast to the gritty reality of its surroundings.

It was a daunting place she had visited many times before. Both of her sisters worked there, and it was Y/N's eldest sister who had orchestrated tonight’s ordeal.

When Y/N was only sixteen years old, her eldest sister told her not to give away her innocence lightly as, according to her, a woman’s virginity was a commodity these days. Men were willing to pay much money for it, and six months after Y/N turned eighteen, she decided to partake in one of the brothel’s first-ever auctions.

“There are many men here tonight and you are the only virgin” Y/N's sister told her, causing Y/N to cringe but remain silent. “In three months’ time Em, we will be debt-free” her sister then reassured her as rumors of illicit dealings and forbidden desires swirled around the brothel’s walls, warning Y/N and the two other girls partaking in tonight’s events to tread with caution.

Y/N's determination propelled her forward though nonetheless, into the grand hall of the establishment and, albeit with trepidation lingering in every step, she pushed through her anxiety. The weight of her decision bore down on her shoulders now, the knowledge that she had offered her innocence for sale causing a knot of guilt to form in the pit of her stomach.

Pushing open the heavy wooden doors, the creaking sound reverberated through the room, capturing the attention of its mysterious clientele, including men that were twice and three times Y/N's age.

Seeing them, gave Y/N second thoughts. She disappeared again into the back of the room, telling her sister that she was unsure as to whether she could go through with this and, once again, her sister reminded her of what was to come if she did not.

“Trust me Em, it is better to fuck one guy for a few months than a ton of them for years. You will have money once your time is up. It will be worth it” her sister told Y/N, who reluctantly nodded.

The deal was to give up her virginity and three months of her life to the highest bidder and in the brothel’s owner’s opinion, such offering was going to attract a bid of at least one-thousand pounds.

One thousand pounds was more than Y/N could make in five years, thus she agreed, setting herself up for a good life of her own.

***

Glancing through one of the open doors again, Y/N saw that the auction room was illuminated by dim candlelight, casting elongated shadows across the velvety red curtains that framed the stage.

Many men were still arriving, taking their seats and talking with each other. Y/N could count at least fifteen thus far and were astonished by the fact that all these wealthy men were prepared to pay for her inexperience.

Then, a hushed silence fell over the crowd as another man walked in and it was your sister who peaked through the crack in the door with you now, trying to ascertain what was happened.

“Oh shit” she said as she looked at the man who just walked in. His sharp features were framed by a weave of dark hair, blue eyes piercing the dimly lit room with a predatory intensity. This was Thomas Shelby - a figure whispered about in hushed tones, notorious for his criminal empire, and feared even by those who claimed to know him.

“Who is he?” Y/N asked nonetheless, curious about this handsome but intimidating-looking stranger.

“His name is Thomas Shelby. You would have heard of him?” Y/N's sister said, causing Y/N's chin to drop as, just like everyone else, she had indeed heard of him. He was often referred to as the king of Birmingham, a man whose name had become entwined with notions of danger and darkness. He had blood on his hands and was a career

Criminal who was so powerful that even the police did not stand in his way.

“It is time, come on” the owner of the establishment then said and, with trembling legs, Y/N walked into the room, accompanied by her sister.

All heads turned as Y/N's presence filled the room, but she did not take notice of anyone but him, secretly hoping for this stranger to make a bid.

Y/N's breath hitched as, within seconds, her eyes locked with those of this dangerous man, his icy blue orbs penetrating through her like a shard of glass. She felt exposed, vulnerable, as if he could see every secret she held close to her chest, every fear she carried.

Thomas smirked at her, his lips curling with a dangerous mixture of arrogance and charm. He adjusted his tailored suit with the precision of a man who commanded respect, his piercing gaze locked upon the platform where the auctioneer eventually prepared to begin, with you by his side,

The auctioneer's voice boomed through the room, shattering the silence like a crack of thunder.

"Ladies and gentlemen, tonight we present to you a rare opportunity. Up for sale to the highest bidder is this young woman's innocence and her services for three months, at a location of your choosing” the man announced and, immediately, whispers raced through the air, mingling with the pounding of hearts.

Eyes flickered from Y/N to Thomas and back again, playing a silent game of anticipation and curiosity. Y/N's cheeks burned with a mix of nervousness and defiance. This was her choice, her chance to take control of her own destiny and yet she hoped that, at least, someone she could be attracted to would become her bidder.

As such, Thomas Shelby was clearly the most attractive and intriguing man in the room and, whilst Y/N had heard tales of Thomas Shelby, the man who straddled the line between the law and the underworld, she was not afraid.

Thomas Shelby’s notoriety preceded him like a shadowy myth and, again, his lips curled into a barely perceptible smirk, his features a carefully crafted mask of unreadable intent. The flicker of amusement in his eyes danced with a darkness that weakened Y/N's knees.

Was here to bid, she wondered? Or was he for the show and the sheer absurdity of it all?

"Let us not waste any time," the auctioneer then continued, his voice dripping with a blend of excitement and intrigue.

"Bidding for Miss Y/N begins at five hundred pounds" the actioneer then announced and the crowd stirred, pockets of murmurs rising like a symphony of anticipation. The forbidden allure of Y/N's offer had captivated them all, and now they were hungry for the chase.

Thomas Shelby remained a silent observer, however. His eyes locked onto Y/N's form with an intensity that made her feel exposed. A shiver of uncertainty crawled up her spine, but she refused to falter. She had made her decision, and she would see it through to the end.

Then, the first bid pierced the air, followed swiftly by another and another. The numbers climbed higher, the desperation of the bidders mirrored in their furious gestures and sharp intakes of breath. From her vantage point on the stage, Y/N watched the faces blur together, a sea of greedy desire stretching out before her like a treacherous ocean.

Among the throng of potential purchasers, only one stood out to her still and this was Thomas Shelby. His eyes were unwavering and fixed upon her. Bids soared into the thousands, the clambering voices echoing through the rafters. In this room of twisted desires and hidden intentions, Y/N's worth was being calculated, her innocence commodified.

A sense of nausea swirled within Y/N's gut, the weight of what she was about to lose hitting her like a sucker punch. She knew the money would bring temporary relief, but the cost of her first time being handed over so coldly – it was a sacrifice she could never fully comprehend.

Biting her bottom lip, Y/N steadied herself, her gaze finding solace in the not-so-innocent eyes of Thomas Shelby across the room. She had set this chain of events in motion, and she would have to live with the consequences, whatever they may be. At last, the bidding war reached its peak, the crowd growing restless, each participant desperate to claim the illustrious prize. The air crackled with anticipation, a storm waiting to unleash its fury.

The auctioneer, sensing the crescendo, roared, "Going once, going twice..." The tension in the room reached a fever pitch, every person holding their breath, their gaze transfixed on the stage. And then, in an instant, Thomas Shelby's voice, low and commanding, cut through the silence like a knife.

"Ten thousand pounds" he said and the room gasped, a collective intake of breath that snaked its way through the assembled throng.

Thomas's bid was a declaration, a statement that he alone was the one who would possess her at a price that was much higher than any other bid before.

Y/N's heart pounded in her chest, her pulse reverberating in her temples. She locked eyes with Thomas, her voice trembling as she promised herself that she would not crumble beneath his intimidating presence even though he wanted her to, by simply looking at her.

"Sold to Thomas Shelby for ten thousand pounds!" the auctioneer's proclamation hung in the air, sealing Y/N's fate like a binding contract.

A mixture of relief and trepidation surged through her veins, her steps faltering as she descended from the stage, her composure teetering on the edge. Thomas approached her with a measured stride, his every move calculated and deliberate. He extended a gloved hand towards her, a pale contrast against the darkness that seemed to radiate from him.

"Y/N, is it?" he asked, his voice a low timbre that held a hidden power, causing in Y/N to nod silently.

"It appears you now belong to me" he then asserted and Y/N paused for a moment, feeling herself teetering on the precipice between freedom and captivity.

“It seems so” Y/N responded as she chose to swallow her fear and accepted his hand, their fingers intertwining in a pact that neither of them fully comprehended.

“Very well then” Thomas responded before he pulled her closer and Y/N felt the weight of his reputation settle upon her shoulders. The echoes of his criminal empire whispered around her, the unknown dangers lurking beneath the surface of this enigmatic man.

With every guiding step, Thomas led her out of the brothel and into the night, the rain washing away the remnants of her former life. The world around her seemed to fade into insignificance, her focus solely on the ruthless man who had claimed her as his own.

***

Eventually, they emerged onto the dark streets of Small Heath, the rain obscuring their silhouettes as they walked side by side. Y/N's nerves danced with a mix of apprehension and curiosity, her mind frantically searching for answers to the questions that suddenly enveloped her.

"You've heard of me, eh. So you know what I do?" Thomas stated, his voice cutting through the raindrops like a razor and Y/N hesitated to answer for a moment, her words momentarily catching in her throat.

"Yes. I have heard that you are dangerous," she finally admitted, the honesty laced with a touch of fear. A hint of a smile danced across Thomas's lips, his eyes narrowing with a blend of amusement and something darker.

"Dangerous, eh?” he chuckled. “Well, I suppose that is not entirely wrong. Although, one might argue that danger can be seductive” Thomas then asserted and Y/N absorbed his words, feeling a shiver run down her spine. She couldn't deny the magnetic pull she felt towards this enigmatic criminal, as if some inexplicable force drew them together despite the odds stacked against them.

"Why me?" she whispered, her voice barely above a breathy plea. The question hung in the air, mingling with the quiet patter of raindrops on the pavement. Thomas stopped abruptly, his grip on her hand tightening ever so slightly. His gaze bore into her, stripping away any pretence that either of them wore.

"Because I saw something in you that intrigued me. Despite, what kind of criminal would not want someone as innocent as you to corrupt, eh?" Thomas joked as the rain continued its relentless assault, washing away the remnants of Y/N's innocence and revealing a strength that had long lain dormant within her.

This journey was not just about the loss of her virginity – it was an awakening, a test of her own resilience. The intoxicating mix of danger, attraction, and the unknown propelled Y/N forward, her heart pounding in her chest like a wild creature. She had embarked on a journey into darkness, and she was determined to emerge on the other side, transformed.

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x you #tommy shelby #peaky blinders #tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagine #thomas and friends #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x oc #tommy shelby x oc

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lumiidragon · 2 months ago

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It's time for another dragon auction~!

Before placing a bid, PLEASE be sure to read all of the rules. Failure to follow the rules may result in a blacklist from future adopts or a block.

---PLEASE NOTE---

The main bidding will be taking place on my DeviantART post, so bids on there are preferred. However, if you do not have a DeviantART, you can send your bid through DMs to me and I will place your bid myself. I will also let you know if you've been outbid.

SB: $50 USD

Minimum Increase: $1

(Please reply to the current highest bidder to place your bid!)

RULES

-Do NOT place any bid you are not willing to follow through. Bids cannot be withdrawn for any reason, so please be sure to only bid if you are 100% dedicated.

-Once won, you have 3 days to pay for the adoptable. So please be sure to have the money you are willing to bid ready!

-Once won, the adoptable is yours to do with however you see fit. Anything about your adoptable may be altered as well.

-The winner also will get the adoptable sheet without the watermark or the 'Rainbow Night Light Adoptable' text and may instead request a name be put in its place. This new sheet is also allowed for the winner to re-upload WITH credit.

-Bids placed outside of the chain bid will not be counted, so please be sure to reply to the current highest bidder.

-The auction ends 48 hours after the last bid.

#how to train your dragon #httyd #adoptable #night light #dragon

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fiabex · 2 months ago

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Auctions, As Threatened

Normal fandom gift events don't contain enough moving parts to satisfy your brain? Excited by the idea of gift-posting crime (in a way that everyone is delighted by)? Events having paltry minimums like 500 words in a month not enough for you, you want the chance to have a minimum like 3,000, or 5,000, or even more? Auctions, As Threatened, may be the event for you!

How it works:

Everyone makes 1-20 requests just like we would for a normal exchange (except that we have an overflow collection for people who want to make more than 10 requests) including DNWs and optional Dear Creator letters. Then people who want to make gifts gather in a discord, waiting for the date when auctions start. Over the course of nine days, an assignment for everyone who has submitted requests goes up for a 24-hour long bot-managed auction. Gift makers bid word count (or equivalent, for mediums like art and podfic), and the bidder who has promised the highest word count for the assignment wins. Winners have a month to make their gifts! Bid on one auction, bid on several, bid thousands of words— if you think you can deliver it in a month, the sky's the limit!

But wait, you mentioned gift crime?

So what if you get outbid on all your auctions? (Or what if you just have no respect for the lawful transfer of assignments via auction?) The only legal way to add a gift to the collection is to win an assignment at auction...but what the Auction House doesn't want you to know is that their security is totally garbage. You can still make an illegal gift and sneak it into the collection for anyone you want, causing delight and joy to the recipient of your gift.

If you want, you can even take part in a little bit of wordcount-laundering, by posting an illegal treat to the collection and then winning an auction for your recipient. You can either write real fast before your recipient's auction in May...or you can bide your time for the middle of the creation period when your recipient might go up for a Penny Auction if someone's defaulted on their official assignment.

How can I participate?

Requesting: Before we can auction, need people to request gifts! If you want to just request and not bid, that's a perfectly fine way of participating in AAT. You'll need to meet the pinch hit requirements laid out below if you want to be guaranteed a gift, but if you want to just chuck in some requests and forget about it unless a gift appears, we'd be happy to have your requests.

Bidding: We also need people who are willing to bid on auctions and make a gift! If you want to write a gift between May 24th and June 28th, and the idea of competitively bidding (and/or doing crime) using a discord bot sounds fun to you— join us! You don't need to make requests to participate in bidding.

You can participate by giving fic, art/comics, podfic, and playlists. If you have an alternative gift-giving medium in mind, stop by the medium nominations post. We'll see if we can figure out a bid format for you!

Conventional pinch hitting: We will need conventional pinch hitters as well! Near the end of the event we will pinch hit anyone who a) requested 3 or more fandoms, b) had one or more people bid on them at any time, c) gave a gift of 500 words or more, and d) does not HAVE a gift of 500 words or more. The event doesn't open until all the people who meet these requirements have a gift. If you like writing a gift for someone on an accelerated timeframe, this is a chance to help the event work— we always love pinch hitters.

Just hanging out: You're welcome to just come down and hang out in the discord. Cheerleaders are always welcome, and we'll probably need betas of all types once people start creating works.

If you want to join an exchange with so many moving parts we built a custom discord bot for it, if you want the thrill of bidding higher word count than your adversary and then the excitement of having to fulfill it, if you want to do gift crime, if you just want to see how this works— come join us!

Links:

Dreamwidth blog (more details and rules)

Main Ao3 collection, Request Overflow collection

Tag set

Discord

Requirements for participation:

Must be 18+

Must have an AO3 account*

Must be not banned from Fic In A Box**

If you're going to request: Must have an AO3 account which is open to receiving gifts***

if you're going to bid: Must have a Discord account you are willing to link to your AO3 account

(See rules post for more explain-y notes, but in short: *Can't sign up without and AO3 account; ** If you're banned from FIAB you should have a direct email about it; *** Can't get gifts if you have the "no gifts" setting on!)

Schedule:

April 27th-May 9th: Nominations

May 1st-10th: Requesting

May 15th-24th: Auctions

June 8th-June 14th: Penny Auctions

June 28th: Assignments due

June 29th-July 5th: Pinch hit period

July 6th: Reveals

Come join us! Auctions, as threatened!

#fandom exchange #gift exchange

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thegnomelord · 2 years ago

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Hell Has a Basement Floor (Welcome Home)

You are a mage. Nothing more. Your past accomplishments don't matter. They do

You are a mercenary. Nothing more. Your present deeds don't matter. They do

You are Ifrit. Nothing more. You don't matter.

That's how you operate these days; You sell your services to the highest bidder from corrupt government officials to cartels and don't stop until you're covered in ash and the screaming of your victims has left your heart ringing hollow and deafened the meek voice of the person you were. The bounties and warrants on your head are as meaningless as the blood money you receive, only pushing you to move and offer your grievous gifts to more buyers, leaving bloodstained boot prints behind as you walk without true purpose.

You've been able to avoid capture. Until now. You knew your current buyers would betray you, the signs were obvious, and you knew the only way you were going into custody was in a body bag. You had just hoped you'd be able to take the backstabbers with you before the cold muzzle of a gun was pressed to your temple. Unlike last time.

You're still not sure how that turned into you joining a military taskforce full of actual monsters.

--------------

Yep, this thing is officially happening lol. I'm gonna be looking to post the first chapter in like 1-2 weeks but no promises. Gonna be full of fucking angts and gore and smut. Most of it will be gn, but any sex is gonna be strictly amab reader.

Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, coming soon :)

AO3:

@resident-cryptid @diejager @lovingtyrantkitten

#centerpieces of the hoard #x reader #cod mw2 #male reader #long fic #monster cod au #monster 141 au #angst #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #captain john price #simon ghost riley #fanfiction

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celesteficdreamland · 5 months ago

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Bunny Hybrid Kyojuro Rengoku x F!Reader: Fuzzy 2 (Modern AU, Pet Hybrid AU)

Summary: The adventure continues on [Y/N's] as she tries to understand her new Hybrid companion, perhaps opening the doors of friendship between owner and pet or something more.

Word Count: 4,795 words. Warnings: Mention of death, Illegal Hybrid Trafficking, Adult theme (minor nudity, breeding facility talk and minor sexual tension)

First part here: 1

You turn off the faucet as you test the water out. You dip your finger at the water as the temperature of the bath was just right for your big bunny.

Now time to get your hybrid. You went into the living room of your apartment there you saw Kyojuro working out by doing push ups. You still remember how it went down a couple hours ago, when you got back home from buying groceries.

"Kyo! What are you doing?!" You asked in disbelief as you saw your hybrid jumping up and down at a fast rate!

As soon as Kyojuro heard your voice in the room he stops his actions and head straight to you with a fond smile as he exclaims 'Owner!' as his bunny ears twitching every second.

"I was working out Owner!" Kyojuro answered as his body was dripping with sweat.

You pinch the bridge of your nose, you can’t believe that his action a while ago. You inspect closer at his bandage wounds as luckily his body didn’t reopen the scratch wounds.

"Why are you working out? You should be resting not working out." You said as you placed the groceries on the table and eyed Kyojuro again.

He wants to help you placed the groceries but you rather have him rest so you shook your head and refused the help from your hybrid. You eyed at your hybrid waiting for an explanation.

Kyojuro flops his ears down with a frown on his face, "I’m sorry for making you mad Owner."

You were slightly surprise with your hybrid as you sigh. "Kyo I’m not mad at you I’m actually concerned about you."

Hearing this makes Kyojuro’s ears stand up with pure relief that he didn’t make you angry at him.

"I wanted to be strong and presentable owner." Kyojuro said with pride.

Strong? Presentable? What does it mean? Maybe there’s something more beneath the surface you’re going to have to uncover more of Kyojuro’s past to understand his own perspective.

"What do you mean Kyojuro?" You asked as the hybrid begins to tell you.

"In the ring only the strongest will be the winner." Kyojuro said as he demonstrates by flexing his biceps.

"For us fighters keeping our image is the key of survival." Kyojuro briskly said.

One thing or another it’s all sad, the life of an illegal hybrid fighter. "What happens if you don’t follow those images?" You wanted to know more and the result of a hybrid.

Kyojuro’s bunny ears slowly descended down again and his eyes filled with pain. "For fighters like myself disobeying or not making yourself stronger would mean…" Kyojuro’s clench his fist, "death." Kyojuro whispered.

You widen your eyes, caught off guard with what he said. Normally in a illegal fighting match for hybrids the loser will live or will be sold to someone who bids the highest. But immediate death is not something under your book.

"I seen other fighters meet their demise and the winner will be rewarded with three meals a day and if a buyer will pay for the winner hybrid to… Breed their own female hybrid to make the male offspring into a fighter." Kyojuro said words filled with anger, regret and lost.

You feel like calling the police and run a bust on those guys.

"I… Was the winner in my final match and… A bidder paid my handler for me to breed some other female rabbit hybrids and my handler accepts." Kyojuro look defeated at his own words.

'You won?' You whispered in disbelief as Your hybrid nods to confirm that he was a champion.

"Knowing how the situation was scarce I wanted to escape and during that night an opportunity was suddenly opened to me. Someone forgot to turned off the electric fence around my cage." Kyojuro said.

You can’t take it the more you know the more you want to hug the hybrid in front of you he doesn’t deserve that treatment he’s a living being not a toy meant to be played.

"I didn’t hesitate as I broke down my cage and climbed over the fence as I was near at the top of the end I jumped down and begin to shape into my rabbit form as I was running away. Kyojuro said in a serious tone as his face was also in concentration mode.

"But it wasn’t that fast enough. As soon as someone saw that I was not in my cage they sound the alarms to alert the other facilitators that one of the fighter escapes. They bring their trained hybrid dogs to hunt me down." Kyojuro directly emphasize on how tall the Hybrid dogs that were much bigger and taller than Kyojuro.

"As I was running a couple of hybrid dogs had caught up to me. I change back into my hybrid form and started on fighting them." Kyojuro said.

The atmosphere around the room changed as your heart was beating fast anticipating and wondering how the story continues. Small breath and cold hands were forcing its way to you.

The more Kyojuro talks about his escape the more you grow concern and anxious to your hybrid. It feels like your part of his story.

"They managed to land a few blunt blows, and scratching, there was also one of them that but a certain area around my leg as the hybrid dog was busy on keeping me down." Kyojuro showed you the injuries underneath the bandages on his skin.

And those were the injuries that appeared on his rabbit form, the subtle drop of how much you want to praise him for his strength and violently beating for those trying to take away his freedom.

"I give the mongrel a great kick from my other leg while a heavy punch to the other mutts making them unconscious. I saw flashes of lights from the place I escape and quickly changed into my bunny form and dash quickly away from the scene!" Kyojuro puff out his chest with pride.

Even when Kyojuro tries to keep a positive outcome and try to humor the conversation. You only felt more concerned for his well-being. You only smiled directly at him with a giggle to complement his strength, on the outside you showed a happy façade at the moment but the feeling of concern was billing up inside you.

"I run and I keep on running even though the pain is unbearable and fresh blood dripping out of my wounds. I didn’t care because I don t want to go back, after a while a saw a road and I went to try run across." He scratches the back of his head while avoiding your eyes.

If you haven’t gone home during that time, your thoughts begin to spiral on many different outcomes. That he died from blood lost, being eventually found by those dog hybrids, the list goes on with many possibilities on the scenarios that you played on your head.

"But I can feel my energy running out until I saw a bright flash of light coming towards me and I saw black dots appearing on my eyes, before my body suddenly collapse? I guess that’s how it happened?" Kyojuro confusingly said.

The final image of both rabbit and hybrid forms of Kyojuro laying down with a lifeless eyes laid down across from you. You imagined one last scenario of his lifeless form, the feeling of something that you were scared off.

The final strike sets you to move closer to your hybrid as you engulf him in a hug, you almost felt emotional because if you do then you would be crying on his shoulders. You didn’t care of how his body was still sweating, you didn’t care if it ruined your clothes. Right now… Just right now, you only need to care for Kyojuro and focus on him alone.

Sooner or later, you felt his arms slowly wrap around your waist as he continues on where he left off.

"As I black out then suddenly, I freaked out when I woke up in a completely strange room where I accidentally knock a couple of stuff on the table and later on, I saw you, my savior Owner." The sweet and soft tone of his voice speak lowly at your ear.

With adding a final word of 'thank you' to you. You laid your head on his shoulder trying to stop the tears from flowing down your eyes.

It took a couple of minutes as both of you enjoyed the silence of the room.

"You don’t need to thank me, as long as you’re safe then that’s what all that matters." You said as you’re the first to break the silence between the two of you, you also tried to make your voice calm and not trembling.

You pulled away as you caress his cheeks, Kyojuro enjoyed your touch as he starts purring.

You look over the clothes that you had as they are now covered in sweat from hug that you initiated with your hybrid and speaking of your hybrid you need to take him a bath but you also need a bath.

Maybe you can go first while your hybrid goes next since you need to supervise him in case he scratch his wounds.

"I guess it’s bath time for the both of us Kyo." You said as Kyojuro seemed to be excited with his ears twitching and his bunny tail swiftly shakes.

It’s cute on how his animal features, you controlled yourself as the urge to touch his cute bunny cotton tail was trying to take over your body. "But I will go first before you." You pointed at Kyojuro while turning around to avoid his cute features.

You can’t help but feel disappointed stares from the back of your head.

"Once I’m done taking a bath first, I’ll come back to wash you up." You announce as you head towards to your room to prepare your clothing’s. once you found something comfortable to wear you head to the bathroom as you bath in the water.

And that’s how the story goes once you’re clean and dry, "Kyo! The bath is already prepared." You announced, it was Kyojuro’s turn as you called his name in your apartment.

You heard the sound of footsteps coming through the hall as your blond bunny hybrid entered the room with curios eyes as he takes a look around the bathroom’s surroundings. Before he tilts his head at you with a perplex expression.

"Is something wrong?" You asked as to what Kyojuro is thinking.

'A hose for bathing!?'

"I don’t see a hose owner?" Kyojuro answered as you’re thinking in your mind with the most logical thing right now.

You shake your head as you explained the situation, right now you rather avoid the hose topic since you already imagine that something horrible happened to him.

"No, Kyo. This right here is tub this is your bath." You said as you showed him the water inside the tub.

"This is my bath? It looks different from what I have." He eyed at the water inside the tub.

You reassured him that this is better than any hose that he’s going to experience. "I say you’re going to love this kind of style of bathing rather than the hose."

Kyojuro looks at you with wonder with sparkling eyes. "If Owner said that it’s better then, I will trust and never disobey her commands." He declared with his ears standing tall as he begins to remove his clothing.

Instead of being shock from his action you decided on helping him strip as you slowly help him out. Before he can take a bath, you stop him as you try to take off the bandages first.

"I’m just going to remove the bandages first so I can replace them with new ones after I apply the ointment on your wounds, it’s best to remove the old ones and change them with something new." You pointed out while Kyojuro responded with a 'yes owner' as he nods at you with his usual confident smile.

You started on removing his bandages slowly as you saw the wounds on his body slowly heal it wasn’t as bloody nor deep tissues were harm but you still need to apply the ointment after the bath so your hybrid can fully heal his injuries.

"Okay, done you can now take a bath." You announced as you guided your hybrid to waters by encouraging on getting in.

"Don’t worry you’ll be fine." You demonstrated by swirling your hand around the tub before showing your wet hand in front of your hybrid. "See, no harm done the water is warm and relaxing"

And with that Kyojuro finally took a step inside the tub as you can see his ears slowly descending down. You also encourage him to lay down so his whole body would be soaked in water.

You started to wash his body with soap first, as you scrub his arm, back and front all the way to his legs as you make sure to avoid his wounds along the way.

Delighted by the sensation Kyojuro kept his eyes close as he enjoys your care.

You then wash his body with water it’s kind of funny how he resembles much more like a dog rather than a Flemish giant but you don’t mind its cute in a way.

You’re using non-toxic products it’s still good since you can save more than buying organic bathing supplies that cost double the price.

Now you apply shampoo on his head, you make sure to massage his head giving gentle touches to his scalp along with uncurling some hairs that managed to be intertwined with another.

Your hybrid likes the feeling around him as he slowly let loose. He loves the way your hand magically makes him relax as he succumbs into the feeling.

You heard purring sounds coming from your hybrid, as you felt an awe feeling to him. You then move your hands towards his ears as you spread the shampoo outside the rim of his bunny ears.

The moment your hands made their way to his bun-bun ears he begins to jolt a bit before letting out a whimpered whine.

You stop your action hearing him whining made you detached your hands away from his ears. "I’m sorry, did I hurt you?" You asked your hybrid of he was all right.

"I’m all right Owner! is just that my ears are sensitive that I can’t help but feel nice around your hands." Kyojuro responded keeping his confident expression on his face.

"Oh, then you I guess I have to sto-." You were interrupted by Kyojuro As he protested "No, you can keep going."

Kyojuro let out a contented sigh as Honey resumed the gentle massage, his sensitive ears twitching slightly under her touch. The sensation was oddly soothing, and he found himself relaxing further into the warm water, his tension melting away.

He could hardly believe how natural it felt, being touched so tenderly by the object of someone who saved him. A soft rumble built in his chest, more a vibration than a purr, as he leaned into your ministrations.

The way your skilled fingers worked through his head and his scalp, Kyojuro closed his eyes, savoring the comforting intimacy of the moment.

After several minutes of pampering, Kyojuro finally sat up, shaking off excess water droplets from his fur. He turned to face Honey, his bright yellow and red hair now damp and clinging to his scalp.

You were done with his hair as you gently rinse him off with water, being mindful with his wound.

You eyed at your hybrid bunny his wet fur glistening in the light. Water droplets cascaded down his muscular frame, creating a mesmerizing sight.

"Ah, I'm clean now thanks to you, Owner." He said with a smile with his bunny ears twitching happily, he slightly tilt his head to allow rivulets of water to slide down his neck and onto his broad shoulders.

You stop yourself from staring at your bunny as you realize were staring for a whole minute. You shifted your gaze and found a towel.

"Well, we should get you dried off properly before you catch a chill." You said, reaching for a towel to wrap around Kyojuro's muscular frame. You began patting his wet fur dry, your hands lingering on his strong back and sides.

"Hold still for a sec." You instructed, leaning in close to carefully towel-dry the area behind Kyojuro's ears. Her breath tickled his sensitive skin, making him shiver pleasantly. "Almost done…"

Kyojuro's breath hitched as your warm breath caressed his ear, sending a delightful tingle down his spine. He felt his pulse quicken, his body responding instinctively to your proximity and the gentle way your hands roamed over his soaked fur.

Kyojuro's golden eyes sparkled with amusement as he glanced at you, clearly enjoying this moment of relaxation and closeness with you.

As you stepped back, he stood up slowly, water droplets glistening on his coat. He towered over you, his presence commanding yet gentle.

Kyojuro's gaze lingered on your flushed cheeks, the sparkle in your eyes mirroring the heat building within him.

“Thank you, Owner!" Kyojuro said admired you as you were taken aback from his loudness but patted his head as you showed him sincerity.

Though Kyojuro must admit, he almost doesn’t want to end this moment.

"Time to add some alcohol to your wounds and wrap them up in fresh bandages." You said as get prepared the item from the cabinet.

He watched You prepare the medicaments. His expression softened, a flicker of fondness dancing in his eyes.

"I'll make sure to apply this quick and make it less bearable." You gently dabbed the antiseptic liquid on his wounds, wincing slightly at the sting myself knowing how much it would hurt him.

"Sorry, it's gotta burn to clean out the dirt and bacteria," You apologized, though you knew he'd understand.

"There, all done," I announced finally, stepping back to survey my handiwork.

Kyojuro exhaled slowly as the antiseptic stung his wounds, his jaw clenched briefly in tolerance. But when your gentle touch applied the bandages, soothing pressure easing the ache, he relaxed, a soft grunt escaping him.

As you stepped back to admire your work, Kyojuro's gaze followed her, drinking in the sight of her caring for him. There was a tenderness in her movements, a quiet dedication that stirred something deep within him.

"That's…better." He acknowledged, his voice a bit hoarse from gritted teeth during the cleaning process.

You hand him his new clothes and leave the bathroom. As you closed the door you couldn't help but feel that you survived that onslaught of attack, blushing all the way you managed to avoid looking at his pelvic area when you were drying him up.

After the event was over as you make some meal for you and Kyojuro as he came into view with his flaming star eyed gaze and his appetite to dig in on the vegetables and his favorite food sweet potatoes.

You both eat the meal as Kyojuro finish his meal that went into a pile of dishes that were stacking together. After the dinner you both watched something from Netflix until it was time for bed.

As the night wore on, exhaustion claimed Kyojuro. With a contented sigh, he drifted off to sleep on the couch, Honey's careful ministrations and comforting presence lulling him into a peaceful slumber.

Hours passed, the house growing quiet save for the occasional rustle of Kyojuro's restlessness. Just as dawn began to lighten the sky, a soft knock sounded at Honey's door. She opened it to find Kyojuro standing there, his usually bright eyes now heavy-lidded and his features drawn with a mix of fatigue and longing.

"Owner…" His voice was low, husky with sleep and emotion. "May I join you? I don't wish to be alone tonight."

"Did something happen?" You were worried about him to what made him turn into this state.

"I have a bad… Dream." Kyojuro replied.

You rub your eyes from the bleary-eyed from sleep, and blinked at the sight of Kyojuro standing before you. His usually confident demeanor was replaced by a look of vulnerability and distress, his bunny ears were on high alert as it was standing and flitching at every second. "Of course, come in." You invited, stepping aside to let him enter.

As he crossed the threshold, you could see the remnants of fear etched on his face. "Nightmare, huh?" You asked gently, closing the door behind. "Want to talk about it?"

You led him over to the bed, gesturing for him to sit down. The moonlight streaming through the window cast an ethereal glow, making the scene feel intimate and safe. Once he was settled, I sat beside him, placing a comforting hand on his knee.

"My dreams aren't always pleasant either," I admitted softly, trying to convey understanding.

Kyojuro nodded, his grip on the edge of the bed tightening as he struggled to compose himself. The warmth of your hand on his knee provided a calming balm, helping to soothe the frayed edges of his nerves.

The weight of his past, the memories of battles fought in a caged locked behind many hybrids to their deaths, seemed to linger in the air. His gaze flickered briefly to your hand, then back to the floor, as if he wasn’t sure what to do with the comfort being offered.

Kyojuro took a deep breath, his broad shoulders rising and falling with the motion. His fiery eyes, usually so bold and unyielding, were now clouded with vulnerability.

"I felt the hunting of my past from the place where I was locked behind to fight for their biddings." Kyojuro said as his red golden yellow to orange tips of his hair block your view from seeing his expression.

"I… I try to push them away," Kyojuro confessed in a low voice, his fingers still tightly gripping the bed's edge. "The memories, the fear. But sometimes they come flooding back. Like shadows that won’t leave me alone."

You squeezed his knee gently, your thumb brushing over the fabric of his clothes. The touch was soft, yet it spoke volumes—an unspoken promise that you were there, that you wouldn’t let him face it alone.

"You don’t have to push them away," I said quietly, my voice steady and calm. "You don’t have to fight them alone. I’m here, Kyo."

He looked up at me, his expression conflicted. The flicker of doubt in his eyes was there, but so was a hint of something else—a glimmer of trust.

"I’ve seen things… done things." He murmured, the weight of his words settling between us. "I don't know how to be anything but to be a fighter. Sometimes, I wonder if that’s the only thing I have left."

You moved a little closer, your shoulder brushing against his as you leaned in, closer still, letting the quiet of the room settle around us.

"You have more than that," you said softly. "You’re more than just your title. You’re a free hybrid, Kyo. You’re allowed to feel. You’re allowed to rest and be happy."

Kyojuro's chest rose with another deep inhale, but this time it seemed to carry less of the sharp, jagged tension that had clung to him earlier. He turned his head slightly, meeting your gaze, and for a moment, he seemed to find solace in the warmth of your presence.

His voice was softer this time, a tremor of gratitude beneath his words. "Thank you, Owner… I didn’t expect to find this here, with you."

"I… I don’t know how to express how much this means. You’ve been kinder to me than I deserve." There was a softness in his tone. He shifted slightly, his gaze lingering on you a moment longer, as if searching for the right words to say.

"Thank you, Owner." He said, his deep voice carrying a quiet sincerity. His fluffy ears begin to drop little by little .

There was a softness in his tone, something unspoken in the way his gaze softened, a vulnerability peeking through the usually stoic expression. He hesitated for a moment, his fingers briefly brushing over the bedspread before meeting your eyes again.

You could sense the tension in his shoulders, the weight of everything he carried still holding him back.

It was a simple offer, but one that You hoped might ease some of the burden he was carrying. "You don't have to be alone."

“Why don’t you sleep here with me in my room tonight?” You suggested, Your voice gentle but earnest.

There was something reassuring about his acceptance, as if the simple gesture of sharing space, of not being alone, was enough to bring a sense of peace.

Kyojuro seemed to nod in agreement, his usual resolve softened by the quiet comfort of the moment.

With that, you both lay down on the bed, the air between the two of you no longer heavy with the unspoken tension that had lingered before, the soft light from the moon casting a warm, calming glow over the familiar space.

"You don't have to stay awake," You said, breaking the silence softly. "You can rest. I’ll be right here if you need anything."

"You don’t need to," I replied, my voice steady. "Just take it easy tonight."

Kyojuro gave a small, grateful smile.

He nodded, his body relaxing as he lay back, his eyes closing for a moment before he spoke again, his voice softer now, almost like a whisper.

"I’ll try to rest," he murmured, "but if I can’t… I’ll stay here with you for as long as I need."

The faint light from the moons ray danced on the walls, but his mind seemed far away, tangled with thoughts he couldn’t escape.

As the room settled into a comfortable silence, Kyojuro’s eyes, heavy with exhaustion, flickered open and closed.

His usual confidence seemed to waver in the stillness of the room, and you could sense the unspoken need for something, someone to ground him.

The action was tentative at first, as though he wasn’t quite sure if he had permission to draw close, but when you didn’t pull away, he tightened his hold just slightly, drawing you in.

Without saying a word, he shifted closer, his movements slow and deliberate. He didn’t look at you, but instead reached out, his strong arms gently wrapping around you.

Kyojuro’s nose brushed against the side of your neck, inhaling deeply, as if trying to memorize the scent of the room, of me...Something to cling to in the quiet darkness.

You could feel the warmth of his chest against your back, the steady rhythm of his breath as it began to slow. But it wasn’t just the physical closeness he sought.

There was a comfort in it, an unspoken connection, like he was searching for a moment of peace, something that had eluded him for so long.

You allowed myself to relax, your hand resting gently on his arm as you both sat in the stillness, the weight of his worries easing just a bit.

For a moment, you were still, unsure if you should move or speak. But there was a sense of trust in the way he held me, and the subtle way he nuzzled against your skin, seeking comfort in the familiar.

The quiet sound of his breathing was almost a lullaby, and as the minutes passed, you could feel his body relax completely, his muscles softening as sleep slowly took him over.

Slowly, as his breath deepened and became more even, his hold on you loosened slightly, but his presence remained steady, grounding him in the moment.

The steady rhythm of his breathing soon turned into the gentle calm of sleep, and you stayed beside him, your own breath steady, the night wrapping around you both in its quiet embrace.

Kyojuro’s grip remained on you, not in desperation, but as a silent promise that he was safe here, for now, with no battles to fight and no worries to bear.

You could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, and in that moment, something inside you stirred, a desire to offer him the same comfort he’d sought in you.

Without a second thought, you gently placed your hand on top of his head, your fingers sifting through the strands of his fiery hair. The warmth of his skin under your palm sent a quiet reassurance through you, as if telling you that this moment, this shared peace, was a small victory against the chaos of his world.

#demon slayer #kny #kyojuro rengoku xreader #rengoku kyojuro x reader #rengoku x reader #kyojuro rengoku x y/n #rengoku x y/n #bunny hybrid x reader #bunny hybrid kyojuro #bunny hybrid rengoku #bunny hybrid rengoku x reader #bunny hybrid kyojuro rengoku x reader #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer fanfic #KIMETSU NO YAIBA #demon slayer hybrid au #kimetsu no yaiba hybrid au #kny hybrid au

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carolperkinsexgirlfriend · 2 years ago

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Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 10

Part 1 Part 9

Steve wakes up cuddling Eddie Munson’s calves to his chest. It barely registers over the sharp stab of pain that had jolted him awake. At some point in his sleep, he’d rolled onto his injured side, and his own weight pressing down into it makes him groan.

He rolls onto his back, letting go of his hold on Eddie’s calves. His other arm is pinned beneath his legs, already full of pins and needles, so he yanks it free. Eddie sits up, smacking his face into one of Steve’s hanging coats.

“What’s it?” he asks, nonsensically, batting the shirt out of his face.

Steve follows his lead, sitting up opposite him. Their knees knock together. Steve doesn’t pull his away.

Eddie’s hair is plastered to the side of his face on one side, lopsided and greasy, and yet his curls are still flyaway, wilder than Steve has ever seen them. His eyes are closed as he swipes his bangs out of his eyes.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Steve says.

Eddie’s eyes slit open, scowl already in place as he looks around, disoriented. Steve can see the exact moment the other boy remembers where they are. His eyes widen before he closes them, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head.

“I was hoping this whole thing was a dream,” he says, voice raspy. “No offense.”

Steve laughs. “Why would I be offended, dude?”

Eddie mutters under his breath. Steve doesn’t ask. If he’s over there talking shit, he’d frankly rather not know.

Eddie finally opens his eyes again. “What now?”

Steve looks at the closed closet door. His minds ticking away, but not going anywhere. “There’s no food,” he says, thinking aloud. “We’ve got water. We can’t kill that thing—”

“—can’t get out of here—”

“—so there’s not much to do, is there?”

He feels young and small, the way he always does when he’s hiding in his closet, knows he’s looking up at Eddie, eyes begging him to contradict what he’s saying. Eddie doesn’t.

His gaze looks just as hollowed out as Steve feels, eyes looking through Steve and into a world they’re no longer a part of. “We should stay here,” he says. “If someone comes looking, they’ll know to check here.”

Left unspoken is that no one is looking.

They crawl out of the closet together. Steve hits his face on that same varsity jacket that had meant so much to him only days before. Now, he’d sell it to the highest bidder for a bag of chips.

Eddie’s standing awkwardly in his bedroom, looking around at all the nothing on the walls, the nothing on the desk. The shell of Steve’s life. He thinks of the mugs and hats hanging in the Munson trailer, the signs of life visible in the dishes in the sink and the blanket folded at the bottom of the couch and aches.

“Can we go to your place instead?” He says it before he makes the decision to open his mouth.

Eddie snaps his gaze away from the blank walls, eyes meeting Steve’s own. “Why?”

Steve looks around at all the nothing again, feels his mouth twisting into a frown, feels his fingernails digging into his palms. “It’s cozier.” He doesn’t look back at Eddie, can’t make himself look away from the picture of the car on his wall. Steve doesn’t even like cars.

“Okay,” Eddie says, quiet. There’s an upward tick of a question at the end of the word that Steve chooses to ignore.

It’s an easy journey. They hear no sounds of pursuit, see no twisted monsters. But his lungs ache with panic until Eddie’s shut the front door of his trailer. Steve never realized they lived so close to one another.

It’s almost funny, when you think about the disparate sounds the shutting of their front door’s make. Steve’s close with a wooden thunk, and the quiet click of the metal bolt hitting home. Eddie’s sounds hollow – like styrofoam. It would be funny if it didn’t make his stomach squirm.

Like a repeat of the standoff in Steve’s own bedroom, they stand awkwardly in the Munson’s living room, the silence stilted. Eddie jiggles his feet, looking around the trailer with the same furrowed brow Steve’d had while eying his own empty bedroom.

Steve doesn’t get it. You can almost feel the people that live here by just stepping inside. It’s so full. What more could you need?

“Wanna get high?” Eddie asks, hands flapping at his sides like he can’t help moving.

“…you trust the drugs you find in this nightmare world?” Steve asks, trying to keep the judgment from his tone, sure he’s not successful.

Eddie smiles so wide his teeth show. He swings the backpack of his shoulders in one fluid motion before dropping it onto the couch and riffling through it. He holds up a metal lunchbox like it’s a prize. His face sags when he opens it.

Steve doesn’t know much about weed, but the jaunty angle both the joints Eddie pulls out don’t look quite right. Eddie straightens them futiley with his fingers before bringing them both up to his nose, sliding them both above his mouth with a showy sniff. His nose wrinkles.

“A little water-logged, but they should be okay, right?” He looks up imploringly at Steve. He shrugs. Eddie looks back down at the joints, lips in a pout. “Is chlorine poisonous?”

“Hasn’t killed me yet.”

Eddie laughs, waving Steve to follow him. “You’re not supposed to drink it, Harrington.”

“It just happens sometimes!” Steve says, following closely behind. “You gotta time your breathing right, or you get a mouthful.”

“And then you swallow it?”

“Fuck off, dude.”

Eddie’s bedroom is a marvel. There are so many posters pinned to the wall, he can barely see the color behind it. There are little trinkets everywhere – guitar picks, rings, little plastic guys that remind him of army men, paint supplies, books, cassettes. There are clothes hanging off his desk chair, guitars mounted on the wall, blankets and sheets balled onto the bed in what looks like a very comfortable nest. There are so many things Steve doesn’t even recognize enough to put a name to.

He walks up to the wall, analyzing what look like band posters. They’re predominantly red and black, angry and vibrant. Steve wants to know what that anger sounds like when plaid on the tape deck he sees on Eddie’s desk. He moves around the room, bringing his fingers up to touch the writing on the guitar – THIS MACHINE SLAYS DRAGONS – before thinking better of it and dropping his hand.

It's while he’s bent down, eyeing the little painted dragon on Eddie’s desk that he realizes the other boy has gone alarmingly quiet. When he turns, Eddie is fidgeting with the rings on his fingers, feet shuffling, biting his lip. Steve raises a brow.

“Sorry it’s so messy!” Eddie says, but he blurts it out so fast, it comes out more like, sorryit’ssomessy.

“It’s nice,” Steve says, surprised by how much he means it. “Looks like someone actually lives here.”

Eddie’s cheeks turn pink as he lifts up the ends of his hair to hide the smile Steve can see peeking through like the weirdo he is. He drops the hair to gesture grandly at his messy bed as if it was a limo. Or a chariot. “Well, sit down, my liege.”

Steve does, back against the wall where the headboard would be. Eddie settles down beside him, knees overlapping with the way they’re sitting crisscross.

Eddie holds up one of the joints, licking the edge almost on instinct before grimacing. Steve’s watching his tongue move along the paper, feels something in his gut tense before he looks away.

The first lighter he tries is just as waterlogged as the joints, not even making a spark. Eddie’s cursing up a storm as he leans across Steve to fumble for the lighter propped up on his desk. That one works.

Steve’s been to enough parties to be unsurprised by the skunky musk that quickly fills the room. He’s avoided smoking at all of those parties, though, so the way the smoke fills his lungs leaves him coughing until his throat burns. Eddie slaps his back, hard until he stops choking. It doesn’t help. Steve doesn’t ask him to stop.

“First time?” Eddie asks, clearly teasing. Steve averts his eyes. “Oh, no shit?”

“I play sports, man,” Steve says, reading the titles of the cassettes stacked up on Eddie’s desk to avoid seeing the look on the guy’s face. “Never really seemed worth the lung problems.”

Eddie nudges Steve’s knee with his own. It splays out on top of his and then stays there. “And now?”

He doesn’t want to say it, but it comes spilling out. “You really think we’re going to live long enough to develop lung problems?”

Eddie doesn’t reply, but the weight of his leg grows heavier. Steve revels in the warmth he can feel from his skin, even with the two layers of jeans separating them. It’s so cold here.

“Well,” Eddie starts, and Steve can hear the grin in his voice, so he turns back. His eyes are manic, smile shit-eating and wide. “This is one cherry of yours I don't mind popping."

This time, Steve chokes for a very different reason. He's not sure he minds.

Part 11

#steddie upsidedown au #steddie fic #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #my fic

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