#once again. bah. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sagesskies · 9 months

Text

ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴅᴇꜱᴛʀᴜᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴅᴇɪᴛʏ

✒ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴏɴᴇ ᴡʜᴏ ᴀᴄᴄᴇᴘᴛᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇᴍ, ᴡᴀꜱ ʏᴏᴜ

ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴠɪᴄᴛᴏʀʏ ɢᴏᴅ

☏ - ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇᴍᴀɪʟ: ᴍʀ. ꜱᴀɢᴇ ɪꜱ ꜱᴏ ꜱᴏʀʀʏ ꜰᴏʀ ʜᴏᴡ ʟᴏɴɢ ᴛʜɪꜱ ʜᴀꜱ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ. ʜᴇ'ᴅ ᴀʟꜱᴏ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ @hana-no-seiiki ꜰᴏʀ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ɪɴꜱᴘɪʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴘʀᴏᴠɪᴅᴇᴅ ʜɪᴍ, ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ꜱᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ ᴀꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰᴜᴇʟ ᴏꜰ ᴍᴏᴛɪᴠᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ʜᴇ ɴᴇᴇᴅᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ᴏɴ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ.

ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇꜱ: ᴡᴀʀ, ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ, ᴛʀᴇᴀꜱᴏɴ, ꜱᴛᴀɴᴅᴀʀᴅ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ʙᴇʜᴀᴠɪᴏʀ, ᴍɪɴᴅ ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟ, ɢᴏᴅ ɪɴᴄᴇꜱᴛ (ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ Qʜᴇᴛᴏʜʀ), ꜱᴡᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ. ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴍᴇ ɪꜰ ɪ ᴍɪꜱꜱᴇᴅ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴇʟꜱᴇ!

Yandere Destruction Deity who, just like you and all your other siblings, was born from the remains of Kases: the strongest of the Great ones.

Yandere Destruction Deity who even then, was already an outcast from the others in the (then yet to be formed) pantheon.

Instead of joining Uren in their rebellion, they chose to spend their time doing more fun activities. Like exploring the new world they've just been born into, interacting with all the strange yet fascinating creatures, fiddling with the inventions and gadgets crafted by the Great ones, all with you, the only one among their siblings who seemed to actually get them.

Yandere Destruction Deity who spends days with you in the garden you’ve cultivated, laughing and bonding. Growing closer together.

You talk about many things; stars, Kases, your siblings, Uren, the rebellion. It was inevitable that your conversations would eventually go in that direction, they just wished it didn’t have to be so soon.

Yandere Destruction Deity who immediately tries to convince you to back out of the war when you tell them you’re helping Uren. You can’t! You’re too weak, too soft.

They’ve seen the beasts the Great ones have at their beck and call, and not to mention the giants, the cyclopes, and all manner of creature they were going to sic on Kases’ children.

Yandere Destruction Deity who begrudgingly approaches Uren, and tells you not long after that they’re going to join in this foolish endeavor. They can’t exactly leave you alone, you’ll need somebody to protect you after all.

Who cares if they themselves don’t know the first thing about fighting. All you have to do is swing some blade, right? Bah, it doesn’t matter! They’re going to keep you safe, nothing will ever even come close to harming you as long as they’re here.

Yandere Destruction Deity who soon finds that they’re rather good at this whole fighting thing, hell, they’re probably the best. Probably only second to Itia, but they were a brute who simply relied on sheer force to get what they wanted, however when it came to skill? To prowess? To the ability to wield a weapon like it was simply an extension of your own body? Nobody could beat Qhetohr in that aspect.

Yandere Destruction Deity who became an entity whose name was whispered only in the darkness illuminated by a campfire, between soldiers of the Great ones who dreaded meeting them on the battlefield, especially once they were able to harness the power of the literal void to their advantage.

They were reminded again of the overwhelming difference between the two of you when they learned that you had become a name that was spoken by hopeful prisoners who wished for you to arrive to grant them freedom, while they would solve problems with their blade, you were far more diplomatic in your approach. Convincing generals to side with Uren, and freeing the enslaved soldiers.

Yandere Destruction Deity, who even amidst the rebellion, always makes time for you regardless of how busy they get with managing their own forces. They fuss over you, and grow red with fury whenever they see a new scar on what used to be a flawless landscape.

But all worries are washed away whenever you flash them a kind smile, and assure them that all is well; “This shall come to pass.” You remind them, and they must force themselves to accept it. Regardless of how they wish they could just shield you away from all this violence, they’re stronger now, they could protect you, you could both still run away from this. However you only shake your head and tell them you’re both in too deep now to quit.

Yandere Destruction Deity who runs up to you, swings you up, and spins you around, laughing all the while. The rebellion is over, and Uren won. The both of you can retire back to your garden! And spend the rest of eternity there, just you and them. Isn’t that amazing? It’s the best thing that came out of this stupid war. Forget the fact that all these enslaved races have been liberated, who cares really? All they can think about is how you’re now safe in their arms.

Yandere Destruction Deity who isn’t all too pleased to learn that they’ve been appointed as Uren’s general for their exemplary performance during the war. What the hell? They didn’t sign up for this! They’re meant to spend their retirement with you, damn it. Yes, they enjoyed fighting, but not as much as being with you, duh. Stupid Uren! But after some convincing from you, they reluctantly accept this position.

Yandere Destruction Deity decides that this isn’t too bad, really, not when they get to put down any possible threats to your safety. There’s a lot of people who’d like to get their filthy hands on you, you know? Especially since you played such a big part in Uren winning the war. Don’t worry, they’ll get rid of all these bugs for you. It’s no big deal for somebody with their power.

Yandere Destruction Deity who is confused when they learn of Uren’s new creation: Humans. What were these things sculpted in the gods’ own image? What were they meant to do? How long could they last in a fight? Safe to say, when their questions were answered, Qhetohr wasn’t too pleased. They don’t get what’s so great about them, when they’re basically just useless flesh sacks.

Yandere Destruction Deity who still doesn’t get it when you explain to them that it’s because humans have so much boundless potential that they’re so exceptional, but they lie and promise you that they do. Even if they’re soft, squishy, and the least impressive of all of Uren’s creations, they’ll spare them. Especially since you’re so enamored with them.

Yandere Destruction Deity who gets restless when things finally become peaceful. They thought they’d be happy now that there’s less threats to you, but their body has gotten so used to fighting all the time that anything else feels strange. Any time they hold your hand, they have to remind themself to loosen their grip, and any time you come close to even hugging them they have to restrain themself from grabbing you by the collar and flipping you over then pinning you to the ground. Though… in retrospect it doesn’t sound that bad in the right context.

Yandere Destruction Deity who spreads whispers, inciting fear, paranoia, and destruction. Mortals, who had at that point established tight-knit communities, became wary of their neighbors, and it didn’t take long before conflict was starting to brew between them. Their words even affected Uren, who was growing suspicious of their own son, Ebris, the god of the Sun, who was more beloved by the pantheon than they were.

Yandere Destruction Deity who encourages Uren as they descend into tyranny. Delighting at the feeling of warm blood staining their skin once more, as they cut off the heads of who Uren perceived as treasonous. Mortals, monsters, even some who were minor gods, none were safe from Qhetohr’s ‘punishing’ blade.

Yandere Destruction Deity who feigns innocence when confronted by the other gods of their possible involvement in Uren’s change, a sly smirk on their face as they tell their siblings they don’t know what on earth they're talking about! They swear on Kases’ grave. But when it’s you who asks them if they really have no involvement, they falter at the fact that you’d think of them as the cause behind this, even if it’s true, their chest still clenches at the thought you could think of them like this.

Yandere Destruction Deity who denies it, of course they would. But the look in your eyes tells them enough. They ask you if you’re going to tell the others, and they can’t help but smile when they see you visibly hesitate. You tell them you’ll keep it a secret, but you won’t dissuade the others from trying to discover the truth themselves.

Yandere Destruction Deity who isn’t surprised when another rebellion emerges, this time led by Ebris. It was inevitable really. But what truly shocks them is when they learn that you’re joining Ebris’ faction. They knew you’d never side with Uren, not when everything they were doing now stood against you as the God of Mercy. But never did they think you’d betray them by joining forces with Ebris.

Yandere Destruction Deity who never thought it’d be you forcing them to their knees in surrender, they’ve never seen this expression on your face. So cold, yet in your eyes they can see pity, and so much sorrow and regret. It was like you blame yourself for this six decade long mess.

Yandere Destruction Deity who fully expects to receive the same fate as Uren, a beheading for all of the world to see, but is surprised when they see you speaking to Ebris in hushed tones. Your gaze flickers to them every so often as the conversation continues on. What are you doing? Are you actually-

Yandere Destruction Deity who is stunned speechless when Ebris announces that instead of a beheading, they would instead have their powers restricted and be imprisoned.

Compared a beheading, this was an improvement. Or, at least it seemed like that to others. In reality death would have been better, so much better than years locked away unable to see you.

Twas the night before Qhetohr would be locked away, trapped in one of Ularus’ inventions. The thought of being imprisoned wasn’t what bothered them, but instead being apart from you for that long.

They’ve been told tales by Nuyja, stories of husbands away at war, and of wives mourning the distance that had to be between them. It always sounded so dramatic, probably because it was, but right now they’re starting to feel like one of those wives.

As the Ofriedian metal dug into their pale, marble skin that you always admired for its flawless texture, their dark eyes caught onto something past their bars. The familiar hem of a [f/c] robe. Their eyes widened, and their suspicions were only confirmed when they saw you walk out from wherever you were hiding.

“[N-Name]?” They spoke in a whisper, like you were some animal that they’d scare away if they spoke too loudly, “Is that you?” They got up from where they sat on the cold, stone floors and approached the bars.

You pulled down the hood of your robe, “It’s me, Qhetohr.” Your voice was equally as gentle, but that was just how you always spoke. Instead of greeting him with your usual smile, your face was impassive and as impenetrable as stone.

“Have you come to free me?” Qhetohr knew better than to hope, but they couldn’t help it. Ever since they’ve been imprisoned here while Ularus worked out the final kinks in their next cage, all they had for company was their mind.

And all their mind could do to stave off the madness that came with boredom was daydream of a life with you in seclusion, on some beautiful island where you could have a new garden and they would have enough room to take out their frustrations on the wildlife.

The disappointment that followed when you shook your head was immeasurable.

“Oh…”

You are silent in response, you were never one for speaking much. You always preferred to listen whenever you talked with Qhetohr, giving your wise input every now and then. They didn’t mind the silence before, but why did it bother them so much now?

“Qhetohr,” Your voice was different as well, they noticed, colder than before, “Before you are imprisoned, I must know one thing.”

Qhetohr placed a hand around one of the bars separating you two, “What is it then?” If only they didn’t have this chunky bracelet, perhaps they could’ve reached a hand through the bar and touched you.

You took in a deep breath, and let out a shakier one. You licked the bottom of your lip, and then wrapped a hand around the same bar Qhetohr was gripping. You moved your face closer to them, and they tried not to gulp, “Do you regret what you’ve done?”

At that, Qhetohr had no answer.

You had the rare ability of being able to render Qhetohr speechless, cultivated from countless hours listening to them, observing them, and well honed through debates about topics such as the difference between the gods and the Great ones, the meaning of life, and whether or not the gods were all that different from mortals.

It was the one of the many reasons you were the only god they had a truly functioning relationship with.

At their silence, your face contorts. Your brows furrow, your lips purse, and your [e/c] eyes fill with what can only be described as sorrow. They cannot bring themself to look at you, for they do not want you to see the shame that is starting to invade their heart.

Your hand falls from the bar, and as it does it brushes against their own and they restrain themselves from reaching out to try to clasp at your warm fingers, instead tightening their grip on the inflexible steel.

When you speak, your voice is hoarse, and if Qhetohr were to look at you right now they swear your eyes would be wet with unshed tears.

“I truly am as weak as you say I am,” You speak quietly, voice barely above a whisper, “Despite the sins you’ve committed, I cannot find it in myself to hate you.”

Their eyes widen, and their head snaps to look at you, but it is too late. The hood of your cloak is pulled back up, and you’ve already turned to leave. The last they see of you is the hem of the cloak they had sewn for you themselves.

Yandere Destruction Deity who is stuck in an endless void similar to the ones they are able to harness themself, and tries to break out. Even if their powers were restrained, surely they’d be able to access at least some of them, right? But unfortunately for them, nothing works. They’re stuck.

Yandere Destruction Deity who wanders the endless void, trying to find a gap somewhere, some sort of imperfection Ularus made when creating this prison. All the while their mind races with thoughts of you. Your first meeting. Your laugh. Your smile. Your kind eyes. Your final expression as they were sealed away.

Yandere Destruction Deity who feels like they’re going insane. They’ve never spent so much time without you before. They’re starting to feel like the mortals they’ve seen on the streets during Ebris’ rebellion, deprived and hungry for the filthy substances Boztrix’s temple produced. But all they’re craving is you, the sweetest drug they’ve ever tasted. Sometimes, they swear they can see you. A specter haunting them in this fucked up hell, comforting them yet at the same time driving him down the rabbit hole further and further.

Yandere Destruction Deity who swears that they see light, in what seemed like a never-ending black landscape. I-is it you? Have you come to free him from this cage- Oh wait, it’s just another one of Uren’s children. Vetnos, god of the Sea. They can’t help but sigh, they still remember when they used to bully the god when they were but a small babe. Scaring them using their void powers whenever he wouldn’t go to bed. Perhaps he’s coming to taunt them? Something something, “How ironic that you’re trapped in the same shadows you’ve used to haunt me with,” something like that, maybe?

If Vetnos thinks he looks any way intimidating, then he’s sorely mistaken. Even bound and trapped, Qhetohr could probably take him down.

“What brings you here, insignificant son of Uren?” Qhetohr drawls, a single dark brow raised, “Here to taunt me? I thought you’d be more mature than that by now.” They can’t help but tease him, it’s not their fault that Vetnos was so fun to mess with, he always had such interesting reactions, even when he was a child.

Vetnos glared at them, eyes the same color as the sea during a harsh storm, “Silence, Qhetohr, if I must remind you, it is you who is restrained here.” Qhetohr can see it in the way that Vetnos is carrying himself, the boy is practically shaking in those leather boots of his.

“And if I must remind you,” Qhetohr sneers, and walks over to Vetnos till they were eye-to-eye, “I didn’t need my powers when I killed your father.” At that, Vetnos flinches. Dhealdir, the first God of War, and one of Uren’s lovers. Vetnos’ father was one of the best soldiers in Uren’s army, but Qhetohr was the general for a reason.

Qhetohr smirked, and then backed away from Vetnos. They cross their arms, “You still haven’t answered my question Vetnos.” They tap their finger against their bicep, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling of the bracelet digging into the flesh of their forearm.

Vetnos huffs, the storm brewing within his gaze tempered reluctantly, “I have come to offer you a deal.”

It was hard for Qhetohr to restrain the urge to chuckle, and so they didn’t, the sound flowing easily past their lips, “Let me guess, you want me to fight for you in exchange for my freedom?”

“What- How did you know that’s what I wanted?” Vetnos asked with a bewildered expression on his face.

“Before I was ever the Deity of Destruction, I was simply an outcast among my siblings,” Qhetohr explains, “When I sided with Uren during their rebellion, they all changed their opinion about me rather quickly.”

That’s how the gods were, unless you were able to give them something of value you were no better than the dirt beneath their heel. The only good thing about mortals is how they foolishly waste their time on things that don’t matter, they don’t care if something has a use or not, as long as they like it they’ll keep it around.

“All my family wants from me, is for me to be the dog on the leash they can sic on their foes,” Qhetohr narrows their eyes at Vetnos, “What is there to suggest that you’ll be any different.”

They smirked when they saw the vein bulge in Vetnos’ forehead and how he clenched his fists tighter, the gods never liked having their own flaws pointed out to them, it made the reality that they were just as imperfect as the lowly mortals they looked down upon all the more real.

“Anyways, how’re you going to free me in the first place?” Qhetohr asked. Ularus’ creations were annoying as hell because the bastard always built them to only have one weakness, and it was always way too complex for its own good.

Suddenly in Vetnos’ hand appeared an orb of water the size of a child’s toy ball, “Ularus always has such unorthodox solutions to his machines,” Vetnos played with the water idly, “That fact, all the gods are aware of.”

Qhetohr rolled their eyes, “And so?”

“So, I thought if you were to bind a god in a void devoid of anything except the never ending darkness,” Vetnos approached Qhetohr, who watched with wary eyes, and held the orb of water over one of their bindings, “It was best to go for the simple approach.”

Vetnos dropped the orb of water, and it splashed onto the bracelet.

Qhetohr stared, “Was that supposed to do something?” They should’ve known better than to trust the younger gods, but here they were, letting one drop a ball of water on their hand and getting it all wet.

Vetnos sighed, it was clear to Qhetohr that whatever patience he had managed to gather was already starting to run out, “You are familiar with Ofriedian metal, correct?”

Qhetohr’s gaze flicked over to Vetnos’ hand, which still hovered above their own, now soaking wet, hand, “It is older than you are, of course I am familiar with Ofriedian metal.” They sigh, “If all you are here for is to soak my hand, then I’d like you to go back where you came from-”

But Vetnos interrupted them, “Ofriedian metal is surprisingly very similar to iron,” His fist then clenches, and the water coating the bracelet seems to change and then seep into it, “And iron, as you may know, rusts.”

It started off small at first, but as the seconds passed, the change became more noticeable. The Ofriedian metal started to lose its dark color, and slowly the color of rust started to invade the bracelet. Qhetohr watched with rapt attention as one of their bindings, that after so many years, was finally showing the signs of age. They could feel the changes too, the sharp spikes that had pierced their skin when the bracelet locked itself onto their wrist were starting to recede into the bracelet.

But then, Vetnos’ hand spread out, and whatever was happening ceased.

“Fascinating…” Qhetohr murmured. If Vetnos had allowed it to continue, they would’ve been halfway over to being a free god.

“You see the power I hold now, Qhetohr?” Vetnos’ voice held an arrogance that wasn’t there before, “I am your only way of escaping this prison.” He had a smirk on his face, and despite how it frustrated Qhetohr to be so weak as to need the help of others, they couldn’t deny that this was the first time in a long time that they ever dared to hope of being free.

Qhetohr’s thoughts went back to you, as it always did during their time here. Would you be happy to see them, and welcome them back with your warm embrace? Or would you scorn them, and draw your blade against theirs? They hoped it’d be the former, but they had enough sense in them to know it’d most likely be the latter. But still, they had to take the chance that you value your relationship enough to show the mercy that you’re famed for.

Qhetohr sighed, “Fine,” They placed their hands on their waist, “What is it you want me to do?”

Vetnos grinned, “Swear your allegiance to me,” From the expression on his face alone, Qhetohr knew the younger god was giddy. He looked like a boy again, instead of the divine being that was freeing a force that he could not hope to contain.

Qhetohr considered the offer. They did not find the idea of being bound to one of Uren’s sons pleasing, but then again, there were always loopholes to be exploited. As long as they can twist their words then whatever forces above the gods would turn a blind eye to what they planned to do.

“Very well,” Qhetohr sighed, and then took a knee, “I, Qhetohr, child of Kases, and deity of destruction, madness, and the void, swear to fight for Vetnos, god of the seas, in exchange for my freedom.” They hadn’t sworn an oath of allegiance to any other since Uren, and so the words felt unnatural on their tongue.

Vetnos puffed up his chest, and had all the arrogance of a spoiled child who finally got what he wanted after throwing a tantrum, “I, Vetnos, son of Uren, and god of the seas, accept this oath, and swear to free Qhetohr, deity of destruction, madness, and the void, from their chains.”

A tense atmosphere seemed to envelop the two of them, as the entities above watched Vetnos, who approached Qhetohr and used his powers to destroy the bracelets, and the collar around their neck. When the last one clattered to the ground, a red, glowing thread appeared between the two of them, tying them together by the wrist.

Qhetohr ignored the string connecting them to Vetnos, and instead inspected the holes that the bracelets left in their wrists. They were small, and interspaced perfectly, like the pricks of a needle. That is, if the needle pierced through their skin and buried itself deep in their godly flesh.

“Since we’ve finished the vows, I must remind you of a few things Qhetohr-” But before Vetnos could continue speaking, and setting down rules that Qhetohr would be forced to follow for the rest of eternity as long as they’d serve under him, Qhetohr flourished their hand and a piece of the void that surrounded them leapt out and wrapped itself around Vetnos’ throat.

Vetnos choked on the air, as he felt the newly formed collar wrapping itself tightly, with enough force to crush his throat. His stormy blue eyes bulged out and were filled with righteous fury at Qhetohr’s trickery.

Qhetohr chuckled, “You didn’t really think I’d just let you do whatever you wanted to me, did you?” They shook their head and clicked their tongue in disapproval, “Truly, Vetnos, I thought with age comes wisdom, but clearly that doesn’t apply to you.” A wicked grin formed on their face, “But I guess that doesn’t apply to you.”

If Vetnos’ face wasn’t turning blue from the lack of oxygen, it would surely turn red from, if not anger, then humiliation.

Qhetohr stroked their chin as they contemplated what to do with Vetnos. They could kill him, which would remove the oath, but then the other gods would get suspicious. They do not know why Vetnos wanted them to fight for him, but if he went so far as to look for them of all people, then that must only mean there was a war brewing among the gods once more, and Vetnos was one of the key players.

Qhetohr’s mind wandered, going back to the last conflict they participated in: Ebris’ rebellion. As their gaze focused on Vetnos, who was only turning more blue as the seconds ticked by, they recalled Uren, Vetnos’ parent, who they were able to control with the same darkness choking Vetnos.

Their eyes lit up as an idea entered their head, and then they smirked, “Do not worry Vetnos, for this day shall not be your last,” They reached out their hand, and the void from the collar flowed like smoke to Vetnos’ gasping mouth. Vetnos’ eyes widened, and he struggled even further, moving wildly like a fish out of water.

“It would do you well not to fight it, Vetnos,” Qhetohr drawled, “Just let go, let it consume you.”

Vetnos ignored their advice, and closed his mouth, keeping his lips firmly shut so as to not let more enter him. But they simply entered through his ears, and his nose instead. Soon, as more of the void started to fill him, Vetnos’ resistance faded and then he nodded his mouth once more, welcoming the darkness inside him.

When there was no more collar around his neck, and Vetnos’ eyes held a strange gleam, Qhetohr smiled, sharp and unnerving. They did not need to speak, and Vetnos fell to his knees, and then bent his back and pressed his head against the floor, right in front of Qhetohr’s feet.

“I, Vetnos, son of Uren, and god of the seas, release Qhetohr, deity of destruction, madness, and the void from their oath.”

The string binding them snapped, and Qhetohr let out a deep sigh of relief. Finally, they were now truly free.

Qhetohr gestured for Vetnos to rise, and he did. They raised their hand, and called upon the void that had once been their prison, and it obediently followed their orders, and gathered swiftly in their hand.

Once the last of it joined in, what they held was a pure black cube. They then placed their other hand on top of it, and crushed it as one would crush a fly.

Qhetohr looked around, and was pleased to see the bright blue sky, to feel the tall grass tickling their legs, and the radiant sun that had trapped them in the first place beating down upon their pale skin.

Thoughts of you immediately flooded their head, and a smile formed on their face. Not harsh, not cruel, but instead it was one that a poet would make thinking of their beloved muse.

“Soon, [Name],” Qhetohr relishes in how the sound of your name still rolls off their tongue as naturally as their own, “I will be your steadfast companion once more, and no war will ever separate us.”

Yandere Destruction Deity who never thought they’d be able to leave the stupid box, but here they are, neck free from that heavy collar, wrists no longer being wrapped by those thick bracelets, the sun which they wish to consume with their void shining down on their marble skin.

Yandere Destruction Deity who decides to lay low for a while. Although they want to see you so much it physically hurts to be apart from you, they have to be patient, though it’s hard, they never were good at this whole waiting thing like you were. They decide to learn more about what’s happened since their imprisonment nearly two centuries ago.

Yandere Destruction Deity who is tempted to reveal themself and challenge the God of Victory to a duel to the death when they learn of the state of your relationship. No, they’re not just tempted. They need to. But for now, they’ll restrain themself. That can come later. You were always naive and oblivious to others' feelings for you, despite your seemingly infinite wisdom. They’re sure you didn’t mean for it to happen, it was surely that young upstart’s fault.

Yandere Destruction Deity who finally decides that it’s the right moment to strike, and appears at your temple. It’s the only one you have. The one they built with you back all those years ago, when things were far more innocent than they ever were now. They’ll make sure not to make too much of a mess.

They are outside your temple, the elegant, pale marble untouched by the war and devastation that has plagued the earth since they've been unleashed. Good, your house remains as safe as it was during Ebris’ rebellion.

Qhetohr’s eyes wander over the marble pillars, the sturdy roof, and the well-trimmed shrubbery; the green served as a fine contrast against the pure white of the marble. Nothing had changed much since the last time they were at your temple, and that was nearly two centuries ago. A new statue, a tree cut down, flowers blooming where there was only grass, but everything else was the same.

They walked up the steps, their heart racing faster. Qhetohr paused in front of a statue. You, not in the nude like other gods, but instead in your old cloak, head bowed and a small, gentle smile on your face. Hands clasped together in prayer. For who, even they are not sure.

Inscribed on the pedestal, are familiar words.

[Name], God of mercy, Patron of slaves and the shackled, Father of Dakmes, Ugrena, Bagbris, Ather, Rhohdos, and many heroes. Kindest of the gods.

Kindest of the gods. If a mortal were to call any other god this, they would be smited for such blasphemy. All gods were gracious, at least that was what they all claimed. But all the gods acknowledged that you were the one with the most love in your heart, and so this inscription remained.

Qhetohr entered the temple, sandal clad feet silent, face cloaked just like your statue. The fabric is as dark as the voids they summoned, the only splash of color being the gold embroidery at the hem, a match for your own.

One of your followers, young and still filled with the last flushes of boyhood, notices them first. He looks up from his sweeping, “Good day to you,” Like all your followers, he spoke slowly and with a calmness that is hard to find these past years, “What brings you to this temple?” Qhetohr noticed the discomfort in the boy's expression, he could tell that there was something strange about them but could not place his finger on it.

Qhetohr surveys the area, and finds that, save for a few other followers strewn about cleaning the floors, that it is barren. “Where are all the others?” They ask.

“They are in the libraries, or in the gardens,” The youth replies, “Why? Are you looking for one? A sibling perhaps?”

Qhetohr smirks, “Something like that,” You were more to them than just one of their many siblings, you were their only confidante, their first and only love, but to call you their brother was not wrong.

“What is their name?” The youth inquires.

Qhetohr’s eyes narrow, like a fox, and they grin, “[Name],” They supply. The youth flinches, the oppressive aura he felt was because in front of him was a deity. He falls to his knees, the broom clattering to the ground and attracting the attention of the others, who watch as he bends down and his head presses against the cool marble.

“Forgive me, lord!” The calmness in his voice is gone, replaced with a high pitched begging, “I- I did not realize I was in a presence of one as great as yourself-”

“Shh,” The boy flinches, but does not dare look up, “Stand, child.” Qhetohr has a smirk on their face, but their eyes are as cold as any other god when they meet with the boy's fearful gaze. Not warm like yours, for there was never another god quite like you.

The others watched with wide eyes as they realized who it was they were staring at, and immediately resumed their work, but their ears could not help but continue to listen.

“Where is he?” Qhetohr asks.

“Lord [Name] is in the gardens,” The youth steadies his voice, and it impresses Qhetohr how assured he sounds despite how he's shaking like a leaf, “If you’d like I can-”

“No need,” Qhetohr was already walking past him, “I know my way around.”

Qhetohr walked through the elegantly carved halls of your temple, unlike other temples, it was built during the first rebellion. From the hands of the cyclopes, who you had freed from the Great ones, and who had in return swore their lineage’s loyalty to not only Uren, but to you as well.

Perhaps that was why among all the gods of the oldest pantheon, yours and Qhetohr’s siblings, you were one of the few that remained. On the very marble hung paintings depicting your deeds, drawn by the hands of Addia herself, a Great one who sided with the gods after you had slain her husband Lilios.

Even if their eyes have seen these landscapes many times, they never grew wary of the sight of them. You swearing an oath to Uren. You freeing the Cyclopes. Your form clad in your Ofriedian armor, plunging your spear into Lilios’ neck. You fighting by Qhetohr’s side, watching their back as their blade slices through the necks of the Great one’s soldiers.

Qhetohr slows to a stop at the last one, your face is as hard as stone, yet still as beautiful as no other god has ever been or will be, and kinder than any creature on earth. They remember watching as Addia painted this one, and critiquing how harsh she had made you look. In contrast, Qhetohr’s face is one of devilish delight as blood splatters on their pale skin.

You shook your head when you saw it, “I do not want you to be immortalized like this,” You rarely complained about anything no matter how much it bothered you, “If it would not stain Addia’s name, I would have this painting burned.”

Now, Qhetohr’s name is only remembered by the bloodshed and devastation they’ve caused, and even if it displeases you, they do not deny that they prefer it this way.

Qhetohr finally arrives to the entrance to your garden, the only place they've ever felt at peace. The sound of running water from the fountain, your doves chirping, and idle chatter between those working in the garden takes them back to more innocent days, when the only people in the garden would be the two of you.

Qhetohr steps foot inside the garden, and sticks out like a sore thumb. Their black cloak, a stark contrast against the verdant green, and immediately one of your priests approaches them. “Excuse me, young one, but you are not permitted inside Lord [Name]’s gardens,” The old man speaks like he does not sense Qhetohr’s naturally oppressive aura, “I must ask you to leave.”

They sigh, this old man surely recognizes them, does he not? The paintings are still on the wall, and though they were not the main subject they were still a prominent figure standing beside you. Qhetohr’s eyes narrow down on him, “Who are you to order me around, mortal?”

The old man flinches at the sight of Qhetohr’s eyes, and his lips tremble, and then he shrieks, “I Ávyssos!” The Abyssal. Qhetohr snorts, they haven’t heard that title in years.

The other priests and priestesses look up from their work and their eyes widen at the sight of Qhetohr, who clicks their tongue and then glares at the old man, “Should’ve held your tongue,” They smirk, “No need to hold your tongue when you won’t have one, eh?”

Before Qhetohr’s words could settle in the old man’s feeble mind, they shot out their hand and a black beam shot out and forced itself into the old man’s mouth and wrapped around his tongue. Then, it crushes the tongue till it’s nothing more but a bloody mass of flesh in the old man’s mouth. He tries to scream, but he cannot.

Only then do they see you, you came as soon as you sensed your followers’ terror. Your beautiful [e/c] eyes widen in shock, and then harden, “Qhetohr,” Their name falls off your tongue like it’s an insult, “How did you get out of your prison?”

The rest of your priests and priestesses try to run away now that you’ve arrived, but Qhetohr summons tendrils made from the void that hold them in place and gag their mouths.

They smile pleasantly, “Did a bit of bargaining, but that’s not what matters,” Qhetohr walks closer to you, and their smile grows wider when you do not back away, “Aren’t you happy that I’m back, [Name]?”

When they reach out to touch you, only then do you step back, “You’re not meant to be here, Qhetohr,” You remind them, “You were in that place for a reason.”

Qhetohr groans, “Oh come on, [Name]!” They whine like a petulant child, “You were always such a stick in the mud,” Qhetohr then grins, and snake an arm around you before you could get away, “You really don’t miss me, hm?”

You push them away, “How could I miss somebody like you?” They know you’re lying, they know you better than the back of their hand. But it’s difficult to keep that smile on their face.

Qhetohr grins, and then the gagged followers let out muffled screams as the tendrils tighten around them. Your eyes widen, and they chuckle, “Be careful what you say, love,” They croon, “It just might kill these poor mortals.”

“What do you want, Qhetohr,” You’re getting afraid, afraid of them, afraid of what they could do to your followers, their grin grows forced, “Is this for Ebris’ rebellion? Do you resent me for the consequences of your own actions?”

Qhetohr snarls, and the tendrils grow even tighter around your followers and the both of you can hear the sound of their bones creaking, “I don’t! I fucking don’t, okay?” They feel like they’re a godling again, small and powerless before they ever discovered how strong they truly were, “You just- You’re not meant to be like this!”

You don’t even have to ask what they mean. “You’re meant to- You’re meant to be kind, to- to welcome me back into your arms with a big smile and-”

“Qhetohr,” Your voice is cold, “What do you want.”

Qhetohr takes a deep breath, and then smiles, “I want you to come with me.” “To where?”

“That doesn’t matter,” Qhetohr’s smile widens, “Come with me, or I’ll kill all of your followers.”

Your eyes widen, and you hiss, “You monster,” Your nostrils flare, and your fists clench. Like an angry bull seeing red. Never have they seen you so angry before, and their stomach twists from how it’s because of them. You grit your teeth, “Fine.”

Their smile grows even wider, and they summon more tendrils that wrap around your wrists like handcuffs. A chain materializes in the middle between the two cuffs and the other end is being held in Qhetohr’s hand, who tugs it towards them, “Come on, [Name], let’s go.”

“Free them first,” You remind them, and they look at your followers whose faces are filled with sorrow for you, and fear for themselves. Qhetohr nods, but instead of the tendrils disappearing, they instead wrap tighter. Your eyes widen, “I said free them, not-” But it is too late, their bones crack and when the tendrils finally fade away, all that’s left are bloody remnants of what was once a human body.

“The [Name] I knew would’ve been wise enough to make me swear to free them,” Qhetohr chuckles, “But unfortunately my dear, I cannot leave any witnesses behind.”

“You-!” But Qhetohr gags you with more of the tendrils, and leads you out of the temple. Any followers that scream at the sight of the blood covering Qhetohr, or see you in chains and try to help gets killed. Some are spared, but cursed.

Qhetohr glances at you, your face is splattered with blood, and your eyes are still wide in shock. They smile, and wipe away the blood from your face, “It’s all right,” They coo, “You’ll be able to move on, eventually.”

Yandere Destruction Deity, who finally has you back where you belong: Right by their side. They keep you with them back in those islands they claimed during Uren’s rebellion, what was it called again? Ah right, the Ivory Isles. They erect a pale tower as white as the bones from the Great one that made up the island, out of the ground, and now you both have a home suitable for gods such as yourselves.

Yandere Destruction Deity who doesn’t mind that you act so coldly, of course you would. They did kill a lot of your followers back in the temple, and there was still Ebris’ rebellion. Bumps like these didn’t just go away overnight, or they suppose over two centuries, even they were aware of that. You’ll forgive them eventually, you always did.

Yandere Destruction Deity who delights in all the small ways you’re slowly letting them back on your good side, they’re allowed to stand closer to you, allowed to hold your hand again, allowed to wrap their arms around you. Hell, one night you even allowed them to kiss your forehead, the same way you always told them you loved, because it sprouted a warmth within your stomach that spread throughout you. They wonder, as you close your eyes, what they make you feel now.

Yandere Destruction Deity who spends the next few decades puppeteering Vetnos’ body as their conflict with Aenar, dubbed by the mortals as the War of Storms, continues on. It is only when Aenar’s blade finally slices through Vetnos’ neck does it end, but they know the gods will still be too busy to find you, because they’re all too busy starting new wars. Seriously, what in Kases’ name was wrong with the newer generation of gods?

Yandere Destruction Deity who is able to spend the rest of their days in peace with you; tending to your new gardens, watching the stars together, talking about any topic that comes to mind, sometimes even sparring if they’re feeling lenient. It felt all so idyllic, so domestic. In their younger days they sparked an entirely new rebellion just because they were getting bored, but now all they want is to continue living with you peacefully in the tower.

Yandere Destruction Deity who isn’t pleased when they detect that the curse they’ve placed on that young priest of yours has been triggered, who could be the fool daring to search for you?

Yandere Destruction Deity who can’t stifle the laugh that slips past their lips when they learn that it’s the God of Victory. When they learned of your relationship with him, they decided to learn more about this upstart. They wonder what you could ever find of value in this arrogant little bastard to ever tolerate him so much. They’re excited to see what their void will do to Faius’ already decaying mind.

Yandere Destruction Deity who decides to pour more of their energy into Faius’ bracelet, just to ruin the boy further. You notice, and ask them why they’re looking so tired, and they laugh and tell you they’ve just been spending many nights sleepless thinking about you. Their flirtations are enough to dissuade you from asking more.

Yandere Destruction Deity who is surprised when it only takes four months for Faius to arrive at the Ivory Isles, but perhaps they really shouldn’t. If Faius was anything like them, then this level of dedication was to be expected. Really, the things gods do for true love.

Yandere Destruction Deity who persuades you to stay in your gardens, while they prepare for Faius to arrive at their tower. It’s been so long since their blade has tasted blood, they hope for your sake and theirs that their skills haven’t rusted too much.

Qhetohr had seen the statues of Faius, of course they did. In war it was important to make offerings to the God of Victory, but they had only done the more human-looking forms instead of his divine one, which was the one that Faius had arrived in.

What he did share with the statues however, was the way that his armor was depicted. He wore a cuirass made of Ofriedian metal, greaves from the same material, and carried with him his sword, a familiar dove carved onto its hilt that had topaz for eyes.

His eyes were perhaps the most striking thing about him, the whites of his eyes were eclipsed by velvety black and really made the amber color of his iris pop. They hardened when they came to rest upon Qhetohr, who smiled as they waved at him.

“Greetings, I take it you are Faius?” Qhetohr noticed the dark bracelet around his wrist, and smirked. They could end the battle right now, but where was the fun in that? Besides, this guy was the only one who bothered to search for you, so they had to give him some respect.

He grunts, “You’re Qhetohr, aren’t you?”

“Indeed I am,” Qhetohr beams, and then spreads their arms, “Welcome, to the Ivory Isles, God of Victory.” They chuckle, “Apologies, I couldn’t welcome you when you got on the island, I was preoccupied.”

“Save the pleasantries,” Faius takes a step closer to them, “Where is [Name]?”

“Rather impatient, aren’t you?” They sigh, and go down the stairs, “You’re just like your mother, Gholyja. How is she anyway? Still as bloodthirsty as ever I take it-”

Before they can even finish their sentence, the tip of Faius’ sword presses into their neck, “You didn’t answer my question, Ávyssos,” He hisses, “Where. Is. [Name]?”

Qhetohr raises one singular brow, and then takes a step back away from the sharp blade, “I see you’ve inherited your mother’s lust for violence,” Their eyes narrow, “Or perhaps that’s simply my own powers at work.”

Faius’ brows furrow, “This,'' He raises the hand that has the bracelet on it, “Is your doing?” They can see how much it’s affecting him. What should be a flawless face, is weighted down by the dark circles around his eyes that have a wildness to them that they are willing to bet wasn’t there before.

Qhetohr gave him a sly grin as they nodded, “Mhm, who else could possibly be giving you such delicious thoughts if not for the deity of madness themself?” Thoughts similar to the ones that were running in Uren’s head must be going through Faius’ mind as well.

Faius grits his teeth, “I’ll have you killed for this,” He promises, “And [Name] will not mourn your death.”

Qhetohr wants to laugh at that, nobody knows you better than they do. Certainly not this foolish boy with too big a head, so who was he to assume you’d feel such a way? Besides, they only needed to show you the effects of what Faius has done in search of a way to you and then you’d be recoiling in disgust at the mere mention of his name.

Qhetohr summons their blade, crafted from the void, it crackles with dark energy, “I can say the same about you, God of Victory,” They say his title like a mockery and delight in how it causes him to tighten his grip further on his sword’s grip.

Oh, how they’ll enjoy the sight of his ichor on their blade.

☏ - ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇᴍᴀɪʟ: ᴍʀ. ꜱᴀɢᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴍɪɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏᴘᴇɴ, ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ'ᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ.

#yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere oc #yandere male #yandere imagines #x reader #yandere #Qhetohr #Faius

730 notes · View notes

alexa-fika · 4 months

Note

Hello, can you do injuredchild!dokucha x Cross guild. It was buggys fault because he was suppose to take you out on a little walk outside but he then got distracted and now he lost you. They try to find you, mihawk worried. After 2 days, they find out the marinies took you when Buggy wasn't looking.

Thank you, and make sure to drink water

Family Secrets (Cross guild x gn!child!reader)

A/N okay…. I totally missed the injured part of the piece but hopefully this is somewhat what you were expecting. GUYS I AM BACK, I THINK. MY THROAT STILL HURTS BUT PINK EYE IS GONE, I think, BUT I DID IT , BE PROUD OF ME

Reader here is replaced by Dokucha which stabds for reader in japanese

Dividers by @/saradika

“Cruncle is going to be reallyy mad at Mister Clown if he hears what you said,” the child said, a frown on their face as they looked up at clown

“Bah, he won’t know. I'm no snitch. Are you a snitch?”

“Umm, I don’t think I should keep things from Dad and Cruncle…”

“You should, they could get mad, y’know?”

“Dad and Cruncle are going to get mad at me?!” They cried

“They won’t if you don’t snitch, that will make them happy.”

“O-okay, if it makes Cruncle and Dad upset then I won’t be a snitch!”

“Atta Kid, what does make them happy is for you to call me Uncle Buggy, to hear how good of a time you had with ol Uncle Bugg…!” Buggy grinned, only to frown as the child began tugging at his clothes, trying to get his attention again

“What?! Don’t interrupt me!” He snapped

“But Mister Clown, ships are coming to the island.”

“Yeah, yeah, those are probably more guild members returning after handing out rewards,” he brushed off, trying to continue his previous statement, only to scowl as once again he was interrupted

“But they’re marine ships…

“You little brat let me ta- HAH?!”

His words were promptly cut off as the sound of bombing began to be heard, heavy objects crashing around them; the last thing they heard was the shrill cries of their self-proclaimed uncle

“Oh, you’re Up!”

Dokucha looked up at the sound of the voice, finding themselves being carried by an unfamiliar man in a familiar uniform, upon realizing this, they were quick to scramble off the man with a startled cry

“Hey! Hey! Don’t worry. We are here to rescue you! We’re the good guys!” They exclaimed, kneeling next to the startled child

“Where’s Papa?” They cried, backing away from them

“Papa? Oh! Those slimy pirates must have kidnapped you. Don’t worry, we’ll find your Papa!”

“Dokucha, if you are ever captured, you must not let the Marines know about your relationship with me.” Mihawk started looking at the child in front of him

“No! I Want everyone to know about Papa!” They remembered screaming back at his father’s strange statement only to squeak at the glare the former threw at them at the interruption

“Sorry”

“Listen, it is to protect you. If marines were to know of your relationship with me, they would not be as kind to let you go, making it harder to retrieve you.”

“Harder to come back to Papa?”

“Yes, if they do know of me, you can come back with ease”

“I want everyone to know I’m Papa’s and how awesome he and Cruncle are, but if it means I can come back sooner, I will keep it a secret! I'm really good at keeping secrets!”

“I know you are,” he replied with a small smile, ruffling their hair

“Kid?”

“Ah?”

“Do you know the name of your father?”

“No..,” they sniffled climbing to their feet

“I see; well, just give me a minute. I will report back, and then we will be on our way,” he said pulling out a den den mushi from his coat

“Okay, sorry to make you wait, now let’s head to the ship. I'm sure your father must be close by, and if those scumbags got him, we will save him!”

“Ship?” They questioned

“Yes, we can help you look for him when we make contact with HQ.”

“That won’t be necessary.” A voice cut in

The blinked owlishly as the marine plummeted to the ground, grinning at the familiar figure standing behind them

“Uncle Daz!” They cheered, running and jumping to the arms of the officer

“Are you ready to go?”

“Are we going to find Papa?”

“No. I am already aware of his whereabouts; we are heading back to the guild.”

“Hah? Where is Papa?”

“He is handling the disturbance along with Crocodile; we will rendezvous at the guild.”

“That should be the last of them,” muttered Crocodile, glancing at the destruction surrounding him and his co-worker had created, a chuckle escaping him

“Something you wish to share?,” Mihawk muttered, shedding Yoru behind him

“Never took you for the protective type, Hawkeye.”

“What are you on about?”

“Don’t try to hide it; the kid affects you; there is anger behind your sword.”

“….”

“Has the fearsome Hawkeye gone soft on someone?”

“Hold your tongue if you wish to keep it, Crocodile,” he sighed as he walked away, letting the latter snicker away in amusement only for his amused smile to turn into a scowl around at words

“Not to mention, you have also been affected by them; I was not the only one blinded by rage in this battle.”

“Papa!” Dokucha cheered, running to the arms of the swordsman as he made his way into the guild

“I apologize I did not retrieve you personally. Are you alright?”

“Yeah! Uncle Daz found me from the marine guy,” they cheered, nuzzling into their father's embrace

“Did he hurt you?” He asked, a slight tightening in his hold at the words spoken

“No, but he kept insulting everyone! He was so mean, Papa!”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah! Such a meanie! He kept calling you icky names, but I did as Papa asked and never told him about you!” They grinned, throwing the swordsman a thumbs up

“I knew I could trust you with it, good job” he replied, a smile forming on his face

They beamed at his praise, giggling happily until a thought came to mind

“Eh? Papa, where is mister Clown?”

“Don’t worry about him. He is occupied at the moment; Crocodile is with him.”

“Oh! Is Cruncle taking care Of him? Is he hurt?”

“He is….taking care of him, yes. I will join him soon enough to clear some with the clown as well.”

Here we go, like I said I did miss that injured part but hopefully you guys like it? Im sorry I kept all of you waiting for so long, is everyone still alive? Also im sorry to the buggy fans but….he’s gone, he definitely ain’t surviving this

Taglist:

@Imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

@h0n3y-l3m0n05

198 notes · View notes

pendarling · 14 days

Text

It's A Journal

Villain's fingers pressed slowly against the pages, completely engrossed by the lines of words strung together by Hero.

Across from them, Villain could hear the subtle movements of Hero tied to the chair. "Mmmhfh! Mmmfh!!" They pushed hopelessly against the ropes as Villain flipped to the next page of the small journal.

"You have a creative mind, Hero." They mused calmly as they finished reading the passage, "I should've known that you were the type to keep a diary." They chuckled as Hero glared at them. "Oh, right, a journal, a journal. Whatever you say."

They stood up and walked behind Hero before undoing the wrap around their mouth. Hero spat the taste of the cloth as Villain walked back in front of them again, "Breaking into my house while I'm off duty?? Have you lost your mind?!"

"Bah." They waved them off playfully, still unaware of the gripping matters swirling in Hero's head.

"Put my shit down. Now!"

Villain sat on the dining room table, "Not until I find something interesting."

"You've read enough! You know my fears! You know the name of my middle school! Now put it down!"

"You're right. I do know those things, but I can't help but feel a little disappointed, Hero." They cruised through the pages. Hero's eyes kept steady at their hands as they tried to count each page. "You keep talking about rather mundane topics."

"Stop it." They said with a bit of hesitance behind their eyes.

"Why? I'm having so much fun."

"You read more, and you'll find something you won't like."

At that, Villain had paused, suddenly caught off guard by the tone. "What won't I like?" They looked at them and shut the book with a curious expression.

Hero didn't respond and instead continued to settle in their silence.

"Did you write anything about me?" Villain raised a brow. "Darling?" They softly whispered.

"And what if I did?"

They stared at each other for a moment; Villain laughed subtly, "You think I'm falling for your bluff? I bet I know exactly what you wrote about." They put the book down on the table, much to the hero's relief.

"It's not a bluff." Hero said with wide eyes, their hands struggling from the restraints.

Their nemesis walked up to them pointedly. Villain's smirk widened as they tilted Hero's head up, pushing their cheeks in with their hand, "When has the good little Hero ever lied before?"

Hero shook their head in an attempt to escape their grasp with little achievement. "I have!"

"We'll see about that." They shook their head playfully and moved back toward the book. Villain analyzed Hero's fearful eyes as they brushed through the pages until something had caught their eye.

In large letters, Villain came across their name centred on the page.

"A whole chapter? Dedicated to me?" They turned the book in Hero's direction with a large smile.

Hero felt their face heat up as their jaw tightened, and they looked down, "It's not what it is." They mumbled desperately, but it wouldn't stop Villain from enjoying the detailed lines of words throughout the passage.

"Today, I met Villain again," they began.

"Please don't read it out loud!" Hero spoke, their face turning beet red.

"Why not? You already know what you wrote. Too scared you might've made a heartfelt confession in here?~" They laughed.

"It's not funny!"

"Who said it was?" They mused, but Villain had listened to their demand anyway and went ahead reading quietly to themselves. Their once playful expression had turned softer as their eyes moved around the page with careful consideration. A silence so defeating had come to Hero with their heart pounding in their chest, but their only focus was getting out of the chair.

Only a minute had passed until Villain had settled the book back down again. "You've amused me enough, Hero." They said. "I see you were very particular about what you wanted to write."

Hero could only wither in shame under the scrutinizing gaze of their enemy, fully aware of the specifics of their life inside and out.

"Please don't."

"Don't what?" They pouted, "You wrote about how excited you get when you see me. How our fights give you a thrill you've never experienced before."

Hero's face deepened in colour, denying the remarks about their encounters. "Shut up."

The comment didn't hold any weight to the criminal who tapped on the table thoughtfully. "I can't say I wasn't surprised that you even wrote about that time I pinned you up against that wall." Their shoes clicked forward and circled them. "What was it again?" They spoke lowly, "I wish they had held me just like that even longer. Isn't that what you said?"

"Oh God."

"My favourite part is the way you described me. You like it when my hands hold you like this?" Their fingers traced Hero's neck and held it firmly, but not enough to choke the air out of them.

"Okay, you win. Is that what you wanted?" They would bury their own head if they could, but Hero was left to become a spectacle by Villain who seemed to revel in their newfound power.

Villain leaned in, their lips brushing up against their ear. "We were just getting to the good part, Hero. You don't really hate me, remember?"

"I'm not supposed to—"Their breath caught in their throat when they felt Villain's hand crawl down to their thigh delicately.

"Isn't that what makes this fun?" They pulled back, their eyes full of excitement. "Breaking those rules. For your own selfish desires?"

Hero had to keep their eyes focused on Villain instead of the way their hand loosely dipped into their inner thigh as they struggled to let out a sound from their lips. "I don't know."

"Well, wouldn't you like to find out?"

"It's better if I don't."

"Shouldn't a brave little hero like you be able to explore the unknown?" For a second Hero had caught a glimpse of their enemy's eyes flash down to their lips and back up again. They swallowed hard and shook their head with whatever little movement they could do with Villain's hand still around their neck.

"Tell me," They whispered, "do you still think about the day I pinned you against that wall?"

Hero licked their lips, and their breathing visibly quickened. "I can't say I can recall all the details, I'm afraid."

"Well, good thing I do."

Hero's eyes widened, "You… remember that?"

"I was running all over the place trying to catch you, but then again, you were looking to get caught anyway."

Hero thought back to the time, still so clear in their head, and the remnants of the memory slipped into their mind every so often.

Villain moved closer, their breath light on their lips as their skin prickled at the sensation. "I pushed you to that wall, and you didn't move when I pressed my weight against yours. I could feel the way your heartbeat." Their hand moved from their neck to Hero's chest, "Just like it is right now."

"I told you to stop it." They murmured, although they knew they couldn't convince Villain to do that at all.

Villain's eyes lingered on them, "You don't really want that." They drawled slowly. Villain moved behind them, and their cold, clammy hands came into contact with the leather of Villain's gloves as they gave hero a blade. Hero instinctively began wrapping the knife around the ropes and felt it cut away while Villain moved toward the window.

"Where are you going!?"

Villain slipped one leg out the other side, "Don't miss me too much; I'll come back soon."

The binds snapped behind Hero, and they raised their arm and tossed the weapon at Villain, who just barely got away. They cursed under their breath and ran to look outside to find nothing below them.

Hero locked the window tightly; this would be the last time someone would enter their home unprompted. They'd make sure of that.

They grabbed the soft journal in their hands and inspected each page closely for any damage.

"Thank goodness." They sighed in relief and turned to the very few pages Villain hadn't seen. A collection of personal fantasies they had created themselves to help nurse their growing feelings toward an enemy they weren't supposed to know. Maybe it would be better to leave their deepest secrets in their head next time.

~~~

MASTERLIST

TAG LIST: @books-are-everything, @kurai-hono-blog, @iykyunho, @marvellousdaisy, @m3rakii, @crow-with-a-typewriter, @sceirlose, @90scliche, @wondergoddess475, @miaowmelodie, @jeremy-no, @smallville1x10, @artsandstoriesandstuff, @whatwhump, @0eggdealer, @yuki-0710, @silky-worm, @theforeverdyingperson, @rainbow-nesquix, @m4iloblu3,@prophecies-bestowed-upon-ye, @jeahreading, @urmum-11, @eldritchdragonfly,

Click here to be added to tags

#imagine your otp #enemies to lovers #villain x hero #hero x villain #writing #heroxvillain #fluff prompt

131 notes · View notes

gadriezmannsgirl · 12 days

Note

Babyyyy!!!! 🎶🎵 I like your styleeee ✨🎶🎵

Girly girl, since Pedri decided to honor his words and cut his hair, grow a mustache and ruined his beautiful curls. I'm going to need you to make me a fic about it, pronto.

Love you, bye 😀❤️🥺🙏🏻

His hair it's slowly growing back🥹 and thank god he got the rid out of the moustache🤭 this is a bit old and I'm sorry for the wait, dear.

AN: I'm in a bit of a hiatus from writing, my fics will come once in a while until I hopefully can get back into full writing

What Did You Do? -P.G8

Summary: Getting home to find the surprise your boyfriend has for you

"Amor? I'm home!" You called out taking off your shoes, you closed your eyes softly feeling the weight of the day and wanting nothing more than being in your boyfriend's arms as you play with his hair.

"In the kitchen, preciosa!"

Walking towards the sound of his voice, you saw him with his back to you as he listened to the indications someone was giving him.

"Hey" You hugged his back softly before leaving a kiss on his shoulder and walking to be in front of him "Is that Fer? Tell him I said-what the fuck?" Your hands covered half of your face.

Pedri let out a wide grin "You want me to tell him that?"

"Pedro Gonzalez Lopez! What the fuck did you do?" You gasped "Why the hell do you have a moustache? And what the hell happened to your gorgeous hair? Why is it like that? Why are you almost bald? What is going on?" You heard laughter coming from your boyfriend and his phone where someone, most likely his brother, had heard every single thing you said.

"Remember when I told you that I made a promise if Spain wins the Euros?" you hum still looking shocked "Well... We won and this is it" He says noticing your quiet but powerful gaze "What do you think?"

"No, absolutely not" You shook your head "You're kidding"

"I'm not! I'm a man of word, if I promise something I'll do it"

"Ay señor Jesucristo" (Oh, Lord Jesus Christ) "Where's your hair?"

"In the bin. Why?"

"Can't we just... glue it back?" Fer exploded in laughter, you could see on the screen he was red and close to tears

"Y/N!"

"What?"

"It'll grow back!"

"Yes, we need to get you some oils so it can grow faster"

"I told you she wouldn't like it, mano" Fer said

"Is it really bad? You don't like it?" Pedri's sad face made your heart break and you sighed searching for the right words.

"It's not that I don't like it... Es que pienso que así te ves como un señor" (It's just that I think that you look like an old man) You reply instantly making Fer laugh once again and Pedri gave you a look "Como un señor de 40" (Like a 40 year-old man)

"I can't. I'm going to pee myself" Fer said "See you guys!" You waved goodbye to Fer and after the call ended you turned around to face Pedri.

"Un señor muy guapo pero de igual forma, un señor" (A very handsome but still an old man)

"Bonita" He said

"I'm not lying! I admit it's not my favorite look on you but I do think you look handsome either way!" You went over to hug him, you felt his arms wrap around your back "But we do need to get all types of oil, shampoo... Everything" He nods

"Whatever you say, preciosa"

"And here I was, wanting to love you and to play with your hair to relax after my day"

"You can still do it" You touched his hair feeling it, you made a face "It's scratchy" You look at him "Why couldn't you promise to dye your hair, huh?"

"Bah, amor. That's lame, everybody decides to do it" you gave him a look

"It's worst cutting off your hair!" You cry out "And mostly when you also decide to also do a moustache"

"Relax and gimme a kiss, my hair will grow back soon"

"You're crazy if you think I'm going to kiss you with the moustache"

"What?"

"I'm not kissing you until you get the rid off your moustache!"

"Why not?"

"I don't want to kiss a 40 year-old man!"

"I'm 21!"

"With that moustache, you don't!"

"But I need to have this for a few days!"

"Don't expect a kiss from me in the next few days!" You said getting out of his hold

"Amor, you can't do that!"

"Yes, I can. You did that" You point to his hair and moustache "I do this"

"Noup. Not happening" He rushed upstairs leaving the stove with the food done

"Hey, is the food ready?"

"I don't know, please check!"

"I want to take a shower, pepi!"

"And I'm getting the rid out of this moustache. Can't have my girl not kissing me!" You smiled and shook your head.

You turned to the stove and took care of the pasta, Pedri was doing. You felt a ding on your phone so you put it out.

Want to keep adding to your shopping cart? Check out the new hygiene and household products!

"Oh! Yes, totally. I need hair products for my boyfriend, this is a need now"

°°° °°° °°° °°°

Taglist: @gaviymarcsbride @stuckinaf4nfiction @elijahslover @azzpenswrld @http-isabela

#gadriezmannsgirl replies #gadriezmannsgirl writes!#pedri #pedri gonzalez #fc barca #pedri x reader #pedri gonzalez x reader #pedri gonzalez imagine #pedri imagine #pedri icons #football players #football players imagine #football players x reader #football fanfic #fc barcelona

123 notes · View notes

suuuupernovaaa · 1 year

Text

kurkung

kurkung [ˈkuɾ.kuŋ] n. asshole (vulgar)

Request from @darrarii: Could I request a Neteyam x reader where the reader's blunt and kind ofbitchy. The Sullys are arriving and meeting Aonung's best friend (the reader) and he hears her say some randomly blunt and out of pocket stuff under her breath. I live for kind and loving readers but imagine neteyam and reader just side eyeing people together.

Aonung nudges me, removing my focus from the task at hand, and I turn to admonish him. I have been working on this net all day, and I am nearly done. I have also asked him nearly ten times to quit bothering me while I work, but Aonung never listens to anyone who isn't Aonung.

"Look!" he says, and points. Above us fly five beasts, ikran, and it's a sight to behold. My anger melts away and I stand with Aonung and Roxto, who is never far off, our mouths agape. "Visitors."

Aonung charges forward, and Roxto scrambles to follow. I carefully set aside the net I've been working on, and have to jog to catch up.

The riders are dismounting as our clan gathers on the beach, gawking and whispering. They are strange people, a deeper blue than us, and I think they must be from the forest. Ikrans, dark blue, and as I get closer, I see their thin arms and tails.

What business do they have here, in the ocean?

They're a family, clearly. A mother, a father, and four children. The eldest look to be around our age, maybe 18 or 19, and the youngest cannot yet be ten. I must admit, she is very cute, but the features on the older boys make them look weak. They won't be able to swim, or hold their breath - but maybe they're just passing through.

Aonung and Roxto approach, and Aonung points out one of their tails.

"Is that supposed to be a tail?" Aonung asks, and Roxto laughs.

"It would be better to have no tail at all, than that useless little thing," I say to Aonung, who smiles at me. One of the boys turns his eyes to me, glaring, and I shrug.

I'm sure his tail is fine where he's from. Here, it will be little more than a nuisance to him.

Tsireya approaches, and slaps Roxto as he laughs, admonishing him and her brother, Aonung. She gives me a sideways glance, but again, I shrug.

"They do look strange, Tsireya," I say.

"As strange as we look to them," she replies. Where Aonung and I are harsh, Tsireya is soft and caring. I admire those characteristics about her, but don't see a use for them myself.

When I turn my attention back to the newcomers, the mother is telling our chief, Aonung's father, how her husband was Toruk Makto.

That grabs my attention - everyone knows the legend of Toruk Makto. I just imagined him to be... something different. I guess I pictured one of us, even though I knew he was a forest person.

"Toruk Makto is a Great War leader," Tonowari says, and I lean over to Aonung.

"I don't want a war here," I say to him, and he glances down at me, and nods once.

Again, one of the older boys looks to me, but he doesn't look annoyed this time - he looks sad.

"Toruk Makto and his family will stay with us," Tonowari says when I turn my attention back to him. Just a moment later, he's promising that Aonung and Tisreya will teach their children our ways.

I know what this means - I'll be roped into it too, as will Roxto. The three of us have always been somewhat of a package deal.

At least, I tell myself, this could be interesting.

I sigh and grab Neteyam's hands. "Bah, Neteyam!" I exclaim. "Are you watching me?"

He rolls hie eyes for the 100th time that day. "I am! You're going too fast. Slow down."

I have done the phrase what I think is slowly a dozen times, but he is still not picking it up. I am starting to think that these forest people are going to be hopelessly useless here, and I worry about them, just a little.

"Once more," I say, and move so slowly that it feels as if I am hardly moving at all. "Where... are... we.... going..."

Finally, when he repeats the gesture to me, it is correct.

"Yes!" I exclaim. "That's right, Neteyam!"

He smiles and laughs, and the sight of it... does something to me. I have seen Aonung smile a million times. He laughs with me every day. But never before has it made me feel this way.

There's a strange feeling, almost a fluttering in my stomach, and I snap my eyes away, trying to focus, but it isn't easy, not when he's still smiling.

Often, I find myself making excuses to be around Neteyam. I tell myself he must need help riding his ilu, learning how to slow his heart and hold his breath, or adding more finger speak to his lexicon.

Even as it becomes increasingly clear that he really doesn't need anyone's help anymore, I still find myself there, always there, offering a hand or a correction.

He never turns me away.

"Will the Sullys be stealing all of our women?" Aonung asks me as we ride our ilus together, the first time we have been alone since our arrival.

A pit settles in my stomach. I knew that Lo'ak and Tisreya had eyes on each other, but I hadn't known Neteyam had shown interested in anyone. I wonder who it could possibly be, and how have I not noticed?

Just the thought of him showing interest in another woman makes me sick, and I have to finally admit to myself that I care about the forest boy. Since the moment I saw him smile, he's nearly all that I think about. When we aren't together, I wonder what he's doing, wonder how he's adjusting to life here. I find excuses every day to talk to him, and I would even call us friends.

I'm hurt that he has found a woman, and I was unaware.

"What do you mean?" I ask, trying to keep the emotions off of my face and failing.

"First my sister, now my best friend," Aonung says, shaking his head.

"Me? And Neteyam? Bah, Aonung, no."

He rolls his eyes. "Don't treat me like I'm stupid. You like each other. I never thought you would stoop so low."

"Aonung!" I exclaim. "You are too harsh. They have been through a lot, and even you can't deny, they've adapted well here."

He rolls his eyes once more, and dives under and darts away from me. I want to be mad at him, but I'm too busy wondering if he's right - does Neteyam like me?

I have never been one to dance around what I want or how I'm feeling. Sometimes, I have been told, this comes off as being too harsh, a jerk, unfeeling and mean. I try to deliver the truth kindly, and only deliver it if it needs to be said, but I don't always know where the line is.

I don't worry about all of that now. When I return to shore, I head to where I know Neteyam and his family are staying, and hover in the doorway only a moment.

His mother and sisters are there, but not him.

"Do you know where Neteyam is?" I ask, and his mother's eyes snap up to mine.

"Fishing," the youngest replies. "Just left."

I nod and smile. "Thank you, Tuk."

It takes me a while to find Neteyam, who has swam far and found a little-used beach where the good fish rarely come. He couldn't have known that, so I hold my tongue on chiding him.

"Neteyam!" I yell as I step up onto the beach.

He turns, a spare in his hand, ready to launch, and smiles. "Y/N! How did you find me?"

"Well, I've been looking a long time. There aren't really good fish here, Neteyam. I can show you better spots."

He sighs and lowers his spear. "Damn. Okay."

"I want to ask you something," I say as I reach him, shaking the water from my hair. "Do you like me?"

He looks a little taken aback, with eyes wide, his tail swishing from side to side. "Like you? Yeah, I like you. You've been a good friend."

"No, no," I reply, stepping forward, shortening the gap between us. "Romantically, I mean. Aonung said he thought you did. And I like you. Romantically. So, I am asking."

When the confusion fades from his face, it is replaced with soft eyes and a wide, beautiful smile. "You are very straight-forward."

"I know. Most people don't like it, or like me. That's why I'm asking. I thought Aonung could be wrong."

"He's not," Neteyam replies. "I do like you. The first day on the beach, I did not," he tells me with a chuckle, "but I just thought you were... an asshole. I don't think so anymore. I think you just say what you are thinking, and it's kind of nice. I never have to wonder how you feel about something. And you've always been patient and kind to me, even when you didn't have to be."

Though Neteyam is right and I usually do speak my mind, my mind currently is a garbled up mess of joy and a little bit of fear. What will it mean, to fall in love with this forest boy? What will be permitted? Do we have a future together?

I'm not sure it makes sense to worry about that now. What I know is, nothing has ever made me as happy as Neteyam has. I wake up every morning, wondering what part of the day I will get to spend with him. To be assured that, going forward, I get to spend every single day with him... it is the greatest happiness I have ever known.

I am speechless. I wrap my arms around his waist and place my head on his chest, listening to his strong, loud heartbeat as he wraps his arms around my shoulders. I feel his chin resting on my head, and I take deep, slow breaths, enjoying this moment.

"I'm sorry I didn't make a good first impression. I'm glad you were able to look past it."

He reaches under my chin, tilting my head up to him, and places a soft, quick kiss on my lips.

Too soft. Too quick.

"You are lucky you are so beautiful, or I may not have given you another chance," he says with a wink and a teasing smile.

I want to shove him away for the comment, but I can't bear to tear myself away from him. Plus, he certainly owes me one.

I'll get him back tomorrow.

#neteyam #neteyam x reader #neteyam fic #avatar twow #avatar 2

1K notes · View notes

sith-qween · 7 months

Text

Sign On The Line

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Pairings: Reader x Lucifer, Reader x Alastor

Words: 1.8K

Rating: M

Warnings: Teaser, Blow Job, Masturbation, Real warnings to come if this is finished

The days were definitely not the same as they used to be. Since the last extermination, Hell had been in overdrive. Everyone had been scrambling to try and make the most of what little pathetic after life they had - be that begging for their lives, to kill and maim as many creatures as physically possible, and others just trying to party and fuck as much as they could.

Maybe you would’ve gotten in on that action but unfortunately for you, you had a lovely little bargain that had you on the ropes. You would’ve been so lucky to get away with murder and just enjoy what was left of your pitiful existence. However, like anything else, there was a sick plan for you.

You had hoped that one of those disgusting angels would’ve made a pit stop and taken you out of your misery but, that was too easy. Everyone was on edge waiting to see what Lucifer’s little duckling would do, and to everyone's surprise - the bloodbath had been a holy one. Then the news went around and suddenly the first man was gone. The one who had led the charge was now nothing more than ash. It was a frost day in hell that was for sure. No one knew what to do once the panic ceased, some returned to normal while others started asking questions, what did this mean now? Did they stand a chance against Heaven?

Bah. You couldn’t care less. Mind you, you never intended to get much closer to the victoring side. Mind you - one moment you were in the safety of your friend’s bar, and suddenly you were face to face with a very familiar grey face. Ever since that red haired antler fuck came around and sealed the deal he had you waiting in the corner. Sure you were a lot stronger now that you’d made that deal - but at what cost? It wasn’t like you could go out and enjoy that power and take whatever you wanted, you had to behave.

And just like that, your peace and quiet was over. Ever since the Hotel won their little war, there was an increase in crowds around the place. Some begging for redemption - and some burning with the desire to get closer to some obvious powerhouses, minus the Overlords.

Alastor had deemed you a credible source to play greeter and take care of any guests that arrive personally. Those also came with the job of making any swift removals if someone wasn’t playing by the rules. Basically you were there to give Vaggie a break and let her focus on other things.

There was one thing that had caught your eye though. Every now and again you would catch the slightest glimpse of the King of Hell. You had been there for about a month now but it was rare to see the man sauntering around with the lessers. You don’t think you’d say he was repulsed by the likes of demons, but more disappointed. The few times you had seen him he was a very pleasant man - he definitely carried himself with a very regal air, and it was something of a dream. Maybe it was just the part of you longing to have done a few things differently in your own life. Maybe then you could’ve been up there living a fantasy instead of being stuck slaving away down here.

A few interactions had taken place between the two of you, but you wouldn’t exactly chalk them up to being overly positive? You were never out right rude to the short King - but you also didn’t kneel and kiss the very earth he walked. You were a lot of things - but a kiss ass was not one of them. While your attitude made some of the others a tad nervous, he never seemed to mind. In fact he got a small kick out of it once in a while.

After running laps around the hotel to try and manage the requests of some newer guests you felt a deep growl rumble in your chest. You had no ties with these people and they were driving you up the wall. You couldn’t be bothered to care about this redemption nonsense, but if these idiots were serious they would have to work on a lot of things. All they were doing was getting on your nerves and you had to admire the patience that they others had. You could never.

Making your way down the halls you noticed a shadow in the corner of your eyes and it quickly caught your attention. Not on your watch.

You weren’t about to let anything come in here and get you in trouble with your deal. Satan knows that Alastor would have you begging for death if you didn’t hold up your end of the deal. The very thought caused a shiver to run along your spine. That could wait - narrowing your eyes the growl continued as you turned down an unfamiliar hallway to track the shadow. Maybe it was someone playing a prank on you, but you’d rather be made a fool then let a danger slip in here.

The shadow was quick and always just out of sight. Picking up speed you were sure you could get a pass on using some of your power if it was for the Hotel. Slowly two dark horns with careful curls started growing from the top of your head, eyes glowing red you darted with extreme speeds down the halls to catch up. Finally it turned into a door that was ajar, and you slipped in after it.

However, what you found was far from the last thing you expected to see. The adrenaline that had been building and starting to flare as you chased down the threat seemed to vanish in seconds.

The room in question was on a newer wing of the Hotel, one that was not meant for guests. In fact if you had to put a label to it - it was much more on the administration side of things. The walls were not the normal royal red - these walls were tall and a nearly blinding white with golden accents. You could feel your blood run cold.

It was one thing to add a little sass in a conversation with the King of Hell - but it was another thing to burst into his own personal room. Let alone like this.

It wasn’t just his room, no he was there. Not in any old way either. In a way that would cause Heaven to weep. Your lips moved to speak but nothing would come out, you couldn’t help the disrespectful stare as your eyes landed on the man in the large regal bed. It was a lavish bed, much larger than any single person could ever need, and the canopy on it draped perfectly to enclose the whole thing - except the front of it. It was the perfect little window to see the man lounged, his legs spread wide as your eyes locked.

He was completely unphased at seeing you appear in the room, in fact his face grew into a wide grin. This only made the blood run colder in your body, completely flabbergasted and lost for what to do or say.

“Well,” he started as he looked you up and down, “that worked a lot better than I thought it would.” he chuckled, crooking his head as he studied your expression. You hated the fact that you could feel the blood rushing to your cheeks, you weren’t no prude - but this was something else.

“Wait,” you managed to mumble out, trying to keep your eyes on his face and not straying to the careful motions happening in his lap under the sheets “that was you..?”

“I was curious how devoted you are to this Hotel. I don’t want anyone here that might let harm come to my little girl and her dreams,” he started, making it seem like some nonchalant and totally normal reason to have dragged you down to this side of the building.

“I might not care - but I have a deal to uphold. So long as Alastor is invested you can count on me to do what is needed.” you scoffed. Noticing the momentary anger that reached the other's face. It amused you how much the two men hated each other, and yet both craved the same desire to push and support Charlie.

“Is that so..?” he hummed, eyes slowly shutting for a moment. AS they slowly rolled back open he was once again locked onto you, his smile turning lazy before he spoke again, “well since you’re here, perhaps you would like to keep me company. After all it seems as though you’ve have a rough day today”

HIs voice was deep and enticing. No wonder Eve was so easily pulled into his promises of free will. What soul wouldn’t find themselves entranced in him.

“Come here”

Your mouth was dry as you found yourself moving towards the bed. Everything about him was so inviting, so pure and yet so down right sinful. Reaching out his free arm in a welcoming manor you knew then and there that there wasn’t going to be any turning around and second guessing this. Letting your tongue run along your bottom lip, you weren’t going to give up this chance. How many can say they laid with Lucifer himself?

Reaching the end of the bed his hand flicked, shutting the large doors and locking them.

“Remove your clothing and then crawl to me, darling” he purred, the words silky as they rolled from his tongue. You weren’t about to be told twice as the shirt came over your head in a flash, and your pants were quick to follow. Dropping them in a contained mess on the floor your hands met the sheets followed by your knees. Keeping some modesty in front of the Holy King, you could feel your heart race as the excitement surged through your body. Carefully crawling towards the man, you watched him, taking in as much as you could.

Your motions slowed as you neared the small man, your knees on either side of his leg. He looked so blissful and perfect in every way. Pulling the sheets away you could see his hand doing exactly what you thought it would be doing. Wrapped around his sizeable dick you could feel your mouth water at all of the sinful thoughts that raced through your mind. Seeing what you were doing his hand stilled and you wasted no time taking over the stimulation he had been doing. He was heavy in your hand and you couldn’t help yourself from rubbing your thighs together for some kind of friction before leaning forward to take him into your mouth.

“What do you think about adding a third party?” a staticy voice chimed from behind you.

AN: This is a teaser fic - I might finish this if anyone else is interested. Until then pay me no mind. I'm gunna go thirst after these two and Adam, cause I have no standards.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin lucifer #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin fanfic #reader insert #reader insert fanfic #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer magne #alastor the radio demon #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #ao3 fanfic #teaser

218 notes · View notes

kindaasrikal · 12 days

Text

Lloyd is the type to always overthink every action he has ever taken, and worries if it will affect the relationship or reputation he has. It’s always clouding his mind and he can never seem to forget any mistake, any bad deed, and negative actions he might done (or perceived to have done) and it always weighs him down. Lloyd has always been weak to his mind, and his mind affects his heart, so can you really blame him for feeling like he’s about to throw up and cry whenever he is near the person he has ‘wronged’?

Zane can never look at his body the same anymore. He remembers clear skin, smooth and soft that children enjoyed to hold hands with and elders teased him about. He remembers rusty old metal clinging to him as old as his existence, despite him mind and soul being much younger. Even when the skin peeled off to reveal said metal, that was still his body. It was his, and nothing can replace that. Yet as he keeps being destroyed, tampered with, hurt, and killed, his body is rebuilt over and over again. It is no longer his own body he stared at in the mirror, but a shell that his soul is forever stuck in. This is not his body. His arms were not that long, his hair was not that sleek, his skin not so shiny, and his mouth, so hard to move some days that he just wishes to sit in silence in front of a mirror, looking at everything wrong.

Nya has to be useful. If she is not someone others can use, others can depend and rely on, then what is she other than useless? She has to be good at what she does, she has to protect those who have always protected her, she must always stand tall and sure, even when she wants to wallow away in her brothers-mothers-fathers-lovers-arms. She cannot let her withering thoughts and weakened heart hold her hostage. And as she tries to escape from what she believes will make her useless, she falls deeper in to her insecurities, the shackles she has had on since young growing tighter.

Cole no longer wants to be someone seen. He feels the eyes of others digging into his skin as they wait for his wise words of wisdom, waiting for him to help, to always be a rock when he was always a pebble crumbling from the splashes of responsibility, of expectations warring their way through him. He wants to be free as a bird from the weighing eyes on his back.

Kai cannot live as his own person. He is not just ‘Kai’ but he is ‘Nya’ when he is protective. He is ‘Lloyd’ when he is fighting. He is ‘Cole’ when he is planning. He is ‘Zane’ when he is comforting. He is ‘Jay’ when he is talking. He is ‘Wu’ when he is teaching. He is ‘Garmadon’ when he is tired in grief. He is ‘Misako’ when he must find a way to fix everything. He is ‘Skylor’ when he teases. He is his parent’s child when he looks in the mirror and speaks with his voice. Kai is not just Kai. Kai is everyone he has ever met and cared for. And Kai’s worth is not in how he lives, but in how he sacrifices and changes. Kai is not a whole of who he once was anymore, and Kai cannot see his own worth when everyone else around him is so much more worthy then he has ever been. Kai will always sacrifice, over and over again, whether it be his life or a loved ones, whether it be something he wants or something he needs. He is more dependent than ever and cannot fix such an addicting emotion after being independent for so long.

Jay must always keep himself in check, making sure he is playing his part perfectly. He cannot make a mistake, he cannot be a shadow and he cannot be in the centre stage. He must be in the middle as he plays his role of something he isn’t. He is scared to be insignificant yet the eyes of judgement digging into him terrify him like nothing else. It scares him to think that one fatal mistake can ruin it all for him, set him back years of effort and of work of pretending to be someone he isn’t.

Bah i got lazy for a few but this is all i can throw at you lot for now

91 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 8 months

Text

Dirty Work 17

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: It's friday again.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Once Leslie leaves, you lock yourself away again. Your father's taken to the cold shoulder over his previous aggression. You don't mind, it assures you of a tenuous peace. So long as you don't draw his attention, you're okay.

Your anxiety remains piqued. Not only by your father's stewing ire but the thought of what looms both behind and ahead of you. With all that happened at work, you have little hope of tomorrow being better. There is also the question of Mr. Laufeyson's surprise... you can't even begin to guess what he has in mind.

Another test, no doubt. Like today. You're certain you failed that one too. You took his kindness and showed yourself to be ungrateful. You questioned him when you should have just accepted it with a smile on your face.

It is not your place to worry about his intentions, as he has made it clear, you are not on the same level. He is your boss and you do what he says. So you will do that and nothing more.

Is that his voice in your head?

You sneak out for a shower but it doesn't do much to calms your nerves. You spend another night tossing and turn, kept awake by the television set a top volume and the dissonance of your anxiety. Even with the extra hours granted, you find yourself painfully awake at the same splitting hour.

You get up to make your tea. Your father's snoring on the couch at the TV continues to blare. You don't disturb either as you put on the kettle and ready a mug. You rub your eyes and yawn. Leslie will be here soon. You should wake him and get breakfast going. It will lighten her load.

When you have your cup steaming, you stay at the counter and sip tentatively, weighing your next steps. You leave your father as he is and return to your room, dressing and cleaning up before you descend again. You have your phone in hand, almost hoping a notification will pop up. Maybe Mr. Laufeyson will change his mind and you can be off before you have to face your dad. The phone remains lifeless.

You sigh and shut off the television, hoping the sudden silence might rouse him. He continues to snort loudly. You bite down on your cheeks as your skin buzzes and itches. He's not a morning person.

The memories of him exploding to consciousness in a furor of hollers and kicks keep you from shaking him. You back away as the doorbell rings and does the job for you, your father grumbling as you go to answer it.

Leslie enters with her usual blustering brightness. She greets your father and stops short, hands on her hips as she tuts.

"Now what is the meaning of this?" She huffs, "Charles, you can't sleep down here."

"I'm not," he sits up and hacks into his hand before sliding the oxygen tube back into place. "You woke me up."

"What's gotten into you?" She accuses, "I told you yesterday I'm not here for your attitude. You're not some teenager, you're a grown man."

"Bah, I need coffee," he snarls.

"You need a cold shower," she retorts as she goes around the couch and snatches up the pack of smoke on the cushion beside him, "and a swat on the snout. What're you doing with these things?" She pauses and looks at you, "he can't be having these in the house."

"I don't... know where they came from," your murmur.

"Don't matter, if you see them, you toss them," she reproaches, "this is a team effort, alright? Now yesterday, this place was a right mess. I'm here to help, not play maid."

"I'm sorry, I..." you snap your mouth shut. You did clean up, as best you could before work, but you'll have to do better.

"Not her fault she's useless," your father quips.

"Charles," Leslie warns as she points at him.

"Sorry, hon," he puts his hands up, "was only a joke."

"Not a very nice one," he rebukes.

"I know, I know," he chortles.

"So don't apologise to me," she flicks her finger towards you.

Your father stops his laughing and quiets. He crosses his arms and slumps his shoulders as you stare at the back of his head. You wait as Leslie tilts her head dangerous and cross her arms.

"Charles," she girds.

"Don't worry about it," you croak, "it's fine. I'll... I'm going in late so I'll get breakfast started."

"Oh yeah, she don't gotta go polish that man's silver early," your dad growls.

"Charles," Leslie snips again, "I mean it, be nice."

"I am nice, hon, I'm being funny."

"You are not," she insists.

"Come on, Les," he lowers his voice as you pad towards the kitchen, "I'll be good, alright? Don't give me that look."

She sighs but you don't look back, "alright, no more smokes."

"I'm tellin' ya, honey," he speaks so softly you barely recognise his voice, "I didn't touch 'em. Found them in the couch but I didn't smoke any. Don't be mad at me."

You shake your head and try to roll the tension out of your shoulders. She's been here just over a week and he talks like he's known her forever. He's actually nice to her. He cares about what she thinks, what she feels. But you, his own daughter, you get the blame for it all. You're the reason he hates himself and his life. Maybe if you'd never come along, he'd still have the woman he loved.

🧹

You set off just after eleven, the bus due not long after. As you come down the overgrown walk with its cracked pavement and uneven tilt, your eyes are drawn up by the snap of a car door. Footfalls scuff on the pavement as you look over the curb to the shiny car parked there. It's an unusual sight in the rundown neighbourhood.

Mr. Laufeyson proudly steps up as the window on the passenger's side rolls down. A pair of similarly green eyes peer out as she takes in the sight of the yellow duplex. You want to run and hide. You can't imagine either of them ever had to dirty themselves in a place like this.

"Mr. Laufeyson," you rush towards him, "I--- you said noon."

You pull the phone out and check the time. He puts his hand on the roof of the car calmly as you stop a few feet away. He chuckles, amused by your panic.

"It's so quaint," Frigga remarks as she remains firmly in the front seat, "dear, how are you?"

"Um, I'm well, Frigga," you answer with a tight gulp.

"Good, good, you look well," she praises, "a bit tired. Tell me he's not overworking you."

"Mother," Laufeyson shoots a glance in her direction.

"Er, it's fine," you clutch the strap of your bag, "I... did I do something?"

"No, no," Frigga waves off your suspicion, "I simply insisted my son bring me to see you while I'm in town."

"Oh, I was just on my way..." you look at Laufeyson confused as he gives an expression you can't quite read. He's expecting something but you're not sure what.

"We have lots to do so no sense in waiting around," she trills.

"Oh?" Your lips part. "Did something-- is the house okay?"

"The house is just fine. That old place only needs a little light, but see if my own son hears me," he rambles, "Loki, don't be rude, get the door."

He flinches and drags his hand away from the top of the car, "yes, mother."

He moves to open the back door, gallantly opening it for you. You feel like you've been dropped into an alternate universe. This can't be happening.

"Get in," he says.

You blink at him and he tilts his head, gesturing to the back seat. You obey with some reluctance and sit the large leather bag beside you. You slowly pull the seat belt down and click it into place. Laufeyson strides around the bumper as you peek in the mirror at Frigga's silvering curls.

"Right, then," Laufeyson opens the driver's door and lowers himself into the seat, "there we are."

"How are you feeling, darling?" Frigga's eyes meet yours in the rearview before you quickly look away, "are you very hungry or can you wait a bit longer for lunch?"

"I... Lunch? I'm okay," you assure. You can't figure this out. "Thank you."

The car whirs and rolls into motion. You're uneasy as you watch the street pass by. If he takes a left, he can get back to the main roads and-- no, he's going right?

"Mm, alright, the boutique first then," she orders her son, "I'm wondering if perhaps they could squeeze us in at the spa. It has been a while since I had some clay done. Oh, and my nails are ragged."

You try to connect the dots as your brows stitch together. Is this his surprise? His mother? Why are you there? You should be figuring out what's going on with the squeaky hinge on the closet.

"I can't wait to see the new season's colours," Frigga carries on as you tune her out, lost in the riddle of her presence and your own.

Surely, you're being brought along as some sort of valet. Of course, Laufeyson would offer you to carry her bags as she splurges on her pretty dresses. And she is always dressed so nicely whenever you see her. And make up, her lips are a pleasant shade of rose. She would likely spend even more on shoes, don't forget the silver sparkling at her throat and the gemstone dangling there...

Right, you see. Another lesson. He wants you to remember what you don't have. After your slip-up yesterday, he has to remind you of where you belong; squashed under his sole.

"Oh, is Eliana still at the salon, I should stop in and say hello," Frigga's voice once more punctures your distraction. "She was always so sweet."

"Mother, I... don't know about that. Maybe a different salon."

"You are such a pessimist, what are the odds we run into her?"

"Don't even tempt fate," he warns.

"No one said you were invited, hm? You said you had business down at Heimdall's."

"You are stubborn, mother," Laufeyson tisks.

"It's where you got it from, dear," she taunts, "so, darling," she peeks in the mirror again and you shy away, "how about it, you and I? It will be so nice. I haven't gotten a day out in so long."

"Oh, you haven't? Should I ask father about that?"

"Let's not mention your father," she rebuffs him smoothly and his shoulders slump.

"Um, well, that's nice, but..." you protest meekly

"It's my treat," she insists, "please. You're doing me a favour."

"I really don't know--"

"I don't mind," Laufeyson interjects, "and it won't affect your hours."

"I did soften him up a bit," she purrs.

"Mother," he hisses again.

"Oh you are so serious," she chides, "she needs this more than I do, I'm sure, with a stickler like you."

He twitches but says nothing. You sense he wants to say it again, 'mother', in the tone of please be quiet. It would be laughable if you weren't so perplexed by it all. Maybe it is a dream. Maybe you didn't wake up and you're oversleeping your alarm, having stress dreams about what will happen when you wake to reality.

"He's a good little chauffeur," she pats his arm playfully, "so he will drop us at the salon, won't you, dearest son?"

He grips the wheel tight and you see his knuckles turn almost translucent, "yes, mother, whatever you wish."

🧹

Mr, Laufeyson drives through the downtown area. You don't come there much, or at all. You passed through on your way to the hospital and on occasion to sort out a billing issue with the bank, but there wasn't much for you there. Along the west side, the nicer shops reside and several buildings with businesses you could never figure out.

Laufeyson pulls up into a marked spot beside a meter. As you stare out, still puzzled by it all. Everything's going so fast and you just want it to slow down. You look at your boss and feel a pang in your chest; how many times had he mentioned your clothes? This isn't a favour, this is him saying you're not good enough.

"Come, come," Frigga gets out and opens your door for you, "let's not drag our feet."

You undo the seat belt and go to grab your large leather bag. As you get out, Frigga catches you by the shoulders. "You won't need this," she takes the bag and reaches past you to put it back in the car, "only your pretty self."

"Oh, uh, sure, okay," you look again at Laufeyson but you're not sure why. He isn't going to help you. He's plunged you into this situation. He only arches a brow in response.

"Just going to give you a nice refresh," Frigga pulls on your elbow and shuts the door, tugging you onto the pavement. "You would do wonderful with some highlights."

You stumble along beside her, overwhelmed by her enthusiasm. She directs you to the shining transparent windows of a salon, a sign overhead with a curled iron bar across the top. You peek over your shoulder again as Mr. Laufeyson lingers another moment before steering out into traffic.

The door chirps as it opens and you're ushered inside to the sound of jazzy pop covers. You can't choose where to focus as the sleek shelves of colourful bottle behind the pure white counter refracts the lights of a spindly chandelier. Velvet chairs are arranged around a table in the little waiting area as stylists gab with clients in chairs.

"Frigga," a woman with platinum locks flutters over with the clacking of heels, "oh, it's been so long."

"Eliana! It has, look at you," they embrace and part, Frigga playing with the tall woman's pin-straight tresses, "what happened to the black?"

"Got a few grays and a divorce," the woman, Eliana you presume, cackles, "and who's this?"

They look at you as you're ready to fade into the black and white stripes on the wall.

"Oh, a friend, she's lovely," Frigga comes back and takes your hand, drawing you forward, "she just needs a little touch-up."

"Oh, she's a natural, she won't need much at all," the stylist approaches you, "I know just the woman; Luciana," she claps and looks back, "I have someone to fill in that cancellation.”

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #maid au #dirty work #mcu #marvel #avengers #thor

268 notes · View notes