#What is a god to creature not of it's creations

[jinx-xxed]

I have a remmick x gender neutral!reader request (I hope you do those, if not it’s okay!). Reader is a lone, fledgling vampire - perhaps they became a vampire through being cursed, or whatever strikes your fancy. I’m dying for more Sinners vampire lore.

Anyways, reader is on their own, not knowing how to vampire, barely surviving, throat on fire with thirst because they don’t understand their new afterlife until they meet Remmick. The two can be companions, which they so obviously need.

Rotten Blood

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

A/N; Thank you for the request!! I absolutely love this idea and can 100% do a gender-neutral reader :) Of course Remmick still calls them the usual pet names (darlin’, baby, etc.) since I believe those can be for anybody so interpret as you will!

Summary; As a new vampire, you have no idea what to do but don’t worry, Remmick will help you.

Content; GN reader, fledgling vampire reader, getting turned, vampirism, suicidal ideation, hive minds, starvation, death, Remmick is weird and a smartass (what else is new), blood and injury, fighting Remmick, Remmick gives you your first meal, vampire bonding, very dependent relationship

Wc; 4.2k

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

You’ve never before known a hunger like this.

You feel it within every cell of your immortalized body as you stumble through the moonlit forest in a daze. Roots catch the toes of your boots, intent on dragging you down and keeping you there with them as they consume your flesh that’s so inherently wrong. You know it wouldn’t be difficult, you know that if you fell you wouldn’t be able to get back up. Starvation is like a beast stuck in the confines of your form, growling within your stomach and creating a tightness like a clenched fist in your chest. Your lips are dry and cracked, your face sunken, skin sallow, throat burning like you swallowed acid.

The teeth in your mouth feel unfamiliar, sharpened at the ends and crafted with the purpose of tearing into flesh. They create an ache in your gums, full of a desire to rip and devour and drink the warm life of God’s creations, the same ones you’d been taught to cherish. They’ve refused to retract since that night, your own body ignoring your commands in favor of the hunger steadily consuming you.

It was two weeks ago now, the time that passed feeling like an unbearable blur tracked through the moon’s cycle. She was full when your family was killed in front of you, and now she’s merely a crescent sitting amongst the stars.

You hadn’t known the man, neither did your parents. All they’d seen was a person in need of help and god bless their hearts, they’d welcomed him in so he could have a place to rest. You’d merely been visiting, something you did every month now that your parents were getting older, having no idea it’d be the last time you ever did such a thing. You were in your room finishing your work, oblivious to the monster that had just stepped foot inside your childhood home. It was three minutes after when the screaming started and you ran out to find your momma and papa laying in pools of their own blood with that man standing over them.

His beady eyes locked on to you and you’d tried to run but oh, do those things love a chase. You’d been shoved to the ground so hard your chin busted and you’d punched and kicked with all your might, but it wasn’t enough against a creature with snapping teeth and claws digging into your shoulders. In an act of desperate frenzy, you felt those fangs sink in and rip your life right from your neck.

You don’t understand why you were the only one who woke up again.

When you came to on the kitchen floor, you found you were alone and covered in your blood. It couldn’t have been more than a few minutes based on the warmth of it, but the man was nowhere to be seen and your back door was left swinging open. It made you sick how alien your body felt, like you’d been picked up out of your original one and plopped right into a new one. There was something unusual that crawled under your skin, your limbs felt foreign, and every sense was heightened to an inhuman level. You could hear the critters far off in the woods, could smell the iron of your parent’s blood, could see perfectly in the darkness of the house.

You didn’t know what to do. You wanted to scream, to cry, to puke, to chase down that vile man and kill him—with the claws that protruded from your fingers now, you probably could. But you didn’t do any of that. You merely stood on unsteady feet and walked out the door, something within you telling you that you couldn’t stick around any longer.

From there you continued to wander in a state of shock, unable to muster a single thought, your gleaming eyes wide and lips parted in disbelief. You kept going until the moon began to fall, until some secondary, old voice inside of you hissed that you needed to seek shelter. You’d gone deeper into the woods, managing to find an old hut that was falling apart inside and out. It was completely abandoned, meaning you got to just walk inside and curl up in the furthest corner from the door, making yourself as small as possible on the wooden floor that gave you splinters.

You laid there for hours as the world seemed to pass you by, only noticing when the room lightened with the sun, rays breaking in through a hole in the roof or gaps between the boards. You were far enough from them that you didn’t burn but you still felt the kiss of their heat on your sweat soaked skin. You were more than content to just remain there, to listen to the sounds of the outside as your body rotted away in some unknown hut. Then the voices started.

Screams and terrified voices of those long dead, of people who suffered your same fate, creating a cacophony within your mind. You’d groaned like you were in pain, clutching your head as they continued to wail. It was your connection to the man that did this, the souls of those he’d damned come to torment his newest victim. You could feel him so faintly within you, his frayed emotions and frantic thoughts, and if you branched yourself out, you knew you’d be able to rifle through a couple of his loose memories. It was clear he had no care for anyone but himself, he was barely a century old, and he lived in a state of constant panic. It spread to you, anxiety kicking in your chest, making you feel as though you were being hunted by something unseen.

“Please… just stop…” You’d muttered, your first words since your parents were killed. Your voice was cracked and weak, a mere whisper to whatever cursed god reigned over damned things like yourself. The screams quieted, but they were still there in the back of your mind, a constant echo while you drifted through fitful bouts of sleep.

Those voices became your companion while you walked through the forest like a ghost. Your hunger reared its ugly head after two days, your vampiric mind running in circles around the idea of fresh blood. The human part of you that still remained refused, the thought of taking a human life all for your own needs making you ill. You’d tried to eat the normal food you were able to scrounge up, had tried to drink water from a stream, but it just ended with you throwing it back up in violent heaves until there was nothing left but bile. You’d cried then, sobs wracking your body in frustration and horror, your tears tinted red.

Your days and nights continued to drag on much the same. You pulled yourself back into your hut as the moon set, you withered away on the floor, and then you’d spend the night roaming in search of some kind of purpose while desperate pleas and screams bounced around your skull. There were some days where you’d simply stare at the sunlight coming in through your hut, the specks of dust dancing in the rays acting like a taunt. You wanted nothing more than to walk into them, the human part of you begging for freedom, rattling the bars of the cage you’d been forced into. However, just as you’d reach forward, just as the sun would make your skin bubble and blister, you’d yank yourself back. That twisted sense of self-preservation continued to keep you from ending it all, kept you trapped in your prison of flesh and bone.

Sometimes the voices even urged you to do it. Some of them went out the same way, they just walked straight out into the sun and burned with nobody to stop them. They murmured that you should join them in their torture of the man who turned you, their spirits locked to him in an act of defiance, restlessness, and anger. You could never escape them until the one night they just… went silent.

It was like a radio being abruptly shut off, pure silence following. It felt like you could breathe again, could think again, at last left with just your own thoughts and emotions. You knew what it meant—the man that did this had finally been killed. You weren’t surprised of course, based on his old memories it seemed he was a fucking idiot anyway. With quiet finally in your mind, that was the first day you were able to sleep properly.

The cycle continued, hunger eating away at you with each sunrise and sunset. It’s why you’re still walking the woods now, like you’re hoping some solution will present itself to you and relieve you of this problem. You haven’t even been able to catch an animal, your heavy limbs too clumsy and your mind too distracted to get your claws on a mere rabbit. It’s led you to wander farther than you ever have before, starvation leading you on an invisible leash to what’s undoubtedly your own demise. Your mouth hangs open, your fangs peeking out from behind your lips, desperate for something, anything, to ease the pain twisting your stomach.

Your shoulder bumps into a tree and you find yourself sticking there like a bug would get stuck to sap, leaning your weight against the trunk with panting breaths. Your knees threaten to buckle beneath you, unable to keep holding up your shrinking weight. You would’ve sunk to the ground right there and made that your resting place if something strange didn’t break you out of your stupor. The forest had gone quiet. It’s not the kind of quiet of night time when all the birds have laid to rest, it’s the kind that’s followed by something dangerous, every creature and insect too scared to utter a single peep.

Your ears perk, your abnormal eyes widening in an attempt to get a better view of your surroundings. You can feel it. The hairs along your arms raise with goosebumps, a shiver runs down your spine, your teeth ache in response, something new is hissing in your mind to be ready, like it knows something you don’t. You think you hear whispers in the branches above, passing things that you can’t make out but proceed something that has you shoving yourself off that tree with newfound strength, your claws extending even further.

“Thought I smelled somethin’ good.”

You whip around at that southern drawl of a voice, finding the source of it in a man leaning against a tree not even ten feet away. You can see the way his eyes gleam red in the darkness like rubies, lazily looking you over. His scent comes to you on the breeze—ancient earth, rusted metal, and old leather, with an undertone of something that doesn’t belong in this world. In other words, something like you. His posture is relaxed, hands in the pockets of his trousers, sleeves rolled up, but it does nothing to shut off the alarms blaring in your mind. It’s a constant loop of things like danger, threat, new vampire, too strong, run-

He shifts, taking slow steps towards you. “Ain’t never seen you ‘round here before.” He says curiously, hands falling from his pockets to reveal long claws stained with blood. His fangs show when he speaks, glinting under the moon and undoubtedly sharper than yours. His head tilts. “What’s yer name, sweet thing?”

You can’t find it in yourself to answer as you stumble away from him. You want nothing to do with another vampire, not after witnessing the one who turned you. Though this one seems vastly different, more experienced and sure of himself, like he’s been around long enough to figure it out. He hums. “No need to be scared, darlin’. Here, I’ll go first. Name’s Remmick.” The name itself sounds old and foreign, a piece from a time long ago, from lands far away. His eyes narrow when he looks at you, assessing. “Ya look like skin and bones. When’s the last time you ate?”

“Stay away from me.” You finally manage to bite out, the first thing you’ve spoken in days. The words burn your throat, thick and clunky on your tongue. Your fingers twitch, your muscles tense, and Remmick notices. He smiles knowingly.

“It’s okay, darlin’, I can help ya. Ya feel that hunger eatin’ you from the inside out, don’t ‘cha?” He says, seeing it plain as day on your face. He’s seen it plenty of times in other fledglings, even in himself. That original denial to feed, the unbearable wrongness of your desire, the desperation to cling to your humanity, even if it kills you. He forced himself to overcome it with defiance, to give in to the new monster raging within his body. He can tell there’s nothing like that in you though, instead filled with misery and depression and skittish instinct. Hell, if he had to guess you’re probably a day away from dropping dead.

Before you can even blink, he’s on you; your hunger-induced sluggishness is no match for his speed. Your breath whooshes out of you in a gasp when he grabs your face, those claws of his just lightly pressing into your skin like a reminder. His hold on you is tight as he tilts your head from side to side, his brows scrunching. “Yeah, ya ain’t one of mine. You get left all alone then, darlin’? Abandoned by yer maker?” His tuts in disdain. “Y’know, I killed one of them a few days back. Real young, spazzy fella, got too in my space.“

Your eyes widen with recognition. So he’s the one that did the other guy in. You’d honestly thank him for it if you weren’t terrified. With mere inches separating you, you’re able to more clearly see his strong features, the curls of black sitting on his forehead, the lines of a human life gone by just barely etching his face. There’s something eerily charming about him, something that makes you want to give in to his promises.

Still, there’s a part of you that refuses, that won’t fall prey to another one of these beasts, that has you raising your claws and slashing them across his arm. He yanks back with a hiss, red irises flashing dangerously like sparking embers. He holds his wound, four gashes along his forearm, the blood beginning to seep through his fingers. You nearly choke on the scent of it, staggering back a step as it wraps around you, thick and cloying. For the first time, you feel the drool pooling in your mouth, made from moisture you didn’t even know you had left in you. It seeps from the corners of your lips, it coats your fangs as if in preparation.

Remmick grins. “Ohhh yeah, that smells good, don’t it?” He lifts his hand, covered in his own blood, taunting. “Poor thing like you ain’t have anyone to show ya the way. All alone out here, no idea what to do… let me help ya, darlin’.”

“Leave me alone.” You practically beg, trying to distance yourself from that god damn smell, clenching your teeth so hard they could shatter. Hunger claws at your insides, begging to come out, to get a taste of the meal in front of you, tainted as it may be. His blood smells rich with history, full of stories and different lives lived, laced with earth older than you could imagine. There’s something in your mind howling for just a drop of it, begging to know what something that ancient would feel like on your tongue.

For every step you take back, Remmick takes another forward, never letting you get far enough from that scent. “Aw c’mon now, I can’t let a sweet thing like you go to waste. It’ll be okay, baby, I promise.” He coos at you like a frightened animal, getting closer still. “You don’t have to be all by yourself no more. Don’t have to keep bein’ in pain.” There’s something about you that draws him in, that makes him want to know more, to tame that frenzied panic within you. He’s already decided he won’t let you waste away for a second longer, no matter how much you fight him on it.

Oh, you sure do fight him on it. As soon as he gets too close for your liking, you’re growling again, lunging at him. Your claws want nothing more than to dig into him, especially as he laughs lightheartedly. He stumbles back as your weight slams into him, as your hands reach for his face and neck. He moves with an inhuman speed and strength that you lack, easily gripping your wrists and keeping you at a safe distance. “Easy now,” he says, almost teasing, “don’t wanna hurt ya.”

His tone serves to piss you off more, and you use that anger and your final pump of adrenaline to struggle, to try and kick and hit, to burn off the rage that’s been simmering within you for two weeks. Remmick sidesteps you with a lazy confidence, watching you wear yourself out. There’s a point when his own claws just barely nick your arm like an accident, a thin strip of blood beading at the surface. It makes him pull back, his nose scrunching. “Whew baby, yer blood is potent.” He whistles, nearly wincing at the scent that makes his mouth water. It smells so human, not yet flushed out by feeding on other’s blood, by the wrongness of being a vampire. His eyes gleam. “Still got all that mortality in ya.”

With the grace of a cat, Remmick sweeps your legs out from under you when you try going at it again, leaving you to fall to the forest floor with an oof. You groan, your head pounding, your limbs feeling unbearably heavy, chest heaving. You go limp against the cool grass, your remaining energy at last spent, more than content to lay there until the sun comes up and burns you away. You hear a click of the tongue above you, Remmick looking down at you. “You done, sweet thing?” You don’t respond, making him huff. “Alright, c’mon,” he says, scooping you up by under your arms and forcing you back on your feet, “don’t die on me just yet.”

He nods towards the trees beyond. “Let’s go. Got somethin’ for ya.”

He starts walking without even looking back, like he fully expects you to follow him, like he knows you will. He’s right of course, and you find yourself stumbling after him without a second thought; it’s not like you have much else better to do than follow this weird, ancient vampire.

His steps are steady and light, traversing the forest with the experience of someone who’s done it hundreds of times. He barely rustles the bushes he passes, as if he doesn’t exist to the world around him, or he doesn’t want to disturb it lest it turn the wrong eye on him. You, on the other hand, make enough noise for the both of you. You can barely stay upright, your legs shaking, every tree root feeling like a death sentence.

The further you go, the stronger a certain smell gets. At first you think perhaps it’s Remmick’s wounds from you bleeding again, but they closed up a while ago. No, this scent is fresh and full of life and human. Hunger slams into you tenfold, sent into a frenzy at the idea of a true meal. You begin to hear noises too, garbled cries and pleas and sobs.

The undergrowth parts around you, leading you into a small clearing where blood has smeared across the grass, eerily illuminated by the moon above. Lying amidst it all is a young man, his clothes dirty and bloodied, his face bruised, and tears running freely. He’s on his stomach like he’d attempted to crawl away, drawing attention to the fact that both his Achilles tendons have been brutally sliced. When he spots you both, he goes into a full blown panic, begging and pleading for mercy. “No, no, no- please- I don’t know what I did just spare me please-“

“Oh hush up.” Remmick says roughly to him, grabbing him by the collar and dropping him against a tree, then keeping him there with a boot pressed into his leg. Remmick looks to you, nodding towards the guy. “Now I left this poor feller waitin’ all cuz of ya so ya best be nice and put him outta his misery”

You stand there confused for a moment, in disbelief at the fact that you’re being offered someone else’s meal just like that. Drool coats your chin, your fangs fully extended and sharp as razors, the hunger inside you howls. You know better than to reject a gift when it’s given to you so Remmick watches you with both intensity and fascination as you stumble forward, your lips already dropped open. The scent of blood coats the roof of your mouth, your eyes gleaming while the man struggles and sobs.

You fall to your knees in front of him, clawed hands coming up to shove his head aside to bare his untouched neck to you. You can feel the way his blood pumps beneath the skin, his heartbeat so loud in your ears you could mistake it for your own if you had one. There’s still something human in you that struggles against this, that screams at the horror of it all, but it’s ultimately drowned out by the desire and temptation. You can’t find it in yourself to apologize before you’re leaning in, before your teeth are sinking deep, deep into his flesh.

The man’s scream gets cut off, his body going still beneath you. When those first drops of blood hit your tongue you moan, the sound coming from you without control. It feels like a puzzle piece has finally been snapped into place, everything suddenly feeling so unbelievably right, despite your actions being so wrong in every way under the eye of God. That burn in your throat at last goes away, strength already returning to your limbs, your mind clearing with each gulp. Remmick grins, satisfaction and pleasure blooming within him just from watching you. He crouches down, his hand coming to pet through your hair, brushing it back from your face. “That’s it, good, good. Drink it all, baby.” He says in whispered awe.

You do just that. You take and take and take, sucking every drop of blood from the man’s veins until there’s nothing left to be given, until the flavor starts to lose its vibrancy. When you finally feel satisfied, you pull back with a loud pop and a tear, your fangs leaving one last mark by ripping some of his skin. Your breath comes in heavy, iron-tainted pants, your eyes bright and you feeling like you can think for once. The blood has made a mess of your front, smeared across the lower half of your face and down your neck to your chest, ruining your shirt. Your hands haven’t been spared either, the red running from the tips of your claws to your knuckles.

You look up at Remmick, at the creature who finally fed you, who gave you just what you needed without hesitation, who saved you. Where there was once alarms ringing, there’s now just whispers of devotion. Whispers of Remmick being safety, a provider, a savior. He sees that shift in you clear as day, something he’s seen countless times before—it’s just that this time he didn’t have to turn you himself for it to happen. It makes his smile widen, his red gaze lidded.

He takes your face in one hand, and this time you don’t flinch away from his touch. “Gorgeous.” He murmurs before his tongue is on you, dragging across your chin, collecting the combination of blood and spit in rough licks. You whimper under his ministrations and he swallows down that sound with his lips on yours, his kiss starved and desperate. He groans at the taste of blood, taking every bit he can from you, the weight of his body pressing hot and heavy against your own. He licks across your neck, teeth grazing purposefully along your skin as a tease for you and him both. There’s small nips when he can’t control himself, when there’s a spot properly drenched with blood.

The combination of the man’s human blood mixed with the scent your own is intoxicating, and if Remmick didn’t force himself to pull back, to exercise some form of self restraint, he believes he would’ve found himself with his fangs in your neck.

He sighs, running his thumb along the corner of his lip to clean off the drool that began to form. “Now let’s find another one ‘fore I eat your sweet self whole.” He says, voice low and scratchy at the edges.

You’re eager to follow him, to have him show you the way of this new life. You both leave behind the mangled body of the man, his blood now flowing through your veins and giving you the energy you’d been so sorely lacking. You feel reborn, fresh and rejuvenated, excited to see what else may lay on the moonlit path with Remmick as your eternal guide, neither of you ever being alone again.

[rendside]

your art is beautiful im rly curious about your wc ocs as well!!! what happened to harpy?

Harpy’s injury was by an attempt to drown him on the day where he was supposed to become the leader, by the previous leader. (Leaders in greater way are known as crown holders.)

[lilirot]

Grandpa you can't just say that

[rivilu]

There's pieces of media that alter your brain chemistry and then there's pieces of media that rearrange you on a molecular level

[gimmick-blog-bracket]

@hellsitegenetics

I love them

I didn't know I needed to know that the weed-smoking girlfriends post was genetically a wolf, but I did, and I do. Also puts great stuff on my dash.

it’s so fun to be scrolling unhinged posts and then boom. an organism!

so many moths‼ also, unexpected comedy with some of the matches

perfect blend of silly and informative, and makes for an excellent punchline at the end of a long post. puts creatures on my dash. literally what more could you ask for

It's a really unique blog concept and a lot of times the results are pretty funny. It's great when the sequence matches the post content too!

Creatures 👍

Finds beautiful creatures out of the mess of the hellsite

Offers finality AND gives us a creechur.

I love them. English speakers talk like moths

If this blog wins, they could run the text of the winning announcement, and determine the post's genus and species!

They're also very good about tagging the type of creature depicted in the results, so as long as you mute tags of creatures you don't want to see, it's a very fun time seeing iconic legacy posts (and new submissions) being reduced down to a string of letters and assigned a random species of fish or moth or something!

uhh it’s cool

BLAST

There are so many weird bugs in the world

Yippee!!

If, as Haldane said, God has an inordinate fondness for beetles, then surely this blog proves that Tumblr has an inordinate fondness for moths.

Top tier blog as a geneticist, I love seeing obscure organisms and MOTH

Admin got rate limited after trying to blast the bee movie

the knowledge of biology to pull this off (i have taken one biology class in my life) and also the work to find all the strings honestly deserves quite a bit of praise

This gimmick blog has it all: science, pictures of animals, interaction with the text of other peoples' posts, interesting information, and a unique and fun premise. As a biologist, I'm rooting for hellsitegenetics to reach the end and take the tournament, because it is truly a standout among gimmick blogs.

If they win, perhaps this blog too shall become a cool organism :3

@making-you-in-spore

Incredible works of art from a limited medium, the blog favors quality over quantity and I am always in awe when a dancing creacher in Spore [2008] crosses my dash.

His spores often take him multiple hours to create, and he will go through astounding amounts of effort to commit to the bit. He made his cull poll in spore and then blew it up. Hes also super responsive and active and seems really eager to share his creation techniques and spread the joy of making things in spore [2008]. His blog almost singlehandedly sparked a significant resurgence in interest and playerbase of a 16 year old game that most people see as nothing but a meme. Hes just a guy who likes spore [2008]

i say vote for making you in spore because seeing them blow up their opponents after they win is hilarious

[yzzart]

Okay! Hear me out! Dante's s/o has angel lineage (bc if there's demons, there must be persons of purity right?) But is a fallen one unknowingly because they're in love and actively dating Dante, who's Sparda's son!

COME FROM WAY ABOVE... ── DANTE

୭˚. ᵎᵎ content warnings: F!reader, daughter of a fallen angel, mention of divine and demonic creatures and Sparda, Dante being a flirt, puns and pick-up lines, light content.

⭑.ᐟ No person had ever, under any circumstances, heard, witnessed or distinguished the factual — or safe, depending on who was telling it — story of your mother; and, not wanting to admit a banal, perhaps clichéd impact, you decided to continue the credibility in telling it.

⤷ Living, throughout your childhood, with the narrative that was handed to you in an institution, carried out by nuns, by a beautiful and unknown woman was enough to dispel any questioning.

⤷ But, how much longer, being extremely risky, could the truth about the woman who gave birth to you being an angel survive? — An angel, unknown to the tales of the human world; being kept only between the so-called paradise and the underworld. — Decreed to eternal suffering, alongside man, and being unable to even say goodbye, properly, to you.

⭑.ᐟ It wasn't something new, unprecedented for you — just some factors that contributed, negatively, and fatally, to you suffering persecution, threats and unlimited demonic attacks throughout your life. — It would be worse, much worse, if it were from DARKCOM, right? right.

⤷ The recent case — or attempted attack — coming from a creature, in your eyes considered a true horrifying and dark brute, fearsome knew how to corner your presence; as always, referring to you, with an altered voice, in complete exhaustion, as “daughter of a fallen one”. — What could you do with that title? — "creation of an irresponsible angel."

⤷ Before you could try to fight back, to question, just like previous occurrences, bullets began to pierce the damned demon; despairing and cutting the creature — The shots didn't stop, and you feared that you wouldn't be hit. — And, by the goodness of gods, that could exist, you weren't.

⤷ The half-demon and half-demon hunter, Dante. — Had practically saved your miserable life, during the ironic moment when, possibly, your past would come to light. — The white-haired man, so bold, killed the demon as if it were the most entertaining and relaxed thing in the world.

“So, ‘angel’, huh?” — He put his pistol in his waistband, kicking his dirty black boots against the ground as he crossed his arms. — “Funny, how did you stay so beautiful even when you fell from the heavens?” — Oh, you didn’t know whether to laugh, thank or punch him.

⭑.ᐟ Could it be considered ironic, — very ironic — biting and sounding like a clichéd and tasteless joke about the fact that the son of a demon and the daughter of an angel had created a bond and, possibly, a relationship? — It could, but it would be met with gunpowder and unfunny puns.

⤷ After the incident, you started meeting up, by pure coincidence — or it was just Dante, trying to bump into you, while trying to reach you — and you were always greeted by jokes, puns or pick-up lines that exposed the truth about your ancestry. — and, as time went by, occasional encounters turned into official ones.

⭑.ᐟ Dante never forced you to reveal, abruptly, or want any statement, about your mother; of course he was surprised, he had never heard anything like it. — He thought that, in the world of the “perfect”, it was not possible for it to happen. — And he always talked about the confidence about his father; you could not compare each other's situations but you knew how you felt about it.

⤷ That didn't stop you from approaching, trying to move some information and showing little knowledge about the hybrid connection; a naive manipulation of light between shadows, — reflecting the dark side of the fall — learning to establish a kind of energy field, something not yet certified. — Dante, most of the time, was a witness to your crucial attempts.

⤷ And, deep down, being unable to deny it, he knew that you could be exposed, more vulnerable, by creating a connection with the son of Sparda. — Adored by some human souls, hated by others and decreed a traitor by the demons. — But, that didn't mean he would give up on you.

⭑.ᐟ Well, losing count, considered mental, of how many times your boyfriend created those damn pick-up lines and puns for you; it was no secret that you liked them, more than you should. — It was a way of relaxing you, in an admirable way and in his own way, which Dante took very seriously.

⤷ And, unable to resist expressing a conspicuous, serious expression, your lips curved into an exultant smile, turning into a hilarious laugh. — Ensuring that Dante's mission was complete.

“If angels really do miracles…” — He put his feet on the old, dusty wooden table as he enjoyed the slice of pizza he had ordered for you and him — “you can only be living proof of that, pretty girl.” — The half-demon winked boldly, which you had learned to like, in your direction.

[starktonyx]

Alone in this shitty world (Bucky Barnes x Reader x John Walker)

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Word count: 2.4k

Description: After Yelena’s sudden outburst, the group scatters around the streets of New York. And, as if this wasn’t already the weirdest day of your life, you find yourself reaching to comfort the last person you ever thought you'd feel sorry for, John Walker. And Bucky is as confused as you are.

Content warnings: Supersoldier!reader, John Walker being a bitch as usual, protective boyfriend Bucky, mental health talk, hurt/comfort.

Note: After watching Walker’s storyline in this movie I felt like I needed to write some hurt/comfort with him. Enjoy!

Masterlist

"So, what kind of super serum you both get?" Alexei's thick accent cuts through the silence.

You were sharing the front cabin of a stolen truck, Bucky behind the wheel, you in the middle, and Alexei by the window. He'd already declared the ride to Valentina's location a 'super soldier party', clearly over the moon about the whole thing.

"I ... uh don't know. Regular? Hydra" Bucky is the first to answer, quickly brushing off what he considered to be an irrelevant topic. Alexei on the other hand, reacted like it was the only thing he'd been wanting to know the whole time.

"Hydra! Ohh, fancy" Alexei grinned wide, Bucky just huffed at his excitement. "I got something mixed, still good, still powerful" he puffed his chest a little. "And you, pretty one, what is your serum ah?"

"Uh ... mine was Shield's. It was developed from Steve's dna" You reply. Alexei's face lights up with more amazement. 

"Ayy Shield! Straight from captain Rogers. She gets the premium brand, ah winter soldier?" He speaks to Bucky like he was breaking news, the latter just nodded absentmindedly.

"A super soldier couple, ha! what are the odds? you two lovely creatures made for each other, strong, beautiful and dangerous. Like spy movie" his laugh booms through the cabin as he pats a heavy hand on Bucky's shoulder.

Bucky pretends to ignore him, eyes still on the road, but his smirk was undeniable.

You just gave Alexie an amused smile, then gently squeezed Bucky's hand resting on the wheel. Without hesitation, he brought your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss on it without taking his eyes off the road. Alexei just watched with a knowing grin.

Bucky kept driving in silence, enjoying the calm before of the storm, because once you found Valentina, and her new shiny creation, at the former avengers tower, all hell broke loose.

God, how you missed being back in that truck.

Now, you were limping away from the tower where Bob– or Sentry now, whatever the hell Valentina was calling him now, had beaten the living shit out of all you. Your thoughts were cut short when you noticed Yelena snapping at everyone.

"What, it's my turn now?" Walker asked defensively, his tone only adding fuel to Yelena's anger.

"Oh no, you already know you're a piece of shit. And your family knows too" Yelena shots back without missing a beat.

"Wow" he muttered, his eyes dropping to the bent shield in his hands. He didn't argue to that, he didn’t know how to.

"Yelena, you're not alone in this–" you started, but she cut you off before you could finish.

"You shut up! We're all alone in this shitty world, you only say that cause you have Bucky" She cries out, her finger pointed at you like a dagger.

You didn't fight back to her, you knew she wasn't lashing out at you, not really. Maybe it was the pressure, maybe it was the just the fear taking over her.

Bucky turned to you, curious about your reaction, but your small smile was enough to say 'I'm okay'. She wasn't wrong, after all.

Then your gaze drifted to John, when you noticed from the corner of your eye his posture had shifted. It wasn't only anger you saw in him, it was something heavier. Something that stuck with you longer than it should've.

Normally you would just ignore Walker, silence had always been your preferred way to keep your sanity intact around him. But this time you couldn't help it, you kept your eyes on him a little bit longer.

And you saw it.

The way mentioning his family made his entire demeanor shift. The same reaction you saw the first time Bucky brought them up. And now Yelena had rubbed it in, like salt in an open wound.

You couldn't believe it, and would probably never admit it out loud, but you felt something for John Walker.

Pity.

The next thing you knew, the group had scattered, everyone going in different directions after Yelena's outburst.

And without really thinking, with Bucky walking by your side, you walked towards the same direction Walker had taken. You didn't exactly know why, but you felt like you needed to say something to him.

"This is a mess, doll" Bucky sighs, eyes scanning around like he would find an answer in the clueless people walking by. "I didn't think I'd come to this, but I think I should call Sam"

"Uh huh. Sure, let's call Sam. He can totally take down Sentry" Your tone was half sarcastic half distracted, as your gaze darted around trying to find John, who had walked fast enough to get lost in the busy streets of New York.

"I think he might know something– wait, are you okay, doll? What are you looking for?" Bucky stopped walking, but you didn't, giving him no choice but to catch up.

"Huh?" You ask, barely registering the question.

And then you spotted it, a flash of black and red cutting through the crowd, stomping rather than walking.

"There he is!" Your voice lit up, picking up your pace to reach your target. "Walker!" You shouted his name, loud and clear. No way he didn't hear you, not with his enhanced hearing. The way he sped up to get further from you confirmed it.

"Okay now, Walker?" Bucky asks, completely baffled. As far as he knew none of you could stand the guy.

"Listen honey" You say softly, weaving between pedestrians "I love you, but it wasn't cool to bring up in front of everyone that his wife took his baby and left him. They're just gonna keep throwing it in his face now"

Bucky shifted slightly, but still defensive. "Yeah well, he doesn't exactly make it easy not to"

"I know" you admitted. "But weirdly enough we're all stuck in this shit show together. We might as well try to work with him" You pause for a second, knowing you could catch up to Walker anytime now. "Just give me a second with him Buck, please babe?" You bat your eyelashes at him.

He gave you a long look, raising an eyebrow, clearly ready to protest. But he knew what you were doing. And you knew he knew.

"Alright" he grunts, rolling his eyes. "I'll be right behind you. With my favorite knife. In case you need me to stab him for you, doll" He flashed you an ironic smile, and you nodded back amused.

You turned back around and quickened your pace, finally catching up to Walker. Bucky kept his promise, a hand resting on his knife holder as he trailed behind you at what he considered a safe distance.

"Walker!" You called again, now standing just behind him.

"For fuck's sake, give me a break!" He came to an abrupt halt, turning around to face you, but still keeping his distance. "What, Y/N?” His harsh tone pulled you straight out of your rush.

"Wow, okay. I didn't really think this through" you admitted, realizing you hadn't actually planned what to say.

"You know what? I'm done. I'm done with everyone making fun of me. I get it, okay? I suck. What's new?" He threw his hands in the air dramatically, bitterly trash-talking himself.

"About what Yelena said—"

"Oh, I heard her just fine. And she's right, isn't she? You're all right. I'm a fucking asshole. That's why my family left, why everyone hates me" He continues letting the anger speak for himself.

But now that you stared at him for a little longer, instead of seeing the prick he portrayed in front of everyone, you could see underneath all that rage, there was something much softer.

Hurt.

So you didn't get defensive, instead, you speak softly to him.

"That's not true, John"

He froze. Taken aback by the fact that you've never called him by his first name before.

"Really? Be fucking honest with me" His voice cracked just slightly. "Cause everyone's made it pretty damn clear"

"We don't hate you" you said carefully. "You're just... hard to be around sometimes" You explain, his brows lifted at your honesty. "Look, I'm not trying anything here. I just want to talk, okay?. That's all"

He looks around, hesitant at first, but decides to drops his guard. He rolls his eyes before taking a step closer to you, never admitting he was curious about what you had to say. You pretend to not notice the sheen in his eyes once he's close to you.

He looks behind you, catching a sight of Bucky in the distance, arms on his hips, watching your interaction like a hawk.

"Don't worry about him, he's keeping watch" you brush it off, slightly amused.

And after a deep breath, you start. 

"So, you know how the serum works, right? It …enhances everything"

He gave a faint nod, prompting you to continue.

"It can make the good parts of you better, but it can also make the worst parts unbearable" you continue, letting memories you had buried down a long time ago, come to the surface. " When I first lost Bucky and Steve, back in the 40's, I was completely consumed by grief, by this ...” You pause for a second, searching for the right word. “Emptiness” you continued.

“They were all I had back then, and suddenly all my days just went by, all alone. Until one day Peggy Carter contacted me, offering me a spot on a super serum program. She said it was developed from the last blood sample taken of Steve” That seemed to finally peak his interest.

“It was quite experimental but I didn't mind, I had nothing left to lose. So I said yes, because I felt like that was my way to honor them, but deep down, I just wanted to be strong enough to destroy Hydra myself." You let out a bitter breath.

"As you can imagine, I was in no condition to take the serum. But once I did? that emptiness only grew louder. I lost control. I let all my pain out on the battlefield, told myself it was for the greater good. But really, I just wanted to hurt the world as much as it had hurt me" You confess to him, not being able to make eye contact. He didn't mind, he just listened attentively, finding he related to you in more ways than he could have ever imagined. "It went on like that for a long time, and I thought I would never stop feeling that anger. And then one day, the loss felt lighter, the emptiness began to fade away. That's when I finally stared seeing things clearer" You finally lift your gaze to meet his eyes through your glassy ones.

"That anger you feel inside you? It's real, it's the serum turning the volume up on your worst pain, but it's not everything you will ever be" You explain, and now it's his turn to drop his gaze to the floor. "I know what it feels like to drown in that, I know how hard it is to climb out of it, but trust me, it will fade eventually. I got Bucky back. I got my miracle. Maybe you'll get yours one day"

He bitterly chuckles.

"It doesn't feel that way. I'm just ... too messed up" He mumbles, and you shake your head.

"Look around, Walker. Every one of us is messed up too" you chuckle ironically, gesturing vaguely behind you. "We're all running on red numbers here. The only difference is, our worst mistakes weren't, you know... broadcasted to the whole world" You carefully admit, remembering his public incident back in Latvia.

You paused, then added softly. "I'm sorry yours were"

He didn't say anything right away, just blinked a few times, processing everything you told him.

"Thank you" It came out quiet, but it was honest.

It was is the kindest someone had treated him since the day his wife left.

"You know, it's never too late to start over with us" You admit, referring to the new dysfunctional group you had accidentally became a part of. “So, are you? with us?" You question.

He lingers for a second, before he gives you a small nod. He didn't have to say much, you could see how much your words meant to him by the way he looked at you. It was different than before.

You patted his shoulder gently and nod happily, before turning to head back to Bucky.

Walker notices Bucky's face shift into a smile the second he saw you coming. And just before you were too far away, you hear his voice once again.

"You know... I can see why he's so protective of you. He's lucky to share this shitty world with you" He grants, hinting back at what Yelena said earlier.  A smile tugs at your lips.

Before you could turn around to respond, a sudden explosion cracked through the air, followed by pedestrian’s screams. Chaos erupted in the streets as people began running in every direction.

You barely had time to process it before you caught the sound of something heavy crashing down, a huge chunk of concrete, straight above you.

In less than a second, two super soldiers blocked the blow, Walker with his dented shield raised above you and Bucky with his vibranium arm braced against the falling debris that shattered around them.

Even though you were as much of a super soldier as he was, Bucky still protected you like you were made of glass.

"Are you okay, doll?" he asked immediately. His hands swiftly dusting away little rests of concrete off your suit, eyes scanning your body for any injuries.

From the corner of your eye, you noticed Walker doing the same, he was more subtle, but still watching you closely, making sure you weren't hurt.

"Yes. Thank you. Both of you." You nodded quickly, still catching your breath.

Bucky gave a short nod in Walker's direction, a silent acknowledgment.

Then your eyes lifted, and your heart dropped.

"Oh my god" You exclaimed, horrified at the sight. The people who had been running were now vanishing. One by one, melted into silhouettes.

You looked back to Walker, desperation setting in.

"You're with us, right?" You ask one more time.

This time, his nod came without hesitation.

"Great" you said, turning now towards Bucky. He nodded firmly, ready to jump into action. "Let's go"

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comments and reblogs save author’s lives, thank you so much for reading <3

[jellykyunnie]

˗ˏˋ Entry : 052 - Lovesick! Fae King! Sung Jinwoo x Fem! Reader ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ ˎˊ˗

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕁𝕚𝕟𝕨𝕠𝕠˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

‼️[ TW: stalking, obsession, gaslighting(?), gore, body horror, blasphemy, BLOOD, the act of burning people alive, arson, yandere/lovesick Jinwoo au ]‼️

╰┈➤ ❝ [ Then Let This World Set Ablaze ] ¡! ❞

You really don't know how it happened, one day you were strolling blissfully in the forest behind your cottage and now you were suddenly acquainted with the fae king who was in charge of the underworld

In your world that was run by a bunch of swindling and bastard gods with their minions of divine creatures who praise even their most horrendous crimes; lives an eternal fae king of the dead who never wanes in power.

From the heavens, the lands, the seas and the afterlife— The Fae King of the undead was someone no one could touch. Not even the greater demons and the father of all creation could dare face this man.

Well, they did once upon a time.

And the world was plunged into eternal darkness with humans being shielded by the same king everyone had despised. Humans now realized that those they worship had little to no regard to them as they started a devastating ragnarok just for the sake of pride and royalty.

In the end? 80% of the gods who started the war fell beneath the fae lord's feet and reincarnated into ghastly undead soldiers made of shadowy wisps wicked beyond one could ever imagine.

Since then, Jinwoo had become someone the common folk and even demons worship. Does he care? No. He just wants to live his long and take care of his family in his kingdom where no one can get in or out.

Not even the 9th class mages could even locate where it is.

Maybe there are but never lived to tell the tale and probably suffering eternal punishment in his army of the undead where even gods aren't spared from.

Until you.

Yes, you.

Just a simple girl who lives out in the cottage living life as happily as she can away from the big city.

The foolish and small you who doesn't even have a pinch of divine power nor exceptional mana flowing within your blood.

Somehow, the same you who is nothing more than just one of the many soul the resides in this vast world— Stumbled upon the kingdom of the Fae King of the Eternal Night.

Word of tongue say this place would be barren and dry with rot here and there. The nauseating scent of death would flow here and there that it would lead you mad.

But all of those were lies.

Instead you had found youself in a tranquil land where all sorts of flowers glow beneath your feet as a guiding trail. When you followed the gentle lights that guided you in this ethereal land where the stars shine brighter than you've ever seen— You would find yourself in front of the same king that all beings fear and submit you.

Yet why is he so beautiful?

You should be afraid.

And yet you find yourself entranced by this man who brought the mightiest being of earth to their knees.

Cascading and silky long black locks that falls so prettily as if it's made from the finest of fine silk, loose and almost open black robes that seem to glimmer softly as if it's made with a blanket of stars, a face so sculpted so perfectly it's impossible to not say this man must have been a sculpture made with hands of a divine artists whose touch only brings perfection— And oh those eyes.

Those enchanting silver eyes of death that seem to pull you into an abyss you're willing to drown yourself into.

This divine being in front of you,... Is he truly the same man who has powers so great that he can eradicate all living being with a wave of his hand whenever he pleases?

You find yourself incapable to believe that, no way, this man is too beautiful for all that wickedness.

And so that was the day you have somehow stumbled upon the kingdom of the eternal night and earned the favor of it's benevolent ruler.

꒰ ... ꒱

Contrary to what the ancient texts and the priests say about Jinwoo's cold temperment— He's actually surprisingly decent and quite normal.

Maybe even more gentle than the local men of your village who are nothing more than burly men who only care about their muscles and beer and getting laid in the dead of night.

Jinwoo is extremely easy to talk to and seems to take pleasure in showing you around his kingdom which is full of life despite being a place where the personification of death presides in.

No, in fact, this place is far more beautiful than the major cities you have seen in your small lifespan as a living being.

His soldiers who are the most fiercest of all would turn into somewhat into a group of puppies the moment they see their master passing by. Of course, the undead creatures were skeptical of you at first but quickly grew warm as soon as they realized that their 'father' is quite fond of you.

A few of them are even asking if you could play with them— To which Jinwoo strictly says no to their dismay.

You really think nothing of all this, don't you?

After all, the fae king is treating you so warmly.

You really aren't thinking of it, don't you?

You foolish, naive child.

꒰ ... ꒱

Jinwoo had his eye on you for the longest time ever since you had moved into the meek village. You are nothing more than a puny and naive human who wants to live a good life and the village welcomed you.

You were given the abandoned cottage deep in the forest but not too far from the village, they even volunteered to repair the decrepit place to which you can't possibly thank them enough for.

Such generous humans for someone as sweet and cute as you.

Yes.

Cute.

An emotion that the fae king couldn't quite describe at first since he grew used to the absence of emotions because of his birth as the one who will succeed the late Ashborn as the new kingdom of the eternal night kingdom and the new monarch that will lead the army of the dead.

His duty? To uphold peace and make sure all living beings stay in their place and never go out of line.

Should they do so then it'll be immediate death as well as being added to the immortal army to prevent them from reincarnating and repeating the same mistakes.

He grew as a normal child of the elven kingdom. But as his powers grew— His emotions disappeared one by one until he is nothing more than that for a vessel of war.

Jinwoo is more than thankful enough for his beloved family who resides with him in the kingdom. He shaped this barren place for them to live in and do what they desire.

A medicinal lab for his little sister who studies healing magic, a garden for his mother to tend to any time, and a smithy for his father to busy himself to and craft weapons for fun, or maybe just his small way of helping his kind son who unfortunately has to carry the burden of the world on his shoulders.

Truly, he can't be thankful enough.

Even if he cannot feel the same level of affections he has for them the way he used to when he was but a small elven child who wished nothing more than protect and love them.

But then you came.

A fascinating and adorable human that he has a weird connection to.

He was drawn to you.

Jinwoo can never know where these foreign feelings stem from, all he knew is that he is completely entranced by you and you only.

What is it that he feels?

He wanted to watch you.

He wanted to imprison you.

He wanted to see you smile.

He wanted to see you cry miserably.

He wanted to ruin you.

But he also wanted to cherish you.

Jinwoo cant quite put a finger on it. Regardless, he was satsified on just watching you for now since he can't exactly interfere with anyone else's life since he wants to be left alone too.

But then you stumbled upon his kingdom by accident because one of his foolish children forgot to close the dimension that leads back to his domain.

He could punish them, but he decided against it since he is quite thankful of the unexpected arrangement.

He just has to tighten the security and indulge in you.

Jinwoo is aware that humans can express quite a lot since his sister is very much like that.

But you bewitch him in a way he cant really describe.

He loved to watch the way the flowers would dance and caress your gentle skin when the wind blows. He loved the way your clothes wrinkle around your perfect body that he just itched to hold. He loved to hear your sweet voice ringing in his ears when you ask him trivial and downright ridiculous questions just to satisfy your musings.

But he, the king of this land, was the fool that indulged in all your whims.

He can't really resist you, how could he?

Jinwoo has no will to fight whatever is stirring within him in the presence of the precious you.

It was to the point that he becomes extremely obsessed with you without him realizing, he wanted to know more.

Human curiosity is the reason why the species has thrived so far depsite being one of the lower life forms whose sole purpose is to play puppets for the pathetic beings higher than their measly mortal beings, right?

That means Jinwoo can also be curious too.

No matter how twisted it can be.

It should be fine.

꒰ ... ꒱

Oh how foolish can he be too, huh?

Your frequent trips to his kingdom resulted in the villagers rioting against you with the holy church charging you with meddling forbidden witchcraft.

Somehow those old bastards in the town managed to convince everyone that you are doing something heinous when in reality you were just accompanying Jinwoo on a daily basis.

And so they dragged you to the stakes, tied you on a pole and did their blasted rituals gaslighting themselves that what they're doing as it is for the world and the will of the lord that you die by fire.

"Ignite her," A booming, thundering voice ruptures through the maddeneds howls and cackles of the villagers and priests gathered around your sorry figure praying to whatever fucking god they believe in. "I dare you"

"You!" A bishop raises his finger at the stranger, his action full of vigor and pride. "How dare you interrupt this holy ceremony dedicated to our benevolent ghod Anakkhis?"

"Hah?" The heretic scoffs, finding the whole idea ridiculous. "You're talking about that god? That fool that wept at my feet for mercy? You have some thick skin for thinking that someone like me will cower over a measly insect like that?"

"You—" The bishop gasps, completely taken aback at how bold he was. "Restrain him! That filthy thing dares to speak blasphemy of the great one! Burn him alongside that wench!"

"That wench?" Jinwoo clicks his tongue, his eyes turning into an even stronger color of blazing purple as priests and ordinary humans charged at him. "You've given me more reason on why I should murder the lot of you. For daring to call my woman a wench and burning her for a sin that was never there."

With a snap of his fingers, head would explode one by one and the screams of onlookers would fill the air that was once filled with laughter and mirth.

Cold and unfeeling Purple eyes look straight at you, each step that he makes accompanied with the falling corpses.

You dare not look at Jinwoo's gaze, after all, the air is too suffocating. You can barely even take a full breath, everytime you try to it feels like your lungs will suffocate.

And the screams, god those tortured screams.

How dare you ever doubt that he is the absolute being that has put the world on a chokehold?

By the time the priests have realized who Jinwoo was, it was far too late now since he immediately had their heads bursting.

When he reached you, his blackened hand gently lifts your face to meet his maddened and cold gaze.

How is he still so hauntingly beautiful despite the blood splatters on his divine face?

How can wrath look so gorgeous and ethereal on someone like him?

You can see the vein popping on his jaw as he unfastened the ropes and picked you up, allowing your sorry form to weep on his shoulder.

"Please, stop it!' You beg, not wanting to hear more of the torturous screams. "I'll do anything, just please stop it"

"Anything?" Jinwoo tilts his head, musing at your sobbing.

"Anything." You choke up, holding tighter onto him to show your sincerity. "Please, please stop it"

"Then you shall be my wife" Jinwoo simply says as presses his lips on your pretty little head. "Humans have a saying ti'll death do us apart. But you have no need for that."

"After all, your husband is death itself."

He is both hell and heaven depending on which side you choose to take. He is the absolute being that brings everything to it's knees. The madman who has succesfully put the world into the palm of his hand.

The village that once welcomed you with warm and loving arms starts to disappear from the distance as it billows a cloud of smoke from cindering and brilliant violet flames that defies everything natural.

It was a warning to the gods and all other living beings

,... That the Fae King of the Eternal Night Kingdom, the Shadow Monarch of the Immortal Army— Is alive and well.

It is a way to announce that he still stands as the most powerful being with an omniscient view of this wretched earth and will return should they step out of line again.

May it be humans or their worshippers, no one will be spared from the bloodbath and carnage he will bring should his wrath ever be incurred.

And, you.

You, the foolish and naive child of the land—

Is the salvation that will prevent this world from dancing in violet flames so long as you remain in his hold. Forever captive to his obsession.

꒰ 🪼 A/N: Whoever may i write for I will always return to my beloved Jinwoo heheh><!! I love him dearly and can never stop loving him try as I might xD!! Next fic are hsr men again so look forward to it. For now, a self-indulgent au is here that I will be making a bot for tomorrow too so heheh:3!!! ꒱

ʚ(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ .｡✧: ~♡ —! stories written by kyunnie; translations, reposts, plagiarism are strictly forbidden.

[ozzgin]

Is it just me or can I imagine a yandere with a darling who’s immune system and possibly everything about them just screams weak and pathetic, BUT their darling is actually very strong mentally and has and will create the most fucked up, batshit crazy inventions from what used to be harmless to something that can help them escape and possibly destroy everything in its path.

But at the end of the day, they become sleepy koalas who hug whoever is near them and fall asleep :)

This could be a request or rant, whatever you can think of! I just wanted to see how different yandere writers would interpret this small imagination of mine <3

But as always, stay safe and take care! everyone needs a break some time to time~

Sorry, but the moment I read the Darling's description, I instantly thought of Dr. Finkelstein from Nightmare Before Christmas. You know, Sally's inventor. 😭 So let me quickly write this down while I'm in my Shelley vibes, because I like the idea a lot. With a little twist, if you don't mind. :)

Yandere! Monster x Inventor! Reader

A frail inventor, and their affectionate rag doll that has been carefully stitched together for the purpose of a caregiver. An artificial existence, trapped within the confines of your lonely tower. Or so you might think.

Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance, obsessive behavior

"I ought to be thy Adam, but I am rather the fallen angel..." [Frankenstein]

You dangle an old, rusty bell for a good minute before leaning back in your chair. The barely audible chimes are quickly swallowed by the loud, mechanical groans of the gears and engines occupying most of this room. No matter, his ears are good. You picked them yourself. And surely enough, within moments, the door to your laboratory opens and someone cautiously walks in.

A tall, slender man. Or rather, something meant to resemble a man. The skin is a clumsy patchwork of blues and grays - you're no talented seamster, sadly - gathering together the body parts in what feels like a parodic attempt at mimicking God and his image. You gaze at the creature approaching you with a tray of tea and sweets. Scarcely your best work, if you must adhere to honesty. Regardless of the quality of your labor at the time of creation, you are proud of the result. How could you not be? You know this man better than you know yourself. Every organ, every artificial nerve cord, every blemish and stitch of his body was placed according to your intentions. A masterfully detailed project that took you years to complete; not an easy feat considering the lamentable state of your health.

"Here's your deadly nightshade tea." The man places a small, porcelain cup on the desk. "Do let me know when I should take you to bed, (Y/N)." You wave your hand dismissively and stretch out your limbs. "Not yet. I am almost finished", you respond, returning to the mound of metal scraps and pipes before you. "Can I ask what you're making?" The pale creature lowers himself to your level, a curious smile plastered on his face. "It's a mechanical heart", you reveal boastfully. "Like the one I have?" You run your hand through the creature's hair affectionately. "Almost. I'm testing out a different way to build the valves, for a more efficient pumping cycle." You continue to explain the intricacies of your novel mechanism, occasionally sipping on your tea. "Who knows, you might have a sibling in the near future."

The man's smile drops in an instant, and his sunken eyes widen at your statement. "What? Am I- am I not enough?" You glance at the creature as he becomes increasingly frantic. "Don't speak nonsense. If it comes out alright, I'll upgrade your own parts as well. I'm a disciple of scientific virtue, of continuous improvement." Nonsense? Vile treachery! You might've chiseled the brain that throbs within the walls of his skull, but his mind is his alone, and you seem to lack a fundamental understanding of his feelings and thoughts. His ardent confessions of love are met with mockingly pitiful grins, in the way a parent soothes a needy child. Even now, your eyes reflect nothing more than sympathy towards his protest. A childish tantrum is what you're most likely thinking. You've no time for emotional bagatelles. He can read you like an open book.

You simply won't understand. There is no place for a stranger in the life he's crafted with his very own hands: you, and him, and the evening tea with a side of butterscotch biscuits, and the bedtime talks, and the stripped branches of the decaying tree that rap at the windows on stormy nights. You might be the Inventor, but he is not just a mere, humble servant, a rag doll to be tossed around or toyed with. As you will soon discover, after all.

You awaken in the midst of night with your temples burning from a much too familiar headache. Although it's not just the pain that has disturbed your slumber. You can hear rattles and thuds coming from the upstairs laboratory. An intruder? Oh, your creations! The sound of glass breaking and metal scraping sends you into spiraling despair. You fumble to reach the nightstand, patting the surface in search for the bell and keys. You shake the handle in a panic, unable to find anything else in the darkness.

The chaotic rustle abruptly stops, followed by descending footsteps. You hold your breath as the chamber door opens, but it's none other than your creature. "Another flare-up? Shall I bring you some medicine?" the man asks with monotonous courtesy. "What have you been doing? What's all that noise?" you demand, agitated, but upon lifting yourself off the mattress you discover your legs are numb and uncooperative. The man hurries to your bed with a worried frown, and you hear the familiar clatter of the keychain coming from one of his pockets. "Have you taken my keys? Cease this foolishness at once!" Indifferent to your reproach, he places a firm hold on your shoulders and forces you back down, tucking you in effortlessly.

"You must forgive my impertinence." he says in a pleading tone. "I do not wish to impede the works of your genius. As your partner, however, it is my duty to prevent you from making mistakes." You furrow your eyebrows at his words. "What mistakes? My invention was flawless!", you argue fervently. "Indeed it was, but not its purpose. What need have you for another being?" It is the creature's turn for a passionate speech. He stands up with a confidence you don't recognize and continues: "You should know by now that I am fit to perform any role. That of your servant, your caregiver, your lover, or anything else you may desire. You can resume your tinkering starting tomorrow, but such blasphemies to our bond as the one today will not be tolerated." He straightens his vest and reaches for the door handle. "I will prepare some tea to help you rest."

Inconceivable. Your own creation, built with your own hands...Has something escaped your attention? His dialogue is deranged, tainted by madness. "Have I done something wrong?" you mumble to yourself, deep in contemplation. "Nonsense." the creature turns to face you briefly. "It was you who created me after all. Everything is perfectly splendid."

[selfaware-promise-au]

Imagine...

It was clear as day that you like Ruan Mei's Creations. You, despite being busy, always try to spend some time at Herta Space Station and play with the critters.

People would keep an eye on what creature you are playing with more often. They see that as a clue on who is your favorite among them.

Trash Cake

Stelle and Caelus already have followed you like a pair of lost puppies, yet somehow, they became even more clingy. They do argue about who exactly you like more. They do it behind your back.

They also became a pair of gremlins to others. They aren't only your official avatars (when you are in the real world and use game apps), but your favorites.

Rice Dumpling

Dan Heng is trying to play it cool. He always denied that he and Rice Dumpling look similar. He can't just admit it, so he could vocally enjoy the fact that he is your favorite. You just like the critter, who has no connection to him.

And he doesn't cheer in secret when no one is around! He swears! And he isn't jealous of the critter! No, he is not!

Ice Cake

A lot of photos with you, March and Ice Cake. A LOT. March already has a shelf full of albums with photos with you two. If you didn't stop her, soon you will need a second Astral Express that will only carry albums.

March will also make matching accessories for you three. And clothes. And phone cases (for you and her).

Lambda's Friend

Ruan Mei is actually concerned. She often visits the real world with you. She is very familiar with fandom. She saw opinions about her attitude towards her creations. She doesn't think if she really needs to be called out or try to be a better "mother". She is fine that you like her creations. She is worried that you chose her "double". You have a monster as your ancestor, a tyrant god who played with their creations' lives out of boredom and didn't care about their creations' well-being. One day you would become a powerful deity. One day you will be able to create with your powers. You didn't like your ancestor. You didn't want to be like them. But if she was your favorite, does it mean that you will be okay with being like her?

There are some positive thoughts. Ruan Mei, deep inside, is happy to be your favorite. But the lingering thoughts will remain. Until you two speak.

Sesame Cake

No. Just no. Don't get me wrong, Blade likes you. He took his job as your bodyguard very seriously, and he is grateful to be your friend. But there are too many rumors already. Because he is always staying in one room with you and rarely leaving your side, people assume that there's something more than friendship. There are fanfics about you two! And Sesame Cake makes the situation worse! Blade is tired of that foolishness. He didn't care about his reputation, but yours is on stake.

Still, he will always join you when you take care of the creature. He also has the tiny smug grin when someone is taking your fondness of Sesame Cake.

Troublemaker

Guinaifen's reputation is skyrocketing. Everyone wanted to see her. She now wants to add Troublemaker and you to her performances. Not for the sake of reputation. Guinaifen wants to strengthen your friendship.

She is thinking about making merch with you and Troublemaker.

Wisteria Cake

The Herta will see it as an opportunity to learn more about the real world. If she and her puppets are your favorites, does it mean you want to spend more time with them? Do you want to see them in the real world? Will you let them follow you in the real world? She will gladly spend more time with you. You will have a great time having fun in the real world.

She will also add Wisteria Cake into Simulated Universe. Creature would appear anywhere and hop after you. It won't do anything else.

Lucky Snack

Qingque became even more of a slacker, if it's even possible. Who could be angry at her? She is their future god's favorite person. You will receive a ton of invitations from her. Starting with going to a new teahouse, ending with an invitation to a game of Celestial Jade.

You probably should apologize to Fu Xuan for making Qingque even more lazy.

Shader Cake

It makes Kafka very happy. Your relationship with Stellaron Hunters started rocky. You had a huge fight (Note to Elio: "Trying to manipulate a person who cherish free will and honesty, and who literally have Terminus by their side is a very bad and stupid idea"). You eventually made up, but Kafka always were worried about that fight you had. If she is your favorite, it means that the past is in the past.

She might steal Shader Cake from the station to "lure" you into Stellaron Hunters' base. You will understand. They miss you. Spend more time with them. Spend more time with her.

Pure Sugar Child

Clara doesn't fully understand what it means. You like a cute creature. She would like to play with it one day. Maybe you, Mr. Svarog and she can play with it one day together.

Others understand what it means. Clara already has been the most protected girl in the world. But now no one would dare to hurt her. There are people who aren't afraid of Svarog. But no one is brave enough to anger you.

[xesnox]

@illwilledomen had pitched this idea to me on insta a little while back, so here’s my personal interpretation on some of the Enderlings! The concept art for this isn’t the best but I think people would see the vision.

Lore, warning badly written, I’ll get back to it later.

The endermen were the first, and therefore act as a kind of umbrella species to the other end-humanoids.

The enderlings are a subcategory of what is known as a secondary enderman. A secondary enderman is a humanoid that did not originate from a human person, meaning they were born an enderman, not made one. Even if they originally appeared human, they were always biologically intended to appear the way they do now, were born in the end, and have completely adjusted to the environment within the dimension. Meaning they can for an example sustain high radiation levels without any long term damage.

There are different types of secondary endermen, but the enderlings specifically mark a time within history where thought to have been long lost gods returned to their people.

The hosts eventually grew bored of watching their creations. No longer did they start wars or build funny creatures, they just sat around doing nothing. Sometimes one or two of them would break down, but such a thing wasn’t interesting.

The Testificates were unlike the artisans had been. They didn't start wars, the people of the cult tried to, sometimes, but their most powerful people preferred to reside within mansions too far from civilization to cause any real trouble. And they had no plans on letting the old artisans out of their celestial time out corner just yet.

So they decided to see what would happen to the increasingly desperate becoming, hopelessly religious grouping of former protectors would they give them children that were, to them, objectively disturbing to look at. The concept had been funny to them.

They were gods, they didn't understand the concept of human suffering, or the moral and ethical implications of splitting the human race into multiples whilst they believed they were living through their darkest hour, it was all just play. Like watching a show that had gotten so boring overtime they wished for conflict.

Atleast that’s what scholars think.

The enderlings are deformed humans, biologically. It might’ve been radiation, it might’ve been some Devine beings doing, whatever one chooses to believe. They’re a hypothetical species that hasn’t been sighted in over two millennia, we only have verbal accounts to go off of.

I hadn’t thought of the enderlings much in terms of Ancient Ruins before so this interpretation was a little harder than usual. The species is now largely extinct, but other secondary Endermen still exist, I also feel it is important to mention that there are different types of endersent! This isn’t every single one, it’s just the one that fits this biological niche.

If you have any questions ask me, I’ll try my best to answer.

[theplotmage]

How to Get Started with Worldbuilding for Fantasy Writers

Hey fellow writers!

Worldbuilding can feel like a Herculean task, but it’s one of the most rewarding parts of creating a fantasy novel. If you're getting stuck, Here are some tips that have helped me, and I hope they’ll help you too!

Start with the Basics

Geography

- Map out the physical layout of your world. Think about continents, countries, cities, and natural features like mountains, rivers, and forests.

Climate and Ecosystems

- What are the climate zones and ecosystems like? How do they shape the lives of your inhabitants?

Create a History

Origins

- Dive into how your world came into existence. Are there creation myths or ancient civilizations that set the stage?

Major Events

- Outline key historical events. Wars, alliances, discoveries, and disasters can add so much depth.

Develop Cultures and Societies

Cultures

- Craft diverse cultures with unique customs, traditions, and values. What do they wear? What do they eat? How do they express themselves through art?

Social Structure

- Define the social hierarchy. Who holds power? What are the roles of different classes or groups?

Establish Magic and Technology

Magic System

- Set the rules and limitations of magic. Who can use it? How does it work? What are its costs and consequences?

Technology

- Decide on the level of technological advancement. Is your world medieval with swords and castles, or does it have steampunk elements?

Design Political and Economic Systems

Governments

- Create various forms of government. Are there kingdoms, republics, or empires? How do they interact?

Economy

- Define the economic systems. What are the main industries and trade routes? How do people earn a living?

Build Religions and Beliefs

Religions

- Develop religions and belief systems. Who are the gods or deities? What are the rituals and holy sites?

Myths and Legends

- Craft myths and legends that influence the culture and behavior of your characters.

Craft Unique Flora and Fauna

Creatures

- Invent unique creatures that inhabit your world. Consider their habitats, behaviors, and interactions with humans.

Plants

- Design plants with special properties. Are there magical herbs or dangerous plants?

Incorporate Conflict and Tension

Internal Conflicts

- Think about internal conflicts within societies, such as class struggles, political intrigue, or religious disputes.

External Conflicts

- Consider external threats like invading armies, natural disasters, or magical catastrophes.

Use Maps and Visual Aids

Maps

- Create maps to visualize your world. This helps you keep track of locations and distances.

Visual References

- Use images or sketches to inspire and flesh out your world.

Stay Consistent

Consistency

- Keep track of the details to maintain consistency. Use a worldbuilding bible or document to record important information.

Feedback

- Share your world with others and get feedback. Sometimes fresh eyes can spot inconsistencies or offer new ideas.

Let Your Characters Explore

Character Perspective

- Develop your world through the eyes of your characters. How do they interact with their environment? What do they know or believe about their world?

Be Flexible

Adapt and Evolve

- Be open to changing aspects of your world as your story develops. Sometimes the best ideas come during the writing process.

[vera-deville]

Between Worlds, Between Words

04/14/2025

Pairing: N/A Word Count: 1,829 Warnings: Depression that builds up from the fact that you're in a world that's not yours Gender: Gender Neutral Tags: @qaxdea, @katzline, @die-remastered Notes: Totally didn't take me like two years to write this. Inspired by this. Masterlist

It all began with a history lecture.

Professor Trein was going on and on (passionately, as always), about the Seven Great Sorcerers and the founding of the Queendom of Roses. Something-something ancient magic, something-something territorial disputes. You weren't sure. It all sounded like the dramatic backstory of an MMO.

You blinked down at your notes. You had written Queendom of Roses five times in a row, underlined one of them, and then - without fully realizing it - drawn an itty-bitty round-headed T-Rex beside the word. Your pencil hovered. You stared at the creation.

That was the moment you'd pinpoint.

The moment you realized you hadn't thought about dinosaurs or anything of the sort in weeks. Not a single pterodactyl. Not a single deinosuchus. Not a single Berthasaura leopoldinae. You used to be able to rattle off entire prehistoric eras like a party trick.

And now?

Now you were sitting in a gothic castle-school in another dimension, learning about long-dead magic monarchs, while wearing a uniform that quite literally had gold embroidery.

You raised your hand.

Trein, ever the professional, paused mid-sentence and looked up from his book. "Yes, Y/N?"

"Do you..." Your voice was very calm, very reasonable. "Do you know what dinosaurs are?" You waited for him to cause your world to crash down (and further cause you to crash out in the middle of a classroom, of all places).

The classroom fell silent. Deuce blinked at you from across the aisle. Ace looked up from where he was doodling something suspiciously inappropriate in the margins of his textbook. A few heads tilted. Professor Trein furrowed his brow.

"Dinosaurs?" He repeated.

You nodded solemnly. "Yeah. Y'know. Giant lizards? Extinct? Kind of a big deal where I'm from."

"I suppose you must be referring to the draconic species," Trein said slowly. "Dragons were once prominent in the Land of Briar, but-"

"No. No, no, no. Not dragons." You waved your hand. "They didn't have magic or fire-breathing. They just...ran around and roared and occasionally ate each other. Real chill. They had feathers sometimes. I think? And they're all dead. Very important part."

Trein blinked at you, confused. "I've never heard of such a creature."

You nodded again, eyes wide. "Yeah. That tracks. That definitely tracks."

And then you laughed.

It wasn't a cute laugh. Not a giggle. Certainly not a dainty little chuckle. No, it was a full-body, slightly breathless guffaw that escaped from your chest like it had been trying to get out for days. You slapped a hand over your mouth, horrified, but it was too late. The dam had burst. You were cracking up in the middle of lecture like a sitcom character who finally snapped.

"Oh my God," You wheezed, "I'm losing it. I'm actually going insane. This is my villain origin story."

Trein just looked tired.

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You didn't get detention, miraculously. (Trein may have chalked it up to "dimensional stress" and decided not to poke the hornet's nest).

But it was only the first domino in a long, long line.

The rest fell fairly quickly.

Later that day, at lunch, you tried to make a joke about TikTok and go blank stares from every single table. You had something dumb like "It's giving ✨depression✨" and the silence that followed was deafening.

Even Grim had paused mid-bite. "Giving what now?"

You wanted to scream. Instead, you chuckled weakly and pretended to choke on your food.

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"Do you ever," You muttered to Ace and Deuce one day while walking back from Alchemy, "make a really niche reference and then realize - oh. I'm all alone. No one here gets it. I'm never going to have a meme-based conversation again."

Ace shrugged. "You could just make a new meme?"

"That's not how that works!" You cried, clutching your textbook like a lifeline. "They're...they're communal! They're sacred!"

"Maybe you oughtta get used to the memes here then. Dunno what you're complaining about."

Deuce patted your back with a concerned frown. "Maybe you should take a nap."

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It would've been bearable, maybe, if you didn't keep catching yourself saying things no one understood.

Once, in P.E., you muttered, "I'd sell my soul for a Baja Blast right now," after running laps.

Cater turned to you. "What kind of spell is that?"

You nearly bit your tongue.

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There were good days, sure. Days when the chaos of NRC felt almost normal, the strange magic of the world you'd landed in had a fairytale charm. You even liked it sometimes. The floating candles, the enchanted mirror, the weirdly attractive student body (seriously, what on Earth was in the water here?).

But then something would happen - a throwaway line from a friend, a specific smell, a distant memory - and the homesickness would sucker-punch you in the gut.

You missed your old phone. You missed a steady flow of electricity. You missed your precious animes from back home. You missed complaining about anything and everything to your friends in your group chat at 2 in the bloody morning. You missed sending them cursed memes and sobbing over fictional characters they knew you'd been in love with since forever.

You missed feeling understood.

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You think the final straw was a joke.

Ace said something stupid and punny in class. Something about cauldrons and bad grades - classic Ace. Everyone laughed.

You didn't.

Not because it wasn't funny. You figured maybe it was. Surely it had to be, with the reaction of your classmates. But you didn't get it.

You didn't understand the slang. The reference. The cultural context.

So you just sat there, frozen in place, smile tight and fake, and your laughter coming out a few seconds too late.

You felt weirdly hollow.

Not the dramatic, tragic kind of hollow. Just the kind where something that should've made you feel warm instead made you feel like a cracked mug. Still functioning. Still upright. But leaking a little.

And of course, Professor Trein noticed.

He didn't say anything at first, just gave you a quiet, thoughtful look before resuming the lecture. You sat up straighter. Tried to look attentive.

But even so, at the end of class, while everyone packed up their books and filtered out of the room in clusters of laughter and inside jokes, Trein called your name.

"Y/N," He said, tone gentle enough that you flinched a little.

You turned, your bag slung over one shoulder. "Yes, Professor?"

"If you're not in a rush," He said, adjusting his glasses, "would you...care to join me for tea this afternoon?"

You blinked. "Oh. Uh. Sure. Is this - like - a detention-in-disguise kind of tea or...?"

He chuckled softly. "No punishment involved, I assure you."

So that was how you found yourself, after classes ended, sitting in the most scholarly little office you'd ever seen, across a worn oak desk from Professor Trein, with two steaming teacups between you.

Grim of course, had no reason to be there, so it was just you, Trein, and Lucius - who sat on the windowsill like a furry, judgemental gargoyle.

Trein poured your tea and added a sugar cube to his own with great precision. His movements reminded you greatly of Vil.

"I find," He said slowly, "that I don't understand half the things my students say anymore."

You blinked.

"They speak in riddles," He continued, "about things I cannot begin to visualize. They once referred to something as 'mid." I assumed it meant middling, perhaps average. But then I was told - by Ruggie, I believe - that it was an insult?"

You snorted. "Oh, yeah. 'Mid' is like the fancy new word for 'meh.' A good way to start a fight in a cafeteria."

Trein's eyes twinkled. "Yes. Precisely. I've taught for nearly four decades and still find myself utterly baffled by whatever new linguistic virus has infected the student body."

You laughed - genuinely, this time.

"I don't get any of their references either," You admitted. "But, like...from the opposite direction. I say stuff and they look at me like I've sprouted wings."

Trein leaned back in his chair. "I did wonder about your question in class earlier this week. About...dinosaurs, was it?"

"Oh my god, yes!" You set your teacup down. "They don't know what dinosaurs are, Professor. Dinosaurs! Like - prehistoric lizards! We have museums about them! They've made animated movies!

"Fascinating," He said, and it was clear he meant it.

"They thought I was talking about dragons," You muttered, sinking in your chair. "I nearly cried."

Trein's mouth quirked into a small smile. "It must be terribly isolating."

Your shoulders tensed. "Sometimes I don't feel like a person here. I feel like a joke. Like a weird little artifact that fell out of some ancient time machine and nobody's quite sure how to categorize."

"You're not a joke," He said, kind but firm. "You're someone trying to survive in a world that was no built for you."

That hit you right in the gut.

Lucius lept off the windowsill and sidled your leg, promptly resting his head near your foot. You sipped your tea quietly for a moment.

"...Thanks," You said, voice a little hoarse. "I think I needed to hear that."

He nodded, then tilted his head, thoughtful. "Would you be willing to tell me more about your world?"

You blinked. "Wait, really?"

"I may be old, but I've always valued learning," He said. "And you're a living library of knowledge we've never had access to before."

You grinned. "Okay, then. Where do I start?"

You ended up talking until the sun dipped low in the sky. You explained your version of the internet, social media, reality TV, electric cars, and theme parks. You showed him how memes worked. You drew a rough sketch of a dinosaur. You explained your favorite movies, and how music was streamed, and how cooking shows were a national obsession. Trein took notes with the fascinated curiosity of someone rediscovering the joy of being a student.

He, in turn, told you stories about past generations of students. About how the slang used to be different even back then, about the way magic has changed, and about the first time Lucius clawed someone in the middle of class for disrespecting history.

You both laughed a lot.

You scratched Lucius behind his ears for a bit, allowing the soft purrs to lull you further into your feelings. The conversation was exactly what you needed. As you left his office, you heard him say, "You are more than welcome to come to me for anything you may need. I am more than willing to explain the ways of this world to you so that you may pass your classes."

As you walked back to your dorm, the castle halls a little quieter, a little softer in the dimming light, you didn't feel so lonely.

Not everyone got you.

But someone was trying.

And for now...that was more than enough.

Author's Note: I'd just like to say that I genuinely think that Twisted Wonderland had dinosaurs and that their existence has long been known worldwide, etc. I like to further think that modern-day dragons (as rare as they may be) are descendants of old-day dinosaurs and that they somehow magically evolved into dragons. Having said that, I thought it would be admittedly funnier if the Reader found out that the people of Twisted Wonderland don't know anything about dinosaurs, and they crash out because of it. So, I went with that for this story!

Masterlist

[yandereunsolved]

Yandere Castiel pining after a hunter—his creator betrayed him, so he found a new one.

"Hello mortal, it's me, Castiel."

Yandere Castiel met you after he betrayed heaven for the Winchesters. Cut off from his angelic powers, it was merely a matter of time before his grace dwindled away to humanness. He would be lying to himself if he said he did not fear. More than fear, there was this other fickle notion. This emotion gnawed inside his vessel's muscular organ situated in the mediastinum.

He truly thought God cared for his creations, but he had been brought back by this all-knowing entity, and for what?

He has no purpose except for aiding the Winchesters, which has only 'bitten him in the ass', as Dean says.

He's vulnerable... and that's when he stumbled upon you.

Yandere Castiel appeared out of thin air; well, that's how it appeared to you, seeing as how you are a mortal and are unable to see into other spiritual planes. He took down the monstrosities you had been hunting with relative ease. It left his angelic form wheezing as more of his grace was depleted. He should have simply left you, but something in him compelled him not to.

He introduced himself and naturally you were taken aback. He didn't elaborate any further when bombarded with questions. He offered to heal you.

Yandere Castiel followed you everywhere after that, like a lost hellhound looking for its owner. There was always an angel on your shoulder, more accurately, peering over your shoulder.

He even neglects prayers from the Winchesters and their allies to spend time with you. They did not appreciate him as much as you did. After all, he was only blasphemed and devalued around them. You thanked him, allowed him into your sleeping quarters, and shared private information with him that very few knew.

He already knew these things due to his, well, just being ethereal, but something in him said that he should keep that to himself.

When he could spare the grace, he would stay in his angel form so he could watch you uninterrupted. Apparently humans did not appreciate being looked upon so closely, despite the fact celestial beings are always looking upon humanity. It's another one of those human quirks he does not understand.

You were and still are a fascinating creature. He can't help but get attached.

Yandere Castiel is unsatisfied by the work your guardian angel has been doing. He is hardly able to call it protection, seeing as how Castiel always has to be the one to step in and take care of you. So he tears the wings off of that pitiful excuse and takes the grace from them.

He's keeping the both of you safe. It was only a matter of time before the angel reported his whereabouts to heaven and sent someone far more powerful to eliminate him. Then who would keep you safe? It certainly wouldn't have been the 'angel' heaven assigned to you.

When he appears to you with a stronger grace presence and blood coating him, you are naturally cautious. When you question him, he simply rebuffs and states that he was 'taking care of things'. He doesn't want you to worry, so he presses his lips to yours and makes you forget this little interaction.

It's addicting.

Is this what that abomination Sam Winchester felt when intaking demonic substance?

He still doesn't condone the vessel's actions, but he has a better understanding now.

Yandere Castiel abuses his divinity. Even with limited grace, he obtains it in other ways now. The more human part of him knows this is wrong, but the angel part of him says that this is righteous. It is, isn't it? He's serving humanity through one human. His human.

He isn't shy about those fleeting touches of his. He is often tempted to let you harm yourself in incrimental ways so he is able to step in and 'kiss your boo-boos'. It is another human phrase he has grown fond of, even despite its juvenile connotations. It isn't required that he has direct contact to heal your wounds, but you do not need to be made aware of that.

Unfortunately, he cannot prevent certain incidents from occurring. So he wipes your memory. All those negative emotions you felt towards him cease to exist. He is your sinless guardian, your angel, your soul mate.

He allows you to get high on his grace. All of your problems fade away, and there is only him.

In those moments, you see him how he sees you, as the only being in creation worth attention. 

Yandere Castiel thought it could not get any worse than ridding you of stray entities. Wherever God is, they must be either punishing him for his disobedience or testing his loyalty to his human. A cherub of all lower ethereal entities is trying to mark you with an enochian love sigil. Heaven is trying to force you to have an 'other half'.

His patience runs thinner than God's love.

He tried to use his words, but the cherub was just so persistent. He snapped all of the arrows first, then he grabbed his angel blade and plunged it into the love being's skull. That was after he tortured the information about this false soul mate those fuckers on high wanted to force upon you.

Your bloodline needed to be preserved because your line was fated to do something greater. He knows better than to trust the words of those in heaven. If your bloodline needs to continue, Castiel can always help you copulate.

So your 'soul mate' ends up dead. He binds your heart to his vessel's without your knowledge.

This is how it was always supposed to be.

Yandere Castiel has you with him now. You are undeniably attracted to him, which makes it so easy to persuade you. He is able to create distance between you and the hunter life. It's almost perfect, except for his apparent duty to the Winchesters.

He is confronted after neglecting them for nearly a year. He brushes it off like he has before, but they persist. He cannot allow you to be near them! They are the center of the world's supernatural troubles. His hand is eventually forced.

So he's fiercely protective, always a wing around you. Neither better get the faintest idea of wanting you. You're his.

[pome-seed]

The Soldier's Keeper ★ 1

Pairing: Winter Soldier!Bucky x Doctor!Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Summary: A doctor, taken from your lab where you study degenerative muscular diseases, find yourself trapped and charged with caring for a living weapon. Terrified for yours and your family's safety, you must work to appease your captors and care for a man who seems haunted beyond words. And as time goes on, you begin to learn just how human the man really is.

Warnings: Mentions of kidnapping, fear, weapons, and death.

Authors Note: Hi! This is the first chapter of a very very long series. (basically the prequal of the soldat story I posted) I'm a little nervous doing this, but I thought it would be fun. I'd also like to say, I tried to do my best writing a woman who is terrified- so that includes a good amount of nervous stuttering and rambling in the first chapter. Bear with me! Please enjoy, comment if you'd like and let me know what you think! And please be kind!

Series Masterlist Next Chapter

The door slammed behind you with a shudder, making you jump. It was dark. Quiet. Silent, even. The silence that followed made your pulse jump. Your gaze fell upon your charge. It couldn’t be real. It just couldn’t be. You felt glued to the floor, your nerves screaming at you to run, to hide, to close your eyes and pretend none of this was real.

But you couldn’t. 

You had no choice. 

Getting to choose was a luxury, one you weren’t allowed.

The large contraption of metal claws and tangled wires wasn’t what first caught your eye in the room. It was the man. Just a man. Unmoving and unspeaking. He sat on a black bench, made to restrain and recline. His long dark hair hung in his eyes, but his gaze stayed pinned to the floor. 

You knew who he was. You wished you didn’t. 

Hydra wasn’t an entity you wanted to be aligned with. Hydra wasn’t even something you were aware was still around until weeks ago. You were just a woman. A doctor. A scientist. A bright mind with many questions and a burning need to find purpose. 

But you bore the burden of knowledge. Of curiosity. 

You were determined to find the answer to deteriorating muscular disease. You were drawn to the topic from a young age, watching classmates and strangers alike die out from disease. Lose their ability to move, to function, to live. 

You spent your life studying it. 

And it only took seconds for you to regret it. 

Here you were now, tasked with caring for a man forced to live through time and death. A man you knew nothing of a mere month ago.

You slid a hesitant foot forward, your flat scraping the stone floor. Silence stretched, only broken by the friction of your shoe. He hadn’t moved. You held your breath, forcing another step forward. Your stomach turned as you drew closer. You held your shaking fists to your chest, trying to convince yourself  you weren't as scared as you were. 

Why were you so scared, damn it? He was just a man. But then again, men were always God's most brutal creation. And this man, he was different. 

Hydra’s officials spent those first few days briefly informing you about the man, and his condition- between threats to your life and family.

They told you of the broken creature that was the winter soldier. The man whose mind had become nothing more than a button of yes and no. Kill or be killed. They told you of how he could pull your spine from your back with his hands tied and his eyes closed. Of how a single word put him in action. 

You knew he wouldn’t act unless commanded to, but that didn’t halt the fear. A loaded gun still held the reputation of death, even with its safety on.

You stood only a few feet away now. You saw him clearer now. You tried to take him in, humanise him, knowing that's all he was. But god, was it hard. The shadow across his face, caused by his hair, didn’t hide his dull blue eyes. They stared straight ahead, haunted and waiting.

“My…” your voice cracked against your will, exposing your fear. “My name is Y/n…” you spoke quietly, afraid if you were any louder, he would snap. He didn’t move. 

“I’m- I’m here to help you,” you whispered, standing before him now. “I’m a doctor, you see...” Your throat felt dry. Did your voice always sound like that? “They told me your muscles are- well, that the cryo sleep is- um-” you swallowed. Your tongue felt heavy. “They told me your muscles- the tissue is deteriorating. The cryo chamber is having unexpected side effects…” 

You watched him as you spoke. If you didn’t know better, you could almost guess he was still asleep. Or dead. “Can-” you tilted your head at him. “Can you hear me?” 

No response. Not even a twitch. With great hesitance, you knelt before him, your bare knees pressing into the plush carpet. You were lower than him now, but leveled enough. And still, it was like he was looking right through you. “You’re in there, aren’t you? I mean-” 

He blinked, just once. But it was enough. He didn’t even seem aware of it. His brows were furrowed together, his jaw screwed tight. A dark shadow of  a beard speckled his skin. His hair hung in his face, shielding him. 

“I’m- I’m here to tend to you.” You whispered. “I’ll be monitoring your vitals, and the state of your muscles. But-” you tilted your head. “They also want me to clean you up.” He was so still it was unsettling. You weren't surprised, he must be used to every type of needle and poke and prod in the book. 

You glanced back at the door, where a small tray sat atop a table. You took your time steadying yourself on shaky legs, retrieved the tray, then returned to your spot. You dragged a chair over and sat it on the seat. you stared at the man, your heart heavy in your chest.  

It was still dark, flickering light bulbs buzzing overhead. It was still quiet, your breaths sounding like screams. It was still deeply terrifying. But you needed to do as you were told. 

“They want me to shave your-” you gestured to your own face. “I know it's- well- I don’t know, but I don’t really get to say no, you know?” you stammered, your words failing you. You paused, then swallowed, allowing yourself to gather your bearings. “What I mean is- is it okay if I touch you?” 

Silence. 

Tense, thick, palpable silence. You bit back the fear rising in your chest as you reached a hand towards his face. “I’m sorry, I really am.” You whispered, pulling your hand back to pick through your tray. There wasn’t much. Just a bowl of water, a razor, a rag, and a cheap can of shaving cream. 

You had never shaved a man's face, but you’d shaved your legs about a thousand times. How different could they be? “Can you-” you swallowed. “Please, lift your head.” It felt wrong to touch him, to move him. He was so deeply human, sitting before you. It was sickening. After a long moment, he tilted his head back, bearing his throat.

You choked down the dramatic gasp that wanted to follow. His eyes were dull, staring straight through the space ahead. “Thank you,” you whispered, grabbing the rag. Having been unfamiliar with shaving like a man, you followed the steps you would on your own. You draped the rag across his lap and picked up the scissors. 

You spent the next few minutes in painful silence, snipping away long tufts of hair. You shook off the stray hairs onto the tray, then laid the rag back over his lap. After wetting his face, you used your fingers to smear shaving cream across his skin. Goosebumps rose over your arms as you did so, guilt and uncomfortability burrowing in your bones.

Holding a razor to the throat of one of the most dangerous men alive felt wrong. So deeply wrong. He stared straight ahead, unblinking as the blade scraped over the veins in his neck. His breath tickled your knuckles as you dragged the blade beneath his lips. He was like a doll, or a corpse. 

“I’ve never done this before, believe it or not.” You whispered. “I mean, I’ve shaved. Just- never shaved someone else, you know? It’s not something people often do.” You paused, asking him to tilt his head to the left. “Though, I’m guessing you’re pretty used to people doing things for you.” You paused. “Not in the privileged, type of way- I just mean, it’s pretty clear you don’t get to make a lot of choices for yourself…” you trailed off, then had him tilt to the right.

“I am sorry about that…” you whispered. “Having a choice, its- it’s the difference between being a thing, and being human. That’s how I’ve always seen it.” You washed off the razor, then continued. “I mean- I’m a woman, you know?” You laughed dryly, nerves making your tongue loose. “History is written by men taking choices away.”

The razor almost slipped from your fingers when his gaze flickered to yours. You couldn’t stop the gasp that time. You froze, the blade pressed to his cheek. “I’m really trying not to make you uneven right now.” You whispered, the nervous joke falling short. 

For the first time in what felt like the eternity you spent in that room, his lips parted. You held your breath, waiting to hear his voice.

The doors behind you swung open. You flinched, cold dread spreading down your spine. You yanked back the razor when you realized you nicked him. “I’m sorry,” you mouthed, wiping the cut with the rag. 

“Finished up yet? This isn’t a spa. We just need him clean.” It was an older man, a voice you recognised. 

“Yeah- yeah, I’m done.” You rushed, patting his face dry. You shoved everything back on the tray and scrambled to the side. You noticed the soldier go stalk still again, his gaze tracking the new man.

“Great. We need to get started, then.” The man- Pierce - started. His gaze found you. “You’re no longer needed.” The words sent a sickening fear pooling in your stomach, twisting and heavy- like it would rip right through you. A pair of men in suits approached you. “You’ll be summoned when we’re ready for you to start your treatments.”

You blinked. Hands circled your biceps. The tray was shoved into your hands. You were moving towards the door. you wanted to glance back, but your bones felt rusted shut. 

They weren’t going to kill you today. But how long would it last? How long would your value survive you?

Authors Note: Hi! Okay, sooo I hope you guys liked it, or at least feel a little intrigued. It gets a lot better further on, I have like 30 more chapters already written, so just let me know if you want more!

Also, this was originally written from a "she" Pov, so if you find any mistakes, let me know- I had to edit everything to say "You/your" after. Anyways, please comment and be kind!

[pascaloverx]

DEVIL (+18)

Summary: You are a demonic creature, capable of doing whatever you please, whenever you wish. Your goal on Earth is to terrorize as many souls as possible. Until, in a small community, you find the perfect victim for your mischievous games: Father Charlie Mayhew.

Author's Note: Honestly, I’m not sure if this story will have more than one chapter, but it will contain adult content and inappropriate language. Violence may also appear. Frankly, I just needed to write something about this character portrayed by Nicholas Alexander Chavez. The character and others, apart from Y/N, are not my creation. They belong to the Grotesquerie (2024) universe created by Ryan Murphy. To anyone reading this story, I hope you enjoy it.

AO3 LINK TWO

ONE

How tedious human life is. Not to offend anyone, but you were already tired of all the petty, complicated, and disjointed problems humans have. Not doing what they want, fearing consequences, and not always seeking to take advantage of others makes humans seem so weak. Humans need automobiles to move around, they have no special powers, they feel guilty for the slightest act, and when they sin, they believe a priest can purify their wrongdoings.

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. At least that's what the movies say I should say when I enter a confessional. Unless you'd prefer something more modern, like, 'Father, I really messed up. I committed an affront to good morals. Blah blah blah…'" You enter Father Charlie Mayhew's confessional, waiting for his response. You can hear the muffled chuckle he lets out at your casual way of speaking.

"It doesn't seem to me that you are truly repentant. Taking advantage of the informality with which you are speaking to me, may I ask what brings you here?" For a human, he has a voice that, in its more serious and deep tone, can be charming; it's easy to understand why he became a priest. With a voice like that, he could easily persuade you to be a devoted daughter of God, even if you were, in truth, a demon.

“Let’s say it was a call of nature. In truth, I’ve felt impure ever since I witnessed something terrible.” You say, trying to sound as human as possible, feeling as if your skin were burning from being inside the church. Just kidding; in reality, demons can be anywhere, even in religious places.

"What is it, my dear faithful of the Lord, that you witnessed?" Father Mayhew speaks with a certain nonchalance, as if he's almost sure he knows your answer. You try to catch a glimpse of him through the confessional booth’s small openings. He seems like the very embodiment of sin, perfectly crafted for thirsty thoughts.

"Father, I witnessed a delightful scene. It was a priest known for his youthful appearance and modern style, masturbating while thinking about the beautiful nun he had recently met. In fact, there was another moment that I witnessed. The moment when this same priest let the nun touch him in a sinful way. Oh, this priest's mind could only hope that these private moments would continue." You provoke him, subtly revealing that you know of his most intimate sins. The priest immediately steps out of his booth and opens the door to yours. His expression is furious, while you wear your most mischievous smile. Your attire catches him off guard, certainly. You’re dressed in a nun's habit, but entirely unlike the usual. Yours is red—the color of blood—with black lace details. It is the perfect blend of religion and sin, a nun’s habit styled like lingerie.

"What are you?" the priest asks, not in fear, but with a steady gaze fixed on you. You rise and slowly walk toward him, your steps deliberate, as he retreats. You can see his eyes searching for answers, trying to comprehend what you are.

"I am merely a concerned devotee, worried about who is managing this church, of course. Father, it shouldn’t be me reminding you that sin is wrong. But I think you already know it’s wrong—you just can’t stop. If the wounds on your back tell me anything, it’s that you enjoy punishing yourself for being a naughty boy. Let’s just say I’m your newest form of penance." You speak as you circle around Father Mayhew, who watches you with a gaze of fascination. In truth, you had peeked into the mortal priest’s sinful mind, discovering exactly how to become an irresistible vision for him.

"Why are you tormenting me?" Father Mayhew keeps his eyes fixed on you as you walk through the church, surveying what is supposed to be sacred ground. It’s remarkable, entering the so-called house of God, where sins lurk behind the angelic façade, just as Father Mayhew hides his dark thoughts beneath his cassock. You smile as your fingers glide over the candles, feeling the warmth of their flames between your fingertips.

"Me? Tormenting you? I’m simply fascinated by that devilishly handsome face of yours and the way you blend love for religion with the lust locked away inside you. Sister Megan must have had quite the time running her little fingers over you. Honestly, you, Father, are trouble, and I want to help you." You speak, captivated by the lust in his eyes, even as he remains partly afraid that you might be a punishment from the devil himself. You move closer, touching his cassock, tracing your finger over the places where he is wounded, where he hurt himself.

"More…" he whispers, closing his eyes as he feels your touch. He begins to moan softly from the pain you’re inflicting. Your fingers tighten their grip on the bruises on his back as he groans heavily. You bring your lips closer to the back of his neck, placing a few kisses there.

"Father, Father, Father. You're visibly excited in the middle of the church. What would the Bishop say about this? Or your faithful and devoted followers, who trust that their priest will be the purest of men?" You speak softly against the back of his neck, feeling him shiver. He turns to look at you, eyes thirsty for the pleasure of the flesh.

"It doesn’t matter, not really. 1 John 1:9, 'If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.' God, in His glory, will understand that in the face of temptation, I could not resist my sinful nature, and for that, I have failed in His eyes." Father Mayhew speaks, his eyes lingering on every detail of your face, but especially your lips. In his depraved mind, he’s already imagining. Imagining how his cock would fit perfectly between your lips, or how your moans must be as delicious as the tone of your voice. He lets his imagination of touching you, tasting you take over and lightly places his fingers under your lips, massaging them.

"Father, you are a perfect creature, but you are trapped beneath this mask of a devout religious man. I promise I will return here to unlock your true potential. Until then, remain under the flame of lust. Oh, and keep recording those workout videos; you have no idea how many souls your face and body corrupt. Now, to seal our first encounter together, repeat after me: I, Father Charlie Mayhew, accept your demonic presence to torment me for as long as necessary, committing myself to serve you." You say, gazing deeply into his eyes, as he seems lost in you. It takes him a moment to repeat your words, his eyes lingering on your attire, contemplating the implications of becoming entangled with you.

"Was that all?" He asks after repeating your words, his tone low as if he’s embarrassed. "When will I see you again?" There’s a note of desperation in Father Mayhew's question, as he watches you, trying to memorize every detail. You smile, thinking that he probably wants to remember you so he can indulge in pleasure later.

"You'll see me when the time is right. In the meantime, keep being a naughty boy," you say, caressing his face. Then, with a single finger, you touch his lips, slicing them open. He lets out a soft moan as blood begins to seep from his mouth. "Now it's time for my triumphant exit. Goodbye, Father," you say, leaning in to kiss him, as if to draw his very soul through his lips. The taste of his blood lingers in your mouth, sealing the recent pact between you. You lick his lips and then disappear. Like an illusion, you are no longer there.