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hottpinkpenguin · 3 months

Note

For event:

Alfie Solomons with

A - “Ask me to stay” + N - not good enough

Please. Thanks

A/n: hiiiiiii, i realized after i wrote it that i got over-excited and forgot the quote (the trope is there though!!) but i like this too much not to post it!

Alfie Solomons X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2229 Tags: angst, steam, canon-divergence, swearing, misogynistic themes

Alfie Solomons was a man of many vices and few virtues. He’d gone to great pains to ensure that.

Usually this fact was one he lived proudly. He lived violently, lavishly, and with reckless abandon. Spent his money foolishly, shot his pistols carelessly, and slept with women thoughtlessly. This earned him a larger-than-life reputation in Camden Town. It impressed his employees, amused his business partners, and irritated his enemies. Alfie Solomons was a thorn in the side of propriety, and he loved it.

That changed quickly after meeting you.

Alfie wasn’t entirely sure when that change happened - he couldn’t finger a specific moment or blame any particular feeling - but he had realized some time ago that the man he’d spent his entire life growing into was suddenly a hindrance.

And it had never been clearer than now.

“Mr. Solomons, I am not a man prone to jokes or levity, especially in moments as grave as this.” Your father was sitting across from Alfie, his back as straight as a whipping rod, hands splayed on the small kitchen table between them. He was taller than Alfie remembered, with shrewd dark eyes that bored straight into him. The absent smile of regret slid off Alfie’s face when he snapped back into the moment, dragged out of wistful reverie.

“No, n-no sir.” A stutter? Alfie Solomons had never stuttered a day in his life, but here he was, reduced to a stuttering, sheepish shadow of himself in your kitchen. He could hear the slightest creak of a floorboard outside the kitchen door - no doubt you and your three younger sisters listening intently to the near-midnight conversation about your future.

“I must admit, Mr. Solomons, I am utterly perplexed. My daughter is a young woman with no means, very few prospects beyond that which marriage will afford her. It is my understanding that she intends to pursue a life in the church, in fact.” Alfie’s heart froze to solid ice in his chest. A nun? My god, what was this woman doing to him. Alfie Solomons swore silently to himself that he’d die before he saw you don a habit and wimple. The mere sight of that alone would kill him.

“Yes sir, yes, I understand. I understand well.”

Your father’s eyes narrowed as it was rather obvious that Alfie Solomons did not, in fact, understand at all.

“She is a good girl, but plain and modest in both looks, prospects, and background. Surely a man of your… stature-” your father’s voice pressed down on this word with distaste “- would have his pick of eligible brides.”

Alfie stifled a chuckle, recognizing that it would do him no good to appear cocky or dismissive of your father’s concerns. Your father was right on all accounts: Alfie Solomons was a gangster, a womanizer, and a criminal. You, on the other hand, were… well, words failed Alfie when it came to describing you, but to say you were everything that he was not was an understatement of the worst kind.

He settled on what he hoped was an appropriately chaste nod. Your father leaned back slightly in his chair, eyeing his eldest daughter’s apparent suitor with bald antipathy. Alfie wasn’t used to people - especially other men - regarding him so openly. It made him uncomfortable in a manner he was quite unused to, as if he was being truly seen for the first time in a long time. He squirmed slightly in his chair, clearing his throat and fidgeting with the wide-brim of his best hat, something he’d had commissioned specifically for this occasion.

The silence between the two men was widening into a chasm. It was more than you could take. Suddenly unable to stop yourself, you leapt up from the crouch you’d been in for the last half hour, eavesdropping from the stairwell with your mother and younger sisters. You launched down the stairs, despite your sisters grabbing at your nightgown. Your mother gasped as you flung open the kitchen door, almost unseating Alfie in the process. Your kitchen was as modest as your future prospects, and with the three of you crammed into the space it was mighty tight. The added pressure of your nearly-dashed hopes, your father’s broad disappointment, and Alfie’s hopeless attachment to you turned the meager room from cozy to positively stifling.

“Papa, please! I love him! You can’t keep me from him, I won’t let you!”

Childish and painfully simple, not nearly the eloquent protest you’d been mulling over all day. And a lie to boot. If push came to shove - as it so often did with your father - he could very much keep you from marrying Alfie Solomons. Your cheeks reddened in embarrassment at your outburst.

Alfie, for one, thought you’d never looked more perfect. Your eyes sparkled in the dim lamplight, your hair was undone and slung over one shoulder in a lazily constructed braid, small curls breaking free around your temples and forehead. Your skin flushed with the unseasonable warm of the September night in Camden Town, those beautiful pillowy lips he couldn’t get out of his head parted and pink. If he was a coarser man and the situation less important, he felt sure he’d grab you and pull you onto his lap right then and there, bystanders and naysayers be damned.

“Saints above, m’dear, come away and cover yourself!” Your mother had been only a few steps behind you. Unable to step fully into the kitchen, she settled for tugging on your arm. Your blush deepened to a shade of red bordering on purple as you realized you were standing in nothing but a summer-thin nightgown. Alfie’s gaze hadn’t made its way far enough from your face yet to take in the ample expanses of skin on display, but your father was glaring daggers into the opposite wall, his jaw set so tight you wondered his teeth didn’t break.

Appropriately embarrassed, the element of surprise now lost to you, you bowed your head and let your mother tug you out of the kitchen. Your mother - a soft-souled romantic at heart - made gentle soothing motions against your back as silent sobs began to rack through you. You climbed the stairs in a fog, your sisters scattering at your mother’s insistence that ‘the show’s over, girls’. With each step higher, you felt certain that the future you’d imagined for yourself with Alfie was destined to be nothing more than a far-flung dream.

The kitchen had sunk back into a tense silence, however for subtle reasons not quite clear to Alfie, your father seemed infinitely more disquieted by your scene than he’d have expected from the sour old puss. Those gnarled, knobby hands that had, until just a moment ago, been laid out like piles of kindling on the table all evening were suddenly clasped together and fidgety. Your father seemed shorter, his spine bowing under an invisible weight. Against himself, Alfie Solomons found himself leaning forward with a hint of concern.

“Sir? Are you quite alright?”

Your father’s gaze had lost none of its venom, although behind that mask of derision was a spark of emotion.

“How did you manage it, Mr. Solomons?” The question was as quiet as snowfall in winter. Alfie almost had to ask him to repeat it.

“What, sir? Manage what, sir?” More stuttering. Gods be damned, Alfie Solomons was a mess. The image of you bursting into the kitchen, all softness and outrage and girlish desire, had tied him into knots.

“My eldest daughter is many things, Mr. Solomons. A diligent student, a kind voice to her sisters, a steadfast helper to her mother. A pious child of God.” (Alfie struggled to keep himself from breaking into an impish grin, knowing that if your father had any inkling of the enthusiastic midnight rendezvous the two of you indulged in frequently that he most certainly would not dub you pious.) “And a passionate spirit, I confess. Yet… that part of her is… locked away.”

Alfie found himself nodding, his memory dragging him back to the first few weeks of your acquaintance. You’d been all business - all ‘yes, Mr. Solomons’ and ‘right away, sir’. But he’d seen that fire in you, the same fire your father spoke of. It simmered deep in your eyes and bubbled up when you laughed. It had sent Alfie to the brink of madness to come so close to something he wanted so badly and to be denied it. But with diligence, patience, and focus - all virtues that Alfie Solomons had gone to great lengths to rid himself of - he’d finally won you over. He’d finally found that the fire inside you burned wild and free. You were raw and open and unfettered with him now. A gift he’d kill for. Hell, he’d die for it too.

“But not with you, apparently.” Your father’s voice trailed off into quiet. Alfie wondered what he was meant to say. He settled on a noncommittal grunt of agreement.

“How that came to be, I find myself unable to hazard a guess…” Another probing gaze, the kind that made Alfie squirm. “And perhaps I wouldn’t like the answer. In fact, I…” Your father stopped suddenly, clearing his throat and straightening his crisp Sunday jacket. A ridiculously formal choice for the occasion, Alfie thought, although he realized he could hardly cast stones as he looked down at his freshest suit, newest hat, and shiniest shoes. It seemed both of them had understood the importance of this night, and of the things that hung in the balance with their words.

“I am quite shocked to hear myself say this, Mr. Solomons, and I urge you to leave quickly lest I reconsider. But yes. You may marry her.”

Alfie wondered if he’d finally drank himself into madness. This surely was a dream, a whiskey-addled fever dream. He gaped openly at your father, stammering out nothing more than shocked noises.

“You don’t have my blessing, although I won’t stand in your way.”

The door to the kitchen burst open again, and in you came once more, squealing and flying into a pair of outstretched arms. Alfie smiled as your father engulfed you in a surprised hug. You were bouncing on your toes, peppering the side of his freshly shaved face with kisses and earnest expressions of ‘oh thank you Papa! Thank you!’ Alfie was glad to see that you’d thrown on a housecoat and pinned up your hair in a style more akin to what he was used to seeing you wear. He didn’t trust himself around you with that just-woke-from-sleep blush on your lips.

Always trailing behind you, in rushed your three sisters and your mother, exclaiming and clapping their hands as if it were a jubilee. How the entire family - plus Alfie Solomons - managed to fit into that pint-sized kitchen was nothing short of a miracle. Hugs were exchanged, and Alfie kissed so many hands he wasn’t sure who’s high-pitched voice was talking to him anymore.

It wasn’t until he felt your familiar weight balancing on the toes of his boots that he felt himself begin to swim into reality. Without thinking, he wrapped his arms around you tightly, lifting you up off your feet into his embrace. You squeaked with joy, your soft hands finding their way to frame his face. Tossing all rules of propriety to the wind, your lips connected with his in a defiant, joyful, and soft kiss. You were warm under Alfie’s hands, and he was glad that no one but you could hear the groan of need he let loose as he tasted you on his tongue. For a moment, he let himself lose time in your mouth, hands resisting the urge to roam across your backside and around the swell of your hips.

A pointed throat cleared, bringing Alfie Solomons down from the high.

“As I suggested, Mr. Solomons, a timely exit would be a wise decision.”

Despite his generally somber countenance, Alfie could detect the faintest note of happiness in your father’s words. A confident declaration you’d made earlier that week drifted back to Alfie: Papa loves me, Alfie. He’ll have no choice but to say yes when he sees how in love we are.

Alfie hadn’t believed a word of that back then, but he was grateful for your prescience. With a broad smile and a swelling heart, Alfie nodded graciously to your mother, sisters, father, and lastly to you, his bride-to-be, before making his exit. He donned his cap on the front steps outside your door, not minding the oppressive warmth of a sticky night even under his three layers of wool suit.

You stepped halfway out the door to wave shyly as Alfie retreated into the night, his feet barely touching the pavement beneath. He turned back more times than he could count to see you still standing there, bathed in the streetlamp’s light. He rounded the corner at the end of your street with the warm realization that, in a few weeks time, there’d be no more goodbyes from front stoops between the two of you. Only goodnight kisses - likely much more than that, if Alfie had any say at all - as one of you would turn down the bedside lamp, turning off the light on another happy day together in a future neither of you were sure would ever come to be…

#peaky blinders requests #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #alfie solomons requests #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomons #alfie solomons x you #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons x y/n #tom hardy x reader #tom hardy x you #tom hardy x y/n

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scarletwidowsbaby · 2 years

Text

Lover's Quarrel

Summary: A simple few happenstances lead you to two very special women.

Pairings: Omega!Fem!R x Alphas!WandaNat

Genre: Angst, sprinkles of WandaNat fluff.

Warnings: ABO dynamics but no smut. Reader seems a bit depressed.

A/N: This is my first attempt at ABO so pls be nice :)

*credit to owners*

You still struggled to be normal around the brightness of the day. Normally, you’d be holed up in an ex-HYDRA safehouse and hide away from the sun before you would do what you needed, but you were running low on supplies and needed them, now.

What am I talking about? Oh, sorry, you’re still new here.

You, Y/N Stellaluna Romana, grew up in HYDRA. You don’t remember much of your parents, except for the fact that they sold you for protection. You jumped between what you now know to be HYDRA and the Red Room, but the female-dominated organisation had a much better teaching style for aggressive female omegas.

Whilst HYDRA was always there as a threat, the Red Room forced your body into labour if you misbehaved. Growl out at an instructor? Stand on your head in the corner for a time limit set by the victimised instructor. Refuse to make a kill? Your dinner is sacrificed to them, but is laced with cyanide, making you fearful of every meal that touches your lips.

Bite an instructor? You will be beaten black and blue until you pass out, for which some girls wake up and don’t remember who they are.

But enough of that - you were free. You got out. Now, you were just trying to get through every day without your status in the world being revealed. You took your suppressants daily, which you were on your way to get more of, kept your head up and acted confident, which were all the behaviours of an Alpha.

You should know, since you studied them.

But for now, you relaxed slightly, having taken your second last suppressant this morning and now waiting in line for your coffee. It was a truly beautiful day, not a cloud in the sky, whilst the wind kept it cool enough for a light jacket.

Speaking of, you were going to have to get new clothes soon. Your daily ‘uniform’ was becoming bland with a simple pair of jeans, a graphic shirt, sneaker and a cap. You paid the seven dollars for your coffee before making your way out of the cafe, down to the mall, and in search of some better clothes.

You strolled through some normal big chain stores like Myer, Cotton On and H&M, and even though nothing caught your attention, that was exactly what you needed. You grabbed three pairs of jeans and four tops, just like the ones you had on, as well as a jacket, a hoodie and some extra socks.

After paying in cash you found your way towards a shoe shop two stores down, but there were some people standing outside of them, like bouncers. You casually moved to the side like you were checking your phone, but you carefully brushed your hair away from your ear as you listened to a new couple coming in.

“Sir, Ma’am, we need to check your status, please.”

“We’re both Alphas.”

You watched them show some form of ID, probably their drivers licences, which contain both sexes of female/male and Alpha/Beta/Omega. They were then let in, and you saw this with almost all of the other shoe shops.

*Dumb laws.* You grumbled, pulling out your umpteenth fake ID as you made your way to the shop.

“Status, please.” The bouncer asked and you handed the Alpha ID over.

He let you in, but hesitated and you gave him a trained Alpha stare, to which he let you in quickly for. You found two pairs of shoes, almost exactly the same, and quickly made your way back home.

Once you returned, you quickly dumped your bags and checked outside - almost sunset. Your supplier was going to meet you soon and you had to be there on time. He knew you were an Omega and was a strangely kind Beta, feeling sympathetic for how you acted like an Alpha but couldn’t deny your half-yearly heat and your drops.

You threw on the new set of clothes, knowing that meeting with old clothes led to the possibility of your scent releasing. They were comfy, but they felt new, like how the hoodie’s fluff wasn’t built over time, but stock-standard.

As soon as the sky changed, you eyed the figure coming out of the shadows to your left, his lips curled into a gentle smile.

“Y/N! It’s been a while.” He shook your hand, which led to you handing over half of the money.

“So, you got it, Vladi?” You asked as you walked with him to the truck.

“Oh yeah. I have some strong stuff too if you’ve run out, by the way.”

You shrugged. “Normal order.”

“One of everything, coming riiiight up.” He grinned, rummaging through the boxes to find yours.

You were patient and handed him the other half of the payment before he began to drive away, your whole body tense until you locked your apartment door behind you. You tipped the last suppressant into the new box before hiding it behind the sink drain pipe, keeping the other ones hidden within your belongings. Inspections were random sometimes and you needed to be prepared when hiding your illegal suppressants.

The next day was even more boring since you had nothing to do; no suppressants to collect, no clothes to buy. It was just another day, spinning on the big dumb rock.

Or so you thought.

You decided to treat yourself and go to the top of the roof for the evening, watching the stars whilst eating your takeaway noodles. It was peaceful and it was the only time you could truly let your guard down, even if that meant no scenting because of your suppressants.

You leaned back in the sunchair and observed the different constellations, connecting the dots much more easily than the average person. Pegasus was angled slightly down, with Perseus to the left and Capricornus to the right. Hercules was just in front of it, whilst Ursa Major and Minor sat next to each other.

But then you heard the sound of tinkling metal from behind you, as well as the scrapes of it digging into the rooftop. You waited patiently as the almost silent footsteps came closer to you before you stood up and kicked the sunchair back, the mess of blonde hair in a white suit wincing at the hit to her stomach.

“Ow!” She growled, and you could smell the Beta in her.

“Who the hell are you?” You growled back, extending a set of claws.

“Look, I just want to talk. What do you know about the dealing of suppressants around here?” She asked calmly, a thick Ukrainian accent matching it.

One you almost acknowledged. “Those are illegal.” You commented like an Alpha.

She nodded. “Indeed.”

She backed away from you but not without your eyes catching a small vial of red, another grappling hook attaching to the rooftop before a noirette with bright blue eyes came into your vision.

“Yelena! What the hell?!”

The name only confirmed your suspicions.

“Kate, not now!” She hissed at her, a smirk coming onto your face.

“Lover’s quarrel?” You jeered.

They both gave you a glare and you put your hands up. “I’ll leave if it helps.”

Kate sighed and faced you. “Has anybody moved in here recently? Like, four months?”

You shook your head in a stone-faced lie. “Not that I’ve heard of.”

Yelena looked you up and down before she pocketed the red vial, to which you watch them leave you alone and head back down their grappling lines. You calmly made your way back to your apartment before you looked at the time - 1:30am.

“Man, work’s gonna be a bitch.” You grumbled, collapsing as soon as your head hit the pillow on the ground.

And it truly was, yet you were only a quarter of your way through it.

Bartending was a profession most Omegas went into, serving drinks, doing dishes, serving food; it all helped calm down a bit of the biology. Your bar manager, Sophie, was a Beta, which helped mute out the smell an Omega could possibly give off when under stressful conditions. And your restaurant manager, Danny, was a married Alpha who often had dinner with his wife Alura and kids, Raquelle and Jason.

It was a slow start to the night at the bar section, which allowed Sophie to leave you alone and help the kitchen staff with delivering orders to tables. You were what she liked to call a ‘spicy Omega’, which she saw as an Omega who could stand their ground.

At least she didn’t know about your other Alpha-resistance training.

But then you recognised two heads at the front of a group of people, a very recognisable group - the Avengers. You mentally caved and regretted ever having a conversation with the blonde and noirette as they came over to you.

“Nice to see you again.” Yelena commented.

“Not so sure I can say the same.” You smirked.

“What can I get for you?”

“A table-”

“For ten, booked under Stark.” The one and only billionaire interrupted Yelena and you lightly scowled at the only Omega celebrity you knew.

“Your table is over there, but let the lady speak next time.”

He nodded before guiding the group over with Captain America's hand in his own, your eyes noticing a child and a teenager which led you to grab some crayons and colouring pages for Sophie as she passed by. You didn’t try to listen to their conversation, instead focusing on keeping the glasses and trays stocked and clean.

Sophie soon came over to you about three minutes later with a large order of drinks. A few cocktails, one for each woman you assumed, whilst a couple of beers would be for the men and the lemonade and apple juice were for the kids.

You also noticed that the little girl was watching you from the end of the booth, propped up on her knees to watch you mix drinks. Now that you had an audience, you were prepared to amaze her.

Flipping the drinks and shakers around, you mixed the drinks up and watched her smile grow as you threw in a few extra flips here and there, gathering a crowd of attention now. You finally laid out the four cocktails and expertly poured straight across, receiving a cheer from the people sitting nearby as well as a loud squeal from the little girl.

You then decided to make your way over to the table, all of the drinks weighted neatly on your tray before you started to hand them out. You were right on all of your guesses, smiling at the little girl when she showed you her messily coloured picture of a scene in Bambi, whilst the teenager was still busy with his Lord of the Rings picture.

“Would you like me to frame it?” You offered her, a couple of surprised chuffs coming from the adults.

“Yes please!” She begged and you took the picture, making your way back to your station before pulling out a picture frame.

You carefully slid the picture in, making sure it wasn’t dirty, before clasping the frame together and hanging it on your wall. You then took over a couple more menus since you saw them struggling, and put your hands in your pocket to reach your ordering device.

“Alright, is anybody ready to order?” You asked and they all gave each other confirming looks.

“Would you like to put names on the order or just keep it under Tony Stark?”

Some raised eyebrows came your way and they decided to do separate names, but only after checking with you that it was okay. You took down their orders and slowly ‘learned’ their names, even if you already knew some of them.

“I-I’m Morgan, and can I have some pizza please?” She asked you sweetly, putting her hands together.

You smiled at her. “Of course. What kind of pizza would you like?”

“Cheese and-and ham! And the yellow fruity triangles!” She exclaimed.

“Hawaiian, please.” Tony clarified, to which you winked at Morgan.

“I was hoping to have the kitchen staff confused so I could make it myself.”

A few more chuckles came from the group until you took the last two orders from 'Wanda' and 'Natasha', but you noticed how their eyes lingered on you for a touch too long.

And then you made the mistake of taking note of their scents.

Six of the eight adults were Alphas. Shit, shit, shit.

You gave them a curt nod and tried to not scurry back to the kitchen, needing to take a break even if you were scheduled for one later. Once you were in the back room, you scrambled for your small bag of belongings and saw the extra strong suppressants Vladi had given you.

You chucked one down and took some deep breaths. An Alpha or two you could handle, but six? Might as well shoot you with a tranq dart.

You quickly made your way out when you were done and asked Sophie to manage that table from now until they finished, getting an alarmed look from her but you explained that you were fine, just overwhelmed.

“I just had a talk with them, sweets. They won’t be doing any more scenting, okay?” Her lovely Southern accent calmed you and you nodded, letting her kiss your forehead before she moved to the back again.

By now there was a steady stream of customers at the bar and you were handling it well, speeding through margaritas and cocktails whilst scotches and vodkas were a simple pour-n-go. However, you did almost have a heart attack when Wanda and Natasha were the last in the line.

“Hey, can we get two more of those cocktails? Just for us.” Natasha asked calmly and you nodded, beginning to make them at a slightly slower pace.

“Morgan likes you, you know.” Wanda added, bringing out a small smirk from you.

“Does she now? Well, you can tell her that her picture isn’t coming down any time soon.” You pointed at it.

They both chuckled. “So we were wondering…”

*Don’t say my name, don’t say my name.* You muttered in your head, but their eyes inevitably flitted down to your nametag.

“Y/N… could we see you outside of this establishment at some point?” Wanda questioned curiously.

“We could just get coffee if you want?”

You gulped down the Omega in you and shrugged. “What days? I’ve got a busy schedule.”

“Any time.” Natasha replied.

You looked at the two of them. They were Alphas, you were an Omega, the possibility was there. But were you mates? Did all three of you share marks? Yours were placed just underneath your neck, a perfect hiding spot when coupled with a jacket, hoodie, bartending shirt or even a low ponytail.

“I’m sorry, I can’t remember my schedule off of the top of my head. Calendar and all.” You chuckled sheepishly, handing over their drinks.

“We can give you our numbers if that’s more helpful?” They both asked at the same time, pulling out their phones.

You were suddenly called to your station and had to abandon the girls, but they were determined. There was something about you, something wrong, yet so right. Dinner came and went, dessert came and went, and as the bill landed in front of them, they made their move.

You opened the bill to sort the receipt, ignoring the two pairs of eyes on you as they tidied up, and saw a message written on the back. ‘Y/N - hope to see you soon! W&N xx’

You hid your blush well but felt a presence behind you, a familiar yet towering one at that. “Hi, Danny.”

“Hi, Y/N. Are you feeling okay? They were giving you some very weird looks.” He commented, watching the group leave quietly.

“I’m okay.” You murmured, but he knew you.

“Go home, Y/N. Take the night off, I’ll still pay you.”

“Danny, that’s not fair-”

“You made us more than enough profit tonight. Go home.” He put a hand on your shoulder and you sighed.

“If you say so.” You shrugged, grabbing your bag and heading out the back door.

Yet, those voices were still there. Wanda, Natasha, Yelena, Kate, Tony - you could decipher them all. Some were different and you couldn’t match them without a face, but you steadily followed behind them as you walked home.

You eventually crossed the street, your apartment a few turns away from the Avengers Tower, which drew the attention of Wanda and Natasha. They told the group they’d meet up in the Tower and they followed after you, just making sure you got home safe.

But a group of men were wolf-whistling you, and they watched them crowd around you.

“What’s a pretty little thing like you doing out at this time all alone?”

“She’s not alone.” Natasha growled, the group jumping at the sight of the two Avengers before a man stepped forward.

“Oh yeah? What, is she your little bitch? Keep her on a lead next time, or she’ll be ours.” He grabbed you roughly and pulled you into him, something which you did not like.

You pushed him out, grabbed his right wrist and flipped him over, pinning his arm back in an excruciating hold that had him whining like a pup. “Submit.” You growled, trying to sound as Alpha as possible.

He tapped three times quickly and bared his neck, making your ego inflate at your acting abilities. You looked at Natasha and Wanda for a few more seconds, trying to decipher their objectives, before turning 180 and heading into the building.

Wanda’s eyes glowed as the men turned to them. “Try it, let’s see how you feel being thrown fifty feet into the air before dying on impact.”

They scattered like prey and it almost enticed them to chase, but they waited until you were inside of the elevator before going back to the Tower.

The next afternoon, having slept away the morning, you sent a generic text to the two Avengers saying hi. They then sent back dozens, asking to meet for lunch or afternoon tea by the shore. You sighed, knowing they wouldn’t budge until you said yes, so you obliged and agreed to meet at 4.

Now, you were making your way down there, a casual stroll in your step as you came into the sunshine in your simple jeans, top and hoodie. No cap this time as it was shaded, and you smelled the two Alphas at the restaurant before you came to the front door.

“Status, please.” The bouncer asked.

*What the fuck?* You grumbled in your mind, handing over your Beta ID since you saw it on his.

He held it to your face and you took off the hoodie, revealing your ponytailed hair and the rest of your body. He handed it back to you before you walked over to the girls, reining in your scent.

The conversation was light, learning about each other and how they met. You were surprised to hear they were on opposite sides twice, but now that the Sokovia Accords were scrapped, they were okay.

“How about you, Y/N? Got a partner?” Wanda asked and you shook your head.

“Still looking. Haven’t really had time to look, though.” You shrugged, sipping on your hot chocolate.

“Are you gay or straight or…?” Natasha questioned.

“I like women. Not really good at the labels.” You replied nonchalantly.

“Fair enough.”

The chatter went on mindlessly for a bit longer and if it wasn’t for your training, you weren’t sure you could have kept it up for so long. The questions were so mundane, so dull compared to your ever busy life.

But then again, you should really knock on wood when you say something like that. Or an explosion will go off underneath the waterfront.

The ground shook beneath you and people ran for safety, whilst Natasha and Wanda recognised the group of people as HYDRA agents. Wanda’s magic protected some civilians whilst Natasha’s trusty guns fired upon some, a trigger in one’s hand that set off another explosion.

“Y/N, get inside!” Natasha commanded but you ignored the Alpha, moving to help some other restaurant goers.

“Y/N!” Wanda barked, but watched you help up a lady and her son.

“Go! Get inside!” You yelled, but the ground shook again, almost like the bomb was underneath you.

You stumbled and almost gained your footing, but the rushing crowd tripped you until you landed face first. It earned you a graze along your cheek, a few scrapes on your arms and elbows, but that was the problem.

Now, there was blood. And blood was not something a suppressant could do anything about.

You looked up and saw the bouncer fall over, his eyes going to you in shock. “Omega?”

Your face turned ghostly at the status, scrambling to get to your feet. You spun around to see Natasha and Wanda looking for you, but when Wanda saw the state you were in, you knew it was too late.

‘Omega?’ She mouthed to you.

You sprinted faster than you’d ever sprinted in your life. Fear had truly grasped your heart, not letting go until you were in the safety of your apartment. You locked the door before barricading it, doing the same to the window in the bedroom and bathroom.

Your breathing was still heavy as you slid down the wall of the bathroom, trying to regain your senses as you cleaned yourself up. You had to admit, it was more of a struggle when your surroundings were spinning and you had two Y/N’s to look at in the mirror.

You slowly bandaged yourself up before looking for another apartment, your time here up as not one, not two, but three people had just found out about your status. You scrambled to pack your things, only taking away the barricade when you were completely ready.

But the sight of two Alphas was enough to make your knees wobble.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Easy, Y/N.” Natasha caught you, her touch warm to your skin.

“Holy shit, you’re jacked.”

You rolled your eyes at that well-known fact for ex-Widows and ex-HYDRAs. They guided you to the bed and helped you sit down, your eyes unable to stay open for very long as pain rang through your head.

“Y/N, you might have a concussion.” Wanda explained, raising her hand up to your head before you grabbed it.

“Don’t touch my head.” You growled.

She backed off, confusing you. Alphas were supposed to be demanding. Why wasn’t she demanding? Natasha came to try next, but soon there were two of her and two Wandas, sending your Omega core into a state of confusion.

“How did we not smell it before?” Natasha’s voice sounded far away as you stood, but four hands tried to keep you down.

“Get off me!” You growled, pushing them away with the same force of an Alpha.

“This doesn’t make sense…”

You collapsed as Natasha failed to finish her sentence. Or maybe your ears just didn’t wanna listen. Either way, you welcomed the familiar darkness.

A/N: Part 2.

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sophswritingthings · 10 months

Note

Coild you possibly write something about Mizu meeting a fem reader that has albinism?

pairing: mizu x albino!fem!reader

warning(s): swearing, blood

a/n: this is adorable <3 I feel like mizu would be very… interested in the concept, since people with albinism typically have blue/grey eyes as well! she’d be confused but intrigued, I feel. reader believes mizu is male!

summary: mizu is walking through the snowy forest when she meets a woman, hair and skin white as snow. and blue eyes strikingly like hers; and for a plus… she’s injured.

word count: 773 words / 4,050 characters

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

mizu’s footsteps were the only thing she could hear. the crunching of the snow beneath her heavy boots, and the whipping wind that hit her face every so often.

that was until a rustle came from the bushes.

out of instinct, she pulled her sword out of its scabbard. she raised her head slightly from the snow beneath her feet to meet the eyes of the one who dared bother her.

she pointed the sword at this persons throat. thought it was almost as if she didn’t see anyone at all; this woman blending into the falling snow.

her hair was white as the crunching snow, and her eyes a pale grey-ish blue. they almost looked like her own, if she squinted.

the red blood of her injured stuck out like a sore thumb on her.

“p-please, sir,” you stammer, your hands coming together in that of a plea. “y-you are that of a samurai.. I-if I am not mistaken. I humbly request your help.. I-I can pay!”

mizu watches you with interest, her blue eyes hidden beneath her glasses attached to your every move. her eyes narrow.

“Is there a reason I should help you?” mizu hisses, “what, besides money, do I get out of it?”

you tremble at her harsh tone.

“I-I am not sure,” you struggle to speak. “y-you do not have my blood on your hands.”

mizu rolls her eyes, before they land back on you.

“I have the blood of many men and women alike on my hands, miss, you seem to think I would care if you died.” she grumbles, looking you up and down.

she would admit, you were quite the beautiful woman. and you were here, practically kneeling at her feet, asking for her assistance. and if you were to pay; that may very well help her journey, as well.

“but I concede,” she sighs, tucking her sword back in its holder. “follow me. I will patch you up and get you to safety.”

she gestured for you to follow you over her shoulder. you nod, following her slowly but surely. It sort of pissed her off at how slow you were; but you were injured, so she kept that bit in.

“s-sir, if I may ask,” you prompt. “where.. are you headed?”

“to tanabe island.” she replies rather coldly, “to find the man I am destined to kill.”

her words hit you like a truck; if she was so determined to kill this man, what would have her hesitating to hurt you?

you nod, keeping yourself quiet at the realization. you stop at a small shop, settling just on the inside.

she sits you down with some amount of force, raising her hand to tell you to stay. you do as told, holding the wound on your arm to keep the blood from spilling further.

she returns with a poultice and bandages.

she doesn’t even take to warn you of the stinging pain you were about to experience. when she applied the poultice to your wound, you flinched and sputtered.

“stay still damn it,” mizu hissed under her breath, grabbing your other arm to keep you still.

her grip was tight, yet not painful. she wasn’t looking to patch up any other injuries.

“y-you could have at least warned me!” you grumbled.

“well, it’s over now,” she rolls her eyes, bandaging your wound tight.

after she had done so, you forked over an iron coin. she accepted it with a bow of her head.

“who is chasing you?” she asked rather bluntly.

“these.. these men. they.. I am a monster. a demon, to them.” you gesture to your white hair and eyes, “they want me dead, simple as that.”

your words seemed to have struck a chord with her. you wondered why that was; a samurai with adequate strength was standing in front of you.

“and you never learned to protect yourself?” she questions, raising an eyebrow at you.

“I am a woman, sir, they would never allow it,” you reply quietly.

she scoffs at that.

“allow it or not, you should know.”

It was obvious to you that you weren’t getting this samurai’s full story. a story you so desperately wanted to know now.

“is that your offer to teach me, sir?” you raise an eyebrow, cocking you head in a question.

she rolls her eyes, “if you are so desperate to learn.”

that makes you laugh, smiling a bit, “you are the one I suggested I do so,” you nod, though. “If you are willing to teach me, sir, that I am willing to learn.”

she nods, “than let’s get to work.”

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

a/n: I’ll give this a part two, definitely!!! I love the concept!!

#mizu x reader #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu #blue eyed samurai #fanfic #fanfic request #ask #asked and answered

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storydays · 7 months

Text

Scrambled Eggs P1

(3rd POV)

Charlie hummed to herself as she made her way towards her brother's room. 'That dummy probably fell asleep at his desk again.' she giggled to herself before knocking on (Y/N)'s door. She frowned softly; (Y/N) was usually a light sleeper, so that knock would've woke him up immediately.

Charlie opened the door to pop her head in, her eyes landing on her brother's bed, eyes widening at sight before biting her lip to stop herself from squealing too loudly.

In (Y/N)'s bed, laid a shirtless prince and Angel Dust curled in his arms. (Y/N) laid on his back, with Angel curled into his side, beak pressed against the side of the blond's neck, of of his upper arms holding under (Y/N)'s shoulder, the other draped across his chest. Both of the spider's lower arms were holding onto the prince's waist.

Their legs were covered by (Y/N)'s heavy blanket, but you can tell their legs were tangled. (Y/N)'s wings were wrapped protectively around them.

Charlie used her phone to take a photo, before quitly shutting the door.

Once the door was shut, Charlie immediately ran down towards the kitchen and tackled a drowsy Vaggie. "Vaggie! Look, look, look!" She squealed, showing off the stolen photo. "Woah... about time." she muttered, pressing a kiss to Charlie's cheek before turning back to her coffee.

"Maybe we'll let them sleep for a bit. And let's keep this between is, babe. You know how private your brother is." Vaggie smiled, placing a hand on Charlie's shoulder.

*Timeskip*

Charlie finished nailing the last nail to the banner. "That looks perfect!"she squealed, examining it. It read, 'Happy first week, Sir Pentious!'

"Ahh! I am so excited that Sir Pentious is staying at the hotel." She sang, making her way down the ladder.

"Um, Pentious was just trying to take over the city with his weird steampunk bullshit a few days ago." Vaggie pointed out, hands on her hip.

"Well, I haven't seen him try to pull any of that here." Charlie defended, just as the snake himself rolled over a cannon looking thing, his Egg Bois sitting on top.

"What the hell is that?" asked Vaggie.

"Oh, hello, purple female," Sir Pentious greeted, tiping his hat at the women. "It's my new invention, the 'SSSSkin Flayer 11,000.' I'm really looking forward to shooting the other residentsss." He grinned, rubbing his hand together.

"What? Why?" asked a baffled Charlie.

"Everyone is being too nice," answered the snake before rolling his eyes, "Obviously, it must be a lie. I can sssense they are planning to kill me, but when? How? I must be prepared! Ooh, the new parts of my machine are here." He perked up before slithering over to the delivery girls.

"Sign, please." Odette held a clipboard out, which the demon did happily before turning to the delivery. "Thank you for your business. Enjoy your Carmine purchase." she waved goodbye as she and her sister departed.

"Carmine? As in Carmella Carmine..You are buying parts from an overlord?" Vaggie growled.

"Uh, of course," Sir Pentious said in a 'duh' tone, "She's the top weapons dealer in Hell."

"Okay, well, that stops right now." Vaggie took the parts from him, turning to him as he protested. "Hey!"

"You absolutely cannot build weapons in this hotel. No one is trying to kill you. People are being nice because they want you to feel welcome." Vaggie raised an eyebrow as Pentious peeked over his cannon to look at the other members of the hotel.

Husk was behind the bar, drinking a bottle of his Cheap Booze, before peeking an eye open and sending a middle finger at the snake.

Angel was leaning against (Y/N)'s side, turning between scrolling through social media, and watching the prince sketch in his sketchbook, when both males smirked at the snake and sent him their middle fingers again.

(Y/N) was still pissed about Pentious breaking into his office and attempting to send recordings to the TV themed Overlord.

Angel just wanted to be an asshole.

Niffty was dusting the table, before turning slowly and smiling manically at the snake, giggling devilishly.

"Hmm, I have my doubts." hissed Pentious. "Well, it's true. You have to trust us." Vaggie rolled her eye.

"But I don't." retorted the snake demon.

"Well, why don't we focus on that for today's activities?" Charlie spoke up, hoping to lighten the tension.

"Not before we lay some ground rules." Vaggie interrupted, "No more building weapons, no more plotting against the other guests. And you need to get rid of those things." She pointed at the Egg Bois who were playing with Pentious' new weapon parts, and accidentally fired a laser at the ceiling.

"Oh, what did I just say? What did I just say?" grumbled the white haired woman, pointing at the hole.

"What? Not my little Egg Bois! They do my evil bidding for me!" He begged, hugging the little creatures close to him. "Do you want to stay here and redeem yourself?" Vaggie raised an eyebrow.

"Yes?" Pentious asked, raising an eyebrow. "Then no more eggs."

"All right, eggies. You've got to go." sobbed Pentious, "I...can't keep you anymore," "Okay boss!" They saluted him, walking away with Vaggie as he continued to protest them, "No, don't resist. This is how it has to be." He sobbed into his hands, Charlie awkwardly patting his shoulder.

*Upstairs*

Alastor hummed along to the light jazz music he was playing as he ate his....breakfast. "Alastor!" called Vaggie, startling the Radio Demon. "Do you mind? I'm in the middle of breakfast." he ate another forkful.

"Pentious' eggs are all over the place and I need you to get rid of them." Vaggie watched through an narrow eye. "Oh, well, in that case, I'd be delighted to!" He walked closer to the Latina, who crossed her arms and glared. "Humanely!" she snapped.

"Hm. Well that's a lot less fun," grinned Alastor, eyes glowing red, revealing the X on his forehead, before he turned to normal and shrugged. "But I suppose I can take care of that on my outing today." He nodded his head to Vaggie who smiled briefly. "Great."

She caught sight of the 'breakfast', that Alastor was eating and grimaced. "That looks disgusting."

*Downstairs in the main lobby*

"Hi, guys! Thanks for coming," Charlie smiled at the demons sitting in front of her, "It's been brought to our attention that there maybe a litttttlllleeeee tension in the hotel."

Pentious hissed as he picked up Niffty to further examine her, the little cyclops not minding as he squeezed her, aiming his death ray at her.

"Tension that can be counterproductive to what we're trying to do here." Vaggie side eyed Pentious as he hissed in irritation.

"We think that this group could really benefit from...Trust exercises!" "Trust exercises!" Vaggie and Charlie cheered, Vaggie falling on her butt. "Ah, shit." she hissed.

"Vaggie, we rehearsed this." Charlie blinked at her girlfriend, helping her up. Vaggie smiled sheepishly, making Charlie smile at her goofiness. "We're doing trust exercises. "

The group looked her rather boredly, (Y/N) smiling at his sister encouragingly, sending her a thumbs up.

"So, what's the whole, uhhh, this?" Husk asked, gesturing to the stage behind the two women. "I'm not about to put on some show for these fucking chumps. It's bad enough when Prince here gets inspired, he tries to dress me up." grumbled the cat.

(Y/N) grinned from his spot next to Angel, "No, no I don't try, kitty, I do." He chuckled to himself, holding up his sketch book mockingly as the winged cat demon playfully rolled his eyes, a smirk on his face.

"You've been spending too much time with Legs over there." scoffed Husk.

Angel perked up, tossing his long legs on (Y/N)'s lap, gold tooth glinting in the light. "Oh I will put on a show, but it's cash up front, " He held his hand out for cash, before pointing at Pentious, "And I know that one, can't afford me."

"Gross! I'd never think of it, spider!" hissed the snake, crossing his arms.

"That's fine, because I'm VIP only, and only (Y/N) here gets the special treatment from me." Purred Angel, cupping the prince's face, leaning forward, eyelids low, a grin on his face. "Mia cara, non davanti a tutti. (My darling, not in front of everyone).." blushed (Y/N), a shaky smile on his face before he mushed Angel in his face before turning back to an amused Charlie.

"Mi les lexi re manka. (Don't you say a word, you brat.)" He hissed, she merely grinned, knowing her brother wouldn't hurt her, "Den eipa tipota. (I didn't say anything)"

Vaggie spoke up, "Right, well let's get started, Charlie?" Vaggie smiled, trying to move things along.

"Actually, I thought maybe you could take the lead on this one. I trust everyone, so maybe you know better about how to build it properly." Charlie smiled encoruagingly, as everyone came in a line, to see what Vaggie had planned.

"What? Uhh, I don't know if I'm qualified, uh--" "Oh, come one. It'll be easy, I'm sure you can handle this." Charlie said, complete faith in her beautiful girlfriend.

"Yeah, um..sure. I can handle this. No problem." She eyed the raised eyebrows and scowls from some of the men.

She shouted like a drill Sargent, "All right, so we are starting with trust falls. Each of you are going to share something vulnerable with the group about yourself and then fall backwards whole the rest of the group catches you! Got it? Who wants to go first?"

Charlie excitedly raised her hand. "Ooohh, ooohh, me me me me! Me! Me! Me!" she grabbed Vaggie's shoulder who looked amused. "All right. Get on up here."

"I love you guys. Like really, really love you." She said, tearfully, falling backwards into Vaggie's waiting arms. "That...felt...great!" she giggled, kicking her feet happily.

"Angel, why don't you go next?" she suggest, looking at him upside down.

"Fiiinneee." sighed the spider, as he sashayed up to the stage. "This time, everyone needs to catch him. Okay, unless you want me to hurt you." Vaggie held out her spear in warning.

Niffty, Husk and Pentious walked closer, (Y/N) moving Vaggie's spear from near him.

"Oh, somethin' about myself huh? How about this? I love to suck---" Angel grinned widely, making a certain gesture, "I swear to fuck if you say dicks!" Husk growled loudly, Angel smirking to himself.

"Popsicles, ya sicko! Get your mind out of the gutter." He winked, before falling back into (Y/N)'s waiting arms. "But you know, (Y/N)'s dick too!" Angel grinned, running a hand over the prince's belt buckle.

(Y/N) dropped him on his ass with a playful grin. "Whoops. "

Angel rubbed his butt ,and rolled his eyes playfully, before turning to Sir Pentious. "All right, new guy, you're up."

"I don't want to live without my minions. Nobody catch me." Sighed the snake tearfully before falling backwards, grunting when Charlie and Vaggie caught him. "Damn it." he groaned. "That's great, wow, you are slimey." Vaggie grimaced, shoving him away, wiping her hands off on her dress.

"(Y/N), you're up." Charlie urged her brother, who sighed dramatically, before climbing up to the stage.

"Umm..." (Y/N) placed a hand on his hip as he hummed, thinking. "Um, I can use the feathers off my wings as kunais for long distance attacks. And I have deadly accuracy. " He grinned, briefly showing his demon form.

He turned and fell into Angel's arms, "Hey, sweet cheeks. Come here often?" Angel purred, making (Y/N) huff and roll his eyes, a very faint red on his cheeks. "Put me down, idiota!" He snapped, mushing Angel's face again.

"Niffty, your turn." (Y/N) smiled at the little cyclops who giggled excitedly before rushing to the stage, eye wide with murderous glee.

"Sometimes I kill mother bugs in front of their children as a warning to others." she admitted before jumping off, and face planting on the floor as everyone else took a few steps back.

The rest of the members eyed her clearly weirded out. "Yay! Pain!" Niffty got up to jump off again and again while Charlie and Vaggie snuck off to talk in private.

"I don't know if this is really working the way we hoped." Charlie whispered, before perking up, "Maybe we should--" "Honey, you have to trust me here. I got this, okay? I'll figure something out." Vaggie soothed Charlie's worried mind.

Both looked up as Angel suddenly loomed over them with a smirk and a mischievous glint in his eye, and pulled them into a huddle with his arms. "If you're in the market for some ideas, I got just the thing for some 'trust' buildin.' " He lowered his body to be eye level with Vaggie as she sighed, and eyed him. "What do you have in mind?"

*with Alastor*

The Radio Demon walked through the city as the Egg Bois followed him, chattering away. "Oh boy. What's the plan boss? I like your suit! What are the antlers for? Can I touch your staff thing? Are those your ears? Or is it your hair? I can't tell."

Alastor's right eye twitched in annoyance, as he debated if he should get rid of them humanely like Vaggie asked, or say fuck it.

"Hark, Alastor. How fare thee this day?" A green and black spider demon asked, approaching the Radio Demon who grinned excitedly seeing the figure.

"Who's that boss? Want me to rough him up for you?" asked the Egg Bois, ready to defend the deer.

"Follow in silence if you value your shell." hissed Alastor before turning to the demon in front of him. "Greetings, Zestial!" He greeted, as demons around them took notice of who was there, screaming in fear.

"Ah, the weather doth become this fine day." Zesital replied, narrowing his eyes at a demon who ran out of a bar, arguing with someone inside. "Oh shit!" They screamed, disappearing.

"Indeed. Looks like we might have some acid rain this afternoon." The two demons watched as another doused himself in lighter fluid before setting himself on fire and running away in fear.

"I do revel in the screams. How art thou? It has been an age since thou hath graced us with thy presence." The two started walking, ignoring the multiple demons who ran in and hid in fear.

"Some hath soun wild tales of you falling to holy arms." hummed Zestial.

Alastor laughed, "Oh, I just took a well earned sabbatical. Nothing serious." Alastor looked around briefly before turning to the green and black spider. "Though it's fun to keep everyone on their toes, haha!" He turned on a laugh track briefly.

Zestial chuckled lowly, "There too hath been rumor of thy involvement with the princess and her recent flight of fancy." Alastor watched as he opened his cloak dramatically, through lazy eyes.

"Tell me, how does thou fall in such folly?"

"That is for me to know. But please, do guess. I'd love to know the theories." Alastor side eyed the spider as he continued to walk.

"T'would be grander folly by far to assume the workings of your mind, Alastor. Thou hath been naught but an enigma since thy manifested in this realm." complimented the spider.

"Coming from someone as ancient as you, I take that as quite the compliment." The deer smiled, before they reached their destination.

They both looked into a security camera; the camera glitching when Alastor grinned into it, before stepping onto the elevator.

The Egg Bois tried to follow but were stopped by the Radio Demon. "No, no. I havea very important task for you." He tapped his claws on his staff, "Stay here and guard the front until I return. " The Egg Bois saluted determinedly back.

"Oh, look!" cried one of the Egg Bois as the elavator lifted up, "Frank is up there!" he pointed to their friend who was banging on the glass with worry on his face. "We have names?" asked another who shrugged.

*Upstairs with the Radio Demon.*

Frank watched in awe, as many other demons came and joined Alastor and Zestial at the table. He stood behind Alastor, peeking over at a demoness. He waved happily, before the woman grinned, showing her sharp teeth. "Oh!" exclaimed the little egg.

Metallic clinking echoed in the room as a woman with her hair in a horn style, and ballerina shoes on her feet. "Welcome, Hell sovereign overlords. I've invited you all here because you represent the controlling powers of our city." She was joined by the two young ladies who made the delivery to Sir Pentious earlier that day.

"Together, you own millions of souls. Souls at risk with the new extermination schedule." She slammed her fist on the table. "We need to discuss what can be minimize the impact to our interest."

Hearing a soft rattling, the woman turned to see Zestial having a seat next to her, summoning a cup of tea.

"Zestial, so good to see you, my friend." "Enchanted as always, Carmilla."

Carmilla then noticed the Radio Demon. "Alastor?"

"Yes, I know I've been absent sometime. I'm sure you've been wondering." Alastor gestured theatrically.

"Not really. But welcome back in any case." replied Carmilla, shrugging her shoulders as Alastor's face tightened in annoyance.

She snapped her fingers, and Odette handed her a clipboard. "This year's extermination was brutal, far more even than years past." Her daughters sat in their seats, Odette pulling up a slideshow behind Carmilla.

"We have assessed that about 16% of the population was lost. With the angelic legions, now returning twice as quickly, I think it prudent we--" a door slamming cut her off.

"Yes, I've got it handled, Vox." Velvette said loudly into her cell phone. "Are you doubting me?"" she asked. "Really? Me? That's what I thought." The pink haired demon cackled, leaning against her chair.

"Haha! Yes, I know. They're all a joke." She grinned, purposely making eye contact with Carmilla. "Thank you, Vee. See you soon. Kisses, darling." She sent kisses towards the phone before hanging up, and throwing herself into her chair.

"Nice of you to join us, Velvette." Carmilla said politely. "Will your...colleagues be joining?" She asked, disdain clear in her face.

"No. They have better shit to do than to listen to an old windbag,who thinks she's tough shit." Carmilla narrowed her eyes at the language. "I'm here to represent." She then took a picture of the ballerina and add poop emojis around her.

"Charming," Carmilla rolled her eyes before turning back to the slide show. "So, as I was saying, we need to discuss--" Velvette once again interrupted by raising her hand in the air. "Yes?" Carmilla asked, annoyed.

"On the subject of discussion..." Velvette threw an exorcist's head onto the table, getting a varying array of responses. "Oh shit!" "Oh, tasty!" Alastor exclaimed.

"Where did you get this?" asked the white haired woman, her eyes flashing red.

"We found it during extermination day." explained Velvette as she stood up. "If these Holy Rollers can be killed, the game has changed." She jumped on the table as she explained herself.

"We can take the fight to them. The boys and I have come up with a full assault plan." Velvette was interrupted by Zestial slurping loudly on his tea...for a good few seconds.

"If it be true thee and thy colleagues desire to war with such meagre proof...Thou art far more foolish than I be thought."

The fashionista scoffed, " "Meager proof? It's a dead fucking exorcist. I'd say that's pretty fucking definitive. You going blind, old man?" She mocked.

Zesital shrugged his shoulders. "We know not how this perished...Mayhaps t'was not by a demon's hand at all. If we rush to war without knowing mightn't they purge all of Hell for daring an uprising?"

The other overlords muttered in agreement. Velvette noticed that Carmilla was suddenly silent, looking downcast.

She smiled sharply, "Oh, I get it. So Grandpa is too pussy to fight, so I guess there's no point, right?" Zestial remained silent.

"Oh. What's the matter, Fossil? Too senile to make a real power grab for--"

@mihawksdemoness @avatar-lover

Let me know if you guys want to me to tag you. And I gave a specialy surprise coming soon! Follow @deathexe6110 bc I owe them a HUGEEEEEEEEE THANK YOU for the surpise <3

#hazbin hotel husk #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin hotel x reader #x male reader #habzin hotel #hazbin hotel angel dust #hazbin hotel lucifer #viziepop #hazbin hotel x male reader #hazbin hotel alastor #storydays

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quirkwizard · 2 months

Text

Pro Heroes at the Olympic Games

Well, it's been another three years and another Summer Games has rolled around. Only seems fair I'd try again with a post about what heroes would belong in what games. This can be based on anything from powers to skills to whatever I think would be the funniest to see.

Kamui Woods-Archery: I just think it'd be really cool for Kamui Woods to make a bow and arrow from his wooden body. I don't need any more reason than that.

Midnight-Rhythmic Gymnastics: I mean, a whip is pretty close to a ribbon. And it's not like the outfit she has to wear is that much different from her hero costume.

Sir Nighteye-Golf: Sir Nighteye seems like the kind of guy that would be into golfing. That's it. I just thought it'd be fitting for the guy that looks and dresses like a stoic businessman.

Hound Dog-Handball: This is a sport all about catching and throwing a ball around and keeping it away from another team. Naturally, this should be no problem for the man who is part dog.

Beast Jeanist-Diving: The need for precision and elegance would, in this event, fit great with someone like Best Jeanist. That and it's the sport with the least amount of clothing for him to cheat with.

Mount Lady-Sports Climbing: She's got mountain in her name. Of course that means she's good at climbing. Oh, who am I kidding? She'll just turn giant-sized and reach the top instantly.

Snipe-Shooting: Considering all of his shots are guaranteed hits, I would want to see how disrespectful Sniper would get with this. Like doing it with his eyes closed or even shooting other people's targets.

Miruko-Basketball: I could have chosen any leg-based sport for her, but I wanted to pick the one with some more direct competition. Plus, there is the easy reference in putting her in a Toon Squad jersey.

Present Mic-Breaking: Yeah, apparently breaking dancing is considered an Olympic sport. And look me in the eye and tell me Present Mic of all people doesn't know how to break dance.

Nezu-Table Tennis: This is just the only sport that I think could fit him. Literally. He might be too small to use or do any of the sports on the roster. Even then, he's going to have to wield the paddle like a claymore.

Wild Wild Pussycats-3x3 Basketball: Considering this is one of the few team events that requires such a small number, it only feels fitting to place Ragdoll, Mandalay, and Pixie Bob here. And what about Tora? He can be a cheerleader.

Fat Gum-Wrestling: Could you imagine someone trying to wrestle as big and plushy as Fat Gum? They're going to go in for the grapple and immediately sink right inside of him. Now the real question is whether or not it counts as a clinch or a pin.

Eraserhead-Artistic Gymnastics: I wanted to give him Rhythmic Gymnastics so badly with how well it fits him, he even has the ribbon for it, but it's a women's only sport in the games. Still, this fits well enough with his impressive acrobatic skills.

Edgeshot-Fencing: Perfect set up for a fencer. He can make himself as thin as an epee and extend himself out as his pleases. Plus, it's the only official sport that lets you wear a mask in game, which should be no issue for Edgeshot.

Endeavor-Boxing: While I could say that I think that Endeavor is smart enough to handle the sweet science of boxing, the real reason is that he is that huge. I don't even think he'd need his powers to demolish someone in the ring.

Gang Orca-Water Polo: While Gang Orca would kill in any of the water-based events, he would definitely kill it in an event where hitting something really hard is part of the goal with his strength boost. Seriously, his spike might actually kill someone.

Ectoplasm-Rowing: This sport is all about being as in sync as possible with the rest of the rowers. Why bother when you can have your hivemind of clones work perfectly together? And if any of them run out of juice, just switch out one of your clones with a fresh one, no one will notice.

Hawks-Skating: Like Sir Nighteye, Hawks just looks and acts like he would be a skater. It wouldn't surprise me if it was part of his training at the Hero Commission to appeal to a younger demographic. Now he can truly become like his heroic namesake, Tony Hawk.

#My Hero Academia #Not Quirks #Enji Todoroki #Endeavor #Keigo Takami #Hawks #Shota Aizawa #Eraserhead #Hizashi Yamada #Present Mic #Tsunagu Hakamata #Best Jeanist #Edgeshot #Shinya Kamihara

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esamastation · 11 months

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Part forty-nine of Shizuroth, aka, the SOLDIER General's Self Saving Shizun.

Ao3 link.

Previous parts: thirty-three, thirty-four, thirty-five, thirty-six, thirty-seven, thirty-eight, thirty-nine, forty, forty-one, forty-two, forty-three, forty-four, forty-five, forty-six, forty-seven forty-eight

There are certain things you can expect to happen when warriors from opposing factions meet. Some of those things don't make it into the reports.

Truth rarely accepted by higher-ups at Shinra is that no one wants to die. It would be obvious to anyone with sense, but it isn't. Because even when they acknowledge that, sure, no one wants to die, they rarely draw the next conclusion. Which is that no one willingly charges into a hopeless battle, knowing they wouldn't make it out alive.

And that includes Wutai troops.

SOLDIERs have been around for years, and they've reshaped the nature of the war being fought in Wutai. That's not only on the side of Shinra either - the Wutai warriors have adapted too. They've learned. And they never, if they were to help it, to try to take SOLDIER head on anymore.

And there are SOLDIERs, not all of them but some, who take full advantage of it whenever they can. Angeal most certainly does. Because there's another truth, rarely acknowledged.

Most people don't want to kill other people.

On a report it looks something like this:

"Shortly after the engagement began, the Wutai troops deployed a diversion in order to make their escape. Unfortunately, this made following them impossible."

In reality it looks like this:

Angeal walks down the path, making himself loud and obvious. The Wutai troops spot him. There's about a dozen of them, armoured men and women armed with gunspears. They aren't expecting him, but they can recognise his uniform. It makes them wary.

They take a few warning shots at him, which Angeal quickly deflects with the Buster Sword. Then he's left with a dilemma quite literally in his hands.

He doesn't usually draw his sword on people. It was easy not to, before, he wasn't really able to use it. Now he can use it, but, uh… if he takes the Buster Sword on a person…

The two sides size each other up. There's a moment of posturing.

"What are you doing here, Shinra?" demands the warrior in lead, wearing captain's colours.

"I'm sorry, but I can't answer that," Angeal says, feeling a little awkward with the sword now. "Shinra business. I'm going to have to ask you to go back the same way you came from."

"You want us to leave, from our home? You have some nerve! Who are you, SOLDIER, what is your name?"

"I am Angeal Hewley - and you are?"

His name might not be as known as that of Sephiroth, but it's known enough. SOLDIER Firsts carry a similar level of recognition as Wutai generals, and his name is usually enough.

He isn't usually holding a huge sword, though, and the Wutai troops look somewhat alarmed now.

Angeal clears his throat and rests the Buster Sword on his shoulder, trying for casual rather than… excessively forceful. "Your name, sir?"

The Wutai squad looks to their captain, who makes a decision. "I am captain Deng Yuto. It is my honour to face commander Hewley in battle." He bows and then grabs his spear and shouts to his squad, "Get ready!"

For a moment it looks like they might actually rush at him - then one of them throws something. It cracks on the dirt road between them, and there's an explosion of smoke, footsteps, confusion.

And then the Wutai Captain murmurs a quiet mantra and brings out a Summon, lighting the acrid smoke in a vivid red glow.

"Here we go," Angeal murmurs, looking up. Before him looms a fiery demon, with flames dancing on its back, behind its impressive horns. Smiling slightly, he tightens his grip on the Buster Sword. "Ifrit, huh? Great - I have been wanting to try these new tricks I've been learning!"

It's not the first time he's been left facing a Summon rather than people, and quite honestly, he prefers it. There's not much honour in fighting people who can't truly meet him at his level. A man's honour can only take so much, fighting against weaker opponents.

But a Summon is something very different.

Angeal waits standing still until the Ifrit attacks, and then ducks out of the way - and then back closer, to get a few hits in, using the Buster Sword to its full advantage. And damn if it's not gratifying, to put his recent lessons to the test!

Ifrit isn't the strongest of Summons, but it's formidable enough and far above the usual monsters of Wutai. This one is a higher level one too - someone put a lot of effort into maturing it. It's one hell of a workout. Being able to swing his sword and feel it do real damage…

"Whoa, what the hell -"

"On guard! Stay alert!"

Angeal falters, realising that the Wutai troops hadn't run away - they'd moved back, but stayed to watch, and now they're watching out for someone else. Quickly Angeal jumps away from the Ifrit's blow and looks where they're looking - up in the trees?

It's… Sephiroth. Who is - what?

"Uh?" Angeal manages, confused - and then Ifrit is upon him, trying to blow him away with a fiery fist. Angeal drags his attention back to the fight and goes about finishing it as quickly as he can. He must've seen it wrong.

Whatever he saw isn't as important as the fact that Sephiroth is here at all. He was supposed to be doing his Alignment practice - why is he here? And… how would he react to all this?

Before he lost his memories, Sephiroth never humoured the Summons - and he too has a reputation. One far worse than Angeal's.

Angeal whittles the Ifrit's HP to zero as quick as he can, and the Summon breaks. Breathing hard, Angeal checks the Wutai troops - still there, frozen in place - and then he looks at Sephiroth.

Who lands, light as a feather, not far from him.

"... What are you doing here?" Angeal manages.

"I was told there was going to be trouble," Sephiroth says, a complicated look on his face, and apparently not thinking there was anything unusual about his own ability to, what, fly? He looks at the Wutai troops instead, eyes narrowed.

"I've got this handled," Angeal says slowly, worried it might turn into a bloodbath after all. "You didn't need to come."

Sephiroth glances at him, and his expression goes cold and inscrutable. "You're worried," he says, sounding somewhere between confused and offended. "Why?"

Because Angeal wasn't planning to fight, really, and he wasn't planning to kill. There wasn't any reason for it. The Wutai squad were just checking out the unusual activity in a place they knew to be abandoned - they weren't geared for an assault. Certainly there might be a full assault later, after they'd confirmed who had taken residence in the abandoned house they might choose to attack them, but that is different. If the enemy planned and executed an attack, even knowing who they were, then of course there would be a fight, but…

Killing these people here and now, when there's no mission and no orders and no point other than to keep them from passing information on… information that would be passed on regardless…

These men aren't a threat to us, Angeal wants to say. But Sephiroth didn't get his moniker for being understanding or merciful. And Angeal isn't sure how he will react now.

Angeal opens his mouth, but before he can speak, the Wutai Captain steps forward. "My name is Deng Yuto," the captain says bravely and brandishes his gunspear at Sephiroth. "I challenge you, Demon of Wutai, for the lives of my men."

Angeal's heart aches for him. The man's spear point doesn't even quiver. Angeal looks at Sephiroth, who probably doesn't even understand the custom he's witnessing. "You don't have to do this. Please. Let me handle this."

Sephiroth looks at him and hums, thoughtful. For a moment, Angeal dares to hope…

And then Sephiroth draws his sword and turns away.

"I accept your challenge."

So, not my favourite chapter ever...

#Fanfiction #ffvii #ff7 #svsss #angeal hewley #sephiroth #shen qingqiu #shen yuan

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peachi-blossom · 3 months

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My thoughts on Hazbin Hotel as a non HH fan

Originally, I was just here to watch people criticizing Hazbin Hotel. But when the recent controversies came in, I feel like I have to step into the fandom rabbit hole.

As a non Hazbin Hotel fan, I've watched the pilot, read the prequel comics, watched the ADDICT music video, and finally the show itself. (I've watched the show on March 15th.)

NOTE: I didn't watch the show on TV so I watched it on a pirated website instead and read the transcript because no way am I watching this in front of my parents, my siblings, or Grandma. This is my personal opinion on the show.

Pilot: So Hell is basically Earth except it's painted red and inhabited by demons. The background has too much red, but not as bad that it makes my eyes bleed. I don't like how the female characters have the same color scheme except Vaggie and Niffty (pilot only). For example, Charlie, Katie Killjoy, and Cherri Bomb. The only two funny parts of the pilot is when the top hat demon says "Wow! That was s***!" after Charlie sings Inside of Every Demon is a Rainbow and when Angel pokes his head in as Vaggie is giving Alastor a warning. I didn't like the daddy joke. It just sounded bad. Also, why is there a joke about harlequin babies?

Prequel comics that are no longer canon: Basically the prequel comics focuses on Angel Dust and Alastor.

For Dirty Healings, it shows how Angel Dust first met Charlie and Vaggie. I knew that Vaggie's name was named after a uh, you know. Ugh… Why did Vivienne Medrano had to name her that? Also I hate Valentino.

As for A Day In The After Life, it just shows why Alastor is the most feared demon in Hell. Also he swears after seeing Vox.

ADDICT music video: I genuinely have no thoughts on this music video. I think this was just bait for the SA and CSA victims. Sorry for those who like the MV.

Episode 1: This is worse than the pilot. I did NOT like the beginning part. It's biblically inaccurate for multiple reasons, but I feel like a few people only talk about this one thing. Sin didn't exist until Adam and Eve ate the fruit of knowledge of good and evil. Not only that, but it's also misogynistic too because it was just Eve who ate it. What makes it misogynistic is that it implies that all women would have to bear the sins of Eve ALONE. There's rampant swearing and sex jokes. Also, isn't Archangel Michael supposed to be the leader of the Army of God? Anyways I'm siding with the angels.

Episode 2: The red is so bright that it hurts my eyes. It doesn't help the fact that Alastor blends in the background. Oh yeah, when Vox tells Sir Pentious to kill himself, it made me feel sad because it reminded me of the Shay incident. The time when the stans drove Shay to kill themself because they were uncomfortable with the large age gap of HuskerDust.

Episode 3: Why? Why is there a BDSM sex dungeon?! I know that was Angel's idea, but still. Why?! I seriously have no words. When Zestial says "What troubles thou?" I was like "Huh?". It should be "What troubles thee?". I think his Old English has grammatical errors. The Egg Boiz, Carmilla, and Zestial are bearable because they never said a swear word. Off topic, but Velvette's swirl streaks on her hair makes me think of a swirl ice cream.

Episode 4: Before the show came out, I saw SlayQueenArt's post on Twitter (X) that says Vivienne Medrano hired Raphielle II, aka R2ninjaturtle, who has a rape fetish and isn't a SA victim. As someone who is formerly addicted to porn, this episode is insulting on so many levels. I didn't watch the whole Poison sequence because of that. And don't get me started on Loser Baby. I hate this song so much. It felt like it is blaming on SA and CSA victims for being SA'd. Like it is blaming me for being addicted to porn on and off when I was EIGHT. I know there are some victims who like episode 4 so I will leave them alone. I seriously hate how Charlie behaves like a toddler at the end. No grown adult should behave like a toddler like she did because being raped isn't a silly thing to cry over. Like, hello? She is the supposed to be the main character. Oh yeah, there was NO warning for the episode when the show premiered and it triggered the victims who watched it. SA and CSA victims are not losers. Former porn addicts are not losers. Nobody is a loser. I am NOT a loser.

Episode 5: Wow, Vivienne Medrano really turned Lucifer into King George from Veggietales. I guess this is what happens when King George gave in into his obsession with rubber ducks. I didn't like Hell's Greatest Dad because of the unnecessary rivalry between Lucifer and Alastor, but at least Mimzy ended the song. Oh boy, this is where I hate Alastor now. No really, he is Vivienne Medrano's first edgelord oc. He has gone full edgelord and is basically a Bill Cipher wannabe now. His full demon form is not even scary compared to Bill's final form. He no longer stands out from the main cast even if he rarely swears. Mimzy is basically the embodiment of the hooked nose stereotype. Wow, the embodiment of a Jew stereotype. How racist.

Episode 6: That was an absolute slap in the face at SA and CSA victims and me when Sir Pentious got SA'd! Seriously, Vivienne Medrano doesn't even care for the victims at this point! What's worse is that he is based off of her old ex-friend, DollCreep. Why did she whitewashed St. Peter?! I know there are white Jews, but he was born in ancient Israel so I wouldn't think he'll be looking like a white man with blonde hair and blue eyes. How come angels don't know how souls get to Heaven?! We got the Ten Commandments! We got Jesus Christ who took our place to die for our sins so we wouldn't have to bear these sins! Emily and Sera are bearable because you know. I hate how Niffty is being treated like a child when she's NOT. What's worse is that Niffty is supposed to be Japanese because of how people INFANTILIZED Asian people, especially women.

Episode 7: My issue with Out for Love is that when Carmilla tells Vaggie that she should fight for love and not for vengeance. Well, Vaggie always fight for love and never for vengeance. In Whatever it Takes, she literally says that she'll always protect Charlie. Where is the vengeance in that? That is poor character writing. Rosie is basically the blood libel stereotype where the Jews are cannibals. Again, that's just racist against Jews.

Episode 8: I thought the finale was pointless because there were no stakes and Sir Pentious' heroic sacrifice was comically anti-climatic. Like, why did Sir Pentious's so called friends cared about him when they didn't help him at ALL in episode 6?! I'm not a fan of the CherriSnake ship because Cherri only becomes interested in him because he has two "joysticks". Not to mention he kissed her without consent and she thinks it's hot after that. The problem with More Than Anything (Reprise) is that Vaggie reassures Charlie that she changed many lives, but she only changed one. I'm so glad Adam defeated Alastor first. There is absolutely no way Lucifer slept with Eve. Oof for Lute and Adam. You both fought well until the end.

The character designs are awful. Every male character basically looks like The Once-ler from The Lorax 2012 movie except for Adam (I know Alastor doesn't have a top hat, but still gives off the vibes. Zestial is more Burtonesque.). Not to mention they are all skinny twigs except for Adam (I think). The female characters in Hell have the same color scheme except Vaggie (again). For example, Charlie, Katie Killjoy, Mimzy (though her dress is a little darker), Cherri Bomb, and Niffty (show only). They have too much pinks, reds, yellows, whites, and blacks. I love pink, but this is too much. What's worse is that they blend in the background and again it hurts my eyes. There is NO color variety and I feel like my eyes are burning.

That's my thoughts on the show.

#hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel criticism #hazbin hotel critique #anti hazbin hotel #vivzipop critical #vivziepop criticism #vivziepop critique #anti vivziepop

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mirage-aera · 9 months

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•°. *࿐ Leave a light on

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : The Night We Met - Lord Huron

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x reader

Zombie au, don’t like don’t read.

Synopsis: When a scouting mission goes south and the 141 get stranded for days without help. They got told they would be sent updates for evac everyday at dawn. A hope to get out alive. So when the day came that Shepherd broke the news that they are on their own and a member died, they decided to try and make it back themselves. Ghost loses it at the sight of seeing Shepherd once they return.

Word count: 4.102

Masterlist

In the early stages of the outbreak, the government tried to keep control of the situation as much as they possibly could by sending out whatever was left of the military and mowing down the infected with the limited amount of ammunition they had. Once they realized that won’t work they decided scouting missions would be the plan to scavenge for various things that could be proved useful. However, people will get infected, specifically people who are fed up with living behind walls and want to try and survive out there. Outside of the safe sanctuary, the not-so-experienced won’t even last a day. And the military? Well, only the elite teams and some mercenaries are left. Within a week the majority of the emergency workers and military ceased to function. Too few of them to do something. Sooner than later, soldiers started dropping like flies, most of them turned as well and had to be killed by their own brothers and sisters during the ‘mowing down as many infected as you can’ operations. Which was just sending young men and women to their deaths. Once supplies started running low, the people who are running the shitshow have decided to send the 141 for supply runs. That currently is a 5 man army. Somehow you’ve always scrapped by some miracle.

Except this time. Eventually, you find yourselves trapped in an abandoned hotel, which is no doubt filled with those infected. With a horde of infected waiting outside of the building, there’s no way to get out of there. With no ammunition, and a limited amount of rations. The only thing you have going for yourselves is you’re all still alive granted, a little worse for wear, but still alive, and a radio. You’re hiding in the lobby of the hotel. You hear occasional bangs of infected trying to get into the building and the moaning and groaning that comes with the package. John immediately goes into captain mode. Something he frequently does when you leave the walls to go for supplies runs. “Soap, Gaz. Make sure to keep an eye on those infected outside and that they don’t come inside. If they come inside we’re in trouble. Ghost, radio Shepherd. Tell him we are stranded and need help getting out of this shithole. Hawk, you’re with me. We’re going to explore this place a bit. For if we need to retreat further into the building we can.” ‘Roger’ and ‘copy that’ are said and you all get to work. Simon immediately gets on the radio and tries contacting the general. He glances at you as you get ready to head with John further in. “Be careful.” You nod and give him a small smile as you check your gear, “you know I am.” He stares at you with worried eyes but says nothing. He continues fiddling with the radio. The thing is barely working but it’s one of the only options you have. Johnny and Kyle are watching the infected intently, specifically at the weak spots, like the windows and doors. If they start cracking they need to move instantly.

You move with John through the lobby as you traverse the ground floor of the hotel. “Keep your gun up and check your corners.” John says quietly, not wanting to alert the undead if they are here. “Yes sir,” you mutter out. You enter the restaurant area. It’s completely covered in blood but no undead to be seen. Either they’ve been dealt with before or they moved somewhere else. You can see that John comes to the same conclusion as you, “let’s keep moving.” You nod as you follow him. You continue doing the same for the kitchen area. Noticing it’s empty as well, you lower your gun and check the cabinets. Not bothering with the fridge, food in there would be spoiled by now. You grab whatever canned foods you can find and store them in your backpack. John does the same. With this routine, you secure the ground floor.

Meanwhile, Simon has made contact with Shepherd, “General. We need immediate help. We are surrounded by a horde of infected. We are currently holed up in the hotel.” He hears crackling as he awaits an answer from the general, “I hear you. We will try and lure the infected away, I will update you.” Simon mutters out a ‘copy that’ before letting go of the button. Now it’s time to play the waiting game and hope they don’t have to play it for too long. Simon pulls out his journal from his bag. Ever since the outbreak started he started journaling. It’s to help keep him sane, but it’s also to keep track of the evolution of the undead and the decline of humanity. He pulls out a pen as well and starts writing.

Day 109

Today we got sent out for another supply run as we’re running low on everything. Things went south when a horde of infected surrounded us. Now we’re stuck in the abandoned hotel awaiting evac from General Shepherd. I got assigned the radio while Kyle and Johnny were watching the windows and doors. John and (Y/n) were exploring the hotel in case we needed to retreat further in the building.

Shepherd said he will update us, this could take hours or even days.

- Simon

He draws a little skull face next to his name. A habit that you got him into. You said that during these unfortunate times, a little fun will be a good thing to make it less depressing. Sooner than later you and John return. You’ve cleared the ground and first floor. No undead lurking around those areas. You’re free to retreat in any of those areas if it comes down to it. Kyle and Johnny share their observations concerning the windows, stating they will do but won’t last long. Simon conveys Shepherd’s words along. That evacuation might take a couple of days. So either find a way back yourselves or wait for Shepherd to send help. You’d rather find a way yourselves than wait on that snake. You can tell by the others’ expressions they feel the same way as you do. John calls out, “we’ll wait for Shepherd. We have better chances of getting out of this, all of us. If we can get some help clearing the guys outside.” No one is too happy with his decision but you trust his intuition. He has gotten you all out before on past missions and during the apocalypse, so why won’t he now?

The rest of the day is spent chatting amongst yourselves and watching the windows. You’ve agreed that for the night you’ll alternate, with at least 2 at a time. You can’t take any risks. You would hate to wake up with a zombie chewing on your leg if you accidentally fall asleep, that would be just unfortunate. You and Simon take the first watch. Letting the others get some rest. You watch as the undead growls angrily at you through the glass. Simon puts an arm around your waist, “seems so surreal, doesn’t it?” You nod, it really does. “Funny how we used to joke that it would never happen, now look where we are.” You say bitterly. He nods, “can’t say we’re prepared for this either.” Comfortable silence envelopes you, aside from the groaning and banging. “Tomorrow John and I are checking the rooms on the second floor. Those are likely to be filled with infected.” You grimace at the thought of them. Yes, you’ve killed countless of them, but it doesn’t make them any less disgusting. He glances at you before turning his gaze to the windows again, “I can go instead of you if you’d feel safer.” He offers. Your eyes soften at his proposal, “it’s okay. I’m a big girl. I can handle it.” You lightly jest. You can tell he’s smiling behind the balaclava with the way his eyes are crinkling. “I do not doubt that, lovie.” You change the subject, “can I borrow your journal?” He raises an eyebrow but gives it to you nonetheless. You grab a pen out of your pocket and flip to his latest entry. You smile at the little skull face. You draw a tiny hawk next to it with a few endearing words and close the journal handing it back to him. You’ve done the same thing to some of his other entries. You have no clue if he has noticed. If he has then he hasn’t said anything about it.

After some time passes you get relieved by Kyle and John. You wordlessly get up and head back to where Johnny is probably snoring away. You spot him resting on his pack, using it as a pillow. Completely out cold. Simon snickers at the sight while you let out a small chuckle. Simon does the same, he sets his pack down on the floor and uses it as a pillow. He beckons you over with his arms outreached. You smile as you shuffle over into his arms. He rests your head on his chest, allowing you to use him as a pillow. He drapes his jacket over you two to act as a blanket. Even in a precarious situation, moments like these with him are the safest you could ever be. “Get some rest, lovie. You’ll need the energy.” He didn’t have to say that twice. A few seconds later you’re immediately out.

The next morning you wake up to the crackle of the radio. Simon is already up and listening to it. He sits on the floor with your head in his lap as he plays with your hair. He notices that you’re awake. He looks down at you, “good morning. Sleep well?” You smile tiredly at him, “yeah I did.” He nods before turning his attention back to the radio once he hears his name. You can faintly hear Shepherd’s voice on the radio. As the two continue their exchange you get up and walk over to John, who’s already up and probably waiting for you. You greet him as you grab your gear. He smiles briefly at you before nodding, “ready to go?” You nod, “ready as I’ll ever be. Let’s go.” No further words need to be said, he leads the way to the second floor.

As you head up the stairs. John speaks in a hushed manner, “just like yesterday. Guns up and check your corners. We’re likely to see them here, especially in the rooms.” He informs you. “Got it.” You check your corners as you move through the hallway. While John goes the other way. Sure enough, there’s an infected standing idly in the middle. Its joints are misaligned and softly grunting. You raise your gun to its head and fire. The silencer made sure that others weren’t alerted to your position. It slumps to the floor in a heap. Soon John rounds the corner and looks at the body on the floor and then at you. “That makes three then.” You nod. “Let’s check the open rooms, could be they have something useful for us.” You follow him as you clear rooms together, shooting down unsuspecting infected as well. You search the rooms for left-behind canned goods, ammunition, anything that can be proven useful. Most of these rooms have come up empty or the only things left behind are useless objects. John shakes his head as he emerges from a bathroom, “nothing useful here. Let’s go, we’ll check the other floor.” He says as he moves to the staircase. “Roger.” You quietly stick behind him, raising your gun as you go up. He holds his hand up as he motions there are three of them in front of him. You nod as you wait for his signal to take them down together.

He gives the go and you swiftly take care of them. They slump to the floor. You move up using the same strategy before. You’ll pinch them in the hallway and clear rooms together. He heads the other way as you continue going forward. You come across two more. You shoot them down and meet up with John. You hear two more thuds, signaling that he killed two as well. He comes into your sight as you lower your gun. “Fuck there’s a lot up here.” He whispers. You hum in agreement. “John. I think we should head back. There’s likely to be more in the rooms and there’s only two of us. If we get overwhelmed in a small confined room… It's too risky.” You warn him. He takes in your words. He knows you’re right. “Let’s go. You’re right, it’s not worth it. If anything happens we can just run to the roof.” You smile gratefully at him, happy that he considered your advice. You head back to the group. The two are still watching the ones outside and Simon is messing with the radio. John gives him a look. Simon shakes his head, “nothing new.” He says in frustration. “We might need to find our own way out soon.” He states. Or what he’s trying to say is, ‘Shepherd is going to leave us high and dry.’ John sighs, “I know.”

Night falls, the groaning and moaning outside lessens as they can’t see you inside anymore. You sit with Simon as the guys chatter about mindless things to pass the time. He wraps his arms around your waist as he converses with Johnny. Eventually its lights out as you all settle down for the night.

A few days pass with the usual things happening around you. John and you have cleared the way to the roof, Kyle and Johnny expressing their concerns with the window that’s separating the army of undead from you. Simon is still on the radio, growing more frustrated by the day. With the lack of updates, everyone is growing a bit restless. Well aware that you are in trouble if they don’t make an effort for you. As a new dawn comes you can hear Simon yelling into the radio. “What the fuck do you mean you’re holding off on support?!” His yelling wakes the others aside from John, who’s staring at the infected outside with a grimace. “So that’s it?! You’re leaving us?!” You hear him shout again. You aren’t stupid, you all know what’s going on. The general is abandoning you. The banging on the windows intensifies. Suddenly you hear cracking before glass shatters everywhere. “Everyone! To the roof now!” John barks out as he runs. You all follow suit, knowing damn well you can’t fight off the horde. You bolt up the stairs, the zombies following you, clambering up. Price pushes the door and holds it open as he waits for you all.

You make it through, the only one who hasn’t yet is Simon. As you look behind you to see what’s happening, your eyes widen in horror. You see him on the floor with one of those grabbing onto one of his legs. He’s kicking frantically at it, trying to keep its jaws off of him. You all left your guns behind in the panic. You pat your holster for your pistol and pull it out. You aim at the snarling thing and fire. Except it doesn’t fall back. Your pistol clicks, making you realize it’s empty. You’re out of ammo. In a panic you rush over to him, and you see the rest of the horde also closing in on him. He looks at them and then at you. “No! Stay back! There’s too many, just go!” You shake your head as you ignore his orders. There’s still time. You notice that the creature’s bottom half is still inside the stairwell. You run over and slam the door shut as much as it can go. You can feel the other zombies crashing into the door you’re desperately trying to keep shut. Their hands reaching out and trying to grab at you and Simon. Some have their heads sticking out as they try to snap their jaws at you. You grimace in disgust.

Simon kicks harder but the damn thing is determined to stay on him. Not thinking straight, you push your leg out to shove it away. Revealing your leg as its new meal. It snaps its head to your leg shoving it back inside the stairwell and latches onto you. Simon quickly pulls his leg out as he watches it bite you. You rip your leg out of its mouth in pain. Simon helps you shut the door completely and barricades it. He looks at you and then at your leg. You look at your leg in more detail. A bite mark. You realize you’re going to be one of them. His eyes soften, “lovie…” he gently calls out. You snap your head to him before screaming out in anger, and frustration. You ran out of luck. The others can only look on in surprise. It all happened so fast. One minute you were fine and the next you’re going to turn into one of those.

Eventually, your screams of anguish die down and are instead replaced by sobs as you collapse to the floor of the roof. Simon immediately falls next to you and cradles you in his arms, trying his best to comfort you. A few tears of his own slip, aware of what's going to happen. He shushes you as he tries to get his words across, “everything will be fine. You’ll be okay. Nothing will happen.” He blurts out. You both know those are empty promises. Everything is far from fine, you won’t be okay, and you’ll turn into one of them. That’s the hard truth. But it does the trick, it stops your mind from going into overdrive and his voice is calming you down. You sigh, “Simon. You promised at the start of this shitshow.” You softly say. He shakes his head, he knows what you are getting at. You promised when this all started that if one of you is going to turn the other would kill the one who’s compromised before fully turning.

“Not yet, please lovie. I can’t.” He clutches onto you. You look at him sadly. It isn’t easy for both of you. “I don’t want to become one of them. Please, Simon, do it for me.” He looks at you, tears soaking his balaclava. The rest of the group surrounds you both. They all look at you sadly. They're used to seeing people bit and turn, but it never was one of their own. You give them a small smile, “make it back for me, okay boys.” You look at Simon, “leave a light on for me? I’ll visit you. I promise.” He lets out a watery chuckle and frowns, “I’ll leave a light on for you.” He confirms. He pulls off his balaclava, showing his face to you. You smile, “there’s the handsome face I know and love.” You caress his jaw. He smiles sadly at you. He leans down to your face. Soon his lips meet yours as you share your last intimate moment. He pulls away and looks at the bite mark on your leg. Which is already swelling, black veins starting to spread, and your skin turning a purplish color. You smile at him, ready to go. “It’s time, love.” He shakes his head once more. You frown, not wanting to see him like this. You hear the barricade failing on the door, they’ll burst through any minute. The others noticed as well. “Simon we have to go…” Johnny voices out, handing his pistol to him. Knowing he doesn’t have his on him. Simon takes it shakily and looks at you, “I can’t leave you here.” You squeeze his hand, “it’s alright. They won’t hurt me anymore.” He lets out a shaky sigh but nods. He points the pistol to your forehead. A quick death, he’ll be damned if he lets you suffer. You nod at him, “I love you, Simon.” He smiles at you, tears falling. You close your eyes, “I love you too, lovie. Always.” The shot rings out as your body slumps forward.

He catches your limp body, ignoring the blood soaking his vest, and rests you in a corner so that you won’t be disturbed. He takes your dog tags off of you and puts it around his neck. He takes your pistol as well. It’s empty, but at least he’ll have something of yours that he can kill those bastards with, in your stead. He looks at you one last time before the door gets pushed down. “We have to leave!” John notifies the others. Simon follows as they make their way down the fire escape. Once they’re safely on the ground, they catch their bearings and march their way to the base.

Hours later, the dark blanket of the night conceals them. They’re met at the gate by soldiers who look at them surprised. Showing them that Shepherd has sealed their deaths. Anger courses through Simon’s veins. Once they’re checked and let through, Simon wastes no time to storm over to Shepherd’s office. He bursts through the door and glares at the man. Shepherd is surprised to see him, alive and well. “You!” Simon seethes. Shepherd looks at him, unbothered. “You made it out after all.” Simon raises an eyebrow, “you left us to die! You told me you were going to attempt! That’s why we waited, you bastard!” He roars in anger. This time Shepherd raises an eyebrow, “you all made it out no?” He can feel his eye twitch at his question. “She is dead because you couldn’t make a rescue effort in the first place.” He seethes in a low voice. He continues, “we could’ve all made it out if you could’ve just said you weren’t going to make an effort on day 1. You lost one of your best soldiers and you are solely to blame.” He says coldly. Shepherd nods, “if you’re done blaming me you can leave, Simon.” His eyes have a fire in them, “you can not call me that!! It is and always will be Ghost to you!” He yells. He has so many more insults to say to his face, but he does not feel like getting executed now. He has a promise to fulfill for you. He storms out of the office and walks to his room. He slams the door shut, throws his pack across the room, and sits on the floor. Not bothering to sit on the bed or by his desk.

Eventually, he gets up to grab a candle. He puts it by the window as he sits at his desk. He grabs his lighter from his pocket and sets the candle alight. “Hope you can see this from wherever you are, lovie.” He says to no one. Wishing you could hear him. He grabs his journal and sets it on his desk. He stares at it for a moment. He slams his palm on the desk, rattling the whole thing and everything resting on it. The loss of you dawned on him. He rests his head in his hands as tears start falling again. He cries it out, the flame illuminating his face, giving his tears a golden glow. Once he gathers himself he opens the journal and flips to a new page.

Day 114

I hope you are happier wherever you are than you were here. I’ll come see you in a few years. Until then, I’ll leave a light on for you at night. So you can always find your way back here. Rest well, my love. I love you, always.

- Simon

He draws his usual skull face next to his name, knowing you’ve always loved it. He flips a page back. Remembering you were writing something last time. What he sees makes new tears fall. He sees your little hawk next to his skull face and a message for him.

‘No matter what. If you leave a light on I will always come back to you, in this lifetime and the next. Even in the afterlife. I will come find you Simon Riley.’

Tears fall on his journal, staining the paper. But fortunately, none lands on your writing. He feels a cold air enveloping him. As if it’s hugging him. He thinks nothing of it. All he wants is you, in his arms. As he sobs he swears he hears your voice.

“I found you, love. I’m here now.”

#cod #cod x reader #cod mwii #cod mw2 #call of duty #call of duty x reader #ghost #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley

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racfoam · 8 months

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A Killer’s Poem (WIP)

Summary: Harry met her husband in the library when she was twenty. He was an elderly gentleman named Tom, a retired university professor. Harry doesn't know her husband is a serial killer - the same one who carved the scar on her forehead and orphaned her - and when the police arrests him she says that must be wrong but all the evidence points otherwise...

These are only some scenes I wrote for the fic. Thanks to @loneamaryllis for providing some great lines! 💕💕❤️

Harry couldn't believe she was at the police station with Mr Lestrange, the lawyer whose number she found in the phonebook Tom gave her for emergencies. Having policemen drag her husband and cuff him while asking Harry if she was hurt — No, she was not, why were they cuffing Tom — and a detective calling Tom a “sick bastard” after he recognised Harry as the almost-victim of Lord Voldemort (a serial killer who was never caught). He’d pulled Harry away from Tom like Tom would hurt her, and told Tom, “You’re under arrest, Lord Voldemort.”

Harry thought the policemen had gone off the rails. Her husband was a man of poetry and prose, not of a dagger and a gun. He held books, not guns or knives. He was seventy-four, for God’s sake!

Harry insisted going with the policemen to the police station.

***

The police officers showed her the pictures of all the victims. They were all similar, young women with dark hair and lovely faces.

In the files of their eye colour, all of their eyes were green.

Harry tried not to tremble.

“It wasn't Tom.” she repeats, feeling like a broken record. Tom, who was seventy-four, grey-haired and grumpy in the mornings before his tea — or sex. Tom, who quoted all sorts of poems and literature to her. Tom, who took her to theatre and suffered through Titanic with her every time on the sofa, soothing her as she sobbed over Jack’s sad fate.

“I'm surprised he used his former name with you.” said the police officer, and Harry wanted to grab him and shake him, shout that Tom isn’t Voldemort, that Voldemort isn’t Tom. “But then again, you knew him by his alias, Voldemort.”

“It isn't Tom,” Harry spat.

The detective sighed. He walked back to the doors and whispered to one of his people, “Bring her to the screening room.”

The agent looked surprised. He glanced to Harry with worry.

“Sir, are you sure we should —”

“She deserves to see the real him. Now move it, Diggory.”

Liar. thought Harry acidly, glaring at the detective. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar.

***

Tom is on the other side of the glass. The detective is showing him the same photographs of the dead bodies — Voldemort’s victims.

“This isn’t being recorded.”

“I’m aware.” replied Tom coolly.

“You can be honest here. Why did you kill them?”

His smile was dark and menacing, sending terror down Harry’s spine.

In the light, his brown eyes turned red.

Red...

Harry remembered the red eyes vaguely, always waking up in a cold sweat, remembering the crimson red, their flames threatening to engulf her, destroy her...

“Because they weren’t her.”

“It means something different, that sentence, with you, doesn't it?” asked Detective Shacklebolt.

Tom smiled again — that terrifying smile.

Who is this? This can’t be Tom. This isn’t Tom.

“Yes, indeed,” murmured Tom silkily. “If I killed Harry, I would never feel that rush of victory again. It would be completely over. I killed them because they weren't her. They weren't her, so I could kill them, imagine it was Harry, for those precious moments... Without ever truly hurting Harry.”

Tom smiled gleefully, grinning wide.

“Wonderful, isn’t it?” he crowed.

***

“We’ve lost the evidence.”

“Lost?” asked Harry, cringing at the hoarseness of her voice. “What do you mean, lost?”

“We’re releasing your husband from custody at 9 am when the paperwork is done.” said Detective Kingsley; he sounded defeated. “Mr Lestrange is already here, filling out the paperwork. Your husband’s suing us, including for emotional abuse inflicted on you.”

Harry gulped. “I... I don’t want to sue —”

“Your husband’s suing, either way.” said Kingsley with a tired sigh. Harry could imagine him pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry, Harry. But at least you know now.”

What was that worth now?

“He's sending Lestrange's brother to pick you up. He... how did he become so attached to you? He didn’t stop asking about you.”

Harry didn’t know.

***

“Does your stomach still hurt?” he asked. His old, slender, large, thin hand reached out to touch her.

Harry scooted away from its reach, like it was a spider about to gorge itself on her flesh.

Voldemort’s grey eyebrows furrowed. He brought his hand back to his side, but his eyes were dark, and his gaunt jaw tense, showing clear displeasure.

“I’ll go make you some tea.” he said. Before Harry could scoot away, he leant down — she flinched, closing her eyes, hoping the killing blow would be quick — and kissed her sweaty forehead.

He stood up from the edge of the bed and left, closing the doors behind himself.

Before Harry could stop them, she burst into tears, the salty trail rushing down her cheeks.

Nausea hit Harry again. Clenching her teeth, she moved her legs to the side, setting them on the floor.

Another bout of nausea hit Harry as she stood on uneasy legs. Feeling the bile rise up, gagging midway through the bathroom door, Harry collapsed against the bowl of the toilet and threw up.

Panting and shaking, Harry couldn’t help as another gag assaulted her, and she vomited into the toilet again.

Harry heard footsteps rushing up the stairs. She tried to get up, but only ended up on the bathroom rug again.

Her muscles felt weak, all her energy suddenly stolen from her by the bout of nausea.

Voldemort rushed into the room, nearly knocking the doors down from the force he opened them with. When he entered the bathroom, he looked insane.

Harry’s eyes fluttered close and opened again. The face of a murderer was replaced by an expression of concern.

By the time Harry realised he was touching her, it was too late to tell him to stop.

“It’s all right.” he said.

No it isn’t. thought Harry, but she didn't say anything, too busy catching her breath, too busy leaning back into his warmth on instinct, on habit.

Voldemort whispered comforts in her ear, and when Harry gagged again and threw up, he held her hair back. And when she collapsed back, all saliva and sobs and tears into his chest, he wrapped his arms around her and held her tight, as well.

It felt like nothing changed. If she closed her eyes, she could call him Tom in her head again, and he’d be her wonderful, attentive husband.

Harry heard the water flush, and she felt dizzy, just like the spinning water. She felt hands cradle the back of her head and her knees, before she was being lifted up. She kept her eyes closed, focusing on the soothing smell of her husband’s cologne.

The plush, soft mattress was like paradise, and her head was placed on an upholstered pillow.

“Did those fools give you expired food?” hissed Voldemort. The sound of his cold, menacing voice broke the illusion.

Harry shook her head twice. “Didn’t eat anything...”

A hand pressed to her forehead. Grey eyebrows furrowed.

“No fever.” he said. “When did your stomachache start?”

“I dunno...” she slurred tiredly. She just wanted to sleep... “Two hours after I got to the police station. I threw up the first time there, too, but that was...”

After it sunk in you are my would-be-killer.

The silence stretching along made her more nauseous.

“I’ll call our doctor.” he said, bending down and kissing her on the forehead; his lips were warm, and she melted into the pillow. “Stay in bed. I’ll bring you a bowl if you need to throw up again.”

Harry found herself dozing off, aware yet not, finding a bowl cradled in her hands the next time of awareness, then their doctor’s voice murmuring as her temperature was taken, then the pulse, Voldemort’s fingers holding her hand...

A hand was caressing down her hair. Recognising it, Harry instinctually leaned into it. Tom was whispering her name, his silken voice bewitching her deeper into sleep.

“Wake up...”

Harry didn't want to. She felt nice and warm here, on the bed with Tom whispering gently to her...

“Harry.”

Harry opened her eyes. Tom was looking at her, his face stern.

“You need to go to the bathroom, darling.”

Blinking, sleep still weightening her eyes, Harry stared at her husband, wondering why he was telling her she needs to go to the bathroom.

“You need to take a pregnancy test.”

That woke Harry up. Her eyes shot open, stretching wide.

“Very funny.” said Harry, not finding it funny at all. “Taking the piss out of me after everything you did. Let me sleep.”

Harry turned away from him.

“I’m not joking.” said Voldemort behind her as Harry closed her eyes to go to sleep. “Everything is normal. It’s better to do it and remove the possibility of your nausea being caused by pregnancy. That way, we’ll know if it’s a stomach flu —”

“Leave me alone.” said Harry.

Harry could feel Voldemort's eyes boring into her skull. With a yawn, she said, “I’ll do it tomorrow. I’m tired.”

Harry felt Voldemort leave the bed, his weight disappearing from her side, taking his warmth with him. Harry’s eyes fluttered shut, and she fell back to sleep. Harry woke with another sense of nausea.

By the clock on the dresser, it was 7am. Voldemort’s side of the bed was used, but he was nowhere around.

Probably in the kitchen making breakfast.

Harry took a bit to wake up fully. When she did, she had to pee very badly, and decided to get it over with. She took the pregnancy test on the night table and went to the bathroom.

Twenty seconds later, she laid back on the bed and yawned, placing the pregnancy test stick on the night table.

When she next opened her eyes, two pink lines on the pregnancy stick were staring back at her.

A surge of panic hit her, and she shot up from the bed, grabbing the stick, then her glasses, because surely she was seeing double...

She wasn't. Two pink lines stared back at her, no matter how long she stared at them.

Harry felt a mad laugh of despair bubble up in her throat, but she forced it down. How was this her life?

In that moment, the doors opened.

Fuck. No time to hide it. No time to fake it.

Voldemort, carrying a tray with toast and strawberry jam, entered the room.

His eyes settled on the stick.

“What does it —”

Before he could finish, Harry launched the damned fucking stick at him — he could read it for himself, the damned bastard — and rushed to the bathroom, locking the doors.

#tomarry #tomarrymort #harrymort #female harry potter #serial killer voldemort #my writing

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b5ttyb1tch · 7 months

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How I think Hazbin hotel Characters died (Most of These are Theory's Don't take them as Cannon. Also Most of this Info is From the Unreliable Wiki so Take this with a Grain of Salt)

• Alastor- Alastor died in 1933 In his (20 - 30) From a dog related death. He also has an X on his forehead that we see in the Pilot and in the Season. A popular fan Theory Is that When Alastor Was Burying A body In the woods he was Shot in the head (For being Mistaken for a Deer) And Mauled by Dogs to Finish him Off. But I have Another thought Maybe his cabalistic and Sadistic Nature was Discovered by the Towns people Of Louisiana (Where He lived) And was Promptly and Forcibly Shot in the Head for it. And dogs maybe Ate his Remains Because The Town refused to bury him Just leaving him in the woods.

• Angel Dust- Now it's Cannon that Angel Dust died in 1947 In his (30) From a Drug Overdosed. (But I am gonna Add another Theory Because I can) We know that AngelDust Grew up In New York. In a Crime Family so Maybe He was Caught stealing Drugs From another Rival Gang and Beaten to Death. If you notice he Has One black eye So maybe that Resembles a Black eye he Died with? Also he Has Pink sploches Over his Body That may Resemble Blood Spots/Wounds.

• Niffty- Niffty Died in 1950 (In her 20 I think) Notice on her Apron that She has 3 Red sploches I think these Resemble Gun shots. Niffty had a husband That she Was OBSESSED With. One day she Found Out her Husband was Cheating on Her and she Killed the other Women. And got shot down By the Police when she ran.

• Cherry Bomb- Cherry Bomb died in 1980 (Most Likely 19 - 20) Cherry has an X On her Chest. So giving her personality She probably Got shot down By the Police for Endangering Others (Threatening to Bomb things/Bombing things Ext)

• Sir Precious- Sir Pentious Died in 1888 (Idk how Old he was) I think Sir Pentious Tried to be a Famous Inventor In England back in the Day. Over come with the Greed of wanting to Be Famous He pushed himself to Hard and Fucked up. Probably Get Blown Up by Smt.

• Husk Husk died In 1970 (60 - 70) We know he Grew up In las Vegas. I think Husk Used to Cheat and Scam People with Card tricks Since he WAS A magician. One day Maybe He got caught And Some people Got pissed and Drowned him (That's what they Used to do To Cats/Kittens in His Time). I also think that Maybe He Fell off Smt high (Since he is a Cat/Bird Hybrid the Two animals That basically Can't take Fall damage. It would be a Dark Pun)

• Molly- Molly the Twin Brother of AngelDust. We don't know Much about her But. Molly is Named after the Drug (Ecstasy) Which makes The User Feel Extreme Emotional Pleasure. My thoughts are that Molly was A Cheerful Happy person And Tried to Fall away From the Sinful life her Family was in. One day maybe she had a Break up That left her Heart broken.(She does have Skull hearts on her Boobs) and Taking after her Brothers she Looked Up to Took that Drug. Probably Taking too Much and Died. She Was good enough on earth to Get into heaven tho.

• Arackiness- We Also Don't know Much about Arackiness. But my Guesses are that He either 1 Also died from a Drug overdose 2 Died from a Battle with a Rival Gang or 3 Died from Old age.

• Baxter- Baxter Died in 1910 From Drowning. Baxter is also an Angler Fish A Deep sea Fish. My guess is that He died in a Ship While Traveling over seas Probably Going down with the Ship. The wiki also states he HATES Being touched So I think He was in an Abusive Relationship. He Tried to Run away and Died In the Process.

• Crymini- Crymini Died in 1990 (When she was 19) Crymini is a Hyena and Has little Sploches all over her Body Some look Like paw Prints and Claw Marks. Maybe She was an Animal Abuser and Angerd a Dog Resulting her In being Mauled. And Later Bled to Death. Or She Got into a Car crash For reckless Driving (Viv described her as a Rebellious Teen so it would fit) She may be a Hyena Because she was a Mean Petty Bitch.

• Valentino- (DISCLAMER) I do NOT support Vals Actions Towards Angel. I just wanna Give him a Reason Explaining why he would Do The terrible Things he Does. I am not Trying to Dismiss it Just give him a Backstory.(I am glad That Bitch is Dead) Val Died in 1970 (30 - 40 (Guessing) Probably From some Kind of STD. I Think Val was a Prostitute. Also Serving under an Abusive Boss He Slowly Started getting weaker from the STD And Avenchally it got So bad that he couldn't work Anymore. so His Boss Left him on a Street corner. Leaving him to die There.

• Vox- Vox died in The 1950 (Probably In his 20 - 30) My Theory Is that He was a Pritty Popular Show host back in the Day. But one day when he was On set q Stage Light fell On his Head while he was On set. Hence why his head is a TV.

• Velvette- We don't know when Velvette died But I am Guessing Somewhere in the 2000 (Probably Died in her 20). She probably Was obsessed with her Looks and Phone when she was Alive. Hence why she looks like a Doll. Maybe she was texting while Driving and Crashed Killing her.

#hazbin hotel husk #niffty hazbin hotel #molly hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel analysis #arackniss #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel valentino #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel velvette #hazbin hotel baxter #hazbin hotel crymini #hazbin hotel cherry bomb #Hazbin hotel Sir Pentious

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anonymousewrites · 1 year

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One Hell of a Love (Book 1) Chapter Four

Sebastian Michaelis x Demon! Reader

Chapter Four: One Hell of a Case

Summary: Ciel is ordered by the Queen to investigate the killings of Jack the Ripper.

“There are just too many people in London,” grumbled Ciel as he left the carriage and Sebastian opened the door to his city estate.

“It is due to the social seasons, where the upper classes migrate from manor houses in the countryside to their townhouses in London,” said Sebastian with a patient (not) smile.

“I guess even the rich get bored of their estates,” remarked (Y/N).

“Seasons, huh?” Ciel tsked as he walked upstairs. “The carefree slackers.”

“It could be a change of pace,” said (Y/N).

Sebastian nodded. “Those four aren’t accompanying us, so we should be able to enjoy some peace and quiet.”

“Peace and quiet, huh?” muttered Ciel.

Sebastian opened the door to the sitting room, and that dream was crushed. Lau and Madame Red were already making a mess as they tore up the room in search of tea and treats. Sebastian smiled awkwardly, (Y/N) deadpanned, and an irk mark appeared on Ciel.

“Madame Red! Lau! Why are you here?!” cried Ciel.

“My, you’re early,” said Madame Red cheerfully. Grell excitedly jumped up from behind the couch as he realized (Y/N) and Sebastian were there.

“Since you have, it must mean…” began Lau.

“The Queen’s Guard Dog is on the move, then?” finished Madame Red.

Ciel sighed. “Sebastian, (Y/N), prepare some tea to settle those two down. I’ll explain then.”

Once Lau and Madame Red were happily fed and watered, Ciel addressed them. “Yesterday, at Whitechapel, another prostitute was murdered. It wasn’t just your average murder; it was bizarrely vicious.”

In my opinion, inhuman, thought (Y/N). They were hoping it was just a human, though, since they had firsthand knowledge of such vicious humans and mortals were much easier to deal with than other supernatural beings.

“The victim this time, a Miss Mary Nichols, was cut down by a special kind of blade that sliced her up completely, unhindered by any resistance,” continued Ciel. “Scotland Yard and the newspaper reports are calling the killer ‘Jack the Ripper.’ ”

I got a nickname, once, thought (Y/N). Well, my contract did, but it was really me. “Black Widow” for her husbands continuing to die… (Y/N) smirked. Not my fault none of them realized respecting women was an easy way to stay alive.

“Jack the Ripper, huh?” asked Lau.

“The reason I hurried to London was to confirm the situation,” said Ciel.

Lau smirked. “Do you have the guts to visit the crime scene?”

“What do you mean by that?” questioned Ciel.

“The darkness and the scent of evil that now seep through that place will call out to those of the same breed and eat into them,” said Lau. “If you set foot into that place, it’s possible that you will be engulfed by the madness. Are you prepared for that, Earl Phantomhive?”

“I came here to avenge her distress,” said Ciel, eyes set with determination. “Don’t ask unnecessary questions.”

“That’s excellent. Those are good eyes,” said Lau.

Ciel didn’t flinch.

“Is something wrong?” asked the detective as Sebastian, (Y/N), and Ciel stepped forward through the crowd to see the crime scene. “This isn’t the sort of place good little boys and girls come to. Hurry along back home.”

“Where’s the victim’s corpse?” questioned Ciel.

“Corpse? What on earth are you talking about?” demanded the detective.

“Abberline,” said the head investigator. He addressed Ciel. “What did you come here for, Lord Phantomhive?”

“Is he an acquaintance of yours, sir?” asked Abberline.

“I am here to clean up the mess being made by dawdling hounds. Sir Arthur Randall.” Ciel held up his letter with the Queen’s stamp. “It looks like there aren’t any significant leads, yet.”

“Scotland Yard are taking care of this incident,” said Abberline. “Don’t stick your nose in where it’s not wanted.”

“Fine by me. Let’s go, Sebastian, (Y/N),” said Ciel.

“Yes, my Lord,” said Sebastian.

“Yes, sir,” said (Y/N).

“What are you going to do?” asked Madame Red, following Ciel. She, Lau, and Grell had, like puppies, followed Ciel to the crime scene.

“Asking him would be the best option,” said Ciel.

Him? thought (Y/N) curiously.

“Earl, you can’t mean…” Lau trailed off.

“It’s just as you suspect,” said Ciel, stopping before a shop.

(Y/N) glanced up at the sign, which read “Undertaker.” Their nose twitched, and they smirked. The smell of death was everywhere.

“So, where are we?” asked Lau brightly.

“You looked like you knew what was going on a minute ago!” shouted Madame Red.

“This is the undertaking establishment of one of the Young Master’s acquaintances,” explained Sebastian.

Ah, an informant, thought (Y/N). They opened the door, and the group filed inside.

“Are you here, Undertaker?” asked Ciel.

Silence in the dark room, just a bunch of dark coffins lying in the room.

“I thought you would drop by sooner or later…” said an amused, scratchy voice. “Welcome…Earl…” A standing coffin opened, and a man in all black, even a floppy top hat, peered out. He had a wide grin that accentuated his stitch-like scars as his silver hair framed his face. “Have you finally decided to get your own, custom casket?”

Lau and Madame Red stared in shocked horror at the strange man, and poor Grell had fallen to the ground at the ghostlike man’s appearance. (Y/N)’s nose twitched. Undertaker smelled even more like death than his shop. His gaze passed over the group, his grin growing with each person before finishing on (Y/N).

“As if anyone would come to do that,” said Ciel. “Today, we’re—”

Undertaker put a finger to Ciel’s face. “You don’t have to say it. I understand completely. That particular guest is in an unfit state to be seen by those from the world of light.”

The shadows around (Y/N) and Sebastian shifted in disagreement.

“I made her all pretty, you know?” remarked Undertaker eagerly.

“I want to hear more about that,” said Ciel.

“I see, so being an undertaker is just your cover,” said Lau. “How much is your information?”

“I don’t have the slightest use for the Queen’s legal tender!” declared Undertaker energetically. “Now, Earl, give me that. Bestow the finest laughs upon me! Then, I shall tell you whatever you want!”

“Strange man…” said (Y/N).

“Yes…” sighed Sebastian.

“Leave it to me!” declared Lau. “I was known as the Grinning New Year Tiger of Shanghai. Behold my true nature!” He smiled brightly. “The bed fled!”

Everyone blinked. That had made no sense.

“I suppose there’s no helping it,” said Madame Red grimly, stepping forward. “This Madame Red, known as the flower of social gatherings, will let you in on her top-secret gossip! So, on my dear friend’s birthday, her beau got her the biggest [CENSORED] that had veins going up the [CENSORED] and she got such a good [CENSORED] out of it that we all wanted a turn to [CENSORED].”

Sebastian had smartly covered Ciel’s ears during Madame’s Red’s speech. He nodded to (Y/N), who grabbed a roll of gauze and promptly wrapped it around Madame Red and Lau’s mouths to keep them from continuing to speak.

“Well, then, the only one left is the Earl! Last time, I lost, but I won’t this time!” said Undertaker, giggling.

Ciel narrowed his eyes. He didn’t have a joke. He glanced at (Y/N) and Sebastian.

(Y/N) shrugged. “I’m more mischief-maker than comedian.”

Sebastian stepped forward. “Everyone, please step outside. Under no circumstances are you to peek inside.”

No one disobeyed, even (Y/N), who was extremely curious about what Sebastian was planning. In quiet confusion, the group stood outside of the Undertaker’s shop.

“AHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

Deranged cackles echoed from inside the shop. The Undertaker sign above the door smashed to the ground from the force of the laughter.

The door opened, and Sebastian smiled at everyone. “Do come in now. I believe he’ll be willing to tell us everything we need to know now.”

“I have seen Utopia!” giggled Undertaker, slumped over a coffin.

Sebastian just dragged Undertaker up so he could finally give them the information they needed. “Do please tell us what we want to know.”

Undertaker sighed. “If you insist…Recently, I’ve been seeing something every-so-often—‘customers’ who have a little missing.”

“A little missing?” asked Madame Red.

“Yes, a little missing. Like a uterus,” said Undertaker.

(Y/N)’s nose twitched.

“It was a pretty harsh splatter, but her uterus alone was precisely cut out,” said Undertaker.

“While it may not have been a largely populated street, would it not be difficult for an amateur to perform such a precise task there in the pitch black?” questioned Sebastian.

“You’re quite a sharp one, Mr. Butler. I thought the exact same thing,” said Undertaker.

He raised a nail to (Y/N)’s neck and drew it across. Their eyes darted down to peer at his fingers, mere centimeters from touching (Y/N)’s skin. Their lip curled distastefully at the idea. Sebastian’s eyes followed Undertaker’s movements, slightly narrowing. The strange man had never been a threat, but Sebastian knew (Y/N) wouldn’t hesitate to snap his wrist if he actually touched them.

“First, to cut the prey’s neck,” continued Undertaker, “then to cut here—” his other hand drew across (Y/N)’s lower abdomen “—to steal what’s important.” He straightened. “He’ll kill again. He’s the type that won’t stop until someone stops him. Can you stop him, Noble of Darkness, Earl Phantomhive?”

“I swear on my family’s crest, those who dirty Her Majesty’s garden will be dispatched without exception, whatever it takes,” said Ciel evenly.

“That story narrowed it down quite a bit,” said Sebastian once they were all back in the carriage.

(Y/N) nodded. “The individual has to have expertise in the medical field, they can’t have an alibi for the night, and since they must still have the stolen organs, someone involved with rituals, sects, or trafficking.” Plenty for Sebastian and them to get on with.

“Just how does that narrow it down?” cried Madame Red. “Dissections are something that any doctor—even I—can do.”

Yes, you could, thought (Y/N). You’re not off the suspect list.

“Summer is almost at an end, too,” said Madame Red. “In two more days, when the season ends, all the nobles will return home with the personal doctors they brought with them.”

“Well, then, we’ll just investigate until then,” said Sebastian with a smirk.

“What?” asked Lau.

“It is only natural for a butler of the Phantomhives to be able to do that,” said Sebastian. “I will draw up a list of suspects immediately and go through everyone on it.”

Madame Red and Lau stared. Ciel smirked. (Y/N) smiled.

“Have fun,” they said as if this was a normal occurrence.

Sebastian opened the door of the moving carriage and bowed to the group. “Well, then, if you’ll excuse me.” He let go of the door and disappeared out of view.

“The carriage is going at full pelt!” cried Madame Red.

“If Sebastian says he’ll do something, he will,” said (Y/N), smiling. “He’ll get the job done.”

“We should just take afternoon tea and wait,” said Ciel.

The group walked up the stairs to Ciel’s townhouse, and (Y/N) opened the door. They were unsurprised to find Sebastian standing at attention. Ciel just sighed at the drama Sebastian caused amongst the others.

“Welcome back,” said Sebastian, bowing. “I have been awaiting your arrival. The preparations for afternoon tea have been made.”

“You…why are you here?!” cried Madame Red in shock.

“I finished the business I was attending to, so I returned ahead of you,” said Sebastian with a smile.

“You already drew up the list?” gasped Madame Red.

“Of course he did,” said (Y/N).

“Yes, and I then went and directly questioned them all,” said Sebastian, holding up a scroll of statements.

Madame Red scoffed. “Sebastian, that’s a little too far-fetched for anyone to—”

(Y/N) saw Sebastian flourish the scroll. I still remember him telling me dramatics were unnecessary.

“Earl Bailey’s doctor, Richard Oswald, was with friends at the Whitehouse pub. He has an alibi and no occult connections,” began Sebastian, proudly showing off his prowess. “The surgeon of the Royal London Central Hospital, Madame Haywhite, was talking to Boey at Steep Line, and thus has an alibi. No connection to anything occult.” Grell’s eyes widened in amazement, and (Y/N) nodded along with Sebastian with a smirk at everyone’s amazement. “The personal doctor of the Chambers household, William Samset, attended the Howard family party and therefore has an alibi. No connection to anything occult. That concludes my research. I have narrowed those who fit the conditions down to a single person.”

“Are you really just a simple butler?” commented Madame Red. “You’re not from Military Intelligence or something, are you?”

“No, he’s just one hell of a butler,” said (Y/N), smirking at Sebastian as they took his line.

Sebastian glanced at (Y/N) before a smirk of his own appeared. They caught on quick.

Both their smirks quickly fell as they remembered it was their attachment to the other that caused them to pay so much attention. (Ironically, they were thinking along the same lines, too).

“Who’s the suspect?” questioned Ciel.

“Alastair Chamber, of the Druitt Viscount family,” said Sebastian. “He received his degree in medicine at university but has undertaken no work. He seems to have held many parties at his home. However, behind the scenes, he invites those whom he is especially close to secret parties.”

“There is a rumor going around that he is involved with black magic,” said Madame Red.

“It has been said that ritualistic events go on at these secret parties and prostitutes are made into living sacrifices,” said Lau.

(Y/N)’s eyes flashed. If Druitt was guilty, they would enjoy watching him fall.

“Tomorrow is the last party of the season,” said Ciel. “That is our only chance. The only question is how to catch him.”

Madame Red brightened. “Oh! You can wear a dress!”

Everyone deadpanned.

“Excuse me?!” cried Ciel, turning red at the idea.

“Lord Druitt likes anything in a skirt!” said Madame Red, continuing on without a care in the world. “He wouldn’t know you’re a Phantomhive, and you’d be able to get right up there with him! You could go as my niece, and Sebastian could be your tutor.”

“Why the hell would I be your niece?!” cried Ciel.

“Because, dear, I’ve always wanted a girl!” chirped Madame Red. She whirled on (Y/N), who straightened in alarm. “And you! Druitt would eat you up! And I’ve wanted to see you in a proper dress for a while. If you look that darling in a maid’s uniform, a proper ballgown would be simply fantastic! Druitt wouldn’t resist you and Ciel!”

(Y/N)’s nose twitched, and they smiled awkwardly as Madame Red advanced on them. “If you have the Young Master, surely I’m not needed…”

“I think it is an excellent idea to have more than one person to catch the Viscount,” said Sebastian with a devilishly “innocent” smile.

(Y/N) looked at him, “affronted” at the “betrayal.” Their eyes panned to Madame Red, whose eyes gleamed excitedly at the prospect of dressing them up. Damn.

Taglist:

@technikerin23

@im-making-an-effort

@izzieg3987

@jinxxangel13

@alexpangender

@otomyoli

@neenieweenie

#one hell of a love #x reader #x gn reader #gn reader #x nb reader #nb reader #demon reader #demon!reader #sebastian x demon!reader #sebastian x reader #black butler sebastian #sebastian michaelis #sebastian michaelis x reader #black butler x reader #black butler fic #black butler ciel #black butler #kuroshitsuji x reader #kuroshitsuji

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literallygeeway · 2 months

Text

intro post!!

name: just call me caleb

age: dont wanna disclose but i am a minor so please dont be weird!!

pronouns: he/they idk

gender: maybe genderfluid, maybe transmasc, idk, still tryna figure that out

sexuality: possibly bi and ace though not sure

favourite artist: my chemical romance!!!

other favourite artists: bikini kill, mommy long legs, mitski, bratmobile, cat valley, hell baby, dazey and the scouts, wet leg, skinny girl diet, the muslims, voodoo church

other artists i just generally like (yes i love music): sonic youth, le tigre, the julie ruin, senses fail, funeral for a friend, pierce the veil, crass, x-ray spex, sloppy jane, pleasure venom, olivia jean, necromancy

hobbies: music (i can play bass, guitar, drums and piano), writing, photography, filmmaking, cinematography, drawing, making bracelets (though i need to do it more often)

some other stuff i like also includes: heathers the musical (off broadway) (its the only musical i really like), studio ghibli, the sims 4, omori, undertale, deltarune, stardew valley, ddlc, doctor who, the umbrella academy, the owl house, adventure time and scott pilgrim (the tv show, movie and game - i havent read the graphic novel but want to)

more stuff under the cut - dni, fun facts and some more stuff :3

fun facts!!!

my favourite colour is dark red

my favourite food is sushi

im learning japanese and french

my favourite movies are parasite (GO WATCH IT RN ITS AMAZING) and my favourite tv shows are i am not okay with this and the end of the f***ing world

i love wes anderson movies!! (my favourite is isle of dogs)

i had two fish called flamey and sir bubbles the fishington when i was younger but they both died so i flushed them down the toilet

i collect bottles and cans (mainly ramune bottles and one cool can but still), funko pops (i have two gerard way funko pops - the black parade with the facepaint and revenge red tie) and vinyls (mcr, mitski, bikini kill and the muslims)

dni!!!

basic dni like homophobic, transphobic, ableist, racist, pro-isreal, islamophobic, etc

mcr haters!! /hj

shipping irl people unless its a joke

transmeds and terfs

people who think trans men cant present femininely and trans women cant present masculinely (im a trans guy who wears skirts sometimes so suck my toe)

people who unironically think gerard way is a trans woman... guys he's said they use he/they pronouns and if he was a trans woman he would probably say something!!

please interact!!

mcr fans

riot grrrl fans (not problematic)

alternative people!!! (emo, punk, goth, scene, decora, etc)

just cool people in general :3

other stuff:

no need to use tonetags with me, dont worry about it

i use !!! and :3 and stuff like that a lot, and i also swear more than the average human should

im alternative but dont have a specific label as i dress in a mix of ways and listen to many different genres of music :3

on here i'm mainly gonna post about mcr, so if you dont like them you probably wont like most of the stuff i post :<

i will probably edit this as i think of more stuff to add and as my interests change but yeah <3

pinterest: calebisbrokenhearted

fav user: @darkermylovex (go follow her rn she is awesome!!)

fav songs currently:

okay thats all, have a great day, bye bye :3!!!!

#mcr #my chemical romance #intro #blog intro #introductory post #intro post #my chem

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sashi-ya · 1 year

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五 𝗦𝗘𝗡𝗦𝗘𝗦 𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗡𝗧: 𝐓𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐒𝐢𝐧 [+18] 𝚉𝚘𝚛𝚘-𝚓𝚞𝚛𝚘 𝚡 𝙵! 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

✦ request: anonymous asked: Hi Sashi-ya! congrats on 5500! can I request Zoro x f! reader. prop: touch me, make me shiver? thank you! ➜ of course my love!! it's a little bit long but it's good I promise 😈🙊 ✦ tw: NSFT. alcohol usage. oral sex. dom! zoro. vag sex. creampie. Wano AU, Zoro is a ronin. ✦ masterlist

Ah… Zoro-juro, known as a ronin who can kill with the sharp edges of his three swords and also to make any man to kneel before his demonic aura. Some call him the King of Hell; Enma himself. Some say he is just a human, some others that he isn��t quite one.

On that bar of the Flower Capital, people get drunk and party until late hours. There are shamisen playing cheerful songs, couples flirting and other’s not so much. And there is also a spot reserved for him; the demonic ronin.

Several women had tried to flirt with him; and yet he has never caved in. Is not that he is married to a person, he is married to the sword. He is not interest in anything besides the rules of Bushido. What you could consider a monk, but for the blade.

But, there was someone who didn’t know the rules yet… you. You didn’t want to flirt with him, you only wanted that sword that could cost millions, if not thousands of them. Your stomach growls when you take a look from the dark at the three katanas the ronin had left on top of the countertop. And the way that green haired swordsman has passed with who knows how much alcohol filling his veins.

“Calm down, stomach. You will be soon filled with delicious soba once I sell one of those” you murmur to yourself, as you crawl like a snake towards them.

Used to stealing, you move fast and silently. Your fingertips graze three powerful instruments; they smell like blood and you could swear they are breathing as well. One, is untouchable. The other, feels like if you keep touching it will drain the life out of you… then, the third one. That should do… “Isn’t this a wazamono? Sandai Kitetsu?!”

You pick the most silent one of them three. It’s heavy, but you don’t mind. It’s time to run outside and disappear into the night. A kunoichi knows how to fade with the darkness.

You get outside the bar, the cold breeze of Wano kuni hits your cheeks. You scoff… “What a stupid ronin, falling asleep and leaving his precious treasures without supervision… he isn’t as demonic as they say he is, after all”

Your hands move to cast the ninjutsu technique, but you aren’t allowed to finish. The sharp object that is now stopping you menaces with taking your life if you dare to move a single muscle.

“Am I… a stupid ronin?” he asks, with raspy voice from behind. The smell of stell, blood and alcohol gets to your nose. His aura is so powerful it makes you dizzy, weak. You can even feel the katana in your hand aching to go back to his owner.

You swallow. He is undeniable bigger, stronger, powerful than you. And you, probably, are about to become another one of his victims…

“Can you give me back my katana, please?” he asks, and even if it was a question it sounded more like a direct order.

“Yeh- yeah. I’m-“ you stutter, moving slowly your hand back to give his sword back. You can feel on your wrist how big his thigh is compared to your arm and the subtle touch against his skin makes you tremble. You did not only think he was stupid while sleeping, but also, how extremely handsome he was.

He takes it back. Tucking it on the blue sash around his muscular waist. You, still, can’t move. The blade of a white sword still menaces with beheading you.

“I gave it back, sir. Can I go now?” you ask, trying to sound fearless and polite. But secretly, your hand tries to reach the kunai on your pants.

But that man scoffs. And it makes a shiver run through your spine… why isn’t he killing you already?

“Searching for that weapon? What were you think of doing? Stabbing my leg?” he asks, turning you around to face him.

The edge of his sword is now resting on your nape, and you are as close as you can possibly be to his prominent chest. It is, for sure, a good view to indulge in before dying…

“You are too beautiful to be doing this. You don’t know who I am?” he asks, confused and yet inspecting your moonlight bathed features.

“I might be beautiful, but I am hungry” you whisper, looking down, scaping from his steel single eye looking into yours.

Zorojuro puts down his sword and sheathes it back into his waistband. “Com’ere” he orders, snatching your arm and pulling you to follow him.

You struggle to do so, but you keep up with his pace. You may run away from him, but you know he will not let you scape… so, why bother?

The crunch of the dry leaves underneath your gettas, and the lights of the red district disappearing behind you announces the beginning of a more calmed and rural zone of Wano. The silver moonlight filters in between tall trees; it creates beautiful patterns of shadows and brilliance on the ground.

You don’t dare to ask where you are going. He isn’t telling you either. But after a good 20 minutes walk -and passing right next to the same tree at least three times- the silhouette of an old cabin appears in front of you.

He pulls you to the entrance, opening a creaking door that leads you inside of a very humble home.

“Sit there, the shitty cook left some soba” he says. And you understand he was taking you there just to feed you… after all, he wasn’t that demonic.

You try to tell him no… but your stomach growls so loud that you can’t even say anything and so you obey. There isn’t much around, but it is enough. It is better than your home, after all.

The ronin puts a plate of soup and noodles in front of you. The little table also creaks, but it looks just fine. “Here. Eat” he says, pointing at the bowl with the biggest hand you’ve ever seen on a man.

You look up at him, there aren’t words to express how grateful you are for his kindness. You tried to steal from him, while he is helping you.

“Go on. It will get cold. That stupid cook will be pissed at me if a woman like you doesn’t eat his food properly” he says, turning around. He walks towards a little shelf, where a few bottles of sake rest.

You nod, joining your palms to thank for the meal and start digging it. You don’t want to look desperate… but when was the last time you ate something hot, and so delicious? You aren’t sure if that’s ever happened in your life.

Zorojuro pulls the cork out of the bottle with his teeth, showing you the way his neck muscles work when doing so. His sharp mandible, as delicious as the plate you are eating. He takes the bottle to his lips and begin to chug its contents. Why is this man so stupidly attractive?

It isn’t helping the fact that he lets his upper yukata part fall down. His wide back, scarless and huge show its caramel skin to you.

You get lost on the lustful image of a demon god getting once again drunk before your eyes. But as soon as he turns around and cleans the drops of alcohol on the commissure of his lips he laughs at you.

“You remind me of my best friend Luffy!” he scoffs, coming closer to your dumbfounded you that has now lost herself on the crossing scar of his neck.

He kneels in front of you, cleaning with his calloused thumb the little noodle on the commissure of your lips. “This should go inside… nothing should be wasted” he murmurs, taking the noodle and eating it.

You sigh. There is so much pressure inside you, that you really need air.

However, Zorojuro seems absolutely unaware of the effect he has on you and so, he stands up and flops into his futon. Like the King of Hell, he sits with his legs spread, his right arm resting on his knee and the left one taking the bottle to his lips. He isn’t delicate, he drinks that alcoholic elixir with no manners, brutally, like a beast.

Kneeling on the floor with your plate already empty, you look at him in silence. Is he waiting for you to go away? Does he want something in return? He is a man, right? He surely wants you to… repay with… sex.

You, however, have no inconveniences into complying if that’s your part of the deal and so after gaining the courage you stand up. He doesn’t seem to bother as he keeps chugging sake like a sponge, and yet looking so primally attractive.

“Zoro-juro…” you say, standing right in front of him. You try by all means not to show him how your voice gets trembly. You aren’t scared, you are horny. You are desperate, as if there was an invisible force of perversion pulling you towards that man… a sinful impulse Enma itself would applaud.

“Hah? You want sake? Aren’t you a little bit demanding, woman?” he asks; of course, he is not giving you his precious liquid. But you don’t want that…

You untie your upper part, letting it fall to the ground, exposing your breasts to him. “Zoro-juro, touch me… make me shiver” you purr, hoping that your body is to his liking.

He chokes with the wine, opening his healthy eye widely. “What- woman, what the fuck? You-“

“I have no money to repay you for your attention; hope this is enough” you tell him, kneeling right in front of him as if he was some kind of God you are submitting to.

The green haired man leaves the bottle on the ground and sits properly. “I don’t want anything in return. You were hungry, and so I fed you” he says, yet, his voice feels a little trembly now. Is it, perhaps, that this samurai is getting interested in your body?

“Use my body, sir” you moan. “You really want me to? aren’t you a little bit straightforward?” he asks, amazed.

Lifting your gaze to him, giving him a look of pure lust and desire, you answer his question. And you let that man speechless.

A smirk, so deliciously sexy, appears on his lips. The intense aura around him makes you short of breath, knowing exactly how difficult it will be for you to walk tomorrow morning.

“Very well, then. Come here… crawling” he grunts, taking his arms behind his neck and flopping back to his futon against the wooden wall. “Enjoy desert”

You reach for his body, crawling on all fours. Playful hands, avid for discovering more of his anatomy, untie the sash that holds his yukata closed. It’s exceptionally delicious, not only the perfect sculpted muscles of his lower stomach, but also the natural scent of his skin. He might not have bathed today, but somehow it makes you so attracted to his flesh.

Bending forward, you plant the first kiss over his right hipbone. It makes him grunt. You plant another one, this time closer to his belly button. Another grunt in response, so sensitive his muscles spasm.

And he might meditate and take things slow, but not this… Zoro passes his huge hand through your hair, pulling from it to make you look up at him.

“Show me what those lips can do, woman. Com’ere” he says, helping you crawl on his lap. You sit there, feeling his hardness already hitting against your core. You can tell he is not average… of course he isn’t.

His lips approach yours so slowly, killing you softly with the wait. You smell the sake, and soon you taste it too when his tongue encounters yours. Zorojuro goes slow at first, so deliciously and sinful, with his huge hands pressing you by your hips against him.

You moan into his mouth, allowing him to breathe your desperate sinful melody. He smirks with his lips still pressed into yours, and with his hand he reaches for the bottle next to him.

“Stick your tongue out” he commands, and you do. The bittersweet liquid pouring into your mouth overflows and drips from the sides of your mouth. And he doesn’t let a single drop go to waste, as he licks the alcohol right from your skin.

He hums; he is pleased to discover sake could taste even better from your skin that the bottle. And he does, he empties the rest of the bottle all over your body. It wets your pants, and it’s ok… they were pretty much wet already. It pools in your belly button. It bathes your nipples. And there is nothing that Zoro is more addicted to than sake itself.

Like a beast; like a demon, he starts licking up and down. Sucking, devouring. He bites and pulls from your nipples as if he were to obtain more alcohol coming from them. You can only whine, letting this man taste every single corner of your flesh.

“Ugh… woman. You are delicious” he growls, turning around, putting you against the mattress beneath you two. He pins your hands up your head against the futon. Just one of his huge hands is enough to grab both your wrists.

Zoro gives you those deathly smirks; those deadly smiles of his. Get. Ready. To. Die… by the hands of the King of Hell.

Your pants get pretty much ripped. No need to take them out. Sex exposed, so juicy and tempting. Like the soba plate you devoured, is your cunt the one to get eaten.

That strong ronin lifts your legs up, letting them fall over his shoulders. He kneels, so that your body gets lifted up just enough for him to be comfortable, as he gets ready to taste your honeys. And he attacks almost immediately, with a wandering tongue that gets in between your labia reaching for your clit. He also presses down your belly; you aren’t sure how expert he is, but you are sure that if he keeps going that way you are going to come almost instantly.

The sounds of his tongue traveling up and down your core makes you shiver, the way he touches and desperately wants to drink more of you, too. Zoro licks up and down, around, and inside. From your rear entrance to your clit, and vice versa too.

Moaning, shivering, contorting, arching your back, loosing humanity you mewl like a mere animal enslaved of pleasure. Climax, spasms and his scoffing. Zoro is enjoying your reactions so delighted. But he is not over, you aren’t either.

The samurai lets you rest for a couple of seconds on the futon. In between your blurry vision, you can see how he totally undresses himself. The fabrics covering his pelvis finally fall to the ground, as he walks up to his holly shelf of alcohol provisions.

You watch him take a drink of a new bottle, leaving it aside for after as he comes to you again. “That damn cook, look what you made me do… you and your delicious food” he murmurs, almost laughing.

You wonder who that cook is, but, if he is the one that cooked that soba you are more than grateful for it. However, you are even more grateful for Zoro’s parents, how much they loved each other to create such a beautiful being.

You bite your lips, as you watch him approach you he throws his shoulders back. He is definitely getting ready to fuck you, and you want it so badly.

“I think I wanna fuck you from the side, woman” he says, grabbing you from your ankle to turn you to your side in a swift, violent motion.

You giggle as he does so, still a little dizzy from your past orgasm. And he does too, yet, his dark tone only announces you that you are about to stop laughing…

Zoro flops right behind you, also lying on his side and lifting your leg up. He comes closer, hitting his chest with your back, passing his hand underneath your neck and grabbing it after.

“You want me to fuck you, hm?” he whispers in your ear, passing his free palm from your hips to your waist and from there down your belly. It makes you shiver, his presence, his touch, his voice, how big and hard he is.

The green haired samurai bites your shoulder, making you squeak in pain. And in pleasure too. His hardness searches for your entrance by itself, but he doesn’t penetrate you quite yet. He enjoys the way your juices mix with his, how you wet his tip getting it so perfectly lubricated to finally abuse your entrance.

“Zo- zoro… please” you beg, you wanna feel him deep inside you. He squeezes your neck as you plead, cutting your airflow for some minutes.

“You want my dick inside you? Is that what you want?” he asks, barely letting his tip slide a few cm inside your entrance.

“Pl- please…yes, yes” you whine, resting your nape against his chest. Inhaling the scent of his skin, the manly perfume of testosterone. Getting so drunk with it, with passion, lust and low instincts. “My king, my king of hell… fuck me, please”

Zoro grunts, and with a violent thrust he finally deeply penetrates you. You whine, loud. You moan, even louder. It feels as if your insides were breaking in half, the way he fucks you so raw and rough.

You become a dumb piece of flesh and pleasure, drooling against the white fluffy surface of the bed, as he goes in and out so violently. His hips are the best punish for stealing you could have ever received.

He keeps going, almost as if his stamina was endless. Zoro moves you, from the side up his hips. You end up in reverse but is not you who should move; you couldn’t either. His hips buck up, your back pressed against his chest, your arms hanging from the sides, your legs too. The samurai fucks you as if you were weightless, as if your body had become inert to him.

You rest the back of your head on his big chest, taking a look to the back and side in total misery, climaxing for the third time perhaps. You can see how much of a demonic expression he has, showing he indeed has earned such rename because of a tangible cause… Zoro looks like the devil himself, an extremely hot demon.

“Take my cum, sweet woman” he growls, with little to no warning filling your womb with his warm seed. Your eyes go blank as you can totally feel the pressure inside, bathing your clenching milking walls… a blessing from the owner of Jigoku himself… a reminder of your past actions, convincing yourself that stealing Sandai Kitetsu had been one of the best decisions you have ever made…

They say that stealing is a sin, and when you sin you are sent to suffer. And you are glad you did, because you have just met, the King of Hell…

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