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azsazz · 1 year

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Just Hold On

Rhysand x Reader

Summary: Rhysand just loves to make you cum.

Warnings: Smut, prolonging orgasms, overstimulation, dom/sub dynamics, m dom f sub, oral, f receiving.

Word Count: 1,239

Notes: I should be writing smut for Kinktober but you know how I be.

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Hold on, darling, he purrs in your mind and you want to scream. Your chest builds with it, burning hot as he holds you on the cusp of oblivion. You try to jerk against his mouth but he wills your body still, rubbing the inside of your thighs that are shaking with the urge to slam closed around his head. I’m not quite finished yet.

Please, you cry in response, but the blood in your ears drowns out his response. It’s getting harder and harder to breathe the longer Rhys tortures you like this, the building ache between your legs for the need to release is too great. Your fingers twitch but you can’t unfurl them where they’re clutching the sheets. Please, I can’t–

You don’t have to worry about if you can’t, darling, Rhys answers, sucking harshly at your clit. It makes your spine want to curve off of the bed, toes curl into the sheets but you can’t do a godsdamned thing with the grasp he has on you.

You might break. He might very well shatter your mind for this, or trap you inside this inferno of passion so great that you feel like you’ve descended into Hel itself. Mouth parted in a silent scream as he works, taking his fill of you until you’re a begging mess. His filthy words in your head ring in time with the way he’s flicking his tongue, swirling around your aching bud, red and swollen as he nips and sucks.

I think I might just keep you here all night, he admits sinfully and you want to cry. Your nose prickles with the feeling of the emotion and tears well in your eyes but not a single one falls. You’re forced to beg instead, utterly unable to move a muscle, even if your thighs are shaking and your chest aches with the pounding of your heart.

It’s the best you’ve ever felt but also the worst, stuck there as he draws your orgasm from you like you’re nothing more than his plaything.

Rhys, baby, please, I can’t, I can’t, it’s too much, you beg, but the High Lord feasting between your legs doesn’t falter. Your words mean nothing to him and you wouldn’t be surprised if he’s blocked you out completely, ready to take what he wants as he always does. Gods, your frustrated scream is in your own head he teeths across your clit, pulling it with a harsh suck.

I love it when you get all needy. His voice in your head all languid and delighted sends fire coursing through your veins. Makes my cock so fucking hard.

He lets your mouth part in a moan that rattles the walls. It makes him shudder and bury his face deeper. His cock leaking against his thigh, and his hands are pulling your waist tighter and tighter against his face as he releases you, wanting you to writhe and fight him to get away from the pleasure he’s pulling.

Your heart slams in your chest and your hands fly to his hair, gripping the dark, damp, tendrils in a firm grip. You try your hardest to rip his head from your cunt but he’s too strong, too adamant about making you cum again and again and again.

He’s being sloppy with it, tongue moving in long strokes across your cunt. He even dips down and slides his mouth against your hole, which causes you to jump. Rhys is ready though, teeth exposed so your swollen clit grazes across them, tearing a whimper from your mouth.

Cum for me darling, let me taste you.

“Haven’t you had enough yet?” You pant, but you can barely speak with how heavy your chest is moving, begging for air. Rhysand doesn’t allow it, his hold on you strong, even with the amount of times he’s made you practice shoving him out.

Pleasure coils your body like a viper. It’s building in your gut, so deep inside of you where no one besides Rhys could ever reach. He toys with you, and the unmistakable feeling is mirrored in his own body, the bond reflecting your emotions tenfold. His cock aches but he refuses to touch himself because he’s too busy touching you and he wouldn’t dare remove himself from your body.

You are the air I breathe, the essence that gives me life, his words add to the heat pooling in your gut and you clutch him tighter and tighter as he draws you nearer towards the edge. I will never get enough of you.

Like a whip, you come crashing down. You rut against his tongue like something desperate, squeezing his head between your legs as you pull him tighter by his blue-black hair, rocking against him. He lets you, lets you take from him in that desperate way he always feels when he’s around you. It’s the primal need to be near him, to be inside of you, your souls match each other's.

If he could cut you open and climb inside of your body he would, and he loves the way you take what you want from him, even when he’s the one holding you on the cusp of your orgasm.

It lasts too long, as Rhys takes hold of your mind, the only way he can be inside of you is to do so mentally, and the euphoria he feels inside has him finally allowing himself to give his cock a stroke. He prolongs your orgasm, keeping you in the kaleidoscope of emotions whirling around in your mind, body, and soul.

Your breath is stuck in your chest, the feeling overwhelming, even more so than the plethora of orgasms Rhysand has graced you with this evening. You can barely feel the light lapping of his tongue between your trembling thighs. You can hardly hear the soft moan he makes as he suckles your juices like they give him life. He fists his cock roughly in his hand. He won’t let you come down from your high until he’s cum too.

It feels like you’re blind, with the stars and spots consuming your vision. There’s a ringing in your ears and a rattle in your chest. Your fingers are stiff, aching from your grip in Rhys’ hair and your muscles ache from being locked up so tightly.

He releases you all at once, cum spurting from his cock and onto his legs, the bedding that’s slipped off the side of the bed, the floor. Air whooshes from you and your body goes lax. You keep your hand in his hair but it’s softer now, petting, reassuring yourself that he’s here with you.

Rhysand kisses your thighs softly and continues up your body until he’s settling across the bed and pulling you into his body. Your eyes flutter open weakly to meet that glorious violet gaze, and your heart skips at that perfect smirk he’s wearing.

His eyes are soft though, no more teasing than he usually is, and you can taste yourself on his mouth when he kisses you gently, dipping into your mouth for a sweet kiss while he holds your pliable body closer, tucking you into his side like he likes.

He presses gentle kisses to your cheeks, nose, across your eyelids because you’ve closed them again, beyond exhausted. Rhys brushes hair from your face, admiring you, glowing in the buttery light of his room.

His mate, his muse.

#rhysand x reader #rhysand #acotar #rhysand smut #acowar #acomaf #azsazz

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forest-meadow · 1 month

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The Aftermath

Summary: Astarion walks in on you waiting for Shadowheart to come heal you after you've been attacked.

Pairing: Astarion x Tav

TW: mentions of being attacked, attempted rape, blood, injuries, swearing, anger

Word Count: 1.5K

You hadn’t meant to show him. In fact, you intended not to for as long as possible. You hadn’t even realized he had entered the room as you peeled off your blood soaked shirt, grimacing as some of the dried blood stuck and pulled at a few of your injuries. You had already called for Shadowheart for help with this as this was beyond your skill set and would likely take more than a simple healing potion. Deep cuts and purpling bruises darkened your skin. A particular movement had you gasping in pain. You were just thinking how lucky you were that no one else in your party was at the Elf Song just yet when you heard an animalistic growl behind you.

You dropped your shirt and spun on your heel, reaching for the knife at your back, then relaxed, “Oh. It’s just you.”

Astarion had seen you naked countless times, and this time you were only half naked. But his eyes were darkened just the same.

“Who did this to you?” he growled, and you realized his eyes weren’t darkened with hunger, but with pure, unbridled rage.

You felt unease creep up your spine at his anger. It was never an emotion you knew what to do with, either yours or others. Usually yours would be dealt with in the heat of battle, fueling your drive to destroy the enemy. Others, on the other hand, were much more volatile. Especially Astarion.

“Darling. I need to know who or what did this to you so I can go rip their throats out this instant,” Astarion said lowly.

You held your hands up to him, holding in a wince when your injuries smarted, but he still caught it and growled again. “Star, I’ll be alright. Shadowheart is already on her way-”

“Who?” was all he said, still waiting for an answer.

“It doesn’t matter-” you started

“Doesn’t matter?!” he shouted, “How can you say that when you're practically bleeding out on the floor?! It ‘doesn’t matter’?!”

“Because they’re dead! It was him or me and I certainly wasn’t going to let it be me!” you shouted over him, and then winced at how much the shouting moved you.

“What do you mean- ‘him or me’?” Astarion’s rage suddenly melted into concern as he realized the possibility that your injuries might be more than physical, “He didn’t try to- did he?”

“What else could he have been doing?” you muttered bitterly.

“Oh, dearest,” he breathed, “I’m so sorry. I should have been there.”

“There’s no way you could have been. I was out getting you a surprise. I made sure the others were distracting you so it was just me out and about and he took advantage of my being alone,” you explained.

He took a step towards you, then hesitated, “My darling, I-” he stopped, not knowing how to finish his own sentence, speechless for once in his life.

“Yeah. I know.”

The door to the room opened again as Shadowheart rushed in, “Gods! Are you alright, Y/N? What the hells happened?”

You chewed your lip nervously, “I was attacked.”

“As in, attacked? Or just attacked?” she asked.

You nodded your head slightly to the first one.

“Gods, okay. Let’s get you cleaned up. Astarion, you can either help or leave.” Shadowheart immediately took charge of the situation, “If you’re going to help, grab some clean towels and rags.”

Astarion stayed where he was, staring at you, clearly in shock.

“Astarion!” Shadowheart snapped.

He started and blinked at her, “What?”

“Either get clean towels and help or leave and get the drink you clearly need,” she ordered.

He looked to you.

“It’s alright if you need to go, love. I understand,” you said.

“What do you need?” he asked, still looking at you.

You pulled in a slow breath and finally looked him in the eyes again, “I need you here. Please.”

He nodded once, rolled up his sleeves, and set to work following Shadowheart’s instructions as she barked them out.

A knock came at the door and it cracked open, “Is it alright if we come in? We’re all a bit worried,” Karlach’s voice came through the crack in the door.

Shadowheart looked to you and you shook your head.

“Not just yet,” she called to the door, “We’ll come out when we’re done and ready.”

“Alright. You alright, soldier?”

“I’ll be fine, Karlach,” you tried to reassure the others, but knew it failed as soon as your voice cracked on the word “fine”.

You could sense the worry in your large friend grow, but the door clicked gently shut anyway.

Astarion was resolutely following Shadowheart’s every instruction, touching you as infrequently as possible. You understood his hesitance, but it still stung, and not in the same way your injuries did.

Shadowheart cleaned your wounds as best she could, apologizing under her breath when you would inhale sharply at a particularly nasty part, and set to work muttering a few healing spells after she was satisfied anything that wouldn’t be healed today wouldn’t get infected. When she was done, she stood up and grabbed the towels and rags, dumping them in a corner and going to wash the blood off her hands in the basin nearby.

“Do you need anything else?” She asked, “I can stay with you as long as you need me to.”

You looked over at Astarion. He was trying his best not to look like someone had kicked Scratch in the ribs right in front of him, you could tell, but failing miserably.

“I think we’ll be okay. Might be a little longer before we come down and join you, though,” you said.

She nodded, “Understood. If you need anything-”

“You’ll be second to know,” you agreed with a small nod towards Astarion.

She gave a slight smile, a curt nod, and took her leave.

Before the door even latched, you threw yourself at Astarion, wrapping yourself around him the way a small frightened child would their parent, and clutched at him for dear life.

“Precious, you’re shaking,” he said softly, gently but firmly wrapping his arms around you in return.

You were grateful for the sturdiness of your lover in that moment.

“What do you need, my love?” he asked in that same soft tone.

You let out a choked sob and crumpled into him, your legs losing their strength.

“Oh, darling,” he carefully picked you up and carried you to the bed the two of you shared.

He sat on the mattress with his back against the wall and let you situate yourself in his lap as he gently ran his fingers through the tangled mess that was your hair.

“I’m here,” he reassured you, “I’m right here.”

All you could do was weep in his arms, the reality of what had happened to you hitting you all at once, like a charging owl bear. Astarion held you until you had cried yourself out, rocking you gently back and forth. It was so soothing. When all you had left were hiccups and sniffles, he pulled away a little to get a look at your face. He gently reached up and wiped away what remained of your tears and leaned down to press a firm kiss to your forehead.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, pet. But I am ready to listen when you are ready to talk,” he promised.

You nodded meekly and moved off his lap, “I need to change clothes.”

“Of course. Would you like me to turn towards the wall?” he asked.

You found yourself surprised by him once again. Since dealing with Cazador, it was like he felt he was allowed to be kind again. You weren’t complaining, but it was certainly different.

“Would you mind?” you asked.

“Not at all, darling,” he promptly turned to face the rather boring wall.

With Astarion’s back toward you, you felt yourself relax minutely. You searched for a clean shirt and pulled it over your head before removing your blood soaked trousers and replacing them with clean ones. You then walked to the vanity and worked out the tangles Astarion had missed with his finger combing and splashed some water on your face to get rid of the tear stains. Feeling presentable once more and a little more like yourself, you turned back to face him, only to find him dutifully staring at the wall.

“You can turn around now,” you said softly.

“Are you dressed?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m dressed.”

Astarion glanced over his shoulder at you, as if confirming to himself that you were, indeed, decent before he turned around and leaned back against the wall once more, “Do you want to talk about it?”

You shrugged as you move to sit beside him, leaving a small space between the two of you, but laying your hand in the space with your palm upwards, inviting him to take it in his own, “Pretty much told you all there is to know.”

“I see. Would you like to join the others down stairs? Or I could go and fetch them?” he asked.

You considered it a moment, then answered, “Could we just sit here for a little while? I’d like to enjoy the quiet a moment.”

“Of course, my love.”

#monet writes #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #tav x astarion #baldurs gate astarion #astarion #baldurs gate 3 #astarion ancunin

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sapphire-writes · 1 year

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Thin Ice (modern!HOTD)

pairing: Aegon x Reader & Cregan Stark x Reader

summary: Date night with Cregan Stark, and an after-party that causes confusion.

word count: 2.3k

warnings: 18+ series general language & mature themes, kissing

note: nothing spicy this chapter but hope you enjoy my loves, just some drama 😘

series masterlist

previous chapter ~ Ch. 4: Hole In One ~ next chapter

Aegon slides a piece of paper across the table. You glance at it before looking at him, meeting his lavender eyes and raising a brow.

You had resorted to taking Aegon to the library during quiet hours for him to really focus on the midterm paper. He’d written a first draft that wasn’t up to par, making you force him to rewrite the majority of it. Now he’s slumped in his seat, silver hair sticking up in different directions from him constantly running his fingers through it.

He nods at you, gesturing towards the folded piece of paper. You roll your eyes before picking it up and unraveling the message.

This blows.

You meet Aegon’s eyes once more, giving him a stern glare. He sighs, slumping his cheek against his hand, resuming typing with the other. You try to focus on your own homework, but your mind begins to wander to the date you have that evening. Cregan Stark.

Cregan Stark asked you out on a date.

You smile, feeling your cheeks warm with anticipation. You’re so excited. What are you going to wear? What should your makeup be like? And your hair?

A piece of paper hits your nose, falling onto your keyboard. Aegon bites his fist, stifling a laugh. You glare at him. He’s ripped you from your fantasy. You unravel his note, regardless.

I’m hungry.

You look up at him. Aegon pouts, lips looking all too inviting. He truly has some magic about him. Again you find yourself remembering dancing with him, grinding against his thigh. You blink rapidly, shredding the note into tiny pieces.

“You’re insufferable,” you hiss at him, closing your laptop.

Aegon grins, knowing he’s won, and closes his computer as well before shoving it into his backpack. The library is silent despite the sounds of you packing your stuff. Aegon’s in a hurry, he’s finished before you and walks over to your side of the table as you continue to pack your things.

He leans down next to you, lips level with your ear.

“You love it,” he teases, voice rough as gravel.

You pause your actions momentarily, a shiver rolling down your spine and goosebumps blossoming on your neck.

Aegon chuckles, as though not noticing the effect he’s had on you and continues walking. You hurry after him and he holds the library door open for you.

“Freedom!” he cries, in a loud voice as you exit into the afternoon sunlight.

“Send me your final draft,” you tell him, “I’ll read it later and give you my edits.”

Aegon groans, kicking his feet.

“More edits?” he asks, throwing his head back dramatically.

“Duh,” you answer, lifting an eyebrow at him.

Aegon groans again, a low whine escaping his lips. You can’t help but giggle at his distress.

“Are you coming to the party tonight?” Aegon asks, “Neon paint party should be fun- a good excuse to leave some suggestive handprints on Stark.”

Aegon waggles his eyebrows at you and you shake your head.

“Date night, remember?” you tell him, as he gets a text, “We’re going mini golfing?”

Aegon is too busy reading the message on his phone, his perfect brows concaving together. Your eyes flicker to his phone, then back to his face.

“Everything okay?” you ask.

“Huh?” he says, looking up, “Yeah….yeah no biggie. Date, right? Well if it sucks, you’ve got an invite to the hockey house.”

You scrunch your nose.

“Really? Like, no strings attached?” you ask.

“We still have a deal bunny,” Aegon teases, “I still need to pass this midterm. There’s no way in hell I’m missing formal due to failing this thing.”

You roll your eyes.

“You’re going to pass,” you tell him, placing your hands on his shoulders, “What do we say?”

Aegon meets your eyes, blinking innocently.

“Wrap it before you tap it?”

You scowl at him, and he grins.

“You’ve got this,” you tell him, “You’re smart, you know it, you got it.”

“I’ve got it,” he repeats, “I’ve got it.”

“Say it with your chest!” you tell him, “you’re Aegon Targaryen goddammit!”

“I’ve got it!” he says louder.

You clap your hands on his shoulders.

“Damn right, you do,” you tell him, laughing.

Aegon smiles then, and it touches his eyes. Something stirs in his chest, at you believing in him. But then you’re glancing at your phone, checking the time.

“Shit, I have to go,” you tell him.

Aegon nods.

“Have a good time, bunny,” he tells you, “don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“What wouldn’t you do?” you tease.

“Huh,” he frowns, backing away, “I guess, you’re right.”

You roll your eyes. They’re bound to fall out of your head if you keep spending time around Aegon. You wave to him, before parting ways, nervous butterflies in your stomach.

“It’s going to be so much fun,” Sara promises, sitting in front of the mirror and curling her hair.

She takes the strand she’s been working with, giving it a spritz of hairspray before choosing another section to begin working with.

You’ve been pacing for the better half an hour, slowly completing your makeup as you do so, taking time to pause; standing behind Sarah to look in the mirror.

“Jace says this place is really cute,” Sara continues, as you put on some mascara.

You had decided on mini golfing. It’s a cute idea for a group date and Dragon’s Den is cute, so Sara and Jace say.

You carpool with Sara, meeting both of them there. The excitement in your chest builds as Sara pulls the car up next to Cregan’s truck. As Sara turns the car off she looks at you.

“You’re hot,” she tells you, fixing your hair, “You’re smart, you’re the whole goddamn package.”

“I am,” you say, nodding nervously causing Sara to smile.

“Let’s rock this bitch,” she says, and you leave the car.

Cregan smiles when he greets you.

“Hey you,” he says, eyes scanning your outfit, “You look great! I’m glad we’re doing this.”

You’d settled on a cute dress, playing it safe.

Sara and Jace have gone off ahead; Sara’s very competitive and moves along rather quickly, while you and Cregan have been hanging back, taking your time and chatting, getting to know each other.

“You’re from Winterfell, right?” you ask, and he nods.

“Yeah, pretty far north from here actually,” he says, swinging his club and sending his blue golf ball into a dragon’s mouth.

You feign disappointment at his success, causing him to chuckle.

“You a sore loser?” he jokes.

“Absolutely,” you tell him, swinging your club at your pink golf ball.

It narrowly misses the dragon’s jaws.

“Is it just you?” you ask, following your ball, “Or do you have siblings?”

“Just me,” Cregan says, watching your form, “I live with my uncle, my parents passed away when I was younger.”

The news shocks you a little, the casual tone he uses, and your swing fails you once more. You curse yourself as the ball bounces off the dragon’s tooth, landing farther away than before.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him and he shrugs, leaning against a neighboring dragon.

“Don’t be,” he says, smiling kindly, “It was a long time ago.”

You smile back apologetically. He looks odd resting against the preening golden dragon as though he’s not supposed to be resting there. Cregan and the golden-scaled dragon both look like they’ve been pulled out of two different fairy tales.

“So..how long have you played hockey?” you ask, desperate to change the subject.

Cregan grins.

“Since I could skate on the pond near my house,” he tells you, “I’ve always loved the ice.”

“I’ve never been a great skater,” you admit sheepishly.

“I’ll take you to the rink sometime,” Cregan teases, “I’m a good teacher.”

“Oh, I bet,” you say giggling, cheeks flushing.

Something about this conversation feels flirtatious. Cregan grins wolfishly.

“Come on slowpokes!” Sara calls.

She and Jace are several holes ahead. Cregan moves behind you.

“Here, let me show you,” he says, placing his hands over yours.

Holy shit his hands are huge. You can feel him pressing against you, his breath tickling the back of your neck. You’re sure you can feel the scruff of his beard against your cheek as he leans forward, helping you aim.

You tap the ball gently with his help and it rolls into the hole.

“There you go,” he murmurs, before releasing you.

“Thanks,” you tell him, retrieving your ball.

You complete the course, talking and laughing the whole time. Cregan’s nice, really nice, and you almost don’t want the date to end.

“Hey,” Cregan says, shifting on his feet a little, “This may be too soon, but do you think you’d want to be my date for the hockey formal Friday? It’s supposed to be really classy this year, we’ve got a limo and everything.”

Your heart nearly leaps out of your chest.

“I’d love to go with you,” you tell him, smiling from ear to ear.

His grin matches yours.

“Cool, cool,” he says, wetting his lips, “I really liked hanging out with you tonight.”

He leans forward then, pressing a soft kiss on your cheek, his stubble tickling you. You let out a small giggle at the action and he pulls away.

“It tickles,” you tell him blushing.

“Let me try again,” he says, cupping your face and connecting your lips to his.

His mouth is soft and warm as he kisses you, tasting of spearmint and something woodsy. His cologne fills your senses and you nearly pop your foot like a princess as he deepens the kiss. A wolf whistle is heard and you break away, noticing Jace clapping before he and Sara walk over to you.

“C’mon let’s keep the good vibes going!” Sara teases, bumping into you as you return your clubs.

“Well…” you tell her, “There is one place we can go.”

The hockey house is insane when you arrive. The whole house is dark except for black lights illuminating the neon streamers and body paint that adorns every student. The music is blaring through the house with people dancing and drinking. Sheer collegiate madness.

Sara squeezes your arm before pushing by you, dragging Jace behind her into the crowd. You look at Cregan, smiling.

“Let me get you a drink,” he tells you, squeezing your hand before letting go, “Wait right here.”

You nod excitedly.

“Not going anywhere!” you tell him.

Cregan smiles once more, before disappearing into the crowd. You hear Baela call your name before she’s tumbling toward you, wrapping you in a hug.

“How was the date?” she asks, keeping her arms around you.

“Good! Like really good,” you tell her smiling, “Cregan even asked me to be his date to the hockey formal.”

Baela squeals with excitement.

“So cute!” she says, “Where’s Sara?”

“She and Jace retired to his room I think,” you tell her, causing the both of you to dissolve into giggles.

“I’m surprised she’s ready for more,” Baela teases.

You giggle, pressing your head against hers as Aegon pushes through the crowd, splattered with neon green paint. Baela kisses your cheek before dancing into the crowd.

“You came!” Aegon says grinning, handing you a drink.

You accept the beverage, taking a sip. The cool liquid is refreshing as it flows down your throat.

“This is really cool,” you tell him, smiling.

“It’s neon baby!” Aegon says, smiling.

His teeth shine in the blacklight, unnervingly white.

“Have you seen Cregan?” you ask, taking the cup he offers.

Aegon shakes his head, looking you up and down. His eyes are hungry, the violet irises glowing like the middle of a flame in the blacklights. He’s got green paint splattered across his cheek, onto his clothes, and his hand.

“You need my help?” he asks.

“Nope,” you tell him, popping the ‘p.’

His brow furrows and he frowns playfully.

“Why not?”

“We just had a date, remember?” you tell him, biting your lip.

You glance around the room still looking for Cregan, missing how Aegon’s smile drops slightly; the corner of his mouth twitches back into a smile when you meet his eyes once more.

“What’d you do?” Aegon asks, sipping his drink nonchalantly.

“You want to hear about my date?” you tease, “Egg, seriously, I told you about this, you jerk.”

Aegon nods, waving off your playful insult.

“We went mini golfing,” you tell him, looking around the room again, “It was really-” as soon as you turn your face back to him, Aegon’s lips meet yours. Tongue parting your lips, gently sliding into your mouth.

It’s unconscious at this point, the way your body reacts, free hand latching itself in his soft hair as his hands find your waist. The cool metal of his tongue ring slides over your tongue and you sigh into his mouth. Then he pulls away.

“Gotta go,” he says, before pushing by you to the other side of the room.

You stand, frozen, lips tingling.

What the fuck was that?

“There you are!” Cregan says, walking up to you with two cups in hand, “Thought I lost you.”

You’re still standing in shock, blinking and trying to force a smile. Cregan notes the cup in your hand.

“You’ve found a drink, damn,” Cregan says, chuckling.

“Yeah um Baela brought me one,” you tell him.

What was that? Why lie?

“Nice,” Cregan says smiling.

He’s looking at you too closely, too intently, as though he must be sensing your lie. Sensing your anxiety. Oh god, did he see? Does he know?

“Y/N,” Cregan says, “you have some paint-”

He brings his hand up to your face, rubbing his thumb along the corner of your mouth. When he pulls away neon green paint is left behind.

“Baela,” you tell him, giggling.

He nods, smiling. He believes you. Completely. You’re not sure which feels worse, him knowing or him believing you.

You look across the room, meeting Aegon’s eyes as he leans against the wall. Neon green paint still splattered across his face and his hands. His hands.

You glance down at your dress. Streaks of green glow on your waist where Aegon’s hands have been. You rub your hands against it, trying to rid yourself of the paint. Locking eyes with Aegon once more, his mouth forms a smirk sending butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

Uh oh.

note: hope you enjoy my loves! things are starting to get messy hehe 😘

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asimpwithfreetime · 1 year

Note

ur writing is amazing! Can I request a yandere ronal and tonowari giving the reader a ( Punishment ;) when she tries to escape again?

Thank you so much, my sweet anon! 💕 of course you can request something like that ;) I hope you mean smut, because if not, sorry

Punishment (Yandere! Ronal x reader x Yandere! Tonowari)

Warnings: kidnapping, kind of manipulative (doubtful consensual) orgasm torture and denial, masturbation. Knife play, threats, smut, pure filth, spiting, spanking, oral (f and m receiving), playing good cop-bad cop, face sitting, baby trapping (or at least a try)

I don’t know how to feel about this, so if you guys don’t like it I might errase it.

This could be considered a Darkfic read at your own media consumption, you have been warned.

[ 1st Person POV ]

I woke up feeling dizzy, the hurting in my head being strong. Memories of the night before came flooding my mind. How I tried to escape them and how they found me on the sea that surrounded our homes. How Ronal tied me up and in an attempt of escaping I fell from her ilu and I hit my head with some of the subaquatic structures and I passed out.

Now I was still tied, my wrists and my ankles arching from the strong rope. “Ah you are finally awake” Tonowari’s husky voice startled me. “I was so concerned my cute little thing wouldn’t wake up”. His voice was sweet but his expression was stern.

“I know you are sorry, baby” he sat on the bed I was on. “You didn’t want to get hurt and get us all concerned, didn’t you?” Before I could answer, he was already talking. “The problem is, you did get us worried. You tried to escape and actions have consequences, Y/n, we will need to teach you a lesson”. Once he finished his words, a small whimper left my throat. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll like it”.

Ronal came into the room, a bunch of stuff on her arms, due to the dim light, I couldn’t see very well. “She is awake” Tonowari told her “I am pretty aware” she responded. “I am so disappointed in you, Y/n, I thought you loved us and you broke our hearts” she looked at me coldly and a chill ran down my spine.

She sat down on the bed, at my right side. Tonowari took the left. “I am going to show you, what happens when you disobey” . Before I could speak, she ripped my threaded top, making me squeak in pain, the fast friction had caused the thread to burn my skin a little bit. Ronal pinched one of my nipples, both of them hardening with the sudden wave of air. “I hope you learn the lesson”. I couldn’t help but feel a small amount of wetness pooling between my legs.

Tonowari shuffled and moved me on top of his lap, my stomach being in touch with his, still covered, erection. He moved my loincloth aside and prepared my butt cheeks to be spanked. Before that, he passed two fingers along my slit, taking up just a small amount of arousal. “Look at her, all horny knowing how much pain she is going to go though” he cooed smiling, even though Ronal didn’t smile. She passed two fingers down my slit too, pressing onto my clit and penetrating me just slightly. “It will be better this way” she concluded, licking my arousal off her fingers.

Tonowari’s big hand slapped my butt before I was able to react. I big purplish mark starting to appear in my blue skin. Then he did it again, and again. And as many times as he could, until tears pricked at my eyes, threatening to spill. My whole butt was in a purple-reddish color, making Tonowari puff his chest out in proudness.

I was almost close to crying when he just laid a finger on my sore skin and I broke down in sobs. “Now hush, my love” he smiled at me before setting me down on the bed. He pulled me down, my teary eyes looking up into the ceiling, before feeling his fingers across my cunt. He pulled my tied legs upwards before penetrating with his long digits.

The movement made me almost jolt in the spot if my, already tied and sore limps, weren’t being held by Tonowari’s strong arms. Shivers ran down my spine as I heard the wet sloppy sounds that filled the marui pod. Ronal, who had been rustling in the background, came near us. “She is ready” she announced. “Ready for what?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. “This” she pushed Tonowari’s hand away and started slurping at my pussy. She nibbled, sucked and licked everything. Tonowari brought his fingers up to his mouth and licked them.

He then took his loincloth off, throwing it somewhere and revealing a huge, pre-cum leaking, cock. “Now you gotta satisfy me” he said, getting closer to me “Open you mouth” he commanded, his hands never leaving my legs while his fingers dig softly into my skin. I opened my mouth hesitantly before he shoved his entire length down my throat, making me cough and gag around his cock.

While Ronal had me squirming and having my pussy completely drenched, I came undone, screaming, moaning and gagging around Tonowari’s cock. He was grunting and puffing out air from time to time. The vibrations probably sending him chills. I continued gagging around his huge, veiny, cock while Ronal kept drinking up my juices.

Tonowari came into my mouth without any other warning than a gutural grunt. I felt out of air, the tears smearing across my face again. Once he pulled out, Ronal got up. She looked at me, spiting softly in her fingers and beginning to play with my breasts. I screamed in pleasure. Tonowari took my face and gave me a kiss, I could hear his soft grunt from tasting his own cum in my mouth.

He then held my face with my mouth open and spat on it. “Now you are learning how to be a good girl, aren’t you?” He taunted. He then positioned himself with me, my legs were completely tired of being upwards. He opened them a little bit, still being tied up by the ankles and hooked them up his shoulders. That way, my cunt and his cock were already lined up. As i squirmed away a little bit, Ronal stopped me, pushing down on my shoulders. “Give me two taps if you need to breathe” she ordered before putting her pussy on my face, moving around, grinding her wet folds over my nose. I took a moment trying to realize what was happening.

Tonowari penetrated me and I lost it, I came undone on his cock for the mere penetration. I screamed in pleasure, engulfing most of her vulva. Ronal moaned in a way I had never heard her moan before. Tonowari kept fucking my cunt and overstimulating me. For a moment, the coil in my tummy broke and I kept crying out in pleasure into Ronal’s dripping wet pussy. The obscene sounds were all over the Marui Pod.

Ronal moved, switching the way she was sitting, moving forward to kiss Tonowari while he kept fucking me. “I’m gonna cum” he moaned “cum inside her, fill her up to the brim. All full with our babies she won’t escape” Ronal’s voice was cold, stoping mid-sentence at time to take in a shaking breath. She was starting to drip more fluids, her orgasm approaching. I decided to give her what she wanted, doing my very best at eating her out. She came into my mouth, I could taste her in my tongue.

Tonowari started making really low grunts and moans before cumming, filling my uterus up with his hot seed. “Now you’ll be ours forever” he smiled, pulling out and using two fingers to get back inside any excess cum that came out.

#avatar james cameron #avatar x reader #avatar #avatar 2 #yandere avatar (james cameron)#yandere avatar #avatar ( james cameron )#avatar smut #avatar tonowari #yandere avatar tonowari #tonowari smut #avatar ronal #yandere ronal #ronal smut

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seijorhi · 7 months

Text

Etched in Red: Rust (Part One)

Event Masterlist

Vash the Stampede x female reader

Part Two

w.c 1.4k

tw: yandere themes, canon-typical violence and death, kidnapping

There’s an old earth saying about the best way to boil a frog.

If the water’s already boiling and you drop the frog right in, it hops right out. The key, or so the story says, is to start with tepid water, then turn the heat up slowly, little by little. The poor frog, relaxed by the warming water, won’t make a fuss when the temperature starts to rise, won’t leap from the water.

Blind to the danger, that frog will sit calm and placid, letting itself steadily be boiled alive.

Has the water always been this warm?

You stare, empty eyed at the wreckage of the homestead before you. The broken bodies Wolfwood’s diligently dragging off god knows where to perform whatever rites he thinks are necessary. Smoke and the scent of gunpowder and blood linger in the air you breathe, you can taste it on your tongue.

But it’s white noise in the background. You keep thinking of the man you saw.

Well, maybe ‘man’ isn’t the right word. Half his face was cybernetic, his body twisted and warped into a weapon that mercilessly ripped through that family. You don’t doubt his humanity because of his body, you doubt it because there was nothing in his eyes. Not anger or rage, not glee or regret.

He was nothing but a tool, mindless to all but his master’s whims.

“I’m sorry.”

The words wash over you, but the blond’s touch is warm, solid as he pulls you into his chest, rests his cheek against the crown of your head and holds you, his own cybernetic arm rubbing soothingly at your back.

Why he’s apologising, you’re not entirely sure. For not getting there in time to stop it? Because it happened at all?

This isn’t his fault.

Either way, you let your arms curl loosely around his waist and bury yourself in him, eyes welling up with tears you’re sick of shedding. “I have to get her back, Vash,” you mumble.

For weeks now, you’ve imagined it. All the terrible fates that might’ve met your sister at the hands of Knives Millions. Dead. Locked in some dungeon somewhere, rotting away. Tortured. Ripped apart. Forced into servitude, humiliated, broken, beaten–

Your stomach clenches, threatening to upheave.

Experimented on.

“I need her back.”

The broad palm stroking along your spine falters, and Vash pulls back enough to meet your watery gaze. Behind his glasses, pools of impossible blue shine with concern, a flicker of something else – guilt, maybe? – bleeding through, even as he paints a small, thin smile across his face, “Hey, you promised me you weren’t gonna think like that anymore. Your sister… he won’t hurt her.”

“Stop saying that!”

Snapping at him won’t solve anything, you can’t help it though. Whatever this spiral is that you’re caught in, it has its claws in you, dragging you down into a pit of hysteria. Your breath comes quick, choppy, and all of a sudden you can’t bear his hands on you – you shove at him, stumbling back with a shuddering gasp.

“He hates us, Vash! He hates humans. I watched him kill our parents, he cut them to pieces, like they were nothing, less than dirt, and for what? Why?! And that– that thing!” you gesture wildly in the direction the gunman disappeared off to. “Do you think whoever he was, he signed up for that? Is that the best I can hope for? That if my sister hasn’t already been eviscerated, maybe he’ll lay her down on a table, slice away at her until nothing’s left but metal and blind obedience to a madman, until she’s just another tool for him to–”

You don’t get to finish the thought, Vash quick to close the distance between you, seizing your violently trembling hands in his, holding them up between you. “He won’t,” he vows. “I need you to believe me, Nai isn’t hurting her. He wouldn’t.”

But you’re too far gone for soft platitudes. You shake your head, only half aware that you’re moving at all, “You don’t know that, you can’t–” your voice cracks, another sob threatening to burst.

You hate that you’re doing this here, now; crying for your stolen sister on the site of another bloody, brutal massacre. The only mercy in this is that Wolfwood’s still off dealing with the bodies. Vash bearing witness is bad enough, you don’t think you can handle anyone else seeing you this brittle.

With a wounded noise, he lets one of your hands slip from his to brush at your tears with a gentleness that steals your breath. “Don’t cry, angel. I promise you, she’s not being hurt. Nai won’t let anything happen to her.”

A promise.

Vash promised weeks ago, earnesty dripping from every word, that he’d help you find and free your sister. At the time, you could’ve kissed him, bowed at his feet, given him anything in your power to give. No else was offering. No one else cared about some stupid girl from a nowhere town, kidnapped by a vicious egomaniac bent on eradicating humanity.

(You swore to yourself, too, that you wouldn’t hold it against him that he called that monster brother).

You trusted him then, the weight of that promise settling into your soul like a brand. Vash would help bring her home, he promised.

Vash, cradling your tear-stained cheek, peers down at you with that same striking intensity, like he’s willing you to believe they’re not throw-away words to comfort you, he means them. Your sister hasn’t been harmed. She won’t be.

Which makes you wonder, a cold thread of unease slithering down your spine, how he can promise something like that.

“… Vash, how could you possibly know that for sure?” you whisper, the sound carrying in the too quiet stillness of the homestead.

The hand you squeeze isn’t made of flesh, blood and bone – you barely notice, searching Vash’s face in turn, praying to yourself that just this once, his words are empty.

The soft, pink flush that paints his cheeks quickly turns those hopes to ash and dust.

And perhaps he senses that too, because the moment you try to step back, put a little distance between you so you can breathe, that grip of his becomes iron.

Vash wets his lips and swallows, a shallow bobbing of his throat, “Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not. I’d never–” he breaks off with a strangled sounding huff, his fingers flexing around your wrist. He’s always been bright, excitable. Sunshine on a summer’s day.

Now he just looks manic. Eyes too bright, too wide. A jitteriness that sets you on edge.

“The plan was to get her out, like I promised. It’d be quicker if it was just me, I didn’t want– I couldn’t risk anything happening to you if I brought you with me. It’d kill me. Kill me. But Nai, he– she’s important to him, I think. He needs her.” Vash frowns, “I swear I was gonna bring her back to you like I promised, that’s the only reason I went, and I would’ve, you know I would’ve if I thought for a moment she was in any danger, but…”

“You saw her?”

With those sad, puppy-dog eyes fixed on you, he nods.

Something painful wrenches in your chest at the admission, and with a sharp tug to your wrist, Vash is there, his forehead pressed against yours, murmuring near frantic reassurances – excuses – as though there won’t be bruises left in his wake.

He saw her.

Vash was there, he saw her and he left her.

Bitterness cleaves at you. Betrayal. Heartbreak. Agony.

You’re a fool.

“Let go of me.” Your voice is robotic, a cold contrast to the roaring mess of emotions in your head.

If Vash hears you, he gives no indication. There’s not enough air in the room, every inch of it tainted by Vash clutching you closer, holding you tighter. Like he senses that if he loosens his grip, even for a second, you’ll disappear altogether.

“Let go of me… Vash, let me go! LET ME GO!”

You’re shrieking, pushing and shoving at him, beating your fists against his chest, and Vash looks halfway to distraught as, for a split second, his eyes flicker to focus on something just behind you. “I’m sorry, angel. I’ll make it up to you.”

The sudden, blinding burst of pain at the back of your skull comes out of nowhere. Drops you cold to the ground, and as the darkness swallows you up whole, you hear him speak again, that broken, mournful tone that tears at your heartstrings.

“I’m sorry.”

Close your eyes, little frog. Drift off. The water’s nice and toasty.

#yandere trigun stampede #yandere vash the stampede x reader #yandere vash the stampede #yandere vash #yandere vash x reader

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analogwriting · 4 months

Text

The Other Side of Paradise

Chapter 4: Take A Slice

Killer x gn!reader word count: 2.5k first|next a/n: sorry im so slow w this fic - i swear i'll start picking up the pace as soon as i finish training these new managers

Oh fuck.

Everything hurt. It hurt to move. It hurt to think. It hurt to exist. Your entire body felt like lead as you entered the world of the conscious, but you weren't even sure if you were going to have the strength to open your eyes. You might just have to go into a forever sleep.

You weren't even sure when or who you got home. You remember basically ascending as Killer fucked you into the ethereal plane over and over but then at some point your memory gets too foggy because you were too lost in the sauce to even process what was going on.

Slowly, you opened your eyes. The curtains were still drawn, so you weren't sure the time, but the sun peeked through the edges. You were in your shared bed but Killer was nowhere to be found. Probably band practice or something along those lines.

Though, you didn't hear them jamming out, so you assumed it was the second option.

You needed to sit up. Deep breath. You could do it.

“Don't strain yourself.” You jumped at Killer’s sudden voice, wincing at your own movement. You looked over, seeing him walking in with a tray of food. “I had a feeling you'd wake up soon.” He smiled, setting everything on the nightstand. The smell of what he made wafted through the air and into your nostrils, making you salivate and realize just how hungry you were.

You groaned, not wanting to move but you needed to. You knew you needed to eat and hydrate. You'd feel much better after.

You felt the bed dip as Killer sat on the edge of it. “Just pull me up, babe. Rip off the bandaid.” You knew you'd keep putting it off. You heard him snort before taking your arm and suddenly pulling you up.

Oh fuck.

Your entire body buzzed with pain for a moment and a wave of nausea washed over you; a tingle running up your spine specifically, giving you goosebumps. You sat there a moment, letting your body ride through the pain for a moment before opening your eyes and letting out a breath.

Killer was watching you with a frown. “I’m sorry,” he said. You blinked, looking at him. “It’s my own fault.” You snorted, pulling him into a soft kiss. “I could've told you to stop, but I didnt. I wanted this. This is my own consequence.”

He frowned deeper. “But I could've went a little gentler.” You shook your head. “Nah. It was perfect. I wouldn't have had it any other way “ You kissed him again and he smiled. The both of you knew you were an enjoyer of the more rough side of things.

“If you say so.” He shook his head, grabbing the tray and setting it up in your lap. “Now, I need you to eat everything on this plate and drink all that water, got it? I'll be back up in half an hour to check on you.”

Your face warmed up but you smiled before saluting and nodding. “Aye aye.” You knew he was serious when it came to food - especially after a full night of fun.

With that, he left you to your own devices.

You looked at the entire spread he cooked up for you. He made all of your favorites. He wanted you to regain your strength after last night. He also didn't know the lack of food you consumed yesterday. You might keep that to yourself, you don't need him upset and worrying about you right before he leaves.

Plus, it's not like it's a habit. You were just too excited to eat.

The food was delicious as it always was whenever Killer cooked. You swore that if rockstardom didn’t work out, he could definitely make it as a chef of some kind - that was his backup plan anyway. You’d say you were biased, but everyone who has ever had his cooking would agree. He was easily the best cook any of you knew.

After you finished up, you decided you should probably try to make your way out of bed. You didn’t want to spend all day laying around, especially when Killer only had so much time left with you. You wanted to be able to spend time with him properly. He’d stay with you in bed if you asked, but you didn’t want to do that. You wanted to be able to do things. What things? You weren’t sure, but you didn’t want to make him lay around the entire time. You also wanted to make sure you spent time with Kid, Heat, and Wire too.

You slowly made your way to the edge of bed, taking your time standing up. Your entire body ached, but the more you moved and stretched it, the better it felt. Exhaustion and stiffness were all you were experiencing right now.

You rummaged around your dresser for a moment before deciding on a nice and comfortable outfit before heading out the bedroom. Music was playing through the house, but it wasn’t their rehearsing, they were just playing something on a stereo. You wondered what they were up to.

Slowly but surely, you made your way down the stairs, taking them one at a time. The smell of barbeque hits your nose and now you were really curious as to what was going on. You picked up the pace as much as you could, eventually reaching the bottom.

“Babe, you shouldn’t be up.” You felt Killer immediately sweep you into his arms with a concerned look on his face. “Don’t strain yourself.” He frowned.

You gasped, looking at him. A small laugh escaped you and you shook your head. “I’m fine, darling, really.” You kissed his cheek, squirming to have him put you down. “Besides, it smells phenomenal and there’s decorations. What’s going on?”

Killer finally caved, setting you down gently, but keeping an arm around your waist as he walked you into the kitchen. You blinked as you saw he had all kinds of things he was prepping to cook.

“Isn’t it obvious? We’re throwing a party, duh.” Kid’s voice boomed from behind you, making you jump from the sudden noise. You looked back at him, glaring slightly. “You ass.” He just laughed, shaking his head as he grabbed a beer from the fridge.

“A party for what?” You decide to just move on instead of making a fight like you usually did. You didn’t have the energy for it. Kid just looked at you for a moment before moving on as well. He was probably well aware of your current predicament. “Well, I’m assuming Killer told you the news finally yesterday.”

You blinked, momentarily forgetting what he could be referencing before it hit you. Your brain was still foggy and slow. You nodded at him. “The fact that you guys finally got signed?” As you said those words, you couldn’t help but grin widely, Kid mirroring you. “Congrats, by the way.”

Kid chuckled, straightening himself out. “Thank you. It was about time we did anyway.” Confidence radiated from him; he was absolutely going to be riding this high for a long time. He snorted, shaking his head. “Anyway, we told everyone we had big news and we decided to throw a party for it.”

“So, who all is making it?” It was rare that your large friend group was able to all meet up at once. When there were over thirty of you, it was close to impossible. Besides, you hadn’t even so much as looked at your phone. You had no idea where it was, so you hadn’t even checked the chat.

“Everyone, actually.” Your attention turned back to Killer, your eyes widening. “Holy shit, really?” It was hard enough to plan an event where each one of you could actually make it, but to throw something on the fly? And everyone able to show?

That was a miracle. A good omen, surely. Why else would the stars align so perfectly?

“We were just going to break the news in chat once we told everyone at the party, but since everyone will actually be there, we won’t have to do a second reveal or tell people to keep it bottled until we told everyone.” Kid grinned, clearly excited. As he should be - this was huge! This is what he’d been dreaming of since he was seven! This is what he had worked so hard for - what they had all worked so hard for. You couldn’t be more proud of them all.

“This is fantastic! Finally, the universe decides to cut us some slack. For once everyone is able to get together and y’all got signed. It can only go up from here!”

Kid laughed loudly, nodding. “Cheers to that one!” Then he shotgunned his beer before slamming the empty can against his head to smash it and throwing it away. You fuckin’ hated when he did that, but you didn’t say anything. You were going to choose peace.

You patted your body, looking around. “Where is my phone by the way? I haven’t seen it all day.” You weren’t really asking anyone in particular, you were more mumbling to yourself.

“It’s plugged in upstairs, I put it on silent so you could get some sleep. Figured I’d wake you up if anything important happened,” Killer said as he moved to do some more food prep. It was also true - if anyone couldn’t get a hold of you, they’d call him since you two were always together. He kept his phone on his person for this reason. Just in case of emergencies since you were pants at keeping yours on you.

“Ah. Makes sense.” You also weren’t one to really be attached to your phone when you were home anyway. You had everything you needed here and saw your friends quite a bit. You tended to check it more when you were in classes or at work. Being by yourself, you had nothing else to do besides be on your phone anyway.

“Not too much has happened in the chat. Just plans arranging,” Kid said, grabbing another beer. You nodded, folding your arms and leaning back against a counter.

“What still needs to be done?” You looked at the both of them. Kid opened his mouth when Killer interrupted. “You need to rest. We have everything under control. Heat n’ Wire should be back from the store soon.”

You frowned, folding your arms as you pouted. You suddenly felt a wave of defiance as he shot down any chance of you helping before you even offered. “But I don’t wanna. I want to help!” You looked at him as he turned to you. “You can help me by making me worry less and resting up before the party. You always go hard, so I want you to be ready.”

You huffed at him, shaking your head. He wasn’t wrong - you were quite the partier. You loved the entire vibe of parties…at least with your friends. “Not going. I’m helping and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

Kid snorted as he watched the interaction between the two of you. “Alright. You two have your little lovers quarrel, I’m going to head back outside to set up the backyard.”

“I’m coming wi-” As you spoke, you had started to follow him when you felt your boyfriend tug the back of your shirt to keep you in place. “You’re not.”

You spun on your heels, glaring at him. “You can’t force me to go and lay down - that’s dumb. Just lemme help!”

“What’s going on here?” Wire walked in from the garage door.

You frowned at him. “Killer won’t let me help.” You folded your arms to pout and your friend chuckled, shaking his head. “He keeps telling me I need to rest when I’m perfectly fine!”

“I heard you had a long night, rest would be wise.” He looked from you to Killer. It was no surprise everyone knew, it wasn’t hard to put two and two together. Killer wasn’t one to kiss and tell, but it also wasn’t needed. “But, we also know how stubborn they can be once they make up their mind.” Your boyfriend sighed, nodding. He knew all too well. You and your cousin were the same in that regard. Stubborn and hot-headed.

“Surely, we can find a compromise.”

Heat walked in from the backyard. “We have to run to the store again, we forgot some stuff.” He groaned, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. Then it dawned on you.

“Oh shit, you guys are pants at organizing. I can’t imagine that everything is going to be ready for the party in time.” If it were solely up to them, they’d run out of things halfway through the party or not get half the shit needed. You glanced at the clock to start planning on what needed to be done by when.

You moved, checking the list both from their previous trip and the one they need to go on. “This isn’t nearly enough. Let me check and see the status of things.”

You made a big sweep. You checked the garage, the kitchen, and the backyard - the three main hangout areas of the house. Things were set up here and there but it was all in pieces and you knew that if you didn’t take over putting things together - it was going to end in disaster. Not that anyone would really care, but if this was going to kind of tie off as their going away party - you wanted it to be good.

“Alright, boys. Let me take over organizing everything. We only have a few hours and a shit ton of things that need to be done, so let’s lock in.” You had already made a list of things to be done, items Heat and Wire needed to grab from the store, and an inventory of everything you already had.

Killer had gone and grabbed your phone for you so that you could gauge who was arriving when so you could have a more solid line of events that were going to happen, creating a kind of itinerary for what was going to go on. He seemed to be satisfied with you managing things as long as you didn’t move around too much.

This is how you were helping out. You were going to instruct everyone on what to do. You didn’t need to move around too much, you mostly sat at the island in the kitchen as you planned everything out. The boys moved around you, occasionally asking you what they needed to do next. Naturally, the grocery list that Kid put together for their second trip was still not everything they needed, so you were able to expand that before sending them back on another run.

With you in charge, things were going a little more smoothly and before you knew it, everything was ready. All you had to do was wait for your friends to start rolling in.

#i've been closing every single day so bear w me a little longer #i also am reshaping the outline so hopefully be able to steamroll things a bit better #one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x you #killer one piece #killer x reader #massacre soldier killer #am fics #tosp #killer #also my time at sandrock got me hella distracted lmao #and who am i romancing? if you guessed the fuckin' cook of the tavern you'd be correct #i have a type in case that wasn't clear sdlfkjsg

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torreshalstead · 8 months

Text

On a crowded street in 1944

Summary - The four walls of Upton’s General Store were all Hailey knew although she longed to see what else life had to offer. When a handsome soldier walks through the door, she thinks he might just be the answer to the life she wants to have. But it was 1944 and the country was at war. Would fate smile on her or would her heart be another casualty of the war?

Chapters - 2/15

Notes - hope you all enjoyed the first chapter, just a note to say there won’t be an update next week as I’m moving but chapter 3 should be up on the 27th ❤️ AO3 Link

The rest of the day passed in a daze for Hailey with any free moment being taken up with images of Jay, his smile or his beautiful green eyes. They would float through her mind and she’d lose any coherent sense of what she had been working on. As a result she had almost double charged a young boy for his bag of liquorice, she’d given Mrs Fitzpatrick the order that was meant for Mr Williams and she’d knocked over the box of dressmakers pins that was kept behind the till and had to spend the next 20 minutes on her hands and knees picking up the little blighters.

‘You can close up now Hailey,’ her father’s voice echoed from the doorway behind her. He was pulling on his smartest jacket, although the elbows still had uneven hand sewn patches on them. ‘I’m meeting Mr Jones for dinner to discuss business, hopefully get a good deal when the next shipment of cigarettes comes in. With all the boys off to war, their mothers are going to want to send them off with some and if Upton’s can supply them then all the better for our bottom line.’

‘Have a good meeting father,’ Hailey called back. Her father out for dinner meant it would just be her and her mother, a much more peaceful evening and she might be able to sneak off to bed early to read too. Her mother was usually content to spend some time by herself - she too enjoyed the peace and quiet that filled the apartment when her father wasn’t present.

She heard the back door open and close with a soft thud, it was always the entrance they used as a family, apparently it wasn’t done to walk through the shop even though everyone knew they lived above it - it was no secret.

Hailey set about tidying the counter and was just about to lock the front door when she heard the bell tinkle.

‘Sorry, we’re just closing,’ she called out before looking up and meeting Jay’s gaze with her own. ‘Jay- I mean Mr Halstead, did you forget something earlier?’ She stammered, silently kicking herself for calling him Jay out loud.

‘I just wanted to say sorry again if I got you in trouble with your father,’ Jay said, smiling softly at her as he approached the counter.

‘He was okay, I think this meeting has got him so riled up he barely acknowledged me for the rest of the day. He’s not here by the way,’ Hailey added, not quite sure why she had.

‘I know,’ Jay said bashfully. ‘Don’t think me odd but I waited for him to leave before coming in again.’

‘Oh’, Hailey was taken aback at his candour.

‘I wanted to ask if you’d allow me to take you for a walk this evening? I know we’ve just met but I leave tomorrow and-’

‘Yes’, Hailey said quickly, not allowing him the chance to finish. Her heart was beating at a gallop.

His eyes grew wide and his smile shone, ‘really?’

Hailey nodded, ‘I can tell my mother I’m going over to the bookstore to see if they’ve got anything that came in damaged.’

‘Damaged?’ Jay asked, cocking his head in intrigue.

‘Mrs Smith will sell them to me for cheap if they have a rip or get water damaged,’ Hailey said quickly, the colour rising in her cheeks. She might as well have just admitted to him that she had no money and could only buy books if they already had the corner dog eared and the spine broken right down the middle.

‘That’s nice of her,’ Jay said with a sincere smile and Hailey suddenly felt more comfortable again. There wasn’t a touch of judgement in his voice.

‘I’ll be 10 minutes? I can meet you outside once I’ve locked up?’ She said, almost giddy at the thought of spending some more time with the handsome soldier. The fact that he had said he was leaving tomorrow had barely registered.

‘I’ll be waiting patiently,’ Jay said, bowing his head so dramatically that Hailey let out a girlish giggle before locking the door behind him and scurrying up the stairs to speak to her mother, excitement coursing through her as she took the steps two at a time.

——————————————————————————-

Luckily Hailey’s mother didn’t question her too much when she said she was popping out, Hailey guessed being 17 had its benefits although she’s not sure she’d have had that easy of a time if she had asked her father.

Debating for a moment whether to take her cardigan she decided against it, it was still so warm and didn’t show any sign of letting up. A quick glance in the mirror and a pinch to her cheeks, she all but ran down the stairs and out the back door of their store. Walking around to the front, she took a second before turning the corner to take a deep breath. Come on Hailey, she said to herself.

‘Your mother was okay with it?’ Jay said with a smile when he spotted her.

‘I think she was quite pleased to get some time to herself,’ Hailey said.

‘Shall we?’ Jay gestured to the street and Hailey fell easily into step beside him. Although she was almost a foot shorter than her dark haired walking partner, he shortened his stride so they could stroll together side by side.

The street was crowded, the warm air driving the inhabitants out of their homes to enjoy the sun on their skin. Mothers were pushing babies in large strollers, children kicking cans down the street, teenagers not yet old enough to sign up to the war effort smoked on the corners. Hailey loved it when it was like this, it was like the city was alive. She normally only got a chance to experience it through the windows of the store and through the stories of her regulars - her father preferring the family spend the time indoors, cleaning and preparing the goods when they weren’t busy selling them.

The conversation with Jay was easy, his voice was smooth and soft and Hailey thought she could listen to him talk for hours. He clearly felt similar though, asking her questions about her life, her hopes and dreams. No one had ever taken so much interest in her before, it felt nice for someone to want to know the innermost workings of her mind.

‘So have you always wanted to work in the store?’ Jay asked.

‘Not at all, I wanted to go to college, get my typing tests done and become a secretary, maybe as a legal secretary for one of the local solicitors firms,’ Hailey’s gaze flicked over to Jay as she spoke and she realised his eyes hadn’t left her since she had started talking.

‘Can I ask why you didn’t? If you don’t want to answer…’ Jay tailed off, clearly worried he had over stepped but Hailey shook her head.

‘No, I don’t mind you asking. My father said he had no need of a secretary and I couldn’t afford to sign up for the classes without him,’ Hailey admitted with a small shrug. She didn’t usually like to admit to anyone that that was the reason behind why she wasn’t doing what she wanted with her life, it felt like a poor excuse, literally.

‘But if you’ve been working at the store for years, surely you had some put aside?’ Jay questioned.

‘I don’t get paid, father takes the money I would get as my keep, food and board and the like,’ Hailey said with a small shrug. She knew with the hours she worked she should have a nice pot of savings to fall back into, but she had barely two cents to rub together.

‘I’m sorry,’ Jay said, ‘I hope someday you get to take those courses if you really want to, Hailey.’

‘What about you?’ Hailey asked, trying to turn the topic away from money. Her mother always said it wasn’t a polite conversation topic for people like them. She had never really understood what she meant by people like them but she heeded her advice nevertheless.

‘Well I turned 18 last month so I went and signed up on the day, my brother is already in the forces in the Medic Corp and it was the right thing to do. I finished basic training yesterday and we ship out tomorrow so we were allowed to visit family as long as we are there at 7am on the dot,’ Jay said and Hailey could hear both the pride in his voice that he was going to fight for his country but also the undercurrent of fear, the nerves at what the war would hold for him.

‘Your family is here?’ Hailey asked, silently wondering why, if he had family in the city, he wasn’t spending his last few hours with them rather than her, a stranger.

‘Will, my brother, is the only family I’ve got left and he’s in Europe somewhere, he writes when he can but, it’s just me now,’ Jay said sadly.

‘Oh,’ Hailey was shocked by his honesty. It was a rarity these days, people seemed to prefer to sugarcoat things rather than say what they truly meant. Hearing Jay speak so openly was a refreshing change.

‘My mother died having me. Will tells me stories about her although I’m not sure what is true and what he is making up. I don’t mind though, it’s nice to hear about her, even if some of it’s fiction,’ Jay paused on the side of the street, just a block from the end of Main Street and fishing out his wallet, pulled out a worn picture, the corners fraying and the colours starting to fade.

‘She’s beautiful, Jay. I’m sure she’d be proud of you,’ Hailey said, gazing down at the woman sitting for her formal portrait in the black and white image. Her dark hair was pulled off her face into an intricate design on top of her head, she was wearing a pale coloured dress, Hailey imagined it in a pastel pink, and her smile was identical to that of the man who was holding the photograph.

‘My father drank himself to death after that, so it was just Will and I. As soon as he could, he signed up. Said he didn’t want to wait until they called him up, wanted to go on his own terms. I never understood it then, but I do now,’ Jay spoke with such clarity for someone who had only just turned 18. Hailey wondered how difficult that time had been when it was just him and his brother, they were just children and had been left all alone.

‘But you came back here anyway?’ Hailey questioned.

‘It’s the only home I’ve ever known I guess,’ Jay said and then added with a smile, ‘and spending time with you has certainly made it worth it.’ Hailey blushed at his words, he was more forward than anyone she had ever met and she didn’t know how to respond. Jay clearly sensed her lack of words and filled the silence. ‘So you like to read?’

Hailey giggled softly, ‘I do like to read. It’s my favourite thing to do. Father says it’s not ladylike but he doesn’t know I have a pile of books in the bottom of my closet hidden under the floorboards.’ She chuckled again. ‘Like I said earlier, Mrs Smith will put them aside if she can’t sell them and then she’ll give them to me for a penny or so.’

‘I like to read too, perfect way to escape,’ Jay agreed with her as they fell back into step and made their way into the park by the waterfront. The crowds they had encountered outside the store were less here, it was calmer, more peaceful.

‘That’s exactly it, I can float away and be somewhere else when I’m reading those words on the page,’ Hailey said excitedly. No one else in her life understood the pleasure that reading brought, but in Jay she seemed to have found a kindred spirit. ‘Sometimes I wish I could write like some of those authors, like the Bronte sisters or Jane Austen…’ Hailey drifted off letting her mind wander.

‘You could practise by writing to me?’ Jay said after a moment of silence.

Hailey stopped walking and turned to look at him, ‘you want me to write to you?’ She asked, her voice suddenly softer than it had been previously.

‘Well I’d like to write to you if you agree, and it would be grand if you could write back,’ Jay said, his cheeky smile appearing back on his face again. But when she took a second to respond, she saw it falter. ‘Of course, if you don’t want me to-’

‘No, no,’ Hailey shook her head quickly. ‘I’d love to write to you,’ she smiled warmly at him.

‘That’s settled then,’ he nodded and she chuckled. ‘There’s a bench over there, shall we sit? Unless you need to get back.’

‘Sitting sounds delightful,’ Hailey smiled, the blush threatening to make a reappearance as they made their way towards the empty bench and took a seat, the city air feeling slightly warmer than it had done a moment ago.

#upstead #hailey upton #jay halstead #chicago pd #upstead fic #one chicago #hailey x jay #chicago pd fic #upstead fanfiction #chicago pd fanfic #upstead fanfic #chicago pd fanfiction

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rylanenthusiast · 2 years

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the moment ryan realized his feelings for dylan ? 😊

initially this was not at all meant to get so…intimate? blame my thumbs for typing it out i was held hostage by my hands. I gotta admit tho, I’m not the happiest with this- but I’m trying to be less of a perfectionist so I’m posting it anyway :)

side note: I HIT 100 FOLLOWERS??? Y’ALL ARE THE FUCKING BEST FOR ALL THIS SUPPORT I KISS EVERY ONE OF YOU ON THE FOREHEAD.

It was one of those summer days where you can feel the heat of the sun cooking you from the inside out, so naturally, the counsellors decided it was the perfect day to host an impromptu water balloon fight- as per Dylan’s suggestion.

Ryan had almost decided to skip out on it to go listen to podcasts at the docks, but the way his sweat made his shirt cling to his chest was getting increasingly unbearable by the second.

They’re all gathered under the tree in the cabin area, the open space and cabins providing a formidable battlefield.

“Alrighty!” Dylan exclaims with a wide grin, clapping his hands to get all the kids and fellow counsellors attention. “If you would so kindly stand in a line so we can hand you your balloons, we can get this show on the road!”

Once the kids eventually settle into a (somewhat) line, Dylan begins explaining the rules to the game.

Ryan wants to listen but…he sorta just tunes it out. In his defence, the sun has practically fried his brain.

He’s suddenly brought back to earth as he’s handed two water balloons by Dylan, who winks as he places them in his hands.

Ryan’s cheeks warm, but he blames it on the sun peeking between the tree leaves.

He’s once again ripped out of his train of thought by the sound of a countdown.

“3…2…1…Go!”

He sprints off towards the direction of the radio hit, he suspects nobody will find him there because of all the (outdated) technology inside the hut which he assumes nobody would want to get wet.

He’s not entirely sure how long it’s been, but safe to say, Ryan had been right about nobody coming to check the hut.

He’s leaning against the wooden back wall, leaning out ever so slightly to try get a look at the game, until-

He feels a cold hand clamp over his mouth. He lets out a muffled yelp- and as he tries to turn around to see who’s behind him, he feels a wet torso pressing up against his back. Warm breath ghosts the nape of his neck.

A shiver runs down his spine.

“If you don’t say anything, I might let you go,” a familiar voice whispers into the shell of his ear.

Ohhhh shit.

He slowly turns around until he’s face to face with Dylan Lenivy. And fuck does he look good.

Ryan leans back against the wall, Dylan’s hand still clamped over his mouth. The boy is covered head to toe in water, his wet hair flopping onto his forehead, and his soaked shirt clinging to his lean torso. He has a shit-eating grin on his face, obviously enjoying this far too much for Ryan’s liking.

“You gonna do that for me?”

“Mhm,” Ryan muffles out.

For a second, neither of them say a word, Ryan’s wide eyes staring into Dylan’s which were flicking between his own and the hand he had over Ryan’s mouth.

Ryan can feel his heart in his throat. They’re so…close. Ryan’s back is planted against the wall and Dylan’s practically caging him in, his free arm resting to the side of Ryan’s head. The air between them is thick and heavy, and Ryan can feel his stomach doing flips.

“Good!” Dylan exclaims, suddenly pulling his hand away. Although, he doesn’t make an effort to increase the distance between them.

“…Fuck dude, you scared the shit outta me-“

He’s cut off with a giggle that has his stomach doing a different kind of flip.

“Sorry- sorry- I just- I couldn’t help myself-“

Dylan cant even finish his sentence he’s laughing so hard.

Ryan’s too busy fighting the blush creeping up his neck to notice the hand above him.

He looks up just a second too late to see Dylan’s hand release a water balloon straight over his head. The ballon bursts, soaking Ryan as he gasps at the sudden coldness.

He flicks his head down to look at his assaulter, glaring as he watches Dylan stumble backwards and begin sprinting in the other direction as best as he can whilst fighting a fit of laughter.

As he’s stood there, dripping water and soaked from head to toe, Ryan takes a minute to process what just happened.

The way being so close to Dylan had made him feel…the way he yearned for the feeling of his back pressed against his again.

No. Nope. There’s no way.

Shit.

#the quarry #supermassive games #ryan erzahler #dylan lenivy #ryan the quarry #dylan the quarry #radioheads #rylan #drylan #fanfic #ficlet

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10holmes · 1 year

Text

It is done.

Synopsis:

SVSSS meets 2ha/Erha and make it LiuJiu.

An angsty exploration of Shen Jiu's character and the painful ordeal of being known and learning to trust, with a hopeful ending for LiuJiu.

Tags:

Angst with a Happy Ending ; Misunderstandings ; Hurt + Comfort ; Open & Hopeful Ending ; Enemies to Lovers speed run ; Rivals to Lovers ; Shen Jiu just needs a hug

Sneak Peak Snippet:

Unable to mask and swallow down his displeasure and irritation (and sadness), Shěn Qīngqiū now addressed Liǔ Qīnggē with scornful bitterness (…maybe being a little too unfairly pissed off at him, considering Yuè Qīngyuán actually deserved most of his anger… but, as so often, Shěn Qīngqiū just failed to properly reign in his temper…).

“Well, look who’s finally decided to grace us with his presence! Not that I expected you brute to be punctual…” he, thus, sneered at the Bǎi Zhàn peak lord in lieu of a greeting.

The other just scoffed in reply, sending the scholar a hateful glare right back: “I don’t take criticism from one that is still vain enough to waste qi because he’s concerned about his delicate face in the middle of a fight… What a joke…”

Had Shěn Qīngqiū had his fan in hand, he would have probably cracked its spine in quiet rage at the man’s words (and yet again complete misinterpretation of the matter…).

This absolutely moronic condescending prick! What did he even know!!

… nothing of course… and with Shěn Qīngqiū unable to explain himself, without revealing his shameful background, he had to let the slight stand… merely narrowing his eyes and sending the other peak lord the deathliest death glare he could manage, before spitting at him venomously: “What is the point of you being here anyway? I am almost finished, as you can see, so your help is not needed any longer… Why don’t you just go back to your peak again and leave me be? No need to force yourself to stand my vain presence and for me to have to abide your pea brain…”

The brute had the guts to actually laugh humourlessly at that – or more specifically at him: “Trust me, I’d also much rather be anywhere else than here, but the sect leader’s command was clear… And I do actually follow the tasks and missions I’m given instead of using them to slack off somewhere else…”

These next words hit Shěn Qīngqiū as if the brute had taken his Cheng Luan and impaled him with it… and then given the blade another good painful twist for good measure, before ripping it back out again…

The false unjustified accusation made Shěn Qīngqiū swallow bitter bile. He felt the urge to retort something to defend himself now… even though he knew he had only himself to blame for letting the man and his Qī-ge believe that he had truly used the pretence of going on a mission to instead debauch himself in lecherous sexual acts, while people were left to suffer…

(…although he had been meaning to go on said mission right after stabilizing his core… specifically even had chosen a mission that didn’t seem that dire yet and allowed for some breathing room and a low possibility of things growing worrisome, while Shěn Qīngqiū was shortly indisposed…)

Of course, Shěn Qīngqiū ultimately couldn’t say anything in his defence and had to, yet again, merely grit his teeth and take the insult, damning himself further in the eyes of his shidi and fellow peak lord by not disagreeing…

“Get lost.” Was the only barbed reply the, for once witless, scholar finally came up with, before unceremoniously turning away from the Bǎi Zhàn peak lord to, at last, dedicate all his focus to the still very much visible, wide-open dimensional tear… adamantly staring at the bright qi in front of him without blinking… burning away the furious tears that had suddenly stupidly enough started to rise to his eyes unbidden...

#liujiu #shen jiu #original shen qingqiu #liu qingge #crossover fic #SVSSS meets Husky and His White Cat Shizun #one shot #Angst with a Happy Ending #after two years of xuexiao obsession finally manged to write something else

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oldxenomorph · 4 months

Text

been working on this idea of liara recording melinoë telling her story of coming into contact with the emperor during chronos's takeover. really this is an excuse to write some stuff about melinoë (and the crossroads) interacting with the emperor (in her black centipede form) and nyog'sothep.

will i ever finish this? who knows.

anyway: warning for gore, melinoë feeling queasy.

THE FOLLOWING IS A RECORDING MADE BY DR. LIARA T’SONI CIRCA. 2231 CE ARCHIVED BY IRULAN CORRINO, 2847 CE SUBJECT: MELINOË, CONTACT WITH THE EMPEROR

LT: Thank you for agreeing to this, your highness. As I’m sure you’re aware, I have been tasked with recording the Emperor’s history.

M: I am still getting used to all of this. (I’ve never met anyone or anything like you.) I’ll tell my story the best I can if that is what she wants. I apologize if I am not able to offer any deep insights into her or her family.

LT: That’s alright, your highness. This is about your experience. Besides, it is rare for us to have an actual account of her reaching out to someone other than Nyx during her slumber. She agreed that this needs to be preserved.

M: Thank you. That’s reassuring to hear.

LT: Please, begin whenever you are comfortable. And we can stop anytime you want to.

---

Melinoë opens her eyes.

She stands at the spine above the world, a crucible, a huge metal construction, and sees the Earth engulfed in fire. Teal lips agape at the vision before her: pockets of molten red amongst the glittering lights of immense cities, ancient rock, and bodies of water. Debris from strange hulls ripped apart by cannons floating in front of the burning planet. Her first glimpse of the surface in its entirety, the majesty of Gaia, and it is the end.

There was no sound. When the princess tore her eyes away from the enormity of the Earth she saw a person, sitting on her knees, their back towards her, shoulders slack, chest and back slowly rising and falling with every painful breath. It was just the two of them, here at the end of the world.

Melinoë tries to find her voice, but finds herself unable to speak. She can only watch.

The person pulls off the strange fabric with eyes that concealed her vantablack hair, slightly damp from sweat and blood. Hands itch, coated and wet with red as they grip the hilt of the knife in her belt, freeing it from its sheath, intact, sharp. Melinoë watches as the person slowly begins to cut off her armor, pulling it and the skin it was grafted too off of her body. Sounds of pain being held back as the hard material is removed and tossed aside.

There is the sound of the knife entering the skin. The person cuts into her own body, opening herself up. She cuts into her own insides, she pulls herself apart, allowing black tentacles to be freed. Melinoë watches, eyes widening, as the black tentacles rise up from in front of the person, helping her break free of the ruined armor. The knife slips from the person’s hand, and with their hands freed, they begin to pull out the viscera and gore from their own body.

All around the person, armor and flesh and organ meat begins to pile up, blood pools, everything soaked in red and black.

Even in the glow of the metal construction, all the lights that come from various points, the person’s black hair eats all the light, it is slick with blood and war, it sticks to her face. Her skin is the same, wet and blackened from injuries and thin as paper, more tentacles finally bursting free from the confinement of this vessel, this body.

Melinoë’s breath shakes as the person turns around, revealing a pale, angular face with brutal facial scars, red and glowing and deliberate. Her eyes hold Melinoë in place, eyes that are intense and red like the Sun when it will die, surrounded by seas of black; sharp and wide with pain, keeping Melinoë from moving as the goddess could feel them begin to vivisect her, pulling apart her body to look inside her.

Larger, black tentacles emerge from the person’s open insides to help her stand up, her eyes never leaving the goddess. (They peel away every layer of her flesh, they sink into every atom; they know where she came from, they know her bloodline.) Melinoë follows the red gaze up, the person towering above her, moving closer, closer. A sound began to fill Melinoë’s head as the black tentacles reached for her the same time the person stretched out their arm and their spidery, wet, red hand; a sound unlike anything Melinoë ever heard, all consuming noise, devouring every thought, eating her alive.

The person grabs her head, palm pressing against the moon on her forehead, cold fingers sinking into her blond hair. Her mind screams and screams as the noise grows louder, louder.

When the person speaks, her voice oscillates from that of a human's to the deep and cold baritone of an unspeakable actuality, the voice of an abyssal machine, the voice of annihilation.

And then the world went black.

---

Melinoë gasped as she stumbled across the threshold separating the Crossroads and Erebus.

She coughed and coughed until her lungs ached, drool leaking from her mouth with every wet and awful sound. Her insides were in shambles, her stomach felt like it was going to crawl up her throat; she wanted to vomit. Her heart pounded in her chest, an unrelenting hammer. Her head felt like it was going to split open.

The goddess looked around and saw that the world was red. The world was bent in wrong directions, wrong angles.

Above, there were no stars in the sky, neither was there the glow of Selene’s silver light. The sky was pitch black, devoid of all color, devoid of all life. Below, the ground was black, as was the water, as was the air. The vegetation that Melinoë had grown accustomed to navigating was gone, there was only a pulsing redness and long metal ropes with points of glowing light, they came out of the earth itself and they all converged on a single point. A low thrum made the atmosphere even more oppressive, a familiar sound crawled its way into Melinoë’s head, a sound that sank into her foundation; noise in the blood, it made her head hurt, an ache that would be persistent from here on out.

“What is this place?” She said these things to herself, a reminder that despite everything she was still in control of her thoughts, her speech. Melinoë’s eyes were drawn upward and she realized that the trees were replaced by giant black spikes.

Before her was a large black centipede, bigger than any one she had ever seen on the surface. It was curled up upon a throne of viscera, black webbed resin, and metal. Multitudes of red eyes opening, slits of pure red. That familiar feeling of being vivisected sank through the goddess again.

Then there was that voice again. It filled her head.

#creative impulses #creation: work in progress #hades 2 #mass effect #melinoe #the reaper emperor #melinoe compartmentalizing the horror of having a vision of the reaper harvest and the emperor's face: i'm fine!#also: call back to sovereign's first words to shepard #alright back to writing emperor x nyx lemons

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chaoticallyfragmentary · 2 years

Text

I think I’ve been looking for you

Hello! This is a spin-off of my previous Dabi x Reader post. Both Dabi and Reader regain memories of their previous lives in the bnha universe. As indicated, this is a reincarnation imagine, so reader’s death will be discussed and Dabi’s dissonance from who he thinks he’s supposed to be. It deals with grief, so if you are not in a mental headspace to read it, please put yourself first. Slight angst but overall it has a happy/hopeful ending because this lil meow meow deserves it all. Some LoV found family shenanigans at the end!

(Requests are open and welcome. It’s exam season now but as soon as I’m finished with it, I’ll work on them. So, um whispers, send me some?)

Sometimes, you don’t think you’re human.

On days that are hard, and nights that are longer, you think you are something old, something haunted by the echoes of years past.

It makes no sense, admittedly. You are sinew and bone but some days, you feel like stardust and magic.

Sometimes, you ache. A beast roars in the awning crevices of your heart, incessantly clawing at your ribs, ripping everything to shreds, yearning for something, gagging on it, really. Hazy delusions, memories assaulting you like half forgotten hallucinations born in the dark. Sometimes, your grief sleeps with you on your bed, it tears at your skin like barbs, keeping you from sleeping.

Sometimes, you remember feeling trapped in your own body in someone else’s bedroom, staring up at someone else’s ceiling, wishing, for once your body could do the things it was supposed to, none of your partners, if you could call them that ever felt right, not freckles not sun-kissed skin, neither women, nor men, a sense of wrongness so profound you couldn’t give yourself to them freely, always withholding, always flighty.

Sometimes-

“Lets go!”

Your mouth purses and twists in a brief grimace at Himiko’s enthusiasm but you follow along.

She rolls her eyes at you, blond hair swaying as she talks animatedly about her recent crush. Gods, you hope, for her sake, this one isn’t as bad as the last. “-Jin kun was like—” she continues, sipping a cup filled with a disgustingly sweet concoction, just as she preferred. You love her, you do but oh boy could she eat tooth rotting sweets. You suppress a full body shudder as you make appropriate noises to indicate you were listening.

You aren’t, not really.

Sometimes, you think you are—

You are looking aimlessly around when your eye snags on someone in a corner, half lidded eyes looking around and suddenly he is there.

You look at him, the distance between you a physical ache but you don’t move. His eyes flicker to you sharply, like he knew you were there all along.

You look at him, electric blue eyes and that stupid, stupid smirk (no staples and no hunch of his spine, haunted by grief).

You start to remember, the touch of his hands and the tenor of his voice, your heart hammering a painful beat against your breastbone, fingers twitching, reaching for him, an instinct you cannot fathom.

You want to run to him, want to cry and rage, want to kiss him, tongue and teeth, want to crawl inside him, you want and you want, a want that burns like fire, blue like his, a want that lights you up from inside out, reducing you to smoldering remains and ash.

Some days, Touya doesn’t think he’s human. He thinks he’s missing half his soul.

Sometimes, he looks at his father, a perfectly acceptable one at that and remembers begging. He remembers begging, screaming, writhing and burning. Remembers him spitting horrible threats at his youngest brother, remembers the world burning and remembers it being blue.

He has lost something, someone. He knows he has, something missing since he was too young to realize there was anything to miss. It doesn’t make any sense, feeling like his name was wrong wrong wrong, that he was called something else, a name he chose, a name that was his own, not what that bastard chose. Sometimes, he takes a second too long to react when people call him.

But then he dreams, cigarette smoke mingling with spring, a laugh frozen in time. He aches with the remembrance that he needed someone as he needed air, remembers gentle hands and fond exasperation, he remembers glorious smiles and rough kisses, laughing mouth pressed to his, remembers moonlit dances and soft whimpers, desperate hands and frantic pleading, a love so bright and beautiful.

The day he dreams about finding a body, cold lifeless one, doused in the silence left by an aborted scream, the smell of daffodils, watching your mouth stretched open, sound held hostage by death, the ring he gave you glinting in the sun, a little thing he’d bought with his own money, his legs give away, forcing him awake with ash lingering on his tongue, soot on his hands and fire in his bones.

Someone was next to him

Someone was screaming,

howling, a sound filled with so much devastation and grief, a sound so cataclysmic like their world was imploding.

“—uya, Touya, baby it’s okay, shh it was just a dream, it’s okay” his mother soothes him and for the first time in a long, long while, Touya Dabi bawls in his mother’s arms.

A strangled hiccup sneaks through your throat, breaking into a sob as knowledge comes to you just as you feel your chest tighten, ribs squeezed into rubble. Himiko looks at you. “Are you okay? Oh, that is one of the Todoroki kids.” she replies and oh, his blue eyes widen and then your feet move without your permission. You follow, the howling thing in you finally quieting.

He doesn’t look the same, he is taller, eyes a lighter shade of blue, hair no longer the white that you remember, skin a bit lighter, but it is him. You would know him in death, at the end of the world.

A name you remember, his name. A name you cannot know but do, with impossible certainty. The sky is blue, grass is green and he is your “Dabi” you breathe. You see the recognition mirrored in his face, a face that you’ve never seen before, a face you know better than your own.

“Hey princess, I think I was looking for you.“

You giggle and it’s his favorite sound.

He smiles and oh, what a beauty it is.

He opens his arms and you are falling into him, his arms around you, squeezing so tight, fingers digging into skin, both of you blubbering apologies and I love you’s, reassurances that you are alive, you are here, and I’m here, it’s okay love and oh gods, you think, thank you.

Himiko stands off to the side, gobsmacked, whipping up her phone and sending a pick of you two, texting the groupchat furiously, with Tomu-chan and the others and she is sure Kurogiri has to physically restrain Tomu-chan from committing murder, yelling profanities, how dare he touch you?! while Compress and Magne sis watch the drama unfold, sipping tea. She loves her family.

#dabi x reader #bnha dabi #mha dabi #dabi imagine #dabi drabble #bnha #mha #reincarnation #alternate universe #dabi x gender neutral reader #tw implied death #pansexual reader #grief/mourning #slight angst #happy ending #league of villains #shenanigans

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callsign-magnolia · 1 year

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Lost In Translation // I'm A Whore?

MATURE CONTENT (18+)

Synopsis: Liz falls in love with her childhood best friend, thinking he is the man of her dreams. But what is she to do when the real man of her dreams comes along?

Bradley Bradshaw as Noah

Bobby Floyd as Harrison

Warnings: Angst, cursing, violence, eventual smut.

Collaboration w/: @alltimereverie

The Ex? Really? | Masterlist

We were all at the bar, a group outing that was suggested by Katy, and one I’ve been dreading all week. We were gathered around a pool table, Noah and Matthew going head to head in a game of nine ball. It’s been two months since Harrison’s visit, and one month since he came home. Since his return I’ve been on cloud nine, and honestly, he has his own place but he’s always at mine. I sipped on my beer as I watched them intensely. Harrison was sat on a stool, his arm around my waist as I leaned back on him. “You okay?” He asked and I nodded, my stare still locked on the eight ball that has yet to move in five turns. “Liz?” My head snapped to Harrison whose brows were furrowed. His thumb rubbed my hip lightly as he held my gaze.

“You seem out of it. We can always go home if you want.” He said before giving me a small smile. “No, I’m fine to stay.” I said, turning my eyes back to the pool table. My face fell as I noticed Katy hanging on Noah’s arm. I hated that I hated them together, he’s my best friend, I should be happy for him. But it’s so hard because a part of me still wishes I was the one hanging on him. “Want another beer?” Harrison asked and I looked down at my bottle, shocked I had finished it so quickly, I didn’t realize it was empty. I nodded, handing him the bottle and shifting so he could stand. He kissed my temple before lifting me onto the stool, pulling a giggle from my throat as he walked away.

I looked back to Noah and Matthew. Matthew had a grin on his face as Noah looked annoyed. “What’s that face for?” I asked and he shot the 7 ball into a corner pocket before looking at me. “Just wondering when you decided to pick him over me.” I smirked at him. “I didn’t pick him over you. I can have a best friend and a boyfriend.” He scoffed. “Doesn’t seem that way..” I rolled my eyes at his remark, who is he to tell me how I should behave in my relationship. Besides, it’s never bothered him before. “Mm, that’s not what’s bugging you.” I stated as he leaned back against a pillar, looking at me as Matthew took his shot.

“I just don’t think he’s right for you.” Natasha raised a brow at him, surprised by his response. “You don’t get to make those decisions for her.” She responded, his eyes were hard, the brown eyes not as soft as they used to be. “What don’t you like about him?” I asked and he paused, like he didn’t have an answer. “He tries too hard.” “He doesn’t have to try.” I quipped and he narrowed his eyes at me. “He always looks like he wants to rip your clothes off.” I smirked at him. “He doesn’t rip them, it’s always slow and sensual.” His grip on the pool cue tightened, his knuckles whitening ever so slightly. “He has no respect for your friends.” Natasha raised her hand. “No, he does. He just doesn’t for you.” I smirked at Noah. Him and Harrison have butted heads a few times. Noah always has some snide remark for Harrison and Harrison puts him in his place.

“What’d I miss?” Harrison asked, coming back over with my beer. “Nothing, just friendly banter.” I replied, looking back to Noah, giving him a look that said. ‘Don’t start.’ He huffed and took his shot as we went back to normalcy. Harrison opting to stand behind me, his arm finding purchase along my waist again. “Didn’t seem friendly to me.” He whispered in my ear, making a shiver run up my spine. I turned to him, pulling him down enough so I could whisper in his ear. “Noah doesn’t like us dating.” He pulled back, smirking at me. “Good thing I don’t give a damn what he thinks of us.” He said before lifting my chin, kissing me gently. His hand softly holding my neck, as mine gripped his shirt. I smiled into the kiss, feeling his hands drift down just barely grazing the top of my ass.

I heard a familiar tune, one that always made me smile. “It’s your favorite song, from your favorite band.” Harrison muttered as he pulled away, keeping me close. “It is.” I said, smiling at him. “Noah!” I rolled my eyes at Katy’s squeal. I watched as she rushed over to him, launching herself into his arms. “It’s the same band you took me to see back in June!” My eyes widened at her words. Back in June, Noah got me concert tickets to see my favorite band and I got sick. I found out we could trade them in for the show the following weekend but Noah said he couldn’t go then, so we never got to go. All this time I felt bad because I thought the tickets went to waste. “Wait, did you take her to see my favorite band back in June?”

Noah’s head whipped to me, his eyes widening at my words. “Uh…” “Oh yeah! He took me when I came out to visit for the very first time.” I stared between them, Katy looked confused while Noah looked guilty. “Liz-” “Could you really not go the next weekend?” I asked, staring at him. He held my gaze before sighing, looking away from me. “Seriously? Instead of going with me the next weekend, you decided to take her to my birthday gift instead?” He scoffed. “I didn’t want to waste perfectly good tickets.” My jaw dropped at his words. “I offered to go to the next show! I got the email saying we could exchange them for tickets to the next show!” I was getting angry at this point. “So why did you do it?”

“Gee, I don’t know Liz. Maybe it’s because you find trouble everywhere we go.” I scoffed at his words, as a hand was placed on my back. I glanced back to see Harrison, who had a hard look on his face. “What the hell are you talking about?” I snapped and his eyebrows shot up. “Oh come on, Liz! You’ve never had a serious boyfriend. Only hookups who can't get out of your ass and stir up shit.” I rolled my eyes. “So i’ve only really ever had hookups before? Why does that concern you?” He laughed, his hands in his pockets. “Because you’ve always come to me to run them off.” I narrowed my eyes at him, opening my mouth to retort when he cut me off. “What about Delta Sigma Phi?” My face dropped at his words, and so did my heart. Him, Natasha and I were the only ones who knew about that. I felt tears sting my eyes, and my bottom lip wobbled. “That wasn’t my fault! You told me that! In the hospital the next day, you said it wasn’t my fault!” Why would he say that? After all these years of telling me that nothing I did caused Chad’s actions, why would he suddenly throw that out?

“No, it was! It even shows now, you sleep with him,” He said loudly as he pointed a finger at Harrison, as if accusing him of something. “But the minute he’s gone you’re crawling in my bed! You’re a whore Liz! I know it! You know it! Hell, even Harrison know-” I let out a scream, not even realizing Harrison blew past me, his fist making direct contact with Noah’s face. Harrison grabbed Noah by the collar of his shirt, hauling him up and pinning him to the beam as the entirety of the bar turned to face us. “I can handle a lot of things, but disrespecting her isn’t one of them. You can talk shit about me all you want, but don’t you ever say anything disrespectful to or about her again. Am I clear?” I grabbed Harrison’s shoulder, trying to get him to back off but he held firm.

Noah’s face contorted in anger and he shoved Harrison back, almost knocking him over. Noah didn’t say anything as he swung at Harrison, who dodged his hit but didn’t see the other one from his opposite arm. That hit took Harrison down and Noah immediately dove on top of him. “NOAH!” I screamed as Katy and I both dove in to pull him off, but I instead reached for Katy when Noah’s elbow connected with her ribs and tossed her to the floor. She fell on her ass but looked okay for the most part so I turned back to Noah and Harrison. Matthew and Natasha immediately came over, grabbing Noah and hauling him off Harrison. Harrison stood and lunged for Noah before I jumped in front of him, placing my hands on his chest. “Stop!” I yelled as we heard the clanking of a bell which turned our attention to the bar. “There will be no fighting in my bar!” Jen yelled out, angry to find that the two guys had laid into each other. They stared at each other for a moment, chests heaving. Noah lunged again as I turned to face him, making him stop in his tracks.

“Move, Liz.” I shook my head. “No, now listen here. I don’t give a damn what you think of me, or Harrison or our relationship. But you will stay away from us.” I said sternly as Harrison’s arm wrapped around my waist, ready to move me if Noah snapped again. “You’re going to pick him over me?” I glared at him. “I’m a whore, remember?” I asked as I turned to Harrison, forcing him to turn towards the bar so we could pay our tabs. “Hey man, you should know-” “I know!” Harrison snapped, turning around to face Noah again. “She called me right after you two slept together, and she told me she wanted me. That’s why I’m here. I couldn’t give a fuck if she slept with you! Because she called me, she wanted me! Not you! So drop it, man! It’s pathetic!” He yelled out before turning back to the bar. “What the actual fuck?! You slept with her?!” Katy’s shrill voice cut through the silence. “Katy, baby-” Her hand shot out, smacking him across the face. “You told me I had nothing to worry about with her! Then you go and fuck her?” “We were broken up!” He yelled. “Still a shitty thing to do, Noah.” Harrison guided me over to the bar, where he paid our tab and headed back out to his truck.

I rushed to catch up with him, grabbing his hand tightly and he whipped around to me. His hand gently found my cheek, pulling me close as his lips found mine. “I’m sorry.” I furrowed my brows, about to respond when he cut me off. “I know you can handle yourself, but the things he said were so awful. I couldn’t let him talk to you like that. He’s not allowed to disrespect you like that, no one is.” I nodded at his words. “You don’t have to be sorry. I should be thanking you. No one other than Noah has ever stood up for me, and I eventually had to learn how to stand up for myself. So I appreciate you stepping up for me like that, it really means a lot, Harrison.” He gave me a small smile before placing a soft kiss on my lips.

“Let’s get you home and take care of those bruises.” I said, my fingers gently brushing over the red mark that lingered on the apple of his cheek. “I’ll drive, you just relax in the passenger seat.” I said, taking the keys from him. He chuckled as his hand rested on the small of my back. “Yes, ma’am.” He led me to the driver’s side, opening the door for me and helping me in before closing it. I saw two figures running out to the truck and I rolled down the window as Harrison got in. “Hey, you two okay? We just wanted to check in before you left.” Natasha said, Matthew standing next to her and nodding. I looked at Harrison, who looked sore and tired. “We’re okay, I’m just angry and tired, and Harrison is just ready to get home..” Natasha nodded. “You’ll call if you need anything?” I nodded, cranking the truck. “Bye guys.” I said as I started backing out. Eager to hit the road and get back to Harrison’s house.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @dhwanishah09 @wkndwlff @genius2050

#lost in translation #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #robert bob floyd #bob floyd #rooster top gun #rooster fanfic #rooster #top gun maverick

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deejadabbles · 2 years

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The House of Anubis (Atem x Reader Halloween special)

Part Four: The Darkness

One //// Two //// Three //// Four //// (Five coming soon) ///

Summary: The house was large, a manor, really. Imposing, yet striking more aw with every turn of a corner. You had never thought you’d be dragged back into the family business, but your brother needed you, and so too did his latest project. It stood alone among the trees, yet, you never felt alone when inside. Hairs prickle on the back of the neck, shivers run down spines, and hands fidget with every unoccupied moment. And the thing- or rather, person, who simultaneously eases and worsens these feelings? Atem, a man who was just as mercurial as the house itself, all smirks and light comments one moment, then lingering stares and strange musings the next. So the real question remains, will you uncover the secrets both the man and the manor are harboring?(A Halloween mini-series inspired by the show ‘The Haunting of Hill House’ and the movie ‘The Frighteners’. The Reader x Atem themes are, admittedly, light as this mostly focuses on a spooky haunted house story, but the romantic undertones are there. Gender-neutral reader.)

A.N. Okay, how many of you wanna take bets on whether or not I'll actually finish this before Halloween of next year? I'll try my best, but for some reason, all I seem to get motivated to do is one chapter every Halloween -.- Maybe the next one being the last will motivate me! Either way, I hope you guys like the new chapter, and have a good Halloween!

...

The woods, seven years ago.

All the horror movies were true.

All the scenes of children tucked into bed, holding their breaths in fear at the shadows on their walls. All the images of branches reaching out like skeletal fingers, ready to rake and claw at unsuspecting victims who thought they were tucked away safe in their homes.

Those scary movies her older sister were obsessed with had perfectly captured the visage of old gnarled trees casting terrifying shadows. That was all Clare could think as they drove through the thick forest.

“You really think it’s a good idea to go out this far?” she asked, only now barely able to rip her gaze away from the barren branches reaching out for their car. “Haven’t you listened to those pod casts about people going missing on the backroads because of hill billy psychos?”

Jon, one hand on the steering wheel, one holding a contraband cigarette courtesy of his mother’s purse, actually scoffed. “There you go again, told ya she’d chicken out right before we got there!”

“I’m not-” Clare grit her teeth, “I’m just saying we should be careful! Heck, not even about axe murderers, you know how many people get into car wrecks from deer and shit jumping in front of them on roads like these?”

“Stop being an dick, Jon, she’s just worried your shitty driving is gonna to land us in a ditch,” came Dylan’s voice from the seat behind her. She heard a shift and his head came peeking between her and Jon. “Where are you even taking us?”

After taking another drag of the cig, and passing it to Dylan Jon said, “Let’s just say it’s not inbred machete maniacs that we have to worry about.” Taking his eyes off the road, he gave Clare that look. The look he got in their kindergarten class right before nap time, the look he used when their backyard bonfires lit up his face in an eerie glow, the look before he jumped out at an unsuspecting friend. “We’re going to an actual haunted mansion.”

Dylan groaned throwing himself back into his seat, “Yeah fucking right, there’s just a mansion sitting out in the middle of the woods? Come on, man, you spent all of middle school dragging us to cemeteries and abandoned buildings, I thought you were done with this.”

“This is for real, dude! It really is a creepy ass old mansion,” Jon started digging around in the small space between his seat and the center console, “and, get this, the old dude who owned it, died mysteriously a couple months ago.” He withdrew a piece of paper that Clare recognized as one of their town’s desperate attempts to cling to the past. “Read it yourself!”

After getting it shoved into her hands, Clare glared as she unwrinkled the newspaper clipping. The small article did indeed tell about some professor who died in his family home, but…

“A heart attack?” Clare rolled her eyes, “An elderly man dying of a heart attack is ‘mysterious’?”

“It says right there that he was in perfect health, though!” Jon insisted, but interrupted himself with an “oh shit” as he jerked his wheel to avoid missing a turn in the road.

Now with the trees more sparse than the dense decrepit woods from before, Clare felt a little more at ease. This was all just another one of Jon’s poor attempts to scare them, she hardly had to worry.

“Look,” Jon continued after straightening out his car, “my uncle says he knew the guy who died, and that he was starting to get all weird in the end. Talking nonsense, locking himself away in the mansion more than usual, and, warning people never to come visit him at his house. Dude went nuts like a professor in a Lovecraft story!”

Again Dylan’s head hovered between the front seats, “Doesn’t seem a little…you know, disrespectful or- or ghoulish to go through this dead guy’s house? He obviously had mental issues.”

“God damn, you two are no fun,” Jon accentuated his claim by blowing a raspberry.

And, given that he wasn’t careful to watch the road while he rambled about ghost hunting adventures, Clare took it upon herself to watch the road for him. The night sky was at least visible now, and the full moon overhead gave her some comfort. Ha, a full moon, that must have been why he chose tonight in particular to practically drag them out of bed with no warning just short of midnight.

She was just thinking about telling Jon to watch the road better when something made her stiffen. She saw it in the corner of her eye first, a flash, a spark, and she felt her chest hold back a gasp as her head whipped to the right. Clare leaned forward, trying to see past Jon’s head as she scanned the trees for, what, she wasn’t sure.

“Hey, what’s up?” Dylan nudged her arm, seeing her search through the darkness.

She swallowed. “I…I don’t know I think I saw something-”

A squeal of tires as she slid forward, her elbow making painful contact with the dashboard when the car came to a hard stop.

“Ow! What the hell, Jon!?” In a rare fit of anger, she punched Jon in the arm, before using the same hand to cradle her sore elbow.

To his credit, the driver actually did sound sincere when he said, “Sorry! Sorry, I think I missed the driveway, so I panicked.”

Dylan muttered “driveway?” under his breath as he twisted to look out the back window. “Holy shit, you’re right, I think it’s right there.”

Clare squinted her eyes at where he was pointing, though her view from the passenger front wasn’t great. In the moonlit dark, she thought she could just barely make out a mailbox on the roadside.

Before another word, Jon wrestled his junk-on-wheels car into reverse and veered into the opposite lane as he backed up. There it was, on the same side of the road where she thought she saw something in the trees: a long, unlit, winding driveway.

Jon had that look again, that smile, and he wiggled his eyebrows at them before turning into the driveway.

Despite herself, Clare swallowed hard. The twenty-year-old headlights of the rusted Toyota only cut through the shadows for a few feet, and again she felt like the darkness and trees were pressing in on them. Thankfully, the rocky path wasn’t as long as she had thought, because the woods soon broke into a clearing. There on the right, it stood, probably the biggest house she had ever seen in person, and that included the mayor’s place.

Towers, arching windows, vines woven over brick, it looked like it belonged on the cover of her sister’s old gothic romance books. Moonlight made some of the windows glint in the dark, and Clare realized that that must have been what she saw in the trees earlier.

“Hold shit,” Jon mumbled, “Uncle Tim wasn’t kidding, it’s fucking awsome!”

“And you’re sure no one still lives here? Like the dude's wife or something?” Dylan asked.

“Nope. My uncle said he just has a granddaughter left, and she lives in LA doing computer science shit.” With that, Jon killed the engine and popped open his door, leaving them both to do the same as he approached the house.

The front porch added to the spooky air, no doubt. Spiderwebs in every corner, wicker seats toppled over, and to top it all off: a rocking chair creaking in the night breeze. The old wood steps groaned and a blanket of leaves crunched underfoot as they walked up to the large front door. Immediately, Jon grabbed the handle and turned it hard.

Nothing happened, besides Jon banging his shoulder on the dark wood.

“Come on, you didn’t actually think they’d leave it unlocked, did you?” Clare teased as she turned to the arched, paned glass dotting the front of the house. “Maybe we could try a window?”

Jon gave one last annoyed look at the door before nodding. Dylan had already gone to the closest one, moving the broken wicker furniture to get close enough. A mighty lift, but the glass didn’t budge.

“Dude, give me a hand,” he waved at Jon and they were standing shoulder to shoulder, trying their damndest to slide it up.

While they heaved and pulled, Clare wandered back to the door. There was a fan-shaped pane of glass near the top, so she pressed herself against the wood and stood on her tiptoes. The view was hazy, dust or maybe the glass was simply warped from age, and the moonlight through the windows didn’t help too much. From what little she could see, the door opened into a large entry hall of sorts, and, if she squinted, she thought she could make out a large staircase.

A shadow in the darkness shifted. Clare felt her heart skip a beat, eye’s frozen on the spot where she swore the light from the window wasn’t shining. She made herself look behind her, at the trees surrounding the clearing, and gave a sigh of relief when she realized it must have been the branches swaying in the path of the moonlight.

She leaned back on her heels and turned towards the boys, who were still trying to open the same window. “Guys, I think you should try another-”

Click.

The creak of old wood filled her ears, as the door beside her opened.

It only stood ajar an inch or two, and she didn’t see anyone on the other side, but it still caused her to take a step back.

“Awesome! How’d you get it open?” Dylan asked as he and Jon came to her side.

Again, Jon wasted no time in taking the lead, he grabbed the edge of the door and pushed it open. They could practically hear his eyes go wide, “Holy shit!”

Clare tried to swallow the lump that had formed in her throat as Dylan crossed the threshold. It…it must have been unlocked the whole time, and just got stuck like old doors did. Yes, yes that had to be it. And it finally opened after she leaned on it for so long.

With that thought to calm her, she followed her friends. They took cautious steps inside, surrounded by old walls and creaking floorboards. She was right, it did open into an entry hall, with a grand staircase on the other side, but this wasn’t anything like the old houses they saw in movies.

“It looks like a set for The Mummy.” Dylan ran his hand over the thick layer of dust covering the sand-colored depictions of hieroglyphs and ancient gods.

“Yeah, Uncle Tim said the guy was some sort of Egyptologist. Guess he was waaaay obsessed with his job.”

Clare took her index finger and traced the face of a winged woman. “I thought you said he only passed away a couple months ago,” she asked, frowning at the dust coating her fingertip.

Jon shrugged, “Maybe he wasn’t big on dusting.” He turned and wandered to the doorway on the left side of the hall. “Man, he’s got even more Egypt stuff in here!”

Clare heard Dylan walking over to where Jon stood, but she was still transfixed by the wall. Something cold ran up her back like an icy spider, making her want to wrap her arms around herself. She turned to look behind but found nothing, just open, dusty space.

The chill didn’t stop at her spine though, it slithered down her arms till she started rubbing them through her hoodie.

Creak.

She heard it above her, and her eyes snapped to the ceiling.

Thud.

“Guys,” her call came out a hoarse cry, “Guys, I think someone’s upstairs!”

The boys, who had barely gotten to the next room, turned to face her again, “Huh?”

She was still watching the ceiling, listening, straining to see or hear any sign to tell her she wasn’t overreacting. The ceiling, web coated and peeling, was dark, and she blinked when she thought he saw a section of it…swelling.

No, her eyes weren’t seeing things in the dark, a tile in the bronze ceiling was swelling like a bubble. She watched as it got bigger and bigger- then screamed when it split open to reveal a large bloodshot eye.

Clare fell to the ground, still screaming as she crawled back backwards to the door, watching as the eye got bigger and the bulge in the ceiling slid like dripping ooze to the closest wall. The boy’s were calling her name, and just as they began pulling her to her feet something large on the stairs fell with a deafening bang.

Even with that and her screams, they still heard it.

“What are you doing here!?”

The deep, almost inhuman voice caused their heads to snap towards the staircase.

There, on the landing, back lit up by the marvelous stained glass, was a man with wild hair and eyes that seemed to pierce the darkness.

“Get. Out.” His voice was as deadly as a snake’s hiss, and even Jon gripped the doorway as he backed away. “Get Out! Now!” the figure roared.

They didn’t need to be told a third time. Dylan had a firm grip on Clare as they scrambled across the porch and down the stairs. An arm’s length from the car they heard that same baritone call out to them again: a warning.

“Never speak of what you saw here tonight.”

Jon didn’t even bother putting the car in reverse, and did the sharpest U turn of his life, peeling out of the driveway as if the devil himself were on their heels.

Atem watched them go, still standing sentinel at the top of the stairs.

Then his eyes snapped to the bubbling thing that had slid its way across the wall to the front door. The frame of a skeletal hand was visible under the wallpaper, reaching out in hunger at the meal that had gotten away.

Atem’s anger flared anew.

He was not a cruel man, even scaring those children hadn’t pleased him, but for that thing, he could find no mercy. Especially after Arther.

“If you think,” he took a step down the stairs, “that after everything you’ve put my friend through,” another step, “that I would ever let you harm another innocent,” his foot clicked against a hard floor, “then you are sorely mistaken.”

Atem was not a cruel man, but for the darkness infesting this house, he had no mercy.

The front door slammed shut on the creature's screams.

The manor, present day.

Music was never something that the old thief Alexander Hawkins had indulged in often, only when company graced his house did he allow his wife to fill their halls with the croon of a radio or record. Even his son Arther, who quite liked the birth of rock and roll, rarely turned the volume high. Today though, today a pair of siblings played a scratched up CD as loud as their old paint-stained stereo would allow.

Your head nodded along with your favorite track as the song blared against the tile walls. You remembered this setlist well, it was one of the first mixes your dad bad copied for you and your brother: a rite of passage in helping him with his work.

Laying tile was one of the few tasks you had struggled with when learning your family’s craft, making sure every square was ruler straight, pipping the grout just thick enough that there weren't layers and layers of clean up. It had taken many bathrooms and kitchens less grand than this to get proficient at all that.

So, the professional work you were doing now filled you with some pride.

The downstairs bath had been in desperate need of new tiles- both on the ground and the wall, and a road trip to some antique furniture stores in the area had yielded the perfect replacement pieces. The gold imitation of marble tied in well with the decor of the rest of the downstairs, lavish enough to not feel like an afterthought, but not so garish that the small space might make you cringe.

Unfortunately, your music was drowned out for a moment, the scream of a saw whirring down the hall as your brother finished cutting the tile needed for the edges of the room. When the sound died down again a new song was playing and at first you started humming along again; but when the lyrics started, the tune made you pause.

Usually, you paid no mind when this, one of your brother’s favorite songs, popped on, but today, in this particular house…

You flicked the little dial on the side of the radio, turning the volume down to a murmur as you turned back to your work.

In truth, the day spent shopping had been a much needed excuse. The last day you spent in this house, the day you had stayed till nightfall, had shaken you and your brother more than either of you wanted to admit. And the worst part was, looking back, you couldn’t even say why that night had scared you so much. Nothing had…happened, not really. Neither of you had said anything about the strange feeling of urgency felt when leaving the house, the sudden sensation that something was wrong.

Even still, the next morning your brother had suggested the shopping trip, as if the bathroom were some pressing issue that needed mending by the end of the week. Not that you complained, a day away from the House of Anubis was welcomed by that point. Something about this place just felt…heavy at times.

“Blasphemy, kiddo! One does not turn down the volume on Don't Fear the Reaper.”

Big brother had come back down the hall and set the bag of freshly cut tile by the door before he leaned down and turned the volume back up.

“I couldn’t hear it over the saw anyway,” you countered, and he put his hand over his heart dramatically.

“Well, see if I try to make myself useful again with that attitude!”

A playful roll of your eyes and you went back to your work. He did make himself useful again by refilling your drink from your stash in the kitchen, which was nice. It was almost completely drained again by the time you were finally done with the tile but at least the work was done.

Needing a break from the damp muddy smell of grout and that strange oppressive air of the house in general, you told him you were stepping outside while he mixed the paint for your next job.

Instead of going down the little hallway that led back to the entry hall, you took the door that opened into the study, then the next door that got you into the conservatory. Green was still bursting to life in every free space of the glass-domed room, and you made a mental note to double-check that there weren’t any vines digging into the rest of the house when you got the chance.

The glass doors at the front of the conservatory opened to a small side porch with a nice view of the woods. Said trees were beautiful this time of year, your view was an endless ombre of reds and oranges and yellows. The crisp autumn air filled your chest as you took in a deep, cleansing breath and closed your eyes.

After letting the cool breeze wash over your face for a while, you took a step out into the yard and looked up at the house, letting your gaze travel across it. There was a small balcony where the glass roof of the conservatory met the rest of the house, connected to the master suite.

As you gazed over the upstairs windows, you noticed that the outside walls had some strange angles to them, ones you hadn’t noticed when staying the night in the master room all that time ago. You found yourself tilting your head in confusion, no, that wall shouldn’t jut out like that. Maybe the room next door, but…hold on, that wasn’t right either…how could…

You were unceremoniously drawn out of your reverie by the sound of a car door slamming shut.

A blink as your mind traded one confused train of thought for another and you turned your head towards the sound. A car? Then the thought of Atem crossed your mind. Perhaps he had finally recovered from his mysterious illness and had come back to see you.

Though, you didn’t ever remember seeing him use a car.

The trek through the overgrown grass beside the house was a bit much, but you soon made your way to the side of the front porch, peering out at the driveway. There sat a nice-looking car, small, silver, and near it, stood a bespeckled blonde woman. She was staring up at the house, eyes a bit blank as she kept her arms folded tight over her chest.

You made sure to make your next steps out into the open a bit loud before you called out with a “Hello, can I help you with something?”

The effort not to spook her was in vain, and she jumped a little as she turned in your direction, “Oh!” a shake of her head, “Sorry- I didn’t mean to just stand here and stare.”

You had crossed the distance to her now, and up close, you could see that she looked to be in her late thirties, maybe early forties. Now at arm’s length, she finally untangled her limbs to hold out her hand.

“I’m Rebecca, Rebecca Hawkins, I think you bought this house from me.”

Ah, so this was the granddaughter. “Actually it was my brother who bought the place. I’m just here to help.”

She made a little ‘oh’ sound, her eyes darting back towards the house before quickly snapping to you again. “Well, I was passing through the state and I thought I’d come by and see the place one last time before it’s sold off to another family.”

You nodded, but didn’t miss the way she instantly folded her arms after shaking your hand. “He said that you lived in California, I guess you didn’t get much time to see it before you sold it, huh?” you pressed, remembering how odd it seemed to you, that she would leave behind so many things in the house.

The woman scoffed, digging her heel into the gravel as she gazed at the grand front door. “Honestly? I haven’t been here since I was a teenager. My parents moved to another state when they got married, so we only came back here every couple of years for the holidays. I don’t really have much attachment to this place so when I inherited it, figured I’d just let someone else deal with it.”

“Ah, so that’s why everything was left inside,” you mused out loud, “I understand, if you weren’t that close with your grandfather, it would be more a headache than anything.”

Rebecca’s head didn’t turn from the house, but her eyes did shift back to you out of the corner of her glasses. “Well, we were close, there for a while, but, towards the end he just…”

Her eyes had snapped to the manor once again as she trailed off, and the gaze stayed there for a moment, seemingly transfixed. Then she seemed to shiver from an imaginary breeze.

“Anyway, it took a few years to sell, but I think it's for the best.”

“Do you want to come inside? See what we’ve gotten done for the place?” you offered, before an awkward silence could settle.

The heel that had been worrying a spot in the gravel slid forward, towards the porch, but she quickly shook her head. “No, no, I think I should get going. I just wanted to see the old place with my own eyes before I moved on.” She gave you a smile that was a bit forced before shaking your hand again. “Thank you, I hope you and your brother can make some good money off it.”

And before you could insist she at least come in for some coffee, she was opening her car door. However, before she fully shut it, she apparently had one final thing to say.

“Oh! I also wanted to ask, has a man named Atem shown up at all? He lived in the area, so I thought he’d be curious about who finally got the manor.”

Your eyes went a bit wide at the mention, “Oh! Yes, he has, he actually told me all about the house's history.”

Rebecca smiled, “That sounds like Atem, he’s got to be, what, fifty by now?”

“He’s really inter-” You began, but then your mind froze when her words sank in. Fifty…what? “E-excuse me?”

She went on, not hearing your confusion, “Yeah, he was probably in his twenties last I saw him, though, I was a little girl at the time.” She shook her head as she closed the car door, and through the down window she said, “Well, tell him I said hi, grandpa always talked about him, so I hope he’s doing okay.”

And with that, she turned the car on and pulled out of the driveway leaving you standing frozen on the gravel path.

The drive to the hospital was unusually quiet on your end. Your brother talked, especially when you mentioned your morning visitor, but almost everything he was saying was nothing but a buzz in your head.

You couldn’t have heard Rebecca correctly. Atem had to be in his twenties now, not when she was a kid. Or- or maybe she was confusing Atem with someone else her grandfather knew. Or…

“Hey,” you started when there was a pause in whatever your brother was saying, “Do you know if Atem’s dad lived here too? …And if he’s maybe named after his dad?”

He let out a confused noise, but his mouth twisted in thought for a second, “I don’t know, I can’t remember him ever mentioning his parents. Why?”

You had to let out a sign before answering. “Oh, nothing. Just something weird Rebecca said before she left. I must have just misheard her though.”

Big brother hummed again, “Well, like I said a minute ago, everything about her visit was weird. I mean, who goes out of their way to come by this little town to see a house for less than five minutes?”

He had a point, her odd behavior should have been the most troubling thing about her visit. “She didn’t mention where she was going but, if it was any decent-sized city nearby she still would have had to drive, what, almost an hour off the major highway?”

Nodding his head, your brother added, “Not to mention when she sold me the place, her realtor said she’d had the place for years and specified that she had no interest in coming out to the house before the sale was final. Kinda weird to change her mind now.”

“Guess she just needed some last-minute closure,” you finished as you pulled into the hospital parking lot.

After dropping him off, you spent the drive back to the manor trying to get your mind off of the strange meeting. There was no use reading into something that, in the end, likely had nothing to do with you.

Still, you wished that Atem hadn’t been gone for so long, it could have taken your mind off of most of the things plaguing it once he gave you some simple answers. With that desire in mind, once you got back in the area, you actually spent some time going down several roads near the manor in a half-hearted attempt to find this little house Atem mentioned living in.

It was half-hearted because you didn’t actually go up to any of the houses to see if he lived in any of them. It felt too odd or random to just show up on someone’s doorstep asking about a strange man you didn’t even know the last name of.

So, in the end, after not seeing him on a front porch or driveway of the few houses you found, you turned the car around and went back to the manor. Work was sure to take your mind off things. You’d play some of the CDs you loved most in your brother’s collection and zone out on your next project.

Or at least, that had been the plan.

You spend no less than fifteen minutes sitting in the driveway, telling yourself to put the mystery away then dwelling on the thoughts once again in a vicious cycle.

Thankfully, as your eyes drifted over the house while you thought, you remembered another small mystery that had cropped up that morning. That’s right, you had been in the middle of figuring out why the walls of the upstairs didn’t match the inside when Rebecca showed up.

Figuring that solving one small mystery could help you forget another, you slammed the car door shut with determination set on your face.

You marched through the front door and didn’t waste any time grabbing the floor plans from the main workstation in the drawing room. With them rolled up in hand, you ran upstairs to the master suite and spread the papers on the lavish bed.

Even before you lifted the layer of clear plastic your brother used for notes, you could see that your suspicions were right. There, beside the balcony, the master bedroom was supposed to have an alcove about four feet deep.

“Okay,” you clapped your hands together, turning to the flat span of wall beside the balcony door, “according to the floor plans, you should not be here,” you said to the wall as you ran your hand over it. Now, what was the best reason to cover up a section of a room? Secret passages were a staple of old houses, after all.

It was all smooth planes, if they had covered up the alcove recently, they did a good job. No fancy bookcases to hide a door, no strange seam hidden by the pattern of the wallpaper, but… there was a walk-in closet beside the mysterious missing space.

Thankfully there were hardly any clothes left in it, so you only had to slide a few suit jackets aside as you crouched near the right wall inside the closet. If you were going to hide a secret door, this would be the spot you’d choose for sure.

Your heart was actually thudding a bit hard in your chest as you ran your hand along one edge of the wall, then up to the top and around the other side.

Then a breath caught in your throat as your finger caught on a very, very thin vertical line. Taking the light on your phone, you shone it over the spot and that’s when you saw it, barely perceivable: the outline of a small door.

With fumbling hands, you grabbed the keys from your pocket and carefully wiggled them into the seam, then pushed on them like a mini crowbar.

Pop!

The panel swung open just an inch or two and stale air met your senses, but you couldn’t care much as you tried to push the door open. Excitement made you give up halfway through, and you hurriedly shone your light into the hidden room.

The beam dragged across cobwebs and windowless walls that were a bit distorted from neglect. Then the light traveled across thick layers of dust, stained hardwood, and- and something sitting at the very center of the small space.

It was a pedestal.

Somehow you ignored the vague sound of something creaking inside the room as you squinted your eyes. A pedestal? You placed your hand on the doorframe as you started to lean forward, thinking that you saw something metallic glinting atop it when the light played across the space. Cramped and dark and tiny, you thought staring into that wrong-feeling void was the reason the hairs were standing up on your neck, until the door slammed shut on your hand.

A scream of pain tore your throat apart as something- something inside the room was pressing the door hard against your hand. You struggled, feeling the skin on your knuckles tear open as you tried to pull your hand free, even using your free one to push against the force behind the door.

Then, you heard a frantic call of your name, and someone was kneeling behind you.

A frantic cry trailed off in the air as you turned and saw Atem, glaring at the secret door as he put his hand next to yours, “Push!”

As if you had stopped trying. Together both of you pounded on the door and even over that noise and the pain, you could have sworn you heard something like claws scratching at the wood on the other side.

Whatever it was, it relented and you were sent falling back out of the closet and into Atem’s arms.

Still frantic and screaming and crying, you both scrambled to your feet, Atem practically dragging you out of the bedroom.

“Wh-what the hell!?” you were barely making sense, but when you both reached the stairs, Atem let you go.

He looked just as sick as the last time you saw him as he leaned against the railing, and waved a hand down the stairs, “Go-” he paused, seeming to catch his breath, “go downstairs. To the kitchen. I’ll get the first aid kit.”

Despite the million questions resting atop your near-panicked state, you couldn’t seem to find it in you to argue. You took the stairs two at a time, cradling your bloody hand gingerly the whole time. When you finally made it to the kitchen, you couldn’t calm down enough to sit, even as you tried to rationalize what just happened.

Maybe there was a shutting mechanism on the door that made sure it shut behind whoever entered? Or, maybe, maybe something inside the room fell and-

Or, maybe you were just going insane inside this house that caused mirrors to crack and brothers to have heart attacks and doors to slam shut on their own.

“Here.”

You hadn’t heard Atem come in, but there was a first aid kit on the kitchen counter now, and he looked up at you almost sheepishly.

“You need to take care of your hand, it could get-”

“What the hell just happened?” Your voice was more quiet than anything, but it was firm as you looked up at him, still cradling the hand he was so concerned with.

He looked away then. “I don’t know,” his back was actually turned to you as he said, “I came to visit like usual, and I heard your screams. I was just-”

“Cut the bullshit, Atem,” your voice was higher now, all your confusion and irritation and pain pouring out in your tone, “something insane is going on in this goddamn house, and I think you know all about- hey! Don’t walk away from me!”

He had started stepping towards the door, but in your anger you closed the distance between you both, reached out your hand, and-

And you fell through thin air the moment you touched his back.

The fall to the ground didn’t hurt much, but maybe your mind was just reeling too much to register it. In a scramble, you rolled onto your back and looked up at Atem. Or, at least the space he had been standing.

Something dark and smokey, like black mist curled and coiled in the air where you had fallen through Atem. Slowly, the shadow smoke merged back together, until it once again resemble the man. His face, slowly returning to a full, fleshy color, looked down at you with something like resignation in his eyes. You stared back at him for a long, silent moment.

Then, for the second time that night, the house filled with your scream.

#atem x reader #yami x reader #yami yugi x reader #yu-gi-oh reader insert #Atem #series: the house of anubis

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dogshit-gambler · 1 year

Text

verge of frenzy—; Patrick Bateman x f!OC

Commissioned by my lovely friend @myst3r10 🖤 thank you so very much for allowing me to write this! Liz is a true girlboss 🖤

Very dark content. CNC. Drug use. Violence/Graphic Depictions of Murder. Gore.

Hot water ran over the blonde’s body, her hair sticking to the back of her neck. Elizabeth ran her fingers through her hair, her hair mask sliding over her delicate fingers. The sun shimmered against her bedroom floor, clothes basking in the warmth of the sun. A formal, business look was her poison today. A long pencil skirt to hug a perfect figure was nearing her future. Sheer stockings and a white button-up to pair with her eccentric jewelry. As she squeezed her hair, her second alarm started to blare. “Fuck,” she spat. “I’m awake. Unfortunately.” It’d be one hell of a day interviewing stuck-up rich guys with egos the size of Texas. She needed a fix now. Drugs or alcohol either would do. She applied a glycolic acid cleanser to her face, dragging it down to her throat. A tingle shot through her skin as it gently exfoliated. She paired it with an almond oil scrub used primarily on her neck and chest. She needed to be perfect to combat the toxic yuppie culture - even if she took part in it too. Her skin was smooth and shaven, with tight legs and a perfectly round rump. Looks were everything.

Rinsing out her hair, she stepped from the shower, water running down her spine. Upon drying her face, she moisturized with SPF and added a sweet Gucci perfume. One sprit on her neck, the others behind her ears and wrists. She reached over to her bathroom drawer, just under the mirror to reveal a small baggie of white powder. Wasting no time, she took a sharp snort directly off the plastic. Much like people needed coffee to start the day, she needed her own special stimulant. Hers just happened to be much more expensive and illegal. All crime came with a price, yuppies knew this better than anyone. She wrapped a towel over her hair, flipping it up as she finished her routine. The rush was amazing, a quick heartbeat, the room looking so much more alive and colorful. It was awfully boring living the best life at all times, she needed this one thing to keep her intact.

Her outfit was designer, shoes worth a man’s life, lipstick as red as blood, and skin as clear as the summer sky. Elizabeth admired her reflection much like Narcissus, she could drown much like him too. Pools of beauty rippled before her, a beautiful nymph looking back at her. You’d wonder if you were even worthy enough to be looked at by her, for her eyes struck like bullets and sliced like a butterfly knife. Another hit, she thought. Fuck. She finished the baggie and chucked it into the trash. A small droplet of blood ran from her nose and a familiar soreness hit her. She took a washcloth to her nose and gently stopped the bleeding. Her damned dealer didn’t grind the shit fine enough, she’d have his head for that. Sharp, jagged crystals ripped into her nose, filling her lungs with acute amounts of blood. It was more of a nuisance than anything. Maybe one day it would catch up to her, but surviving brain-rotting conversations with millionaires hadn’t killed her yet - so nothing will at this rate.

On the contrary, Patrick Bateman never had this problem. They’d meet soon enough, even if that meant discomfort for the both of them. They were close enough to have done drugs together, but distant enough to not give a shit about each other’s problems. Bateman’s morning routine was all the same like it always was.

Jean’s ringtone began to go off.

“Helloooo?” Elizabeth spoke into the phone as she placed it on speaker.

“Hey! How are you, Jean?” She smiled through the phone, looking at herself in the mirror. She twirled the edge of the towel around her finger.

“I’m great! I was just wondering… Will I see you today? You’re so busy and I miss you. I’d like to see you even if you’re working.”

Elizabeth cleared her throat, holding the washcloth on her nose.

“Yeah, I’ll be in today for a while. I have some interviews to finish. There’s been a lot of shady bullshit going on at P&P and I plan to figure it out.” Murder scandals, how fun.”I know you’ll do great, Liz. I can’t wait to see you today.” Jean said her goodbyes before going back to work. Being an office princess had its perks, even if you were treated like meat. Having rich men fawn and bend before you - exhilarating. But Jean was far too sweet to notice the gawking expressions and predatory scrutiny. How their eyes stripped her naked and disrespected her grave before she was even dead. It was sickening. Elizabeth had seen it and stuffed it out like a candle. But Jean? She was too innocent, too kind to work in this cutthroat world. She too had climbed the corporate ladder but at what cost?

Bateman made his presence known at P&P. He looked down at his fellow yuppies, feeling their judgment, he only wished it was jealousy. Since Paul Allen’s death, more followed close behind. Bateman could only clean so much blood, oh god, how he hated cleaning the blood. He’d rather bathe in the crimson fluid, drink it, and add it to a wine sauce. Dining on the meat of mankind, drinking their blood like a sacrilegious puppet. Bateman, the man, the myth, the fucking maniac. He spent his morning jerking off the slasher movies, rewinding the death scenes until his climax. His moans mixed with the sounds of female screams, his cock rock hard as if they were real sounds of agony. His morning was ripe with violence, and porn to start the day off right.

“Hello, Jean.” He spoke. “I see you took my suggestion, you stopped wearing that ugly blouse. I like the yellow on you much better. The pink made your skin look dull. I like this so much better.”

“Morning, Pat. You look nice today.”

“Thanks! You too, Jean.”

Seemingly, all Jean heard was hello.

Patrick Bateman, you’re out of your fucking mind.

Chapter 2

Light rain, slight chance of thunderstorms.

“Good morning Liz!” Jean spoke as she made eye contact. Elizabeth made herself known, her presence requiring basic respect and intelligence. “How’d your date go last night?” Jean inquired, not knowing the cloud of disappointment that was about to glide over her head. “Horrible. A no-show. Bastard really thought I’d let that slide and tried to call me at 5 in the fucking morning to apologize.”

Jean frowned, resting her chin in her hand. “Well, I’m sorry. I hate to hear it didn’t work out. But why do you think he called you?”

Liz chuckled, at how innocent Jean was. Elizabeth looked around, making sure no one was listening. Apart from Bateman, not a soul knew she existed. “To… Just to enjoy himself.” Jean blushed a rosy red. “Oh.”

Elizabeth nodded. “Yeah. Not a good look. So now I’m just… making reservations for myself.” She was used to doing things on her own, being independent had its perks but always keeping your guard up is exhausting; and by god, she was. Jean shrugged, returning to her army of papers to fill out, leaving her cousin alone to interview. She knocked on Bateman’s door. “Come in.”

“Patrick Bat-”

He cut himself off. “Elizabeth.” “Patrick.”

A rush of memories began to flood them both.

She was in Bateman’s apartment, bent over the dresser with a line of cocaine sitting on her left asscheek. Bateman snorted the powder through a bill, his muscular body covered in delicious sweat. He slapped her ass, leaving a red print on her fine skin. Bateman was rough, the kind of guy you’d regret staying the night with. Liz enjoyed it, using it as a chance to feel alive. They coexisted in misery and loneliness, using each other to cope with the pain of the world. “Fuck me,” she demanded. Patrick laughed, slapping the tip of his cock against her. The drugs ran through his bloodstream, invigorating him like a racehorse. “Be a good girl,” he began, slamming his cock into her eager hole. “And take,” he bit his lip, her walls fluttering around him, “My big fucking cock. Take it, ohhh take it, just like that. Tell me you love my cock, tell me you love getting fucked like a slut. Fucking bitch.” Bateman pounded into her, his heavy balls slapping against her. “I love your cock,” she whined, gripping the wood frame of the table. “Fuck, fuck me harder! Please, fucking use me and all my holes.” Her body was tight, lean with muscle, and perfect hips. Her legs spread for Patrick, his skin hot against hers. His body flushed and hot, sweat running down his back.

“Fucking tell me, Liz. Tell me you feel my cock buried inside you like fucking corpse. I wish you were fucking dead so I could keep you here forever, even in death you’d be slobbering on me.” Liz felt herself close to climax as Patrick’s hand crept up to her throat. His grip was deadly, the air trapped in her throat. Her brain felt heavy, her rabid heartbeat told her she very well may have died at that moment. Her orgasm was godly, the rush of crashing worlds, on the brink of death, and the drugs mixing together created an intoxicating cocktail. Patrick screamed out profanities as he overstimulated himself inside her, his aching soul clawing at his neck for release.

“Clean yourself up in the bath. Wash my cum out of you.” Elizabeth fell on the floor, weak and tired. She attempted to pull herself up off the floor and at least onto the bed. Patrick almost took pity on the damage he caused. “Come,” he said, leaning down to pick her up. “Let’s get you cleaned up. You’re covered in sweat, you know I can’t have that.”

He scooped her up with ease, his muscles flexing as he stood up. He was still high on the conglomeration of drugs, but still sober enough to know he didn’t really want her to rot on the floor. He felt confused with himself at times; his utter lack of empathy seemed to begin and end with her. He could abuse her and kiss the same wounds he caused. He took no pleasure in truly hurting her outside the bedroom. He wanted to spoil her with every dollar in the bank. Millions wouldn’t be enough, he’d buy her the fucking world if he could. He placed her in the bathtub, his slender hands blasting the warm water over her feet. Painted toenails shimmered under the soft lights of his bathroom. “Let me clean you up, you’re filthy.” He was gentle for the first time in his life. His hands spread almond body scrub over her back and chest, the sugar gliding over her skin like silk. Her head was still spinning, the warmth only making it worse. Patrick ran a washcloth over her skin, his soft hands tickling the gentle hairs on her arms. Her heartbeat slowed down, the dizziness now turning into an intense exhaustion; the kind worse than a long day. The coming down process was cocaine was a strong one, it felt more like dying than anything. Extreme fatigue plagued her entire body, it felt a chore to even take slow, easy inhales and exhales.

Patrick took care of her like a delicate flower, the only thing that mattered to him was Liz. His sweet, precious Liz.

---

“Patrick! Long time no see, how are you?” Liz inquired, placing her purse on his desk. The simple act of dominance annoyed Bateman. “I’ve been well, Liz. I’ve missed your company. I’m sure you’ve just been suffering without me too.” She chuckled, taking a seat. His office was dead, just like every broker in the building. “I’m not here for games, Bateman. It’s business. Take a seat.” Oh? No games? No joy. “What’s troubling you?” Bateman inquired, both his hands clasped together. His eyes cut into her like razors; blood dripping from her doll-like skin. “Well,” she began. “How’s it feel being one of the last standing? This isn’t looking good. Tell me what you know.”

Patrick scoffed. “Tell you what? That I killed everyone in the building and burned their putrid corpses?”

“There’s a start.” “Oh, don’t be silly, Liz.”

She leaned in close, the air thick with tension. “Patrick.”

She stared into his eyes, counting every lash, every pore, and soon to be every fucking zero after his bail. “I need you to be honest here. Where were you on the night of Paul Allen’s death? And the rest? John Minton? Samantha Higgins? Gustavo King? Come the fuck on, Pat. Tell me.” She stood strong in the face of evil, knowing damned well she could look back without a stitch of doubt, let alone fear. Patrick’s eyes danced around her neck, imagining his hands wrapped around it. His mind raced with the memories.

“It turned you on when I told you how I butchered them all.” Patrick began, a sinister smirk plastered on his face. “Christ, don’t you remember? Soaking your panties when I told you how I bled a man in the tub like a pig?” Fuck. “I know it did. You’re a glutton for punishment - only if you get to watch like a fucking voyeur.

His words made her cringe but she detected no lies. “Patrick. You are far too comfortable.” Bateman laughed. Oh god, how he laughed. “Don’t be silly. Let alone coy, you think I’d forget about you covered in blood while I fucked you next to a corpse?” Elizabeth rolled her eyes, she wasn’t so innocent either. “Correct. Which is evidence enough to throw your ass in jail.” “Pftt… You’d be convicted too! You fucking watched!” Yes, she did. And she enjoyed it. It was sick, it was perverted, but nothing in their lives came normally; god forbid peacefully. Patrick wasn’t wrong, but that was the goddamn problem. “You have no evidence,” Liz replied quickly, a hint of amusement in her voice. “No?”

“No.”

“Pumpkin… I was filming us. You looked so beautiful all splayed out, blood and every other liquid dripping off you. You wouldn’t want that plastered everywhere, would you?” Patrick leaned back in his chair, the black material of his button-up stretching over his powerful biceps. “But you and I both know you can’t live without me and seeing me locked up would crush your precious little heart; even if it is black with rot.” Patrick’s lips curled into a soft smile as Liz looked him up and down. Dare say, he considered it ogling. “I heard you got stood up, by the way. So we will go out tonight. It Looks nice. Wear that tight red dress I got. It makes your ass look like a heart.” Patrick handed her his credit card, the letters P.B engraved on the backside in titanium shimmered under his lights. “Get your hair and nails done too… My treat. Simply because your act was hilarious.”

She snatched his card like a viper. “As if I wouldn’t have blown your money regardless…”

In truth, she’d never throw Patrick under the bus. She was too emotionally involved, invested in his life. Patrick was a constant, one thing she could always rely on. Apart from the never-ending drugs, Patrick was her system, her habit, her vice. Needless to say, his grip on her was monstrous. But she wasn’t the only one wrapped around a finger. Patrick was a slave to her whims, her wishes, her desires. Everything she could want, from the world to a blood diamond, she could have it all.

She gathered her things and just before leaving, she stood still in her tracks. “Don’t get too comfortable, Bateman. I have my ass on the line for you.” That… was an understatement. She was in deep, but Patrick was even deeper.

There was nothing like having a fresh set of gel nails and a new hairstyle. While she was perfectly within her ability to do these things herself, it was nice to use Patrick’s money for a change. It made him feel needed, something he’d never admit. All he wanted was to feel desired like he was a capable man. God knew he was, but Patrick still felt plagued with doubt.

The infamous red dress made an appearance. Strapless and covered in sequence, the red gown draped over her body like a sea of blood. Wrapping, enveloping her skin like a hungry beast. Patrick picked it for her, imagining himself ripping it off like a demon in the night. She stood in the mirror, black stiletto high heels shaping her lean calves. Tight fishnet stretched over her skin, each mole and birthmark adorning her skin visible. Luscious blonde curls draped over her shoulders, body glitter donning her skin like a rare gem. Men would carve her out of the most dangerous and feared mine in the world - just to get a taste of the sweet magnolia perfume she wore like her own skin. Patrick would peel it off like the tender skin of ripe fruit, stripping her down to the bone marrow just to get a small taste.

Her mirror image looked back at her, admiring the life she built for herself. A queen, a she-caligula looked back and laughed at all the times she showed pity on those smaller than her. Patrick was a horrible influence, enhancing the dark heart that slept beneath. Vermilion adorned her lips like blood, with earthy tones on her eyes. Patrick would drop fucking dead when she walked out the door. She was certain Patrick would look just as ravishing.

Chapter 3

Patrick pulled up to her luxury apartment, his driver mentally preparing for the horrors that would be the ride to Dorsia. It was never about the restaurant or the money it took to get in. It was yuppie bragging rights. Even for Liz, it was the ability to brag. She looked down at him from her window, a distance seeming infinite. Never close enough, just on the edge. The space felt liminal, empty, and cold. Her eyes shot down like bullets but the air was bulletproof. She’d kill him by now if the consequence wouldn't be everlasting loneliness that felt more like a punch to the gut. Patrick was the only person on earth who she could tolerate. People were meaningless or a nuisance. Bateman wasn’t a person - rather an entity to walk through life as a shadow. Casting darkness like a stormcloud, he walked.

Liz trekked down the steps, her dress held tightly in her hand. Her heels, a war drum, a tune imitated by many, but mastered by none. Imitation is the greatest form of flattery. Many aspired to be like the woman, her energy wicked, yet influenced by Patrick. He was even more sick than she could hope to be.

The door was already open for her, the only thing missing was a red carpet. Rolled out before her was only Patrick, her feet could crush him like a bug if given the chance. She smiled, her red lips curling. “You look gorgeous, Pumpkin.”

“Thank you, Patrick. Not so shabby yourself, hm?”

“Of course.”

---

“I’ll have your lobster bisque and a side salad. The lady will have the salmon mousse and NY Strip. Oh, add dessert while you’re at it. Whatever the chef’s special is.”

The waiter took their order, moving quickly to the kitchen. Patrick was a regular and was painfully critical. If the food wasn’t perfect he’d throw a fit - much like a child. Elizabeth leaned her cheek on her palm, the supple skin pushing up gently. “So,” she began. “What trouble are you in now, Pat?” She shifted hands, using her free one to gently grasp him across the table. “The only trouble that I’m in is the trouble you caused for me, Liz. My dear. My ever-so-sweet darling. You’ve put me in a world of hurt.” He replied, leaning in. His eyes were deep - soft even. He was gentle if only for a moment. “And what do you want me to do about that?” Liz pulled back, looking at the table sitting just behind them. They’d ordered the menu special - funny. The woman sitting behind Patrick looked eerily concerned. “All those men… dead? Gone? I can’t… I hope they catch who is behind these horrific killings.”

Liz smiled. “Horrific?” She repeated quietly, biting her bottom lip. Bateman smiled. “Seemingly so.” That urge came back, fuck. The urge to hurt, the urge to BE hurt. Patrick’s hands began to sweat, and his brow furrowed. Liz knew that look anywhere. She knew that woman’s fate had been sealed the moment she thought of Patrick. Sick, perverted, he was - but god, Liz was just as sick. If she’d sat with Patrick knowing he was this way, there would be two murderers sitting together. She gave him a nod, sealing this stranger’s fate.

Their food arrived and Liz began to dig in. It was perfect, the steak bloody and juicy. The salmon mousse was salty and creamy. Sharp cheese was served on the side with crackers, handmade by the chef’s loving hands. Patrick’s soup was warm, bursting with flavor. They exchanged bites, almost as if sharing a kiss. The act of sharing food was pure, even if it was rotten all the same. A bottle of wine was brought to their table, the waiter pouring glass after glass. The warm fuzzy feeling began to overtake them, the food richer, the air warmer. Everything was bright. Patrick turned to look at the table behind them, spotting another woman gossiping about him. Well - so he thought. He was guilty as charged, blood on his hands could only drip so much until they stained.

“Excuse me, but I’d love to pay for your meal,” Patrick spoke to them. “I don’t mean to be rude, but it seems like your conversation had brought you ladies down. It would make my day to treat you.” Liz smiled, that was her Patrick. “Oh!” They exclaimed. “You are so kind, sir.” If God only knew…

Upon checking out, Patrick added the other table’s meal to his bill. “Thank you so much, sir. It appears angels do exist.” Liz remained quiet and listened intently. The two women were middle-aged, appearing naive but adventurous enough to come home with them. “Perhaps, I could be one, you never know.” Patrick chuckled. “Are you two ladies up for some fun, perhaps? My girlfriend and I…”

The air became thick with suspicion. He was too bold. “I... I’m not sure, sir.”

“Oh, you’ll love it.” Liz chimed in. “We love company.” Patrick had never seen her like this before. “We would love to have you.” Having a woman’s touch never hurts. Liz seemed trusting, and knowing Patrick, this aspect only made his cock throb. Liz could be very convincing when she wanted - and now - she needed this. This release, this ecstasy from the pain and pleasure. She batted her eyelashes across the table and that delicate look seemed to be all it took. “Mhmm… Fine. I like meeting new people anyways. I’m Marion.”

“Marion. This is my boyfriend, Patrick. I’m Elizabeth.”

Chapter 4

Patrick’s apartment is a tomb for many, a chamber of death and destruction for all. “Take a seat,” Liz cooed, slipping off Marion’s jacket. “Wine? Beer? What’s your fancy, sweetheart?” Liz’s fingers trailed over Marion’s shoulder, pushing back her strawberry-red hair. It smelled faintly of a developer and an almond hair mask. Patrick couldn’t contain his excitement. “Would you like something… stronger?” Liz pulled a small baggie of cocaine from her chest, dangling it in front of Marion like a bone to a dog. Marion’s cheeks turned deep pink, her skin hot, the hairs on her neck standing up. “I’ve… never done this.” Liz smiled before laying it out before them. “It’s easy. TOO easy! Just…” She made fine lines on the silver tray in front of them, giving Marion the thinnest line. “Just snort, move along quickly. It’s fucking amazing.” She ran her fingers through Marion’s hair, guiding her head down. She looked behind them, seeing Patrick standing in the hallway, a small hammer in his hands. She gave him a nod, gently scratching Marion’s scalp. She moved her hand to the back of Marion’s neck, leaving space for Patrick to swing.

Crack. Wet matter hit the table, a tooth following after. He hit her again, this time in the side of the cranium. Again. Again. Again. Until blood spattered on Liz, a chunk of brain rolling down her chest. “Finally!” Bateman shouted. “Fucking FINALLY!” He grabbed Marion’s neck, pulling her close to him. He pulled fragments of her skull off, dropping them at his feet. Her heart had long since stopped, the blunt impact deadly enough to end her life on the second swing. Dare - you could say she didn’t know what hit her. His hands were shaking from the thrill. Blood covered his face, his hair stained and now crusty with the fluid. Cold, nothing but cold air filled the room. The brain matter on Liz’s chest was now on the floor, along with an ocean of blood and flesh.

She grabbed her boyfriend’s hand, stopping him for only a moment. She ran his hand down her face, leaving a trail of blood behind. He smelled like crushed bones and cologne. Liz felt the blood dry on her skin. Patrick’s hand ran down to her breast, the blood following. “You’re so damned hot,” he spoke. He pressed his other hand into the pool of blood, gathering a small amount in his hand before smearing it all over Liz’s chest and neck. His handprints tattooed her skin, from her cheeks down to the now exposed flesh on her back. “Take me, Patrick,” She begged, running her sticky fingers in his hair. The blood was horrid, the stickiness, the smell. They didn’t give a shit, all they needed was each other. Patrick peeled off her underwear, his following shortly. He laid her back in the ever-growing pool of blood on the floor. Her heart raced, her body excited with the idea of being fucked next to a corpse. Patrick dove into her pussy, lapping at her like a man starved. He gave her no warmup, the anticipation driving them both insane. He reached up to tease her nipples, her skin aching with the pain of his grip, but his skin was so sweet against her. She planted herself in the pool of blood, wrapping one of her nimble legs around his head as her orgasm approached. He ran his tongue in sharp, rough circles over her clit. Her hands slipped in the blood, her body writhing in the intense pleasure. She sang his name like a symphony, an orchestrated show for the wicked. He brought his bloodied hand to her clit, his mouth leaving her sex for only a moment. His mouth was covered in crimson, a perfect mix of her juice and Marion’s blood. He smacked her clit before rubbing it how she liked it. He knew her body like the back of his hand. Liz writhed like she was being tortured, the pleasure intense it almost hurt. “Fucking cum for me, fucking cum for me. Look at all this blood and cum at the thought of it. That’s my sweet girl. That’s right.”

Liz swatted his hand away, seconds away from her climax. “I want to fucking ride you as we look at the mess you made. My Patrick.” She pushed him onto his back, grabbing his gorgeous cock in her hands. She planted her mouth on him, taking him to the back of her throat, swirling her tongue over his swollen tip. He grabbed a fistful of her hair, pushing her head down to his pubic hair. He cursed a thousand curses before pulling her head up. Her face was strung with tears, her lips swollen and her nose bleeding from the cocaine use. She crawled on top of him like a fucking terror from hell. She positioned herself on his perfect cock, leaving a bloody handprint on his chest, right where his beating heart was. She rode his cock, grinding her clit against him in the process. “Fuck, fuck. Yes. Ride my fucking cock, Liz. Fucking ride me, my darling.” She used his chest as support, her nails flicking over his nipples, sending him into a fucking frenzy. “Such a sensitive boy, eh? Like having your nipples played with? Oh, my sweet, sweet Patrick.” Her other hand wrapped around his supple neck, her grip much stronger than he anticipated. He bucked his hips like a madman, his vision slowly blurring. She was drenched in blood but damn - she never looked better.

Patrick whined as he climaxed so hard he thought his eyes were going to pop out of his skull. “Cum for me, Patrick. Cum for me, please, oh please.” She brought her fingers to her clit, rubbing frantically in an attempt to cum with him. She continued to bounce on his cock, their skin slapping together, much like that hammer smacked into Marion’s head.

They collapsed next to the corpse, its eyes still open and cold. A gray cast overtook the lifeless eyes. Liz swallowed, her naked body on display for the corpse. Patrick caught his breath, pulling Liz next to him. “If you ever tell anyone about this,” he began…

“I’ll kill you myself, but I’ll keep your body to fuck.” He smiled softly, kissing the top of her head. “Likewise, Bateman. Fess up and they’ll never find your body. But like you, I’d ride your corpse into the afterlife. Lots of women used to attend hangings just to see a hard cock.”

Patrick smiled. “Well, you don’t need to hang me to see my dick hard. Trust me.”

Author’s note: HAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!! IM INSANE!!!!!! <333

#american psycho #patrick bateman #commisons #patrick bateman x oc

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