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jhyoos · 4 months ago

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Dreams Come True

Chapter 8: MAMAs

hockeyplayer!vi x idol!reader

summary : you finally get to perform at the MAMAs along side your group.

mentions : modern au, fame au, just you living your idol dreams and seeing the other idols that have inspired you.

notes : YALL BETTER BE BUNDLED UP 🙄 I’m also not very good at detailing dancing or singing. Neither are my strong suit

The weeks leading up to your group’s performance at MAMA were a whirlwind of rehearsals, excitement, and hard work. You and your group had been practicing nonstop, perfecting every move, every harmony, and every detail to make sure the performance was nothing less than spectacular. It felt like all the effort and sleepless nights were paying off in ways you hadn’t imagined.

After the press conference, you had braced yourself for the worst. But instead of losing fans, your group gained even more. The news coverage and viral clips of your heartfelt speech catapulted your group into new levels of fame. Merch sales skyrocketed, and your albums sold out almost immediately. The announcement of your early submission for the "Best New Group" award at MAMA only added to the excitement.

Sometimes during those long nights in the practice room, with Steb's approval, you and your group would go live on Instagram to interact with fans and share snippets of your rehearsals. It became a tradition, a way to show the fans your gratitude and keep them involved in your journey.

The live streams were always lively, filled with comments flying across the screen faster than you could read. You weren’t surprised when hate comments would occasionally pop up, but the overwhelming positivity overshadowed them. Fans were endlessly supportive, cheering you on and expressing their excitement for MAMA.

Occasionally, the comments would ask about Vi, curious about how you both were doing. Questions like, “Are you and Vi okay?” or “How’s Violet been? We love her!” scrolled past every now and then. You never addressed them directly—it wasn’t just your moment, after all, and you didn’t want to take the spotlight away from the other members. But reading those comments gave you a sense of relief and joy. Despite the controversy, so many people were rooting for you, for Vi, and for your happiness.

Your group’s energy was infectious during these streams. Whether it was Mel cracking jokes, your lead dancer showing off choreography, or everyone playfully bickering over snacks during breaks, it was clear to the fans just how close-knit you all were.

As the days grew closer to the performance, the stakes felt higher, but the bond within your group only strengthened. Late-night practices, impromptu karaoke sessions to de-stress, and group pep talks became your lifelines.

Through it all, you were reminded of how much you loved what you did. The challenges, the highs and lows, the love from fans—it all fueled your drive to give everything you had at MAMA. This was your moment, not just as an individual, but as a group, and you were ready to shine.

It was finally the day of the MAMAs, and the venue was bustling with energy, twice as busy as any showcase you’d performed at. Nervousness bubbled within you as you realized the event would be broadcast worldwide. But you took a deep breath and brushed it off, reminding yourself how far you’d come.

The stage design was an electrifying club-like setup, with neon lights flashing in sync with the beat. The background dancers were styled to fit the club atmosphere, creating an immersive experience for the audience. You and your group wore coordinated outfits that exuded edgy sophistication, with intricate details that made each of you stand out. Your own ensemble featured bold black leather and buckled straps, accented by metallic elements like safety pins and chains. The jewelry was carefully selected to enhance the dramatic flair, from spiked earrings to stacked skull bracelets. Your microphone was a sparkling silver, adding a glamorous finishing touch.

Your hair was styled in a sleek half-up, half-down look, with the upper section tied high and cascading to one side, while the rest flowed freely down your back. Two delicate braids framed your face, adding an ethereal contrast to the boldness of your outfit.

Your makeup was striking, perfectly complementing your outfit. A bold silver and black smoky eye with dramatic lashes made your gaze captivating, while rhinestone accents dotted around your eyes added sparkle under the stage lights. A soft blush brought warmth to your cheeks, and your lips were lightly glossed for a natural yet polished finish.

Stepping onto the stage, you felt an exhilarating rush of confidence. You knew this was your moment, and as the lights dimmed and the music began, you were ready to own it.

The stage was completely dark, and the air was thick with anticipation as the announcer introduced your group. The murmurs from the crowd quieted, replaced by the hum of cameras whirring to life. Your heart raced, but as soon as the lights began to flicker on and the music queued up, you all seamlessly slid into your positions. Every step, every breath was perfectly synchronized.

The performance felt like a dream in motion. Your voice carried through the venue as you hit every note flawlessly, harmonizing with the other members in perfect unison. The energy of the crowd only fueled you further, and you could feel the connection between the group, feeding off one another’s passion and precision.

The dance break was electric—a whirlwind of sharp, clean movements and dramatic flair. The lights pulsed to the beat, illuminating the stage like a vibrant club. The crowd erupted as you executed the choreography with precision, the metallic accents of your outfit catching the light and making you shine like a star.

When the final note rang out and the music faded, the stage was instantly engulfed by an explosion of cheers. The applause was deafening, the crowd's energy surging toward you in waves. You stood there with your group, catching your breath but unable to stop the wide grin from spreading across your face. This was a moment you’d remember forever—a perfect performance, celebrated by the world.

After the performance, the adrenaline was still pumping as you made your way backstage. The moment you saw Mel, you rushed to her, throwing your arms around her in a big, warm hug. “You did so good,” you said, smiling brightly.

Mel shook her head, playfully rolling her eyes. “You did better. Everyone was basically cheering for you,” she teased with a grin.

You gently nudged her shoulder. “Negative. They were cheering for you. All of you,” you corrected her, your voice sincere. You looked around at the rest of the group, unable to hold back the overwhelming pride you felt. “I’m so proud of all of you. And how far we’ve come. I love you guys so much.”

A chorus of soft “awws” filled the room before the sentimental moment was broken by a wave of laughter. The camaraderie and love you all shared were unmistakable, and for a moment, it felt like nothing in the world could bring you down.

Then, as if on cue, Steb emerged from the dressing room, clipboard in hand and a no-nonsense expression on his face. “Come on, you guys,” he said, gesturing toward the dressing rooms with a flick of his hand. “You gotta get dressed and back to your seats before the nominations start.”

With an exaggerated groan and shared chuckles, you and the group scrambled to “haul ass,” as Steb so eloquently put it. The high from the performance still lingered, but now, the anticipation for the rest of the night began to bubble up again.

As you and the group rushed to change, the stylists were already prepared, helping everyone into their outfits for the second half of the night. Most of the outfits were elegant but edgy, consisting of dresses or corsets paired with layered skirts, accessorized with bold jewelry that sparkled under the lights. Your dress featured a sleek black corset with silver embellishments and a layered tulle skirt that gave it a regal edge, while Mel’s corset was wine-red, paired with a matching high-slit skirt.

Once dressed, you made your way back to the audience just in time for the nominations to start. The room was electric, cameras panning to the crowd, capturing moments of anticipation and excitement. When it came time for the “Best New Group” category, your group held hands tightly, your heart thundering in your chest.

“And the winner for ‘Best New Group’ is…” The announcer’s pause felt like an eternity. “AURORA”

The room erupted into applause and cheers. You and the group shot out of your seats, hugging each other tightly before making your way to the stage. The lights were blinding, the roar of the crowd almost overwhelming as you accepted the golden trophy.

Mel was the first to step forward, her voice trembling slightly as she spoke into the microphone. “Wow… this is unbelievable. Thank you so much to everyone who’s supported us on this journey. This is a dream come true, and we couldn’t have done it without our fans, our team, and of course, each other.”

She turned to you, handing you the microphone as the cheers grew louder.

You took a deep breath, smiling as you steadied yourself. “I think Mel said it all, but I just want to add that this moment is so much bigger than us. To every fan out there who believed in us when no one else did, this is for you. To our families, our friends, and everyone who worked behind the scenes to make this happen—we love you so much. And to my amazing group…” You turned to your members, your voice breaking slightly. “I’m so proud of us. Look at what we’ve accomplished together. This is only the beginning.”

The crowd roared as you and Mel held the trophy high, surrounded by your group. The night felt surreal, a memory you knew would stay with you forever.

Backstage was a whirlwind of celebration. You and the group huddled together, trophy in hand, as the cameras flashed. Every angle was captured—one with everyone smiling brightly, another with silly poses, and a final one where you all held the trophy high, pure joy radiating from each face. “This one’s going straight to Instagram,” Mel said with a laugh as you all scrolled through the photos, picking your favorites to post later.

After the photos, you noticed Steb standing off to the side, wiping at his eyes. When he finally walked over, the group quieted, sensing he had something important to say. His voice trembled slightly, but there was a warmth to it as he spoke.

“I’ve been putting up with y’all’s shit for four years now,” he began, shaking his head with a smirk, “especially you, (Y/N).” He pointed at you, but there was nothing but affection in his tone. “And I’ve never been more proud of any group in my life.”

You felt a lump in your throat as his eyes glistened with unshed tears. The group murmured their thanks, but Steb wasn’t done. “The CEO thinks it’s finally time for y’all to get your paychecks tomorrow,” he continued, grinning as the group gasped and started cheering. “And… you can all reopen your personal social media accounts.”

That set off another round of cheers, but Steb raised a hand to quiet everyone, his gaze landing directly on you. “Just don’t do anything that’s gonna make me stress… please?”

The group burst into laughter, and you couldn’t help but join in as you raised your hands in mock surrender. “Yes, sir,” you said with a grin, knowing you’d probably test his patience at some point.

Steb shook his head with a laugh before pulling the entire group into a hug. “I mean it, though. I’m proud of you. Every single one of you.”

As you stood there, wrapped in the embrace of your team, the weight of the journey you’d been on hit you. This was more than a win—it was a testament to everything Aurora had overcome. And for the first time, you truly felt like the world was yours for the taking.

After the awards show, the celebrations carried on in grand fashion. The CEO had spared no expense, renting out one of the most popular spots in the city for a private dinner party. It was the perfect setting—elegant, lively, and buzzing with excitement. You, your group, and everyone’s families and friends gathered to toast to the night’s success. You had personally invited Vi and her family as well; they’d been there for you through it all, cheering you on when things were tough.

The evening called for your best attire, so you chose a sleek black dress that hugged your figure, the thigh-high slit adding just the right touch of glamour. Your hair was styled neatly in a bun, a few wispy strands framing your face, and you accented the look with simple silver jewelry. As you walked into the restaurant, the warm glow of chandeliers and the chatter of loved ones welcomed you.

The dinner started off classy enough—soft music played in the background, heartfelt speeches were made, and glasses clinked with every toast. But once the drinks started flowing, things took a turn for the chaotic—in the best way possible. Laughter echoed through the room as people began belting out karaoke songs, some with heartfelt renditions and others so off-key it brought tears of laughter. A few people got emotional, tears spilling as they hugged each other and shared memories of how far everyone had come. It was pure, unfiltered joy, and it felt like the kind of chaos you’d remember forever.

Needing a breather from the lively energy inside, you slipped out onto the restaurant’s balcony. The cool night air greeted you as you leaned against the railing, taking in the view of the city. The skyline sparkled, and the hum of distant traffic reminded you of how far you’d come. A deep breath escaped your lips, and you let the reality of it all sink in. You did it. You worked harder than you ever thought possible, and now, all your dreams had come true.

You were lost in thought when a hand touched your shoulder, startling you slightly. Turning around, you were met with Vi’s familiar face. A bright smile spread across your face as you pulled her into a hug.

“Thank you for sticking beside me through all of this,” you said softly, pulling back to meet her eyes.

Vi chuckled, shaking her head. “I should be the one saying that to you.”

Before you could respond, she grinned mischievously and pulled something from her pocket. “Hey, I got a surprise for you,” she said, holding up two tickets. You glanced at them, confused at first, before realizing what they were—tickets to her upcoming hockey game.

“You haven’t seen me play up close in a while,” she added, her grin widening. “So, bring Mel. I heard she’s been getting into sports.”

You took the tickets from her hands, smiling but hesitating. “What about my schedule? You know it’s always packed.”

Vi smirked knowingly. “Steb already gave me the green light. Please come.”

Her enthusiasm was contagious, and you nodded, clutching the tickets tightly. “Of course I will,” you said with a smile, your heart feeling light.

As you both leaned against the balcony railing, the moment felt perfect. The cool breeze carried the distant hum of the city, but all you could focus on was Vi—her warmth, her unwavering support, and the sparkle in her eyes as she looked at you. You let out a soft laugh, your heart feeling lighter than it had in a while.

“You’re really something, you know that?” Vi said, her voice quieter now.

You turned to face her fully, a small smile tugging at your lips. “So are you.”

There was a pause, a comfortable silence, and then her gaze dropped to your lips, lingering for just a moment before meeting your eyes again. Without thinking, you leaned in, and she did the same. The world around you seemed to fade, the noise of the celebration inside muffling as her lips met yours. It was soft, slow, and filled with everything unspoken between you two.

But before the kiss could deepen, an unexpected spray of cold liquid hit both of you, soaking the side of your dress and Vi’s shirt. You gasped and turned to see Jinx standing a few feet away, holding a bottle of champagne with the cork still fizzing in her hand.

“Oops!” Jinx said, clearly anything but sorry. Her mischievous grin stretched ear to ear. “Didn’t see you there! Or maybe I did,” she teased, cackling.

Vi groaned, running a hand down her face as you tried to stifle a laugh. The sudden chaos was so typical of Jinx that you couldn’t even be mad.

“Seriously, Jinx?” Vi muttered, shaking her head as champagne dripped from her hair.

Jinx shrugged, her grin widening. “Hey, you two were getting way too mushy out here. Someone had to remind you there’s a party going on inside!” She gestured toward the doors, where the sound of singing and laughter poured out.

You wiped at your dress, chuckling softly as you exchanged a glance with Vi. Despite the interruption, the moment wasn’t ruined—it was just… unique, like everything else in your life these days.

“Come on,” you said, looping your arm through Vi’s and tugging her back toward the party. “Let’s get back inside before she sprays anyone else.”

“Or maybe I’ll aim for Mel next!” Jinx called after you, laughing as she followed you both inside, the night only getting more chaotic—and memorable—from there.

taglist : @val-k13 @ren-ren23 @snowbunnyboo @taurtel @justsomegaygirlig @alex-thegiraffeboyy @tobiotruther @krilara @veladeangl @kl1q @maruiin @rebecca-hvnstn

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hugsandchaos · 11 months ago

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Dadow Boom AU snippets and ideas while I try to make sense of it! Hooray! :D

Shadow having a soft spot towards kids, especially his own, means Tails is off limits when/if fighting. He dodges all attacks made by the young fox and tries to disarm him without dealing damage. He’ll even step in if Eggman’s attacking and he’s around to help protect Tails.

Silver is around 8 biologically, but 1,000+ chronologically. He’s a little shorter than Tails.

Warning to all villains: Do not, I repeat, DO NOT try to kidnap Silver and hold him hostage against Shadow! He’ll have you begging for the sweet release of death! Kidnapping Silver is a one-way ticket to hell!

Silver gets along with Tails well. Silver doesn’t always understand him, but he tries his best, and Tails appreciates his efforts to understand and honesty when he doesn’t.

Shadow does his best to keep their past under lock and key, but sometimes, Silver will say something that sounds like they were struggling a lot before finding Bygone Island.

Silver’s still practicing his telekinesis, but he’s very good at it! According to Shadow, the edgy looking hedgehog himself was accidentally and quite literally tossed across the room by Silver once. Knuckles and Sonic aren’t allowed to help Shadow teach Silver because they tried making him do all these things that were dangerous.

Shadow is a tired single parent, Sonic and Amy are both working together and fighting each other to make him not a single parent. Shadow doesn’t understand what they see in him. Silver disapproves of them flirting with his dad.

The reason they fought in the first place was because Team Sonic took some strange crystals that Shadow needed, so he went to get them back and it escalated into a fight when they refused.

Eggman once picked Silver up because he thought he was a lost child because Silver was practicing his teleportation skills and showed up at his door. It took Shadow so much not to rip Eggman’s head off when he discovered that Silver was in Eggman’s lair.

Shadow being unbelievably pissed and out for blood if someone dares to lay a hand on his son, partially due to past experiences.

Shadow growing Black Arms features (tail, third eye, wings, bigger claws) when he either needs it or when he just wants to. Silver is completely used to this “monster form” as Sticks put it and will ask to be carried during flights.

Because Silver was created with significantly more hedgehog DNA, the only Black Arms feature he actually has is a longer tail, which is still white. They’re not quite sure where the extra fluff came from, but maybe he’ll grow out of it? (Spoiler alert: He didn’t.)

Here are a few bits I’ve thought of, but might not fit in this AU.

Possible Sticks and Shadow meeting before the rest of the group?? Sticks being an honorary aunt for Silver?? Sticks and Shadow solidarity. Sticks making “old man” jokes towards Shadow. Sticks not asking Shadow much about the whole “half alien” thing or much of his past, just enough to understand the bare minimum and then stop despite her curiosity.

“Hey, Sticks, is your friend single by any chance?” — Sonic

Silver climbing on Shadow, pouncing on him, pulling him, shaking him, whatever it takes to get him up so they can play while the rest of the group watches in horror. Shadow either suddenly waking up from a fake sleep at just the right time and grabbing him, or does the whole “Alright, I’m up, I’m up” thing. Just the group being surprised how patient he is with Silver, I guess.

I don’t usually headcanon Shadow showing signs of age or having old scars because the scars are supposed to heal completely and he doesn’t age, but I think this shall be an exception and give Shadow maybe one or two old scars. Maybe. I haven’t decided yet.

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acourtofchaos · 1 year ago

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A LITTLE DEATH (snippet/teaser) | Mattheo Riddle x F!Reader x Theodore Nott

Summary: Your best friends offer their help when they find out that you've never been able to finish with anyone you've been with. 18+

A/N: this is unedited and probably absolute trash but I was hoping to finish the fic today and that hasn't happened, so I thought i'd post a little snippet instead. I've still got a little bit to write before I edit which knowing me will mean adding another 1-2k to the word count 😂

Song inspo: A little death by the neighbourhood

But for whatever reason, you couldn’t say no to the offer they'd laid before you.

It could have been down to the cherry vodka coating your brain in cotton wool or the firewhiskey burning warm through your chest - running hot in your blood.

The way you were high on having them both so close after another long month apart. How it always felt like you'd been missing pieces of yourself and only realised the hollowness that clung to your bones when they returned to you - a gold rush feeling chasing away the shadows as they slotted back into the places you'd carved out for them.

Maybe that was what was making you ache for them even closer, pressed up against you without an inch to breathe.

Or maybe it was the way Theo’s gaze roamed over your face, his hesitancy at war with his want until he watched the way you followed the swipe of his tongue over his bottom lip with a hitched breath, your own mouth parting slightly at the action and drawing his undivided attention.

The way Mattheo’s eyes had grown darker than the night surrounding you, ink black and hungry, his features sharp with a tinge of desperation - that insatiable need of his to indulge you in anything and everything you asked for.

Despite it, their faces still held that touch of softness that told you if you declined they would swallow down whatever feelings had arisen from their offer and never let them show again. That no desire would ever come before your comfort and trust in both of them.

So maybe it was because you knew with utter surety that if anyone could take care of you properly, it was them.

You let out a shaky breath, your hearbeat somewhere up in your throat but your mind made up, as you whispered. “Yeah okay, show me.”

You weren't sure what you were expecting when the words left you.

You’d seen both of the boys in action plenty of times during your time at hogwarts, the parties thrown by your housemates that practically promised an endless night of sin and debauchery.

You'd seen the way Mattheo and Theo had grinned like devils, dirty and wicked, in a pretty girl's presence when they knew they had them exactly where they wanted them. Witnessed how both of them kissed, all rough and fast and messy, hands fisting into hair and at the silky edge of a too short dress.

But there was none of that now.

Not yet at least.

Instead, Mattheo released a rushed breath of his own and slowly stalked towards you, walking you back until you met the firm heat of Theo’s chest.

Ringed hands pulled you in tighter, gentle as they curved around your hips, thumbs slipping beneath the hem of your shirt and pressing maddeningly slow circles into the skin there as Theo’s cheek brushed against your own when he bent to trail sweet kisses over the slope of your shoulder.

You were dizzy from the attention almost immediately, overwhelmed in the best way with how good it felt to sink into one of your best friends hold and let him take care of you like that, eyes fluttering shut and head falling back against his shoulder as his kisses grew bolder.

When the air in front of you subtly shifted you knew Mattheo had drawn close enough for you to feel him despite the fact your bodies weren't touching. That the heat that swept over your skin was from his gaze devouring every inch of you, focusing on all the places Theo touched or kissed that made soft little noises catch at the back of your throat.

It made the ache that had started as dull thrum in your veins grow into a wild, gnawing thing. Every inch of you electrified, teetering on an almost painful edge as you waited to feel him too, to see if the slow approach he was choosing to take would change once he got his hands and mouth on you.

But then Mattheo closed the gap, pressing himself into you until you were wedged tight between them both and you couldn’t stop yourself from gasping, eyes flying open to lock on his.

The hand that wasn’t tangled in Theo’s hair shooting up to twist in the fabric of his shirt, whether to steady yourself or pull him closer you were unsure, but Mattheo let you grip him like a lifeline anyway whilst his fingers ghosted the lengths of your arms, sweeping up,up,up until he held your face between his calloused palms.

He dipped his head and nudged your nose with his, close enough that each breath he exhaled was a warm huff against your lips, and when you started to think that he was attempting to steal the very air from your lungs and drive you insane he finally murmured your name.

Curled his tongue around the taste of it like it was something holy. Divine. Like it was a prayer. “You going to let me kiss you?”

Theo groaned, lashes fluttering against your neck as the hand you had threaded through the soft strands of his hair tightened, his own coming to rest lightly against your neck, thumb pushing lightly against your jaw to keep your eyes on Mattheo and a messy kiss planted beside it when you made to look at him instead. “Answer him, dolcezza.”

Salazar save you.

"Yes.” You rushed out, voice hoarse. “Please, Mattheo–”

His mouth was on yours before you could finish.

#im so desperate to finish this because these two are ruining my sanity #mattheo riddle x reader x theo nott wip #mattheo riddle x reader x theo nott #theodore nott x reader #mattheo riddle x reader

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whatthebodygraspsnot · 3 months ago

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beginning snippet of something i’ve been working on. baby sub ian you compel me so tags: sex club, first time sub! ian, experienced dom! mickey, ian is nervous and cute and doesn’t know what he wants exactly, all he knows is he’s very into mickey

Ian is minorly freaking out.

The room is like something out of Fifty Shades, but slightly more intimidating in real life. Slightly warmer. Slightly overwhelming, with its wall of mounted whips and multiple surfaces to be whipped on.

It’s not that Ian has to worry about those because he definitely steered clear of them on his terms and consent form, it’s just overwhelming to see - to look up from the pillow they told him to kneel on in the center of the room, to a sight of ropes suspended from the ceiling.

It’s a lot.

Ian definitely wants to be here, but he’s minorly freaking out, every second that ticks by as he waits for the dom to come into the room feeling like its own brand of torture.

But he wants this. God, he wants this so fucking bad - practically needs it at this point, even though he’s nervous. So he sits and waits, his back to the door and time ticking…ticking…ticking, until finally…

Behind him, the doorknob twists.

A rush of air, otherwise silent.

And then the click of the door closing again, sealing him back inside.

Only this time, he’s not alone.

Ian balls his hands on his thighs, his heart beginning to beat uncomfortably under his t-shirt. He waits. Because that’s what a sub is supposed to do, right? Wait? That’s what the lady told him to do before she left.

More silence.

Anticipation wracking up his body.

Nerves popping off and okay, maybe just a little peek.

He turns to shoot a glance over his shoulder, but doesn’t get much. Not enough without kneeling off the pillow, and he definitely shouldn’t do that, right?

“Hi…” he tries. A shot in the dark. But it’s better than nothing, and- “I uh-… I know you probably know this, but it’s my first time here...” Unclear whether this is helping or not. If it makes him feel better or more frantic. “I’ve never-… I mean, I don’t really know how to-”

“Tell me why you’re here.”

The voice that cuts him off isn’t unkind, but it’s commanding. Certain.

And fuck, does it have Ian’s mouth snapping closed for a moment as he tries to process the effect that has on him, something plucking teasingly at his nerves.

No. It’s okay.

He can do this.

“I just-…” Breathe in. No need to freak out. It’s a simple question. “I always have to…do everything.” In bed. Which is fine - he’s kinda built for that - but deep in his heart of hearts he knows that’s not him. Not all the time, at least. “I don’t wanna have to do everything…” Hopefully that makes sense.

“So you wanna be lazy.”

Ian frowns, twisting for another look over his shoulder but getting nowhere. Seeing no one. Just a shadow in the corner. “No.” That’s not it at all.

“What, then.”

This is bait, isn’t it?

Or is he actually asking?

Ian tries to go over the options again in his head, just as unsure where to slot himself, now that he’s in this, as he was when he was filling out his terms.

Why is he here? What is he looking for tonight?

A dom to serve…? A dom to challenge him…? A dom that’ll give him structure…?

He shifts on his knees, pulse quickening. “I don’t-… I’m not sure.”

Yet.

He’s tired of making decisions, remember?

“What’s your name?” he finally asks. Because as hot as lurking in the shadows is, his curiosity is getting the best of him. Especially when he hears that voice again.

“To you, it’s sir.” The air shifts behind him in slow steps - rounding…rounding…rounding. “‘Yes, sir’… ‘No, sir’…” And when he finally comes into view, the payoff is as overwhelming as it is gorgeous. “‘Whatever you want, sir’…” he smirks for that one in particular, measured playfulness shining over dark features. “You get it…?”

He knocks the breath right out of Ian’s lungs - the words from his throat - lips parting, but producing nothing more than a nod as he takes in the man in front of him.

Holy fuck…

Ian was expecting something flashy - leather and buckles - a harness, maybe. But there’s something impossibly hotter about the gold chain and black tank that fits across this dom’s chest. How it shows off the tight, defined muscles in his shoulders - his arms - the sturdy cut of his waist that leads to even sturdier thighs under black denim - the kind Ian definitely wouldn’t mind worshipping a little if he told him how.

He posts up right in front of where Ian’s kneeling and all at once, it’s like he’s drawn every ounce of energy from the room right here - right in his stance.

Power.

Ian doesn’t know if he’s supposed to, but he can’t get himself to look away. Can’t drag his curious gaze from those eyes as they peer down at him, heavy-lidded but piercing.

When he speaks, he asks it clearly. Not strict or mean or anything, but still somehow cutting right down to the nerve. “When’s the last time you been touched?”

Ian swallows. Shifts on the pillow, gaze flicking away before coming right back. “Uh… Do I really-…”

“Asked you a question.”

Right. Yeah no, of course he did - of course he did. “Um…” Ian’s brows draw together as he traces back for visions of his last hookup. “Like…a couple months, maybe…?”

“‘Maybe’?”

“A couple months,” he confirms, eager to convince. “Two. Two months.”

Is that a long time?

Too short?

“And you’re here ‘cause you think I’m gonna touch you…”

Ian processes. “I mean…” That’s what this is, right? That’s what all the consent forms were about? “I…was kinda hopin’… Yeah…”

He’s really starting to feel the control slip through his fingers. The dizzying dance of trying to keep up, even when the pace is ultra slow like this. The only thing he can focus on is how the dom steps closer, thick black boots sending his pulse thumping in his chest.

“I only touch good boys,” he explains. Then, tilting his head just a bit as he looks down at him, “You gonna be my good boy, Ian?”

And…

Holy shit. That’s-… That’s something, isn’t it? “Y-… Yeah, I can-”

“Say ‘yes sir’.”

A rush of heat floods Ian’s chest and then seeps downward, pooling low in his belly. “Yes sir…”

And it’s the ink he notices first, dark and swirling over the man’s inner forearm - printed crudely across his knuckles as those fingers reach out, closing the space between them as he hooks below Ian’s chin, plucking his pulse and face briskly upward.

Fuck…

Okay…

Ian breathes back in the gasp before it can escape his stretched throat.

Blinks up at the dom - drawn to how the room’s lights glint off the metal pierced across the dark arch of his eyebrow.

“You’re prettier than most guys that come here.”

And Ian’s heart flutters in the weirdest way. Because oh. “…really?”

“Mm… Got a real sweet face on ya…” He takes his time making his point - using his hold to tilt Ian’s head in all sorts of admiring ways, in control of every angle. “Almost cute enough to letchya slide on not remembering your manners.”

Oh.

Shit.

He just told Ian he’s pretty.

“Oh uh- thank you, sir,” he backpedals, the sudden desire to please setting him off in an unsure ramble. “You’re-…pretty too, sir…?” Is that right?

Judging by the little brow pinch he gets, it’s not.

But the huff of a chuckle that follows sure feels good, doesn’t it? Even if it’s Ian he’s laughing at.

“Fuck,” he grins, giving Ian’s cheek two promising pats before stepping away, “you’re gonna be fun.”

#more when i decide to write it :)#gallavich #ray writes #baby sub ian au

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johaerys-writes · 10 months ago

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Snippet Sunday

@rowanisawriter tagged me earlier this week for a WIP Wednesday but I had nothing to share, so I'm sharing a snippet today instead 😊 I've been working on a flashback which takes place at that fateful New Year's Eve party Antilochus mentions in chapter 2 of baby born blue, not sure if I'll include all of it in the next chapter but this is a small bit of it:

Patroclus is halfway down the stairs when he bumps into Briseis.

“Where were you?” she demands hotly, her voice just loud enough to be heard over the music. “I’ve been looking all over for you!”

“Oh—sorry, I was just—” Patroclus stumbles over his own words. His face is hot, and he realises he actually never even bothered to come up with a believable excuse should he walk into someone he knows. “I’m tired,” he says finally. “I’m heading home.”

“Really.” Briseis quirks her brow, unconvinced. “And where is Achilles?”

“He’s…” Patroclus swallows thickly. “He—I don’t know, still at the party, probably.”

“You don’t know.” Briseis shakes her head and crosses her arms before her chest. “You’re leaving with him, aren’t you?”

“Brie…" Patroclus starts pleadingly, but doesn’t know how to finish the sentence. It’s not the first time they’ve had this conversation. Just before this party she had made him promise that they’d be leaving together, whether Achilles was there or not. The promise didn’t even cross his mind before Patroclus broke it.

“How many more times are you going to do this to yourself?” Briseis asks when Patroclus doesn’t reply. “For months I’ve watched you pick up your pieces after he left. And now at a wiggle of Achilles’ fingers you’re crawling back to him without a second thought?”

He hates the hopeless, disappointed look she gives him, and he hates himself for giving into all of this once more. But he just can’t help it. The pull is too strong, impossible to fight. No one else could understand it, because no one else shares a bond like he and Achilles do.

“We won’t do anything,” he lies, only to placate her. “We’ll just talk things over.”

"In the middle of the night? And after everything Achilles has downed?”

“I just— I need to do this, Brie,” Patroclus says, as if that’s enough to explain any of it. “It’s been a while, and—things might be different this time. He deserves a chance, at least. We both do.”

“Oh, Pat.” She shakes her head again. “Are you lying to me or to yourself?”

Patroclus just gazes at her helplessly. He doesn’t know what else to say. Briseis sighs. “Did you tell Iphis at least? She probably still thinks you’re on that ‘date’.”

Patroclus winces slightly at the reminder. Briseis had brought Iphis as his plus one for the party, but he barely managed to spend half an hour with her before Achilles arrived and practically pounced on him. After months of interacting with him only through text messages and video calls, whenever they both had time, having all of Achilles' attention on him all at once was intoxicating, headier than the strongest drug. He could try looking for Iphis now, but the villa is huge and she could be anywhere, and he also hates to leave Achilles alone when he’s in that state.

He feels like the worst, most selfish person in the world when he asks Briseis, “Can you make up an excuse? Just tell her I got sick or something.”

Briseis glares at him. “I’m not lying for you again. I’ll tell her the truth: that you left with Achilles to—”

“To take him home, because he got sick. Or something. Please. I’ll owe you.”

Briseis glares at him for a moment longer, then she shakes her head dejectedly again. “Fine. But I’m doing it for her sake, not yours. She deserves some kind of an explanation.”

“Thanks, Brie, you’re the best,” Patroclus tells her over his shoulder, already hopping down the stairs.

“Pat.”

He stops and turns to look at her. She lets out a deep breath, her features growing hard.

“When you’re with him, you become just like him.”

The words are like a punch in the gut. Patroclus just stares stupidly at her, until she turns around and walks back to the party.

Tagging forth to @baejax-the-great @in-arlathan @tragediegh @reprrise @hekateinhell @starlightvld @maxdurden @vimlos @darlingpoppet @babyrdie and anyone else who might want to share a little WIP!

#patrochilles #achilles #patroclus #the song of achilles #tsoa #hades game #bro's in biiiiig fucking trouble #you don't play with fire and expect not to get burned 😬

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whalesongsblog · 3 months ago

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Okay, this idea I came up with has been rattling around in my brain and here’s the result. It’s only a tiny snippet of the storyline I’m trying to figure out- the vibe is small town eldritch horror mixed with uhhh cult stuff, rituals, and romance! Things that go great together!! 🤭 👻

🌌🌌🌌🌌🌌🌌🌌🌌🌌🌌🌌🌌🌌🌌🌌

Out of What Crypt they Crawl

It was through the blessings of the Saints that Ominis Gaunt’s blindness was cured. It was proof; irrefutable as the foundations of the town, that its’ people were divinely guided. After all, where else could such miracles be found?

Ominis remembered how he’d cracked open his eyes one morning after a horrendous nights sleep and suddenly the world was a riot of color and shapes so overwhelming he’d curled up on his side practically shaking from the strength of his migrane.

He knew instantly how the town would recieve it, how his life had changed in a way he could not come back from when all he wanted was for things to go back to normal.

But there was nothing remotely normal about his life, and there was nothing normal about Ominis Gaunt.

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St. Ives was a little blot of human presence against the steep, perilous mountains surrounding it, swathed in towering pine forests. A thick mist rolled down the mountainsides to sit heavily over the rain-slick roads, blurring the outlines of greying shopfronts and houses.

It truly did not boast much. There was the town square, a handful of stores, a grand total of about five questionable takeout places, the university, library, school, and church. Pastor Keach often went on about the Lord being found in even the most humble of places, which Ominis certainly hoped was true because the church was about eight steps short of ‘humble’, falling right into the ‘straight up derelict’ category. But the townspeople filed in every Sunday anyway, shielding themselves from the creaking, ancient wood and old stone with their ironclad-perhaps zealous- faith. The plasticky sign out in the dead grass always read the same thing;

Genesis 3:19. For you are dust, and to dust you shall return.

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Snow fell in gentle flurries from the charcoal-grey skies, the promise of a storm on the horizon. Miradevi shivered and bent down on her haunches to set a bouqet of flowers before a marble slab. Dry, frozen grass crunched under her boots as she stood back up, her gaze flitting to the young man at her side. His marble- carved features were impassive as he looked down at the grave, icechip eyes flickering over the solid black lettering on the headstone.

“I think it’s going to rain, Niss.” Mira’s voice was soft, but it still felt like a gunshot in the silence that pressed against them.

“I know.” Ominis placed his own flowers before the grave, looking at it for another moment, before turning to his best friend. “The weather’s been miserable. Are you cold?”

She was. But she wasn’t about to interrupt the moment with her own problems, especially since Ominis was rather fond of the woman six feet below them, peacefully resting in the earth.

“Don’t worry about it. Take your time, just- keep an eye on the weather, yeah? You know how the mountains get in the rain.”

“No, you’re right. It’s getting dark, and we shouldn’t-“ Ominis paused. He shot another glance at his aunt’s grave, at the unyielding lettering chiseled into the marble. “Nevermind. Let’s head back- I hate driving down during a storm.”

As if proving his point, lightning forked across the sky, illuminating the dark expanse a bruise- purple, the silhouettes of the mountains around them momentarily lighting up. Ominis winced, blinking slightly at the burst of color. It had been five years since.. well, since what the town called the blessing, and what he just referred to as the ‘incident.’

“Not used to it yet?” Miradevi asked, linking her arm with his. Ominis tugged her closer, the darkness in his eyes softening as he looked down at her.

“Not yet. One day, perhaps. But I’ll have to keep looking at you to remind me of the upsides of having my eyesight back.”

Ominis relished Mira’s embarrassed laugh, easily ducking the half- hearted swat she aimed at him. His hand gently braced against the small of her back as he guided her up the crumbling paths of the graveyard, making sure she didn’t lose her footing on the steep slopes. “You’ll learn to take a compliment one day, mon précieuse. I’ll make sure of it.”

“I can take a compliment just fine. You’ve just got this way of saying things in that posh accent that just-“

“-flusters you?” Ominis purred, grinning as they emerged onto the winding road where he’d parked his car. The street curved along the mountain, flanked by thick forests on one side, a steep cliff drop on the other.

“You wish.” Miradevi’s ears burned slightly, but she was quickly mollified as he opened the door of the sleek Audi to let her settle in before getting behind the wheel. “I call dibs on the aux.”

“You always get aux. Even though, might I remind you, it’s my car.”

“Yeah, but I’m your best friend, so I automatically get aux privilege. Besides, I can’t listen to Pavarotti again. As endearing as your weird obsession with an old Italian man is-“ Mira ignored his indignant protest. “-I need to listen to something else.”

Ominis snorted softly as the car purred to life, feigning offence at her words. But he let her sully his airwaves with some pop monstrosity or the other because honestly? He’d commit homicide for that smile on her face. With another exaggerated sigh, Ominis braced one gloved hand against Mira’s headseat, the other gripping the wheel as he U- turned on the narrow mountain road. Angling the Audi down the steep road, the car’s headlights illuminating the curving path back down to the village as the skies split open above them, rain beginning to lash against the concrete.

The car dissappeared around the bend, the forest and the graveyard falling silent once more.

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AN: As always, I love to hear from y’all, so feel free to drop feedback, plot suggestions, whatever!

alright toodles 🫶🏾🫶🏾🪻🪻

#ominis gaunt x oc #ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanfic #modern au with a whole lotta spooky #yes Ominis drives an Audi #desi oc #anyone else here an Ethel Cain fan?

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literaryvein-reblogs · 7 months ago

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George Orwell: A Writer

In a cold but stuffy bed-sitting room littered with cigarette ends and half-empty cups of tea, a man in a moth-eaten dressing-grown sits at a rickety table, trying to find room for his typewriter among the piles of dusty papers that surround it.

He cannot throw the papers away because the wastepaper basket is already overflowing, and besides, somewhere among the unanswered letters and unpaid bills it is possible that there is a cheque for two guineas which he is nearly certain he forgot to pay into the bank.

There are also letters with addresses which ought to be entered in his address book.

He has lost this address book, and the thought of looking for it, or indeed of looking for anything, afflicts him with acute suicidal impulses.

He is a man of 35, but looks 50.

He is bald, has varicose veins and wears spectacles, or would wear them if his only pair were not chronically lost.

If things are normal with him he will be suffering from malnutrition, but if he has recently had a lucky streak he will be suffering from a hangover.

At present it is half past eleven in the morning, and according to his schedule he should have started work two hours ago; but even if he had made any serious effort to start he would have been frustrated by the almost continuous ringing of the telephone bell, the yells of the baby, the rattle of an electric drill out in the street, and the heavy boots of his creditors clumping up and down the stairs.

The most recent interruption was the arrival of the second post, which brought him two circulars and an income-tax demand printed in red.

Needless to say this person is a writer.

He might be a poet, a novelist, or a writer of film scripts or radio features, for all literary people are very much alike, but let us say that he is a book reviewer.

Half hidden among the pile of papers is a bulky parcel containing five volumes which his editor has sent with a note suggesting that they “ought to go well together”.

They arrived four days ago, but for 48 hours the reviewer was prevented by moral paralysis from opening the parcel.

Normally He Doesn't Want to Write It

The best practice, it has always seemed to me, would be simply to ignore the great majority of books and to give very long reviews – 1,000 words is a bare minimum – to the few that seem to matter.

Short notes of a line or two on forthcoming books can be useful, but the usual middle-length review of about 600 words is bound to be worthless even if the reviewer genuinely wants to write it.

Normally he doesn’t want to write it, and the week-in, week-out production of snippets soon reduces him to the crushed figure in a dressing grown whom I described at the beginning of this article.

However, everyone in this world has someone else whom he can look down on, and I must say, from experience of both trades, that the book reviewer is better off than the film critic, who cannot even do his work at home, but has to attend trade shows at eleven in the morning and, with one or two notable exceptions, is expected to sell his honour for a glass of inferior sherry.

Excerpts from the essay, "Confessions of a Book Reviewer" published in the Tribune, 3 May 1946

More: George Orwell

#carl spitzweg #george orwell #literature #writing reference #dark academia #spilled ink #writeblr #writing inspiration #light academia #writers on tumblr #poets on tumblr #writing prompt #poetry #writing resources

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voxofthevoid · 4 months ago

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On this fine morning/evening/witching hour, I bring you vore: Demon/Hunter Horror Wednesday #17, featuring a brief fight and Yuuji's continued development of questionable dietary habits.

This time, it's Gojou on the menu—can't let Sukuna have all the fun ✨

(Also, there won't be any WIP Wednesday snippet next week.)

“Performance issues?” Satoru asks doubtfully a while later, staring at Yuuji stare at his own hand.

“I can’t—” Yuuji’s jaw clenches. Satoru can almost hear teeth grinding together. “It was working fine yesterday, I don’t know why it’s so hard now.”

Satoru hums, eyeing the pulsing red tendrils practically groping Yuuji’s spiritual energy. “I can venture a guess or two.”

Yuuji’s eyes snap to him. “What is it? What’s happening?”

“Your spiritual energy is unstable.”

“I know that,” Yuuji grits out. “I can feel it.”

“Can you, I wonder.”

“For fuck’s sake.” It’s practically a growl, low and rumbling. “Would it kill you to not be a cryptic bastard for one goddamn second?”

“Oh?” Satoru straightens up from his slouch against a tree, giving Yuuji is full, undivided attention; the boy doesn’t quail even a little under the force of it. “Are you getting angry, Yuuji?”

Yuuji’s mouth twists into something that’s all teeth and no smile. “I’m starting to think you want me to be.”

“Only starting?” Satoru mocks softly. “Well, you are slow on the uptake sometimes.”

Yuuji leaps.

It’s an impressive movement, all grace and power. The space between them vanishes in what would have been a millisecond to any pair of eyes except Satoru’s, and for a moment, he’s torn between delight that he can see every minutia of Yuuji’s attack and regret that he can’t experience the raw shock of it.

Then Yuuji’s arm is impaling the tree, at just the right height to have punched through Satoru’s gut a moment ago.

Satoru whistles. “Tōji’s rubbed off on you.”

Yuuji whirls around; his arm tears through the trunk instead of sliding out of the hole it made, and the splinters have barely started to fall before he’s on Satoru, eyes wild and teeth bared.

Satoru fends him quite thoroughly, but it’s not what he’d call easy. Yuuji moves with an agility that belies the power in his body, acrobatic motions shifting seamlessly into inhuman bursts of speed and power, and he’s not lacking durability either, bouncing back barely out of breath each time Satoru sends him crashing into the ground or through a tree.

He’s not on Tōji’s level, but the only person alive who can counter that monster is Satoru himself. Perhaps Nanami would be a better comparison. It’s been quite a while since Satoru’s fought his former underclassman, but Nanami is a prime specimen of a hunter.

Yuuji would give him a run for his money.

Take away spiritual energy and fancy techniques, and Yuuji would win.

Unlock in Yuuji what’s sure to be an impressive birthright, and again, he would win.

As they are now, Yuuji a beast with only the sputtering dregs of his tainted power to call upon and Nanami a seasoned hunter with a versatile technique and a sharp mind to boot, Yuuji would eventually lose. He’d make Nanami pay for it.

The heat that pools in Satoru’s gut isn’t exactly sexual, but it’s certainly nothing as wholesome as admiration.

So he indulges Yuuji far more than is wise, leading him away from the barrier but deeper into the forest, and Yuuji’s eyes are too sharp to not know what’s happening, but he follows Satoru willingly, if violently, making the best of every movement and even taking advantage of the environment to assault him from all angles, and Satoru can never not see him coming, but he gives Yuuji his flesh all the same, Limitless tucked away to leave Satoru a thing of warm, bruisable skin.

Yuuji bruises nothing, but not for want of trying.

There’s a concerning amount of trying, in fact. Now, past the initial rush of Yuuji trying to punch through his gut and committing to the choice with extreme prejudice, Satoru’s starting to notice the subtler tells. The fury on Yuuji’s face can only be organic—it’s too hot, too real. But it wasn’t so long ago that Satoru was marveling at the revelation that Yuuji’s anger burns cold, and that’s not what he’s seeing right now. And his eyes are wide and manic, fixed on Satoru with blistering intensity, but when the light hits them just right, pinpricks of red shimmer within the darkened brown.

The longer this dance goes on, the less Satoru can ignore all the ways the steps aren’t quite right.

It suits Yuuji, this bestial rage. He’ll be a calamity someday.

But it’s Yuuji that Satoru wants—all of him, only him.

He plants his feet, a casual retreat turned into an unforgiving block, and Yuuji’s quick to adjust, knocking Satoru’s arm away and striking out, his face still set into a snarl that gleams white and pink.

Satoru catches Yuuji’s fist with his palm, closing his fingers tightly around it.

Yuuji doesn’t waste time trying to pull it back, immediately driving his free hand toward Satoru’s stomach, all five fingers spread like he’s planning to gouge out a fistful of flesh.

“You keep going for the gut,” Satoru says, his hand clamped around Yuuji’s straining wrist. “You were very fond of it—but that’s not what this is, is it?”

Yuuji growls, the air between them quivering unnaturally.

“Scary,” Satoru murmurs, not for the first time. He yanks Yuuji closer, easily overpowering his attempts to pry free. This close, the red in his eyes is deeper, brighter. “But it’s sweeter when it’s all you, Yuuji.”

The growl cuts off, the snarl fades—and Yuuji strikes, snake-swift.

Satoru still sees it coming enough that he has to allow it, but it’s startling enough that Limitless tries to flare anyway, caught and smothered a split second before Yuuji’s teeth sink into the meat of Satoru’s right bicep.

They cleave clean through fabric and flesh.

“Ah,” Satoru gasps, the sheer novelty of the sensation more shocking than the pain. It’s not the biting. He’s familiar with Yuuji’s teeth despite the boy’s best efforts to be gentle. And Satoru’s had his fair share of partners who got nippy in bed. There were even a few times Suguru looked tempted during their teenage tussles, though he never did lower himself to it.

Demons who’ve tried have only ever gotten a mouthful of infinities.

No one, not even in Satoru’s wildest dreams, have bitten off a chunk of flesh—and the cloth over it.

It’s a peculiar kind of pain, distinctly different from the bite of even the roughest bladed weapons. He can feel Yuuji’s teeth in his flesh; he can feel them straining to meet. He can taste the power in his jaw and the wet heat awaiting his flesh.

The muscles of Yuuji’s neck flex, tendons shifting under sweat-slick skin. There’s a minute shift in the line of his jaw.

It clamps down tight, tearing through the last shred of resistance in the meat between his teeth.

The moment his teeth meet is the moment Yuuji’s all Yuuji again.

Satoru takes it in past a reflexive swell of tears, blinked impatiently away so he can commit to memory the rich tapestry of emotion woven live by Yuuji’s features—his brows furrow, his lashes flutter, his lips flinch.

The wet red mess he’s still kissing throbs in answer.

The horror comes, of course it does, but before that, there’s this moment—dazed eyes and slack lips and soft, serene satisfaction. It’s an expression Satoru’s seen on this boy’s face a sweet handful of times, mostly when he emerged from his happy home between Satoru’s legs, his lips slick and swollen from a sweltering eternity spent stoking and swallowing Satoru’s heat.

“Easy,” Satoru says the moment Yuuji’s eyes widen, their bulging whites eating through the last of that satisfaction. “Don’t open your mouth.”

Wild eyes swivel to Satoru, the angle only serving to make Yuuji seem even more deranged. There’s a noise—not quite a question, not quite a cry. It trembles against the open wound on Satoru’s arm, which bleeds more against Yuuji’s tightly shut mouth.

He hasn’t swallowed yet.

Satoru lets go of Yuuji, even that simple motion shuddering down his right arm to make his wound pulse and spurt, and Yuuji makes another noise, distinctly despairing. Satoru raises his uninjured arm, gently cupping the back of Yuuji’s head—and pressing his mouth more firmly into the shredded mess he’s made of Satoru’s bicep.

Yuuji shivers, violently enough that Satoru feels it in his wound. There’s an answering pulse from his arm and his groin.

Satoru valiantly ignores it, instead stroking the silken undercut under his palm.

Yuuji’s starting to shake. His eyes are tightly shut.

Satoru says, “Swallow.”

There’s a low, wounded noise. He thinks Yuuji would shake his head if the movement wouldn’t force his face to rub against Satoru’s bleeding wound.

Satoru pets him a little more, winding his fingers through the damp strands of Yuuji’s hair and palming the fuzzy bristles of his undercut. Yuuji’s spiritual energy is barely a thrum now, as if it’s retreated into itself the way Yuuji so clearly wants to, but Satoru’s own is lashing under his skin, caught in a war between carefully cultivated instincts and ironclad will.

His good sense wants that wound healed and Yuuji’s teeth away from it, but Satoru—

“Swallow, Yuuji,” he repeats, squeezing Yuuji’s nape. “You have to keep what you take—waste not, want not.”

#goyuu #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #wip wednesday #jjk snippets #my fic #divider credit: saradika-graphics #fic: mouth of the wolf

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lordsmerchantco · 2 months ago

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Best SEO Practices 2025: The Ultimate Guide to Ranking Higher

Table of Contents Introduction Why SEO is Important in 2025 Top SEO Trends for 2025 Core SEO Strategies for Higher Rankings Content Optimization for 2025 Technical SEO Best Practices Link Building and Off-Page SEO Mobile and Voice Search Optimization AI and Automation in SEO User Experience (UX) and Core Web Vitals Experiments and Case Studies FAQs People Also Ask (PAA) Knowledge…

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leilani-lily · 1 year ago

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~Oh Deer~ (Chapter 8)

Ohhh, it felt so good to write again. My hands were itching to get back to the keyboard, especially knowing in advance which chapter was next ¬‿¬ As I've mentioned before, this little snippet is a two parter; too big to fit in just one chapter. I hope to work on the next part next week and get it out asap ໒(⊙ᴗ⊙)७✎▤ Thanks guys! I hope you enjoy ꨄ

Synopsis: AroAce! Alastor x Chef!Singer! Reader. You want to get more exotic ingredients for the hotel but it's too dangerous to go along. Alastor offers his assistance and you both go out to the market. Word count: 5.2 k Chapter under the cut! ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Something on your mind my dear~?”

You were swirling the whisky in your glass, staring at the bronze liquid sloshing side to side but eyes not exactly focused. Alastor watched you from his seat, quirking an eyebrow as his head tilted. You were both sitting in the radio tower, sharing a glass of liquor and conversing like you always did after a show. Usually you were very attentive to the deer demon’s thoughts, and would give some solid advice for the next segment. But Alastor noticed something was off today; he didn’t seem to have your full attention. And he wanted to know why. You look up to the deer demon in question, blinking back your stupor before giving him a sheepish grin.

“Ah… Sorry Al. Just thinking. But it’s really not important. What were you saying?” You lean forward in your chair and smile warmly towards your friend. But that didn’t trick the Overlord; he knew something was bothering you. And if it pulled your attention away from him, then he didn’t like it one bit. His ego wouldn’t allow it.

“Come now dearest,” he prodded, leaning forward so he was eye level with you, “I know something is wrong. Tell me.” He still had his signature grin, but his eyes were sharp and serious. That wasn’t a suggestion. You knew he wasn’t going to let this go until you confessed. You sighed.

“It’s nothing, really,” you disclosed, “I’m just trying to figure out how I can get my hands on certain ingredients is all…” You trailed off, hoping that was enough to satiate the demon in front of you. To your disappointment, it had the opposite effect. His grin widened as he leaned forward, his eyes shining in delight.

“Well goodness me, it’s about time.” he sang, “I was wondering when you’d finally cave and go back to your sinster ways!” He chuckled darkly, looking at you with a sense of pride. He was practically on the edge of his seat; all smiles and sharp teeth. You tilted your head in confusion.

“If you're looking for special ingredients, I can hook you up with my dear friend Rosie. She can get you the best cuts of meat in Hell.”

... Oh. You understood the disconnect. Your eyelids fell flat, giving him a jaded look. But he didn’t notice, mind flooding with ideas and different options.

“Or, if you wish to go hunting yourself, I’d be more than happy to-!”

“Not that type of ingredient, Alastor.”

The Radio Demon’s crimson eyes popped open as a record sound came to a screeching halt. You couldn’t help the upward curl of your lips after watching his expression slowly sour in realization. Alastor eventually slid back into his seat, crossing his legs and ears falling flat on his skull. A bored expression crossed his features as he looked to the side.

“Hmm. Pity. I was craving some Enchiladies. Or maybe some Bratwurst…”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you at his disappointment (and terrible puns). Alastor’s pupils slid back to you as his lips eventually curled up mischievously at the sound of your laughter. It was hard to stay upset in your company, he was always happy to get a smile or a laugh from you. His chest puffed out like a proud bird for a moment before turning his head back to you.

“Well then my dear,” he began, quirking up an eyebrow at you, “If you’re not in the market for that type of ingredient…” he tilted his head, “Then what is it that you seek~?” Curiosity had gotten the better of him, and now he had to know everything. Realizing you really weren’t getting out of this, you shake your head in defeat.

“Well… I’ve heard of this wild mushroom that only grows in the Gluttony ring. Apparently it can enhance the taste of any dish you cook it in.” you began. Alastor’s gaze never wavered from you, his face furrowing in fascination.

“It’s a really hard plant to harvest, and I heard a rumor that there’s a shipment coming to the Pride ring on Saturday.” Your eyes were shimmering with excitement just at the thought of it, making the Radio Demon’s pressed smile curl up ever so slightly.

“Certainly sounds intriguing,” he mused, pausing to take a sip of his whisky. He couldn’t help being entertained by your passions, and for something so simple in his eyes. After feeling the liquor burn down his throat, he spoke again.

“So tell me then, what seems to be the problem?”

Whatever sparkle in your eye seemed to cloud over, your shoulders visibly sagging. “I heard it’s only being sold in the Black Market.”

Not that piqued Alastor’s interest.

Everyone knew of the famed Black Market. The term was quite popular in the human realm, and was quickly brought down to the depths of Hell. It was a large bazaar deep in the city of the Pride Realm, where booths and trade stalls were set up and demons and imps alike could scrounge through to find rare and unique items. And although it was quite popular, it was also in one of the shadiest parts of town. Although Hell was known for all of its illegal activity, the Black Market was acclaimed for it. Looking for weapons to kill an Overlord? Or drugs so strong the effects would last for a week? It would be found there.

“... I still don’t understand what the problem is, my dear.” Alastor’s eyebrows furrowed in visible confusion. You eventually regarded him with a similar face, not understanding how someone so brilliant didn’t seem to understand the stakes at hand. You took a deep breath, palms pressed together as if praying for patience before giving him a serious look.

“Al.” You spoke tartly, your pressed hands now pointing to him, “I know something like the Black Market would be, like, a walk in the park for you.” His eyebrows raised in amusement before you continued, “But if I went? A lone female with no means to defend herself?? I would become a blood smear on the wall.” You lifted your arms to the wall beside you before flopping your arms down in defeat. You sighed and gave him a weak smile. “Trust me, as much as I want to get that ingredient, it’s not worth risking my life for it.”

Alastor stared at you intently for a full minute.

Then burst into laughter.

You had to blink back your surprise at his sudden reaction, albeit a strange one. You honestly didn’t expect him to find joy in your death. Then again, he always found pleasure when it came to killing. Maybe you were just too naive to think he wouldn’t enjoy yours as well? You weren’t really too sure how to respond, but thankfully Alastor spoke up before you had the chance.

“Ohhh my dear,” he sighed happily, “Is that all? Now really, there’s no need to fret over something that has such a simple solution!” Alastor set his glass down on the table, then clasped his hands together in his lap as he sat up straight.

“If you don’t wish to go alone, then allow me to accompany you.”

You immediately perked up at his words, almost unable to believe it. You had to admit, the thought had crossed your mind. But you knew how busy Alastor’s weekends were, and you didn’t want to waste his time on something so silly. Besides, you knew the dangers of the Market; the horror stories you had heard over the years. You knew Alastor could defend himself, but still… You didn’t want to take any risks. Not when it came to him.

“No, Al,” you started, “I couldn’t ask that of you. I don’t want to put you in any danger-!”

You were immediately cut off by one of the demon’s long fingers pressing up against your lips. The Overlord leaned in close to you, grin snarled and eyes closed tightly.

“Trust me, mon passereau,” he chuckled darkly, “If anyone were to ever try anything…” his scarlet eyes immediately flashed open, his pupils now black and shaped like dials as the static in his voice distorted, “ł₮ ł₴₦'₮ ₥Ɏ ₴₳₣Ɇ₮ⱠɎ ɎØɄ ₴ⱧØɄⱠĐ ฿Ɇ ₩ØⱤⱤłɆĐ ₳฿ØɄ₮.”

You felt a shiver run down your spine as the lights flickered, radio waves screeched and the controls behind him clicked and flipped. And in a snap, the room flipped back to normal as Radio Demon sat up straight again, eyes once again crimson and smiling as if nothing had happened.

“Besides~!” he continued, his voice now unsettlingly chipper, “It’s been at least a decade or so since I’ve last been to the famed Black Market. It would be intriguing to see how much has changed!”

You watched him carefully and felt your heart-rate begin to increase. Ever since you had heard of the toadstool, you had been dreaming of using it in your cooking. And now for this dream to be so close; you could almost taste it… But you didn’t want to get your hopes up. Not yet. You felt like such a broken record, but you had to be certain. You looked up at him shyly, feeling your fingers fidget nervously.

“Alastor… Are you sure about this?”

Said demon looked down at you, eyes flicking from your face to your hands, then back. Finally, he began to shake his head mirthfully, reaching over and giving your head a gentle pat.

“My dear,” he tutted, “I wouldn't even be offering if it was something I truly did not want to do. I insist.” He then rose from his chair and towered over you before extending a hand.

“I promise I can guarantee your safety. That is, if you’ll have me.”

You looked at his hand in awe before lifting your head up to him. There you were, already crestfallen with defeat and ready to give up. But then Alastor came along, and he wanted to help make your silly little dream a reality. Your heart bloomed in warmth for the man standing before you. Seriously, you were so freaking happy he was in your life. With a tender smile, you extend your hand and place it in his outstretched one.

“Of course Alastor. Always.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Most of the clothes you wore around the hotel weren’t that flattering.

For starters, you didn’t want anything with excessive frills or cloth that could potentially snag in a cupboard or catch fire over a stove. Also, you didn’t ever want to wear anything nice in case it gets torn or stained in the kitchen. Most of the time, you were in either jeans/stretchy pants, and a t-shirt/tank top. Because if it got ruined at work, it was no biggie.

But now, as you were getting ready for your outing with Alastor, you were quickly realizing just how much of a biggie it was.

You tore through your drawers frantically, trying to find something that didn’t have holes in it, or a previous stain, or heaven forbid, a cringe worthy graphic printed on it. Fuck, you really wish you had taken up Angel’s offer earlier that month to go on a shopping spree. You made a quick mental note to ask him about it next weekend. If he saw your wardrobe now he’d disown you as his bestie.

As you raked through your closet, you felt like a complete dumbass. For God’s sake, you were just going to the market with your friend. It shouldn’t matter what the Hell you wore; it’s not like this was a formal outing. Nevertheless, you decided you still wanted to look nice for once. This was the first time the two of you would be together outside of the hotel. And that felt like a special enough reason to dress up and not look like a fast food worker after a 12 hour shift.**

Eventually, you managed to find a simple, short black dress tucked in the very back of your closet. You could work with this. After scrounging through your bathroom drawers, you manage to find an old metal hair stick and use that to wrap your locks into a cute messy bun. And with some modest jewelry to help accent, you were finally satisfied enough with your appearance. Given what you were working with, this was the most presentable you were going to get. With a final nod in the mirror, you grab your purse and lock the door behind you.

You make your way down to the lobby where you had both agreed to meet up. As you exited the elevator, you could see Alastor’s proud profile already standing by the front doors, microphone in hand and back straight. He seemed to be looking towards the side, but as you approached him, his scarlet eyes slid over to your form. You come to a stop and look up at him, your hands clasped in front of you and waiting.

His eyes flicked over your body, his face unchanging as he took in your appearance. For a moment you felt your face getting hot, and had to look away from embarrassment; was this too much? Maybe you should’ve just stuck to your regular pants and t-shirt…

“From chef to charmante, you truly are a sight for sore eyes my dear.”

You looked up to him again and blinked in surprise. His expression was pleasant as he stared at you; his smile soft and genuine. You felt your heart leap into your throat at the compliment, and couldn’t help the warm smile creep up your face. And it was peaceful between you both for a moment…

Before the Asshole decided to ruin the moment.

“And here I was beginning to think you didn’t know how to dress yourself. How relieved I am to be wrong for once…” he teased, his soft smile twisting into a mischievous grin and eyes crinkling with impish delight.

Your hand moved quicker than light as you lightly backhanded his bicep, your face scrunched and glaring daggers at him. The Radio Demon snickered as his static buzzed happily, not at all flinching at the assault and most likely already prepared for the blow. After having a good chuckle to your dismay, Alastor stood up straight again and dusted off his arms, his smile still wide and wicked.

“You’re lucky I enjoy your company y/n,” he stated, straightening his jacket, “If any other demon were to strike an Overlord, they would never see the light of day again.” He looked down and quirked an eyebrow at you, and you wanted nothing more than to wipe that grin off his face.

“Honestly, between getting ridiculed daily or being slaughtered, I’m not sure which is the worse fate…” you huff, straightening up and crossing your arms. Alastor chuckled at your quip, and eventually, you felt your shoulders relax and smile betray you. As his sniggers died down, he took a step towards you, his expression once again calm as he looked down at you.

“Well my dear,” he mused, “Now I can understand why you would want my protection for our little outing...” His pupils fell to your body, scanning slowly all the way to your legs. You swallowed a lump in your throat. Eventually, his scarlet eyes flicked back up to your face, and you couldn’t dismiss the hunger behind them.

“The wolves would be more than happy to ravish such a delicacy.”

??!??!?!!

You had to remind yourself to breathe. Suddenly breathing was something you had to think about. Your mouth felt so dry, and you knew for a fact your face was probably beet red. What the actual fuck was that. Alastor had given you compliments before, but that… That was at a level you had never experienced before. Did he actually find you attractive?? Jesus Christ, was this friendly outing actually a date??

... Fuck, did you want this to be a date???

You could feel your brain short circuiting.

Alastor’s smile curved upward at the sight of your reddened cheeks. He bent down at his waist in a bow and extended a hand, making your eyes focus back to him.

“Shall we be on our way dearest?”

You looked at his clawed hand, then back to him. He had to be teasing you. There was no way he had actually meant what he had said earlier. This is what he always did; this was what your friendship was basically built on. You mentally scolded yourself for actually falling for his goading.

Please. As if.

You sighed and shook your head, feeling a smile creep up your lips at the absurdity of it all. You weren’t going to fall for it. Not this time. Finally, you look up at him and extend your hand, gently placing it in Alastors. You give him a calm, yet cocky look.

“Lead the way.”

Alastor’s eyebrows shot upward amusingly as he raised his other hand. And with a snap of his fingers, you both vanished from the lobby.

~~~~~~~

You couldn’t contain your gasp of amazement when you laid eyes on the Black Market.

It was everything you could’ve imagined. There were dozens of rows crammed full with booths and vendors stretching as far as the eye could see. Tall skyscrapers framed the entire bazaar, yet were covered from sight by the tarps, blankets and open umbrellas hanging overhead to provide shade. The market was bustling with all creatures of life; demons, imps, and hellhounds alike. Either trying to sell their wares and cheat someone of their life savings, or excited buyers chittering away and browsing all that was offered.

“How exhilarating~!” the Overlord grinned, looking out at the spectacle with bright eyes, “I had forgotten how appealing this place was. This is going to be quite the escapade.” Alastor happily turned his head to you, extending his elbow to you and giving a cocky grin. You looked between him and his arm, unsure of his intentions. His smile widened.

“I guaranteed your safety during this outing did I not? We don’t want to risk separation in this maze. Now then,” he leaned in closer, stretching his arm out further, “Shall we~?”

You couldn’t help the smile spread across your face; always ever the gentleman. You looked to him pleasantly, looping your arm in his and giving a determined nod. And with that, Alastor took the lead as you ventured deep into the market.

The variety of items for sale was incomprehensible. Antiques, produce, jewelry, weapons, and of course, second hand items. And boy, did you desperately want to peruse it all. But of course, you came here for one reason and one reason alone. And as thrilling as this all was, you knew you couldn’t be too charmed by the wonders of the market. This was how the ne'er do wells prayed on their victims. It would be easy for a demon to go missing amongst all the busyness and exhilaration. In this place, dark deals were struck and souls were either sealed or stolen. And you couldn’t be distracted by frivolous things.

Get in, get the mushrooms, and get out.

At least. That was your initial plan.

Alastor seemed to have other ideas.

This mother fucker strolled through the booths as if it was a Sunday afternoon, guiding you along and stopping on occasion to peruse. He would converse with the various sellers and happily turn to you, either showing off what he found or telling stories when something reminded him of a memory. He kept a firm grip on your arm, meaning you had no choice but to follow along with his meandering.

At first your nerves were on edge, eyes darting around anxiously, body tense, and flinching at every obnoxious sound. Alastor seemed to notice, and at some point, gave your hand on his arm a gentle pat. It was a simple gesture, and when he did it, he wasn’t even focused on you, instead speaking with another vendor. But you appreciated him acknowledging your nerves and attempting to calm you without drawing attention. The action and thought behind it was more than enough to comfort and assure you that you had nothing to worry about.

Eventually, you could feel your muscles relax once you realized no one would lay a finger on you with the Radio Demon by your side. As time trickled on, you became more confident, and even began to enjoy yourself and forget about any potential dangers. This was probably the only chance you’d ever get to come to the Black Market with as much protection as you did, so you might as well milk it for what it was worth.

At one point, you let go of his arm to toss on a pair of crazy glasses and throw a feather boa over your shoulders, striking a pose and cracking a joke. The Overlord seemed impressed with your new found confidence, and was more than happy to join in on the banter. And immediately tease your new look.

“If this is what you consider a correction for your fashion sense, perhaps my little songbird is more of a dodo~”

You tried to place an old fedora on his head and force him in on the fun, but the party pooper wouldn’t allow it. Snarling at the wretched thing and not even wanting to know how many disgusting sinners it had been on. And honestly, you couldn’t blame him for that, but you knew despite the venom in his smile, his eyes were dancing.

It wasn’t long until you were the one leading the way, zipping from booth to booth like a child on Christmas as Alastor followed closely behind. He had noticed you had dropped your guard, which was honestly what he had wanted all along. You had been working so hard, you deserved a fun day out on the town. He was glad to see that by demonstrating how safe it was, it would allow you to relax and fully enjoy the experience.

But now it was his turn to keep watch, his back straight and eyes carefully scanning. Of course, the Black Market was nothing but child's play for him. But for a simple sinner like yourself? He could understand why you were hesitant to come. Especially given your radiant personality; one that could attract sinners and imps alike like a moth to a flame.

And of course, as you practically beamed through the lanes, it didn’t take long for you to capture the attention of others. Eventually, you became so carefree, you didn’t even notice the times when certain demons would eye you up and down hungrily. Or the one hellhound who even attempted to snatch your purse.

But they were dealt with swiftly; black tentacles impaling, slashing, and ensuring that no one would ever dare lay a finger on you.

At one point you turned to him and noticed his smile was sharper than before and his scarlet pupils shining with glee. You had asked what he found so entertaining, but he simply patted your head and assured you it was nothing, quickly changing the subject by distracting you with the wares of the next booth over.

About an hour or so into your adventure, you were a couple of steps ahead of Alastor when one booth in particular caught your eye. Filled with mugs, kettles, spoons, and coffee machines, you were instantly reminded of your deer friend and your wonderful morning chats. Especially the one you had that very first morning, it was honestly the very beginning of what would become your close relationship. You vaguely remembered him mentioning not being able to brew that perfect cup…

An idea popped in your head.

You whipped your head around to quickly look behind and caught Alastor making his way towards you. You didn’t have enough time to peruse and find something, and you didn’t want to ruin the surprise. You’d have to find an opportunity later to come back in secret. But for now, you had to distract him.

You jog back to the Radio Demon and casually mention wanting to focus on the search for the mushroom stall, using the guise to pull him along further and away from the particular vendor. Alastor cocked an eyebrow at you, but eventually agreed that it was time to start looking for the rumored toadstool. He linked his arm with you once more and continued walking forward, unaware of you taking mental notes and memorizing landmarks.

Finally, after about twenty minutes of serious searching, you were able to locate the booth with the mushrooms. You recognized them by their iridescent blue shimmer, similar to what you had seen online, and your heart leapt with delight. You were practically bouncing on your feet, pointing excitedly and rambling like a dork while Alastor smiled in amusement. A line had started to form; clearly you weren’t the only ones aware of their magical properties, and you immediately zipped to the back, Alastor casually strolling behind.

“Well my dear,” he mused, leaning to the side to look ahead, “Given the amount of demons ahead of us, I’m afraid we’ll have to wait a little while.” He looked back at you expecting you to be crestfallen or pout, but you happily shook your head.

“Trust me,” you smiled up at him, “I’ve waited years already to get my hands on one of these things. Another fifteen minutes is nothing.” You glanced at the line ahead of you and did some quick calculations. You would likely be waiting for fifteen, twenty minutes? Would that be enough time to perhaps…?

As much as you were excited to be so close to achieving your goal, your mind was focused on something else. This could be your chance. This might be the only one you get today, and it could be the perfect opportunity… You had to take it.

“Actually…” you drawled, “I saw some really nice clothes in one of the booths we passed… could you wait here for me while I check it out real quick??” Alastors eyes immediately narrowed and brows furrowed.

“I wouldn’t recommend that dearest,” he stated, eyes flicking around his surroundings before focusing back on you, “I know we’ve had a lovely afternoon, but I must remind you of the shadows that lurk in the darkness. It wouldn’t be wise to leave my line of sight.”

Shit. You were afraid this would happen. And you knew deep down he wasn’t wrong. But you felt so strongly about this, and it would only be for a few minutes. What was the worst that could happen? You hide your inner turmoil with a cheeky grin.

“Al, you straight up said I need new clothes,” you razz, raising a brow at him. To this, the Overlord huffed.

“I would hardly call second-hand filth an improvement…” he muttered, nose wrinkling at the sheer thought. You couldn’t help the snort escape your nose, but you pressed on.

“C’mon Alastor, please??” you were practically begging at this point, “I don’t want to lose our spot in line, and the booth was just around the corner. I promise I’ll be super quick.” You gave him a pleading look in hopes to help convince him.

Alastor’s face scrunched up in disgust at your soppy expression, but soon softened to contemplation as he looked at you. His eyebrows were tight in thought, clearly thinking hard about his answer and how to proceed. A good minute passed before the deer demon finally sighed and his head fell. You felt your breath catch in anticipation. His head rose to meet your gaze, his eyes sharp and serious.

“Take this with you.” He stated, lifting his left arm and offering you his microphone. You felt your eyes widen in surprise, eyes flicking between the staff and him. You knew how important his mike was; it was always on his person or a conjuring away. You had never known him to be without it.

“Al… Are you sure?” you breathed, completely thrown off guard by this gesture. But he lifted the staff closer to you, emphasizing his words with this action.

“I would feel better knowing I have direct contact with you should anything happen.” he spoke, “If for whatever reason you need me, simply say my name into it. And I’ll know where to find you.”

You tried to swallow the lump in your throat. Now you felt completely awful about lying to your friend, especially if he was entrusting you with this. But you really wanted to do this. It was for him. And now, with this added protection, you knew you would have nothing to worry about.

You slowly raised your hands and gently grasped the staff, feeling the power practically buzzing through it. You were just about to pull it away when Alastor suddenly yanked it towards him, making you gasp in shock as you were pulled closer to him, now only mere inches from his face. Your heart was beating like a drum as his piercing eyes bore into you.

“Don’t make me regret this decision y/n.”

Whether this was about him entrusting you with his staff, or about letting you venture off on your own, you weren’t sure. But his tone was firm, commanding. Either way, you knew he was dead serious. You would’ve been scared if it weren’t for his grim eyes softening for a fraction of a second. Your heart bled for a moment before giving him a determined nod, acknowledging his statement. With a blink, he rose back up to his full height, his expression now calm, but his smile weak. You pulled the microphone tight to your chest, your smile cheek to cheek with enthusiasm.

You took a second to dig through your purse and place some money in his clawed hand, in case he reached the front of the booth before you returned. He protested for a moment, claiming he could very well afford to buy produce, thank-you-very-much. But you ignored his grumbling, insisting that they were your mushrooms, therefore you would pay for them. After making sure he had enough, you turned to run back to the previous stalls. But before you could make it far, you turned back and cast one final glance at the Radio Demon. Alastor was still watching you, his brows furrowed and grin tight. You smiled and called out to him, giving a reassuring wave.

“Thank you Alastor! I’ll be back before you know it!!”

The deer demon said nothing in return, simply giving you a single nod. His expression made you worry for a moment, inner fears pricking your mind. Was this really a good idea? But you thought back to everything Alastor had ever done for you. The laughter and thrill he brought into your previously dull afterlife. Your grip on his staff tightened; you knew you would be safe. Just holding the microphone was enough to make you feel more confident. You wouldn’t be alone; a piece of him was here with you.

Everything would be ok.

Before you could think about it any further, you turned on your heel and ran, disappearing into the crowd and venturing off on your own.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

**For all my fast foods working peeps, this is not at all a dig on you. Y'all are the real ones, we stan' the fast foodies out there! ( ◡̀_◡́)ᕤ I used to be one myself, and trust me, anyone who's worked in that kitchen knows how gross it feels to be sweaty, stinky, and feeling all the oil sticking to your clothes and skin. It's not fun nor pretty (*￣∇￣)

........ ¬‿¬ ((Thanks for reading folks! Please feel free to comment and interact!)) FIRST PREVIOUS NEXT

My beautiful does and bucks: @saccharine-nectarine ((Only one for now LMFAO but lemme know if you wanna join the tag list for updates!! ꨄ ))

#leilani-lily #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #alastor #oh deer

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starry-blue-echoes · 1 year ago

Text

I found this old snippet 90% finished in my drafts so W O E, 2k words of Tonio being my favorite character and Mr.Giovanna slowly understanding that he is not in fact Giogio's father anymore <333

(also tw for implied/referenced child abuse since Giorno)

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

Tonio noticed the second the man approached Giorno’s table.

His customers knew better than to do so. They knew the boy was under his personal protection and it was best to steer clear. A greeting hello when the boy arrived, a brief exchange of conversation, an offered treat or trinket was of course allowed, but approaching his booth while Tonio was not present?

That was not common.

In fact, by the time Tonio made it out of the kitchen and to the dining area, the man had gathered quite a bit of attention from the other customers if the glances being cast his way were anything to go by.

The man was practically looming over Giorno’s booth, all but boxing the boy into his seat and talking in a low voice so as to not be overheard. Tonio couldn’t even see Giorno from his spot.

Tonio did not like this.

He did not like this one bit.

So plastering on his best Customer Service Smile, he approached.

“Excuse me sir,” he spoke up, keeping his voice light and pleasant. “My apologies, but at this establishment you must wait to be seated.”

The man turned to face him, not moving away from the booth and instead attempting to slide a softer, kinder mask over his features.

Hm.

It was sloppy, Tonio couldn't help but note. Sure the facial expressions were… passable, he supposed, but his body language was all wrong. Maybe spending so much time amongst the real dangers in Italy had made him a bit of a snob, but honestly this was laughable.

“Ah, you misunderstand sir, I’m not here to eat, though I have heard good things about this restaurant.” the man waved him off with what was supposed to be a lighthearted chuckle that only succeeded in feeling patronizing. “I’m here to pick up my son.”

“Oh?” Tonio responded with a slit tilt of the head, and a cold, cold feeling slipped into his gut. “You’re this boy’s father then? I wouldn’t have guessed.”

“Step father, technically.” Mr.Giovanna explained, the veiled insult sailing clear over his head. “His mother already had him when I stepped into the picture, but I see and love him as my own.”

His smile got tighter when he saw Giorno, kind, smart, shy Giorno who loved frogs and ladybugs and the color pink and listening to Tonio talk about recipes, flinch.

“I see.” was all he offered.

Tonio knew so little. So, so little. Part of him knew it was purposeful. That he was giving himself plausible deniability. An empty comfort.

But he knew enough. He’d always known enough. More than enough really.

And now it was looking him dead in the eyes and spitting in his face, daring him to lie down and take it.

“Well, it’s getting late. We’d best be getting back to the house before your mother starts dinner. Come along, Giorno, you’ve taken up enough of this man’s time.”

How long has he been standing idly by as he’d seen Giorno hurt?

How many times has he knowingly allowed Giorno to return to that sorry excuse of a family?

How many times has he merely nursed his injuries instead of doing anything to stop them from happening in the first place?

Well no longer.

“Actually, sir.” he interrupted. “I have some…. concerns I’d like to speak with you about.”

The man froze before slowly turning toward him.

There was a dangerous glint in his eyes and he not very subtly squared his shoulders to make himself look bigger.

“Oh?”

How funny. The man thought he was intimidating.

Tonio had done a bit of asking around about Giorno’s family when the boy hadn't been present. Nothing too nosey of course, just the standard gossip that was floating around which he generally got quite a lot of.

And the results of his findings were quite fruitful.

Mr.Giovanna had a temper and was somewhat quick to anger, and he’d had a few dealings with the underworld, but that was as all. The man wasn't anyone important nor did he have any connections whatsoever.

He was just a simple, ordinary, powerless man.

A man who in the long run wouldn’t be able to do a thing to Tonio.

Tonio did not normally like taking advantage of his position, of the power he had at his fingertips. The near crippling fear of entrenching himself further and further into this world always had held him at bay, but in this moment he was more than willing to make an exception for this.

“Yes.” he made a slight show of stepping slightly closer to Mr.Giovanna and the booth seat, closer than was socially acceptable and a clear challenge to the man’s current proximity to Giorno. “And in all honesty, I’m not quite certain I feel comfortable allowing you to leave with this boy.”

“And for what reasons would that be?” Mr.Giovanna was openly glaring at him now, trying and failing to loom over a man who had a few centimeters on him.

“I notice things, Mr.Giovanna.” Tonio spoke, keeping his words clipped and flat lest his rage bubble over. “Giorno has been a patron in my restaurant for well over a year now, and I am not nearly as blind or stupid as you appear to think of me. I may be a chef, but I am also very familiar with the practices of medicine and the healing processes of the human body.”

Sometimes Tonio loathed this skill of his. Of seeing the way people moved and being able to pinpoint exactly what was wrong, of seeing the lethargy and careful movements and stiffness and knowing of the presence of bruises or cigarette burns or broken skin.

(In a bitterly comforting way, Giorno had always liked that part of him. Of their shared skill. He said it made him feel less alone and less strange)

Mr.Giovanna simply sneered at him. “And why exactly are you paying so much attention to little boys?”

His rage surged at the accusation, howling and throwing itself against the cage he’d locked it inside, only made worse by the man’s smugness as though he’d just won and Tonio would back down.

Oh how he longed for his butcher’s knives. They cut through skin and muscle like warm butter and would so easily make short work of the man before him.

“You know very well that is not what I’m talking about.” much to his dismay, his calm mask had begun to crack at the edges, his voice growing more tense and taught with every prolonged moment. This man was managing to slide through every crack of his carefully constructed walls in ways the most vile, loathsome mafioso couldn’t, and all with hardly more than a few words.

This needed to end soon. Before Tonio did something he would regret. For Giorno’s sake.

“I am not going to allow you to leave this establishment with this child unless you can offer me a reasonable explanation for why he comes here with bruises every single week, and that is final.”

A lie of course, he wasn’t letting Giorno go anywhere with this pathetic excuse of a father, no matter what excuses he scrounged up.

“Well I don’t owe you shit.” he snapped back, forgoing excuses and even denial of the accusations completely. At the very least, it seemed Tonio was getting under Mr.Giovanna’s skin just as badly. “I am going to be taking my son and we are going to leave. Giorno, come here right n-” but as the man tried to move Tonio out of the way and make a grab for the boy, Tonio grabbed his arm in an ironclad grip.

The man froze, surprised either by the strength or by the audacity.

Tonio’s expression didn’t falter.

“I think it would be best for you to leave, sir.”

For a second all was calm.

And in the next, pure fury overtook the man’s face.

The punch was quick and powerful, and Tonio barely had a moment to realize what was happening before he had both hands on the booth table to support his weight with a blooming pain in his jaw. With one of his hands he hesitantly brought it up to test the area, but while it would undoubtedly bruise and was rather tender, nothing felt broken or severely damaged.

Tonio should have seen the punch coming, but alas, hindsight is 20/20. He partially expected a second blow…. but it never came.

In fact, Mr.Giovanna was being awfully quiet.

His grin which had temporarily been chased from his face found itself sliding back into place once more.

It seemed the man finally noticed. Now that their conversation had reached a small pausing point, it was likely that much more obvious, but Tonio still couldn’t help but internally chuckle at the man’s horrendous observation skills.

It was dead silent in the restaurant.

The clicking of silverware, the murmur of conversation, the footsteps of the waitstaff, all of it had vanished into thin air.

And as Tonio stood back up to his full height, one merely needed to glance around the room to see why.

Every single customer and staff member was staring at them.

And not one was happy.

Expressions ranged from murderous fury to offended disgust to cold disapproval. Weapons of all types were in hand: knives, firearms, utensils, even a few Stands had joined the fray.

Sometimes being neutral felt like a curse, but in this moment? In this moment Tonio had never felt freer.

Because everyone respected the rules inside Trattoria Trussardi.

And those who didn’t……

“You’ve broken the rules, Mr.Giovanna.” Tonio spoke, a grin still on his face. Only now he let the pleasantries fade away. Now, he let his grin stretch wide and manic, filled with teeth and not quite reaching his eyes.

To an outsider, it was downright predatory.

And Mr.Giovanna, finally realizing the lion’s den he had stumbled headfirst into, froze.

But Tonio did not care.

Not one bit.

He nudged the man to the side with the back of his hand, and didn’t even resist the urge to wipe it on his apron afterwards. He’d need to wash his hands later, wouldn’t want the food suffering from whatever filth that man possessed.

“Giorno,” he asked quietly, his body relaxing and growing soft at the bright, vibrant hope sparkling in the boy’s eyes. “Would you like to join me for dinner?”

Giorno’s eyes widened, growing glossy and shiny yet not a single tear spilt.

“I would.” he said in a hushed whisper, as though the words would break if he was too rough with them, and in Tonio’s heart the only regret he felt was that he hadn’t done this sooner.

He gently grabbed Giorno’s hand to tug him away from the booth seat with as much gentleness as he could, leading him toward the back door that led to the stairs up to his apartment. Giorno’s hand was so small, yet it clung to Tonio’s like a lifeline.

He would call Doppio later tonight to help with the paperwork, of course after Giorno had eaten and gone to sleep. He had more than enough spare funds for the shopping trip that would be required tomorrow, but it would also likely be best to ask if there was anything Giorno wanted from his now-ex-parents house. He’d likely have to rearrange some furniture upstairs, Giorno would need his own room obviously, maybe cash in a favor or two to help, and of course possibly transferring schools which meant even more paperwork-

But that was tomorrow. Tonight, he got to look forward to a nice, calm dinner that for the first time since inviting Doppio in wouldn’t be alone.

And just as he nudged Giorno through the door…

“Marco.”

“Yeah Boss?”

Tonio liked Marco. A good head on his shoulders, a competent host and waiter, had potential for a manager position, always called in ahead of time if gang work interfered with his schedule, and on the rare occasion things got out of hand he was good at regaining order.

“I’m temporarily waiving the ‘no violence’ rule.” Tonio said. “Make sure nobody breaks anything important and if things get too noisy, see to it that it’s moved elsewhere.”

Marco’s eyes lit up with an emotion he didn’t dare to place, but his face remained stoic. “‘Course, Boss.”

Tonio looked back to the restaurant, his eyes soft and smile warm in a way that did not match the manic and horrifying implication of his words in the slightest.

“You have 30 minutes. Try to keep the mess to a minimum.”

The future looked bright and Tonio felt happy.

#G O D this was so fun to write. this au is so much fun sometimes <333 #neutral ground #jjba #jojo’s bizarre adventure #golden wind #jjba part 5 #jjba tonio #tonio trussardi #jjba giorno #giorno giovanna #sb writes

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anglingforlevels · 2 years ago

Text

Salvation (Fem!Yandere Vampire x Reader)

CW: Yandere, yandere monster, captivity, death, non-con touching not proofread, dead dove

Minors DNI

There were too many vampires. Every story had to establish the kind of vampire, lest they’d drown in the sea of possible choices. Not a severe consequence in fiction, but standing before a real-life vampire, you found it frustratingly difficult to navigate between so many contradictory options.

Subtleties had never been your specialty. That’s why, standing before the pale woman, you asked her directly.

”What kinda vampire are you anyway?” You crossed your arms. She seemed almost taken aback by the question, quirking an eyebrow, which earned a huff from you. “You know, what type? Like a Dracula, or old-school horror flick type, or hell, the sparkling kind?”

At this, her face lit up. “Oh. Fancy your chances with any of the options?” You really didn’t, but there were some that were worse than others. She took a few light steps closer to you. “How about a guessing game?”

You sneered. “No thanks.”

“Aw, not even pretending to think it over?” she smiled a cat-like smile, her fangs peeking out. You pretended not to notice but she could probably hear your heartbeat increase.

You had met Albarina while touring the countryside, with hair so golden it seemed spurn out of gold itself, the golden threads framing an elegant face, with fine, pale skin and rosy lips. You had been struck by her intense yet playful gaze.

You, entirely too flustered at her attention, and when she had offered a personal tour of the area from a local, despite only having had a brief conversation, you had agreed much too fast. She had laughed at that, that pearly laughter that rang out with no abandon. Back then it had made you blush, now it made you gnash your teeth in frustration.

She hadn’t brought you to any obvious sightseeing spots, rather, she had brought you to a secluded house. Even while enamored, you had known better than to enter a stranger’s house, but by that point, it was too late, and she had revealed a snippet of her true self, which still lingered in the stinging holes in your neck.

You had fallen unconscious at some point during it and was shocked to find yourself alive still, when you awoke with your head in her lap. Now, you were starting to think it would have been better to simply have died.

Each attempt to escape had been swiftly dealt with by a predator who seemed all too happy to play around with and crush your hopes. By now, you knew any escape attempt would need more planning or better timing, and reluctantly, you had calmed down.

“Oh well,” Albarina said, “With you all settled in, let me show you your room.”

“My room?” You were taken aback by that, you really hadn’t considered any practical elements to this, having spent majority of the day on freaking out and majority of your thinking on how to get away.

“Unless you’re planning on being kept outside on a leash, I think a room would do you good. And a sweet thing like you are best kept indoors. Now, come along.” She hooked her arm around yours, giving you little choice as she led you down winding hallways.

“Why would you even want me around here long enough to warrant a room?”

She hummed contemplatively. “Suppose it’s ‘cause how cute you are? I wasn’t intending for much more than a meal, but you sounded so sweet, just like a songbird. And little songbirdies are best kept rather than cooked.”

She lit up, her eyes glinting with anticipation. “I’ve even gone through the troubles of preparing a nest for my darling little birdie. I’m almost too kind.”

“Too kind?” You mumbled dubiously, as she led you to a door.

“Why thank you. Well, here we are.” She smiled, opening the door. There she revealed a grand room, with gorgeously carved wooden furniture, and a huge bed featuring its own canopy. There was two big issues however:

1. This room clearly already had someone already using it, based on the clothes sprawled out on one of the chairs and the various knickknacks around. Given she had mentioned living alone, who was not hard to figure out.

2. Next to the big bed was a big, golden cage, the floor adorned with soft-looking pillows and blankets.

You gave her a sharp look. “No way. Are you expecting me to sleep in a cage?”

She threw her hands up in the air in mock-defense. “Goodness, no. Most nights will be spent in the bed, the cage is simply a substitute bed for special occasions, or when you’re feeling especially rowdy.”

You were appalled at both suggestions. She raised her eyebrow and smiled cruelly. "Given the situation, you should be happy you're getting to sleep in a bed at all. But it's your room, you can cry if you want to."

And thus, whether you liked it or not, a new chapter of your life had begun.

For most parts, Albarina seemed content simply teasing and playing around with you. Not demanding much more of you than your attention, and at times, your blood. She let you pick the cage over the bed without much more than a small comment, something about you really being like a caged bird, and mean remarks on whether it was even necessary to unlock it at all.

You hoped it never became more than comments, even if you knew by the way the comments grew more pointed, that it annoyed her ever so slightly.

“Little birdie?” Albarina was currently lounging on one of the sofas in the house, a bored expression on her face. You, through no choice of yours, was sitting next to her. “Gotten any closer to figuring out the kind of vampire I am?”

You furrowed your eyebrows, before letting out a small “ah”. Right, the question you had asked the first day. You hadn’t quite figured it out yet, there was small things you had noticed here and there, but with the way she liked to throw out bait, you weren’t sure how much of it you could trust.

The only thing you knew for certain was her taste for blood, along with her abnormal strength, speed and senses. You had yet to fully assert any of the weaknesses, not for a lack of trying, you had attempted to fish out details in conversations, or even lay out small traps that might reveal it to you – but subtleties weren’t your strong suit, and she promptly realized what you were doing each time.

“An annoying one.” Was all you could say, it felt less bitter than to answer no.

“Perhaps,” she changed her position, now leaning over you, her breath fanning your face. “I’m the type that can hypnotize with a glance?”

You shifted uncomfortably, the close proximity of your faces and bodies making you self-conscious of each breath and movement of yours.

“Your heart is beating so fast, darling.” You eyes unconsciously were drawn to her lips.

“Scared I might be able? Or perhaps…” She gently held your chin, lifting your face, and forcing your eyes to meet her mirthful ones. She drew closer until you turned your head away with a frown, hoping she wouldn’t comment on the way your face was starting to match the rosy color of her lips.

All she did was laugh, and for once, you were grateful to hear it.

It had been weeks by the time you finally saw an opening to escape. One that wasn’t in the form of another hapless traveler that she had just happened to give a personal tour leading directly to her own home, or a dinner invitation, that left Albarina full and satisfied, and the travelers… Less so.

In those time, Albarina would just laugh and coo at your “sour reactions”, as if a distaste for death was another silly trait of yours.

But this time was different. You had woken up to a bang, and after a few seconds to regain composure, you realized it couldn’t be Albarina. She didn’t own or use guns. From the looks of it and the way the cage still was locked, you were guessing that Albarina wasn’t home yet from one of her feeding trips, for when she preferred to be the traveler, or as she put it “wanted something exotic”.

This meant she hadn’t returned home, at the very least, despite an increasing lack of patience, she hadn’t actually made true on her mean-spirited jokes of locking the cage for good. Then, who was in the house now?

The sound of thundering steps seemed to compete with your heartbeat. You weren’t sure whether to prepare you to warn someone of a terrible fate, perhaps a burglar who had picked a terrible target, or to fear a threat in another shape. In any case, you felt restless as the sound came closer.

You jumped a little when the doorhandle rattled. Evidently, the door was locked, and the rattling stopped. There was silence for a moment, before another loud bang sounded, and whoever it was, had shot through the lock.

The door opened revealing a large figure, their features obscured by a mask and scarves carelessly wrapped around. On their back, one large sword and one large gun crossed, though the gun they had used seemed to be the small one in their hand. You pressed yourself further into your cage, scared senseless. The figure looked around a bit before their focus inevitably landed on the golden cage, that stuck out like a sore thumb.

They crouched before it, and while you couldn’t see their eyes, you still felt their stare on you. “Did she do this to you?” They spoke with a deep, gravelly voice, resentment lathering their words. It took a moment for you to connect their words, to make any sense of them, when you finally did, you nodded frantically.

“The key?”

“Oh, right. I think there’s a spare in the drawer.” At least you hoped so. You had once seen Albarina misplace the key somewhere, and after pretending to leave you locked in the cage for a bit – and sighed at your lack of response to her inspired comedic work – before fishing out a spare key from a drawer. You figured she didn’t care that it was in reach, given she had good enough hearing to hear you open the drawer, whenever you were free to roam.

The figure put the gun on the table as they looked through the drawer, finally finding a small golden key. As the lock clicked open, you carefully made your way out of the cage. Relieved at having been rescued but still intimidated by the figure that dwarfed you in size.

“Where’s the monster?” You looked up at them, and they must have sensed the uncertainty because they decided to elaborate. “The vampire. Where’s the vampire?”

“You mean Albarina? I… I’m not sure. Somewhere, feeding.” You had talked about Albarina’s feeding habits before, but never had you said it out loud to a figure who treated them with the serious disdain they deserved, the full weight of them hitting you now that Albarina’s dismissive lilt wasn’t there to distract. You shuddered.

“And you?”

“Me?”

“Why are you being kept here?” They stepped closer, and it felt as if the room grew colder. Your head spun trying to keep up with all the possibilities, as you with a sinking heart began to fear if this figure was a threat to you as well.

“I- I don’t know.” You hadn’t realized that you had begun to cry until the figure finally turned away, awkwardly offering you something to dry your eyes with.

“Another cruel whim from a heartless monster then. Or emergency rations perhaps.” They mumbled and turned back to you. “I’m here to deal with monsters like her, you’ll be free soon enough. She won’t lay a hand on you.”

Hope fluttered in your chest, but you didn’t dare trust it yet. “And you? Who are you?”

“A vampire hunter. It’s my mission to eradicate the filth that leeches off humanity. I’ll bring judgement to these vile monsters that seek to stain humanity.”

…

Well, you saw about a million red flags right away from that talk but hoped it wouldn’t manifest in anyway there affected you. Hopefully, this encounter would end with you being rescued and never having to think about these things again.

“…Awesome. Thanks.”

There was silence for a beat, and you were about 70% sure you hadn’t picked the right response.

“What’s that?” They finally broke the silence, pointing at your neck. Reflexively your hand shot up to touch, feeling the puncture marks.

“Biting marks?” You said with a creeping nervosity, it seemed fairly obvious to you that these were bite marks, so you couldn’t comprehend the foreboding air that had followed the question.

“A vampire has drunk your blood?”

“Well, yeah. I have been stuck here with a vampire, so… Seems par for the course, no?” You laughed nervously, though your attempt to answer lightheartedly did nothing to break the tension. Instinctively you backed away, until you hit the drawer.

“It’s unfortunate that I was too late.” The figure sighed. An uncomfortable knot formed in your stomach as you swallowed hard. You hadn’t asked a question, but you didn’t need to ask any to know you were in danger. Your hands blindly fumbled behind you.

“You’ve been infected by its blight. I will bring you salvation.”

Bang!

Blood splattered over your face, and the gun clattered to the ground along with his silhouette. Staring out in the air, unable to move your stare down to the hunter or the smoking gun, you continued to stare out.

With just a single movement, you had taken a life. With such ease, your hands had snuffed out the decades he had left.

“Oh, seems my cute birdie might actually be a bird of prey?” Albarina, who as suddenly as always, stood next to you, cocked her head at your lack of response. Then she rolled her eyes, before smiling sharply. “Oh, don’t pout, with a lifestyle like that, he didn’t have much life left. Really, given who his next opponent would have been, you’re the one who brought salvation.”

She leaned down to you, a mischievous smile on her rosy lips and a mean glint in her eyes. “Say, you reckon me the type of vampire to count obsessively? Let’s see.”

“Huh?” You finally moved your head towards her.

“One droplet,” she said and licked off a blood droplet off your cheek. “Two droplets.” Another lick. “Three droplets.” You shuddered and pushed her head away, she was only being playful, so she allowed it, and only laughed that terrible, pearly laughter. “Don’t fancy that kind, dear?”

“Stop.”

“How inflexible of you, darling. You’re the one asking me. I suppose you could ask someone else, vampire hunters for one, are quite knowledgeable – oh.” Her mouth formed a little “o” as she feigned realization, before giving a pointed look at the corpse. “I guess not.” She shrugged with an airy sigh.

“You’re such an asshole.” Your voice felt hollow, but Albarina paid it no mind, nuzzling into your neck, you could feel her smile against your skin.

“Seems your cage’s gotten dirty too, no matter. It was about time you began using the bed anyway.”

#yandere monster #yandere #yandere x reader #female yandere #yandere vampire #bad writing #not proofread #minors dni #tw death

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