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wh0reforcoriolanussnow · 4 months

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Billy and his songbird || Billy the kid x singer!reader

Summary: Billy is captivated to say the least when he watches you perform on stage.

Warnings: none that I can think of

Wc: 983

A/n: crap summary but I've always wanted to do a crossover between tbosas and btk lol. this was so fun to make, ALSO nothing you can take from me has to be one of the top three songs on the soundtrack along with pure as the driven snow and the ballad of lucy gray baird. I SAID WHAT I SAID.

Divider by @pommecita

The sun hung low on the western horizon, casting long shadows across the dusty streets of the small frontier town. The swinging doors of the saloon creaked as a lone figure stepped inside, his silhouette framed by the fading light.

The murmurs and laughter of the patrons hushed for a moment as they turned their attention to the newcomer. The dimly lit room flickered with the warm glow of oil lamps, and the air was thick with the scent of whiskey and cigar smoke.

The stranger, a tall and lean figure wearing a wide-brimmed hat pulled low over his eyes, scanned the room before his gaze settled on you. A slow grin crept across his face as recognition sparked in his eyes.

You were unaware of Billy’s gaze with your back turned to the crowd as you tuned your guitar ready for your performance for the night.

Billy looked around, his eyes scanning the room until they locked onto a familiar face: Jesse Evans. The two had esse crossed paths many times before, sometimes as allies and sometimes as adversaries, but tonight, it seemed like old times.

“Billy!” Jesse called out, a wide grin spreading across his face. “Well, I’ll be damned. Thought you were avoiding us. Billy smirked and tipped his hat as he approached Jesse and the others at a table near the corner that had a good view of the stage. “Just needed a bit of a break, Jesse. Couldn’t resist the allure of Sante Fe and the atmosphere ‘round here.”

Jesse slaps Billy’s back, “Well, you came on a good day, kid. Y/n’s singing tonight.“ He cocks his head to you on the stage as Billy’s eyes roam your figure. “Jesse leaned in toward Billy. “You know, we used to get mighty excited whenever we heard she was performing. She’s got a voice that can make even the toughest outlaw shed a tear.”

Billy raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. “Is that right? Well, I reckon I’ll have to hear it for myself.”

Jesse smirks at his friend as Billy catches on to his smirk with a roll of his eyes. “How’s everyone’s night goin’?” You speak in the mic as the saloon erupts in loudness, a few cheers, whistles and the sound of hands hitting tables, showcasing their feelings.

You chuckle, “Good, good, that’s what I like to hear,” a mischievous glint flashed across Billy’s eyes as he hears Jesse chuckles beside him, a playful nudge to his stomach.

“Oh! Is that bottle there for me?” Your eyes widen the slightest as you see one of the locals walk over to you with a flask in hand. “Of course, doll,” Cal grins up at you as the crowd loudens. “Oh, come on, ya’ll. You know I gave up drinking when I was 12,” You playfully wink.

The crowd erupted in laughter and amusement at your customary banter. Billy found himself captivated by your charm. “It’s to clear my piles, ya’ll. To clear my pipes” You assure them jokingly, throwing the flask back to the crowd with a grin.

You turn your head to give a sign to your band to start the song you prepared. The crowd hushed, waiting for the music to start, “You can’t take my past,” your bandmates start off, “you can’t take my history,” the crowd was silent in awe as they listen to the melodic voices that filled the space.

“You could take my pa,” “but his name’s a mystery.” You take a step forward to the mic, “Nothin’ you can take from me was ever worth keeping” your eyes flutter shut as you hear a few whoops from the crowd.

“Oh, nothing you can take,” your eyes open and Billy swore he saw them sparkle, “was ever worth keeping,” the corner of your mouth tips up to form a small smirk as the upbeat song comes to life causing an eruption of cheers from the patrons.

You wore a huge smile on your face as your fingers skilfully strum your guitar. “C’mon!” You encourage the already hyped up crowd full of cowboys and cowgirls; your boot tapping on the wooden stage as they clap along, already boosting your adrenaline.

“Can’t take my charm. Can’t take my humour. Can’t take my wealth, cause it’s just a rumour.” The way you effortlessly and gracefully twirled around the stage, your voice and stage presence mesmerising and commanding everyone’s attention—Billy was truly and utterly enchanted—you, the enchanter.

“Nothing you can take was ever worth keeping. No, nothing you can take was ever worth keeping,” Billy couldn’t help but feel his head lightly bopping to the beat, his eyes looking around to see everyone else just as captivated by your presence.

You were having the time of your life, like always whenever you sang, your heart pumping with adrenaline, “Thinkin’ your so fine. Thinkin’ you could have mine.”

Billy couldn’t help but be enchanted by your performance. He leaned against the wall, a half-smile playing on his lips as he watched you sing. Jesse and his gang, too, were caught up in the infectious energy of the moment. It seemed like everyone in the saloon, regardless of their affiliations, was having a great time.

“Thinkin’ you’re in control. Thinkin’ you’ll change me, maybe rearrange me, think again if that’s your goal.” Your eyes roam around the practically full saloon before you lock eyes with none other than Billy the Kid in the corner.

You saw him a few hours prior from a distance, but that was it. Now, his blue irises were staring straight at you, his lips lightly upturned as his finger taps along to the beat of the music, your fingers still dancing over your guitar strings, not missing a beat.

You both stared at each for what seemed liked hours but was merely a few seconds; and, for those few seconds, something unspoken passed between you.

A playful smile made it to your lips before you tore your eyes away from Billy’s. “Can’t take my sass. Can’t take my talkin’,” Billy’s watches your figure as you move across the stage, leaning forward to the crowd, “you can kiss my ass, then keep on walkin’,”

An amused expression flashed over Billy’s face, “She’s good isn’t she, Billy?” Jesse shouts over the loud music as Billy chuckles, nodding his head. “She’s somethin’ alright. A songbird.” Jesse snorts at him, “a songbird, huh?” he echoes as Billy’s eyes fall back onto the stage that you controlled.

“Nothin’ you can take from me is worth dirt.” Your eyes lock with one another, “take it ‘cause I’d give it free, it won’t hurt.” Your eyebrow lightly cocks at his direction as Billy’s lips parted. It seemed as if it was only the two of you in the saloon, everyone fading in the background.

The crowd falls into a hush, sensing the end of the song, “Nothin’ you can take was ever worth keepin’. No, nothin’ you can take was ever worth keepin’.” The upbeat tempo once again affiliated the saloon as the pleasantly surprised patrons clapped, danced, and tapped along to the catchy beat of the song.

When the song reached its crescendo, you finished with a flourish, your fingers dancing over the guitar strings. Everyone in the saloon cheered and whistled, and you couldn’t help but bow, acknowledging the appreciation.

“Ya’ll have a good night, thank you!” You exclaim into the mic before turning around and packing up your equipment. “We’re havin’ a drink, join us?” Annie, your bandmate comes up to you, placing her hand on your shoulder.

You smile up at her, “Thanks, Annie. I’ll come join you guys later.” As you stand back up, you lock eyes with Jesse Evans. You were well acquainted with the man, the two of you hanging out whenever you were free. He was sat a table with Billy, his gang the next table over.

He beckoned you with a smile as you reciprocate it, signalling to him that you’d be there in a sec. “Hey, sweetheart,” Cal drawled, obviously drunk as he had a cigarette in between his lips.

“Hey there, Cal. Enjoying yourself?” You politely smile at him as her offers to hold your hand as you descend the stage stairs—although you were quite capable of walking down yourself.

“Wanna join me for a drink, eh?” “Uh-“ “-what do ya say?” Your eyes lock with Billy’s who was staring you down. “Thank you for the offer, Cal. But I’m gonna have to decline,” You quickly say as your feet quickly moved away, leaving him there.

“Popular, ain’t ya?” Jesse chuckles, moving the seat back beside him for you. “Mind sharin’ a drink with us?” He pats the seat as your eyes flicker between him and Billy. You returned the smile, taking a seat between Billy and Jesse “I’m a busy girl but I’ll make time for ya. Always a pleasure to share good company,” you playfully wink at Jesse as you hear Billy softly chuckle.

“Lovely to finally meet you, Mr. Bonney,” You extend your hand out gracefully as he looks down at it before looking back at you with a smile. “Please, the pleasure is all mine.”

The conversation flowed as freely as the whiskey, and soon, the saloon was filled with the sounds of camaraderie. You found yourself in the middle of it all, laughing at Jesse's stories, clinking glasses with the gang, and sharing glances with Billy that spoke volumes.

"It was Billy's first time here watching your perform y'know," Jesse pipes up, his glass of whisky close to his lips before he throws his head back as you look at Billy who was already looking at you. "What'd you think 'bout my performance Billy?"

Billy pretends to ponder, rubbing his jaw as you giggle. "What can I say, darlin'? You were great out there. I couldn't keep my eyes off of you," he admits as you grin at his bluntness.

As the evening drew to a close, Jesse stood and stretched. "Well, Billy, it's been a pleasure catchin' up with you. But we've got a long ride ahead of us tomorrow."

Billy nodded, his gaze lingering on you. "I reckon it's time for me to hit the trail as well. But before I go, there's somethin' I've been meanin' to ask." You looked at him, curiosity in your eyes. "Ask away."

Billy hesitated for a moment before speaking. "Would you mind if I walked you home? It's not every day a man gets to meet a singer as talented as you." You smiled, touched by the slightly expected request, you nodded with a gracious smile. "I'd be delighted, Billy."

As you and Billy stepped out into the cool night air, the distant sounds of the bustling saloon faded, leaving only the soft murmur of the wind and the occasional creak of a swinging sign. The moon cast a gentle glow on the empty streets as the two of you walked side by side.

"Quite a night, wouldn't you say?" Billy remarked, his tone a mix of charm and genuine admiration. You hummed. "Never thought I'd find myself walking home with an infamous outlaw." You smirked as Billy reciprocated it, "Life's full of surprises, darlin'," he tips his hat.

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gurugirl · 7 months

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The Halloween Call | cop!harry

can be read as standalone

Summary: Harry takes a call to check out the scene of crime at an old abandoned house, well known as the Slaughter House with a grim history.

A/N: You guys voted for a cop!harry update and so here you go! This one is a little different than the usual cop!harry one shots and is connected to an upcoming ghost!harry one shot to be posted later this month. This is a crossover of sorts where cop!harry responds to an emergency call at the haunted house that ghost!harry lives in. Hope you Enjoy!

Word Count: 3656

Warning: 18+ only, smut, mentions of death, murder, evil spirits, a seance, and Harry gets very spooked (nothing gruesome just mentions)

cop!harry masterlist

Something told Harry his day was going to be a strange one. Maybe it was because it was Halloween. He wasn’t sure where the feeling was coming from but he knew he needed to cuddle and love on Y/n before he left their house for work.

And of course that turned into Y/n grinding down over him with his cock deep inside of her with her palms flat on his pecs, tits in his face.

“Fuck, Harry!”

Harry’s tummy was already swirling with that thick, syrupy rippling that made his balls squeeze against his body. He held her hips and gritted his teeth, “Shit, baby. That feels so good…”

“Can I come? Oh god! Please?” Y/n’s face was screwed up as she inhaled a sharp breath, her orgasm about to spill out.

The bed rocked gently and every time Harry thrust up into her and their bodies pressed together, the squelching of wet sex sounded in their bedroom.

“Baby, come on my cock. Fuck, honey!” Harry closed his eyes. Only a couple more minutes and he could come. If he continued to stare up at his gorgeous girl grinding on his cock with her tits swaying and her lips all puffy and bitten he was sure he couldn’t last while she was coming and squeezing around his cock. He cherished the way it felt when she was orgasming and gripping him tight right before he’d allow himself to finally come.

“Yes! Fuck… Harry! I’m coming…” She moaned through her gasps and rocked over him when her orgasm snapped and she gushed in her release.

“Good girl… feels so good doesn’t it?” Harry whimpered his words with a shaky breath.

Her moans and whines and the slip of her walls over his shaft put him over the edge. He could no longer hold himself back as he pumped his orgasm into her tummy. He lifted his hips and held her down on his prick tightly as he coughed out a loud groan.

He had come so hard he nearly fell back to sleep after his body calmed but when he heard her giggling he opened his eyes. She was lying flat on his chest and looking up at him with her finger twirling a section of hair at his temple.

“What a perfect way to start the day.” She hummed and grinned at him.

Harry smiled and pinched her bottom, “Agreed.”

During Halloween, Harry was used to getting lots of domestic calls. Sometimes they were about the occult or someone being scared someone was in their house. Pranks were usually the culprit, but typically it wound up just being wild imaginations and a little too much weed and horror movies.

But today’s call was different. First of all, it had come quite early in the day. It wasn’t even 10:00 a.m. Usually, Halloween calls came when the sun was down. He turned on his lights and siren and safely raced down the neighborhood streets toward the house, famously known as the Slaughter House. A supposed haunted house long abandoned by its last occupants 55 years ago. Normally Harry didn’t investigate things of this nature but he was closest to the scene and could get there to secure the premises.

The call was for the homicide of 11 people. The woman who called 911 admitted to having been in the house and was hosting a séance. He was told she might be a little crazy and that backup was on the way but an officer already on the scene was with the girl so she didn’t run off.

Pulling up to the front he visually inspected everything, the neighbor’s yards, the street, the front of the house. Officer Danzel was with a young woman who looked distraught.

Looking at Danzel he asked, “Is this the woman who called in about the homicides? Cooper?”

“Yes, I’ve been trying to calm her down. She’s saying they held a 55-year anniversary séance inside that house. In the basement. If there are any bodies they’ll be there.”

The young woman looked up at Harry, “You won’t find any bodies. Or anything. The house took them. I saw it. It started off with us making contact quickly and then…” She looked down and inhaled sharply.

Danzel patted her back, “That’s okay, Cooper. He’s just gonna go in and take a look.”

The girl shook her head and reached for Harry’s arm, “But… you need more- more men. Don’t go in there alone. He… he’s still in there.”

Harry looked toward the house and couldn’t see any activity from where he stood in the street but he had a job to do regardless of how scary and gruesome the scene might be, though he doubted there would be anything based on the warning he was given about the Cooper’s mental state, he still had to check it out. Plus, he had a gun and was a trained policeman so any murderer would be put at a disadvantage very quickly.

“Okay. Thank you for telling me this, but I do need to check the premises and make sure whoever is in there doesn’t escape.”

“NO!” She shrieked and Harry widened his eyes. This young woman had really seen something that had her shaken up. “No! Officer, listen. This thing isn’t of this world. It’s not human. It’s… evil and it’s attached to the house. It was a séance! We were trying to speak to the innocent…” She backed away and put her hands in her hair and lowered her voice, “No one will ever believe me. Just please,” she looked back up at Harry, “Please don’t go in alone. I can…” she sniffed and looked at Danzel, “I’m not going anywhere. I can stay put here and you go in with him. Don’t let him go in alone.”

Now Harry was not a superstitious man. He didn’t believe in ghosts or anything supernatural like that at all. But the girl was scared out of her wits. She seemed genuinely concerned for him. And somehow he was feeling uneasy about the whole thing as well. He felt his adrenaline spike and a little scratchy something in his spine that had his hackles raised.

“There’s no need to worry. I’ll be in and out. Backup should be here to join me inside soon.”

The girl shook her head, “Officer. I know you don’t believe in evil or spirits but that house is full of them. And the one that’s conducting everything won’t be deterred by a gun. Sir, please-“

“That’s okay, Cooper.” He looked her over and then back to Danzel who had a telling look on his face. The man didn’t believe a word the girl had spoken.

She nodded and turned to look back at the house before Harry continued, “You’re right. I don’t believe in that but I believe that you think something very scary happened and I will be going in safely and soon I’ll have more help to join me.”

There was nothing she could say to deter Officer Styles and she knew it. But she tried and she figured that was going to have to be good enough. Hopefully, the other cops would be arriving soon.

The front of the house was all boarded up. The grass was overgrown, vines wound up the porch's banister. He walked to the side of the house and noticed a small piece of paper taped to the siding: The Séance Experience this way with an arrow pointing in the direction he was headed.

From what he could tell, every window and crack had been boarded up. The house was huge. Harry could only imagine what a property like this could fetch if someone fixed it up.

When he got to the back there was a small table with burnt-out candles and a box turned on its side that appeared to have been a spot to take money, though the box was empty.

Harry scanned the backyard and the fence that contained it. Not much different than the front. A huge oak in the middle with long grass all around, overgrown bushes, and patches where weeds were growing tall along the fence.

Turning back to the door, where boards had been carefully pried off he had a feeling that something bad was about to happen. He wasn’t a man who usually tapped into his gut feelings but something about it all wasn’t sitting right and that strange little scratch at the base of his spine began to rise and gave him goosebumps as he pushed the door open to enter.

He noted the door wasn’t closed. Which made sense based on the story Cooper had told him. She was obviously in a big hurry to get out of there.

Inside the house it was dark. The windows being boarded up didn’t let in much light and electricity was obviously shut off. Everything was dusty and quiet. As he walked deeper into the house, gun out in front, his finger in the safety position, he stepped quietly and observantly into the hallway off the kitchen looking both ways before continuing toward what appeared to be the front of the house.

The hair on the back of his neck rose when he felt a deep chill over his frame and his heart thundered wildly. He couldn’t hear anyone, nor could he see anything amiss.

The living room was empty, aside from old furniture covered with sheets. He turned back into the hallway and checked each room, all of which were empty and quiet. He knew the house had a basement and that’s where the séance was held so the basement would be his last stop.

Slowly he made his way up the old wooden stairs. The house must have been quite grand back in the day. Harry noted that it was in need of repair and love but the craftsmanship was stunning.

The first room he got to was a bedroom. Nothing. No one. The second bedroom was larger. The master suite possibly. He stepped into the room and paused when he saw something move but then breathed out in relief when he realized it was only his reflection in an old mirror atop a dresser.

The next room was a bathroom, then a hall closet, and then another room (so far Harry had counted five bedrooms). Like the other bedrooms, he opened the closet to check inside. Shining his flashlight in he saw a long brown wool coat hanging at the back. He reached for the coat to move it away so he could look at the back of the closet when suddenly the bedroom door slammed closed. He turned quickly, gun aimed at the door, and saw no one.

Harry was feeling his nerves prickle in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. So far he’d seen nothing but this house gave him the serious creeps. And where was his backup? What was taking them so long?

Harry slowly made his way back to the door that had just been slammed and opened it to look into the hallway. Nothing. No one.

He sighed to catch his breath. Maybe it was a heavy draft that caused the door to slam. But that itchy scratchy feeling up his spine began to spread and he felt the tremble in his hands. He couldn’t stop it.

Looking back into the bedroom at the opened closet door he made the decision to leave it and head back downstairs to go into the basement. He really hoped his backup would have arrived by then so he didn’t have to go down into a dark basement where there was supposedly some kind of dark entity waiting for him. Not that he believed in any of that.

At the top of the stairs, Harry pulled out his radio to check it. He clicked the call button but the device didn’t even fuzz back at him. It was silent. It was dead.

“Just fucking great,” he mumbled as he hooked the radio back into his belt and descended the steps.

Going back into the kitchen and into the short hallway that led to a laundry room he stood before the closed basement door and inhaled a deep breath.

Placing his hand on the knob he hesitated. Cooper had nearly begged him not to go in alone. What if he never came out? What if there was something otherworldly down there? Something evil? Would Y/n think he’d abandoned her?

He shook his head and laughed at himself, “Don’t be a pussy.”

Twisting the knob and pulling the door open, he peered in and there was nothing but blackness staring back at him.

Clicking his flashlight back on and stepping in onto the landing he pointed his light down the stairs and around the area he could see as he began to slowly step down into the dark space.

As soon as his shoes hit the cement flooring at the bottom he heard something that sounded like scraping but could have been a mouse or small rodent. He adjusted his flashlight and turned it toward where he thought the sound was coming from but saw nothing.

And just like the rest of the house. There didn’t seem to be anyone around. Not only that, there was absolutely nothing alarming in the basement at all. It didn’t appear to have been a place where there were 11 people supposedly murdered. There was no table or chairs or candles. Harry imagined at least something that pointed to some people having been in there. But there was nothing.

The chill he felt when he first entered the house descended on him again. Only this time he felt it start from the top of his skull down to his toes. He turned the flashlight upward to check the ceiling, perhaps a vent was pulling cool air in, but it was just flat cement. The vent and connected pipes were across the room.

Harry cleared his throat and strained his eyes to follow the light but it was then he realized his flashlight was dimming slowly.

The scraping noise started again, this time from behind him. As he quickly turned toward the noise, which had grown louder and sounded like a metal chair being dragged across the damp cement flooring, his flashlight died.

Harry put his hands out and felt for the stair banister. He needed to get out of there. He’d have to wait for backup before getting deeper into the basement. His flashlight going out was his last straw.

When he found the banister, thankful for his natural sense of direction he gripped the metal and took one step at a time so he didn’t fall. He was shaky and his adrenaline was making his ears begin to ring.

But he was suddenly aware that the door to the basement was closed. He hadn’t heard the door shut but being that it was pitch black right where there should be some light coming in through the door, he knew someone had closed it.

And now the odd feeling he’d gotten on his way into the house, the chill, and the anxiety, had turned into something a lot like terror. He hastened his steps up the creaky wooden stairs and reached for his radio, pressing the call button over and over again to no avail. When he reached the landing and tried twisting the knob to open the door, it was jammed.

“Fuck!” He whispered to himself and continued yanking at the handle as he pressed the radio’s button to reach out to anyone.

“Fucking piece of shit!” He shoved the radio back into its loop and began to pound on the door, “Hey! An officer is locked in here! Hey!!”

Harry couldn’t think of a time he’d been so spooked in his life. He felt his life was in danger as he continued banging on the door and loudly calling to anyone who might have entered the house.

A whisper from his left had him swinging toward the noise. It sounded as if it had been whispered directly into his ear. He was in a full-on panic as he beat on the wooden door.

“Get out!” A guttural feminine scream came from behind him with a whoosh of air blowing around his body and toward the door. With a violent crack, the door blew open and Harry had never run so fast in his life as he darted into the kitchen and found the back door. The moment he stepped out into the backyard he saw Officer Davis and Lyle.

“Styles! You okay man?” Officer Lyle grasped him by his shoulders.

Harry was heaving breaths and, in that moment, felt as if he’d miraculously escaped death. Though he saw nothing, and most of what had happened would easily be brushed off by anyone he told, he was visibly frightened.

“Fuck. I don’t know. Something weird… I didn’t see anything. Just…” he caught his breath and shook his head, rethinking what he was going to say so they didn’t think he was insane, “House is clear but the basement might need a thorough search. My flashlight died down there so I couldn’t finish. I’m gonna go check on the girl.”

He was still shaking as he walked toward his squad car. The girl was sitting in the back of Danzel’s car with the door open and her feet out on the curb as he approached. Danzel was leaning his bottom into the hood of his car on his cell phone. He felt his heart rate pulsing heavily. Everything that had just happened was intense. Something he’d never forget.

He walked toward the pair at Danzel’s car and leaned down to look at Cooper.

“You’re white as a ghost,” the young lady spoke as she took in his face.

“The house is definitely creepy. But I didn’t see anything in any of the rooms.” He wanted to tell her more but he still hadn’t even wrapped his own mind around what had just happened.

“But surely you couldn’t have checked the whole house and all those rooms? You’ve only been gone for like,” she looked toward the clock on Danzel’s dash and pointed at it, “three minutes.”

Harry stood up and looked back at the house. Three minutes? How was that possible? He had been in there for at least 15 minutes checking and clearing each room.

“Something happened to you in there, didn’t it? To everyone outside of that house, you were only in there for three minutes. But to you, it must have felt like much longer.”

Harry nodded pensively but decided to not respond to her comment, “Just wait her a sec.”

He walked to the front of the car to follow up with Danzel before getting the fuck out of there. Danzel ended his call quickly, “See anything?”

Harry shook his head, “Nothing. But the house is definitely… it’s creepy.”

Danzel nodded and hummed, “You think she made it up?”

“I…” Harry took a deep breath and shook his head. “No. I don’t think she’s lying. I know this might sound crazy but some really weird shit happened to me in there just now. Things I don’t think I can really explain or wrap my mind around at this moment. But she’s really shaken up and I believe her. Plus we have 11 other names we can follow up on if they wind up missing.”

“But there are no bodies in the house? No blood or any weapons?”

Harry sighed and shook his head, “No. Nothing like that. I think this is something that you and I won’t be able to understand. Like…” he scratched the back of his neck, “… evil or some shit. Not that I believe in any of that, but… I don’t know.”

He noted that Danzel had given him a look of pause before pushing himself from the hood of his car, “Okay. Well, we’ll get her official statement. Once Davis and Lyle get out of there we’ll have someone back out and secure the door, make sure no one can enter easily.”

Harry nodded and waved at Danzel as he walked away before turning back once more to look at the girl. She wasn’t lying. There was nothing to back up what she had said but he knew something had happened.

Harry sat in his car for a moment taking deep breaths to calm himself. He needed a moment to breathe and collect himself. He closed his eyes and thought of Y/n. She always calmed him and made him feel safe and warm.

He picked up his cellphone and dialed her number. She picked up on the first ring.

“Baby? How are you?” He asked, already feeling better hearing her little hello when she answered the phone.

“Doing good. Just… Are you okay, Harry?” She always knew when he was upset somehow. He couldn’t explain it. Maybe it was in his voice? He didn’t know how she was so good at picking up his subtle changes but she was.

He opened his eyes and looked back at the house as he started up his car, “I’m okay. Just… Missed you. Wanted to hear your voice.”

He could hear her shuffling around, “Did something happen, baby? I’m worried–“

“I’m okay, Y/n. Just had a weird day. I’ll tell you all about it when I get home.”

Harry drove away from the house and felt his body settle and his mind quiet the further he got. He didn’t know if he’d ever tell anyone what happened in that house except for Y/n. She was the only one he felt safe to tell. She might not understand but he couldn’t say he even understood it himself. All he knew was that whatever was in that house was evil and there was nothing the whole police force could do to stop it.

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lovewithmary · 7 months

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THE ENGINEER | MCU X FORMULA ONE CROSSOVER

summary: where daniel riccicardo is star(k)struck

fc: gabbi garcia

author's note: kind of a filler tbh, I just wanted to practice writing for F1 since this is my first time and it's also the first time I'm creating an SMAU for tumblr.

warnings: iron man 2 spoiler, mentions of violence (I don't describe it, I just lightly cover it)

twitter

real life

"You have to make sure Mick doesn't get on his phone before I surprise him," Viviana said as she navigated through the thick crowd of people, ignoring the stares that were aimed at her.

Ever since the F1 WAGS (whatever that meant) Twitter account leaked that she just arrived in Monaco, she could practically feel people discreetly follow her even if it was to no avail considering her appointed bodyguards (courtesy of the one and only Happy Hogan) were only a couple steps behind her and stopped whoever came closer than what was comfortable.

"How exactly am I going to do that when all of you are practically stuck to your phones all the time?" an irritated voice replied.

"Be careful Toto, your age is showing," the Stark cooed, and she could practically see the man roll his eyes even if she couldn't see him.

"Also, didn't you say that you were going to send someone for me? I don't see anyone who looks like they'd know what they're doing be here," Viviana told Toto.

"Viviana!" She heard a voice in front of her and practically sighed in relief when she saw him.

"Lewis!" She greeted gleefully, hugging the man when she got close enough.

Lewis hugged back, and joked, "Never thought I'd see you outside of Fashion Shows,"

Viviana first met Lewis during the Monaco Grand Prix back when she was only 11 and he was 25. She didn't meet him for long though, as their meeting was cut short when Vanko infiltrated the race and attacked her father. She was quickly escorted away when it happened, in fear that Vanko would attack her next.

It was the first and last time a Stark would drive in a Grand Prix (or will it?)

(possible foreshadowing?)

However, Viviana would see Lewis in other places like the countless Fashion Shows he was a part of and she was attending. He'd always ask if she was ever going to visit the paddock, but he'd always get rejected and he understood considering it brought up bad memories for the girl.

"Trust me, if it wasn't for Mick, I would be out doing something else that isn't bumping elbows with random people," Viviana shuddered, as Lewis looked at the clearly out-of-place girl in amusement.

As they began walking, Lewis and Viviana started catching up, talking about various things. "I didn't know you and Mick were friends, much less best friends," he told her, making her shrug.

"We haven't seen each other in a long time, because I was busy with the company and he's busy with F1, we never had time to hang out in public. We'd only ever hang out at the Tower off-season," she told him.

"I mean, since you're here now, you're probably going to come here more now," he told her.

"Lewis!"

Both Viviana and Lewis turned to see Daniel Ricciardo, who managed to catch up with them. He gave a wide smile to Lewis, but when he realized who the girl next to him was, his eyes turned wide for a second before stuttering. "Uh—hi. Daniel Ricciardo," he said, holding out a hand for her to hold.

Viviana looked at him in amusement at his starstruck expression before shaking his hand and said, "Viviana Stark,"

"Oh, I know," Daniel blurted out, his face turning red at his obvious mistake.

Deciding to save his friend from further embarrassment, Lewis said, "Daniel, I was just escorting Viviana to surprise Mick at Mercedes, do you want to—"

"Yeah! I mean, sure. It'll be nice to see George and... George," Daniel said.

As Viviana turned to start walking again, Daniel turned to Lewis and said "George and George?! I couldn't even come up with another name?"

"You were practically drooling at the mouth, mate," Lewis chuckled.

"It's Viviana Stark! She's an absolute legend and not to mention she's really beautiful!"

"If this is how you react with her, I'm only imagining how the other drivers are going to react,"

#f1 instagram au #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 smau #f1 social media au #f1 imagine #f1 x oc #f1 oc #f1 ig au

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pedge-page · 2 months

Note

omg imagine PK x Plushies i love you so much girl you are amazing

Plushies x Piss Kink Crossover - Joel Miller x F!Reader

Notes: The crossover that was bound to happen and its HEREREEEEEEEE. This is more Plushies!verse setting and they discover a lil piss kink.

Warnings: PissKink, Plushies humping, yes we are peeing on the plush, premature ejaculation, assisted male masturbation, crying, jealous!Joel, and a HINT (just a bit) of sub!Joel at the end

18+ ONLY

- - - -

“What’s this one? Benny the Buffalo?” Joel asks, staring down at the brown fuzzy stuffed animal in his hands.

“No, dummy, that’s Biscuit, the Bison,” you retort, not even looking at him as you continue reading.

The two of you are lying down on your new “shared” bed, and Joel has decided its time he get to know his roommates on first name basis.

“Course. And this?” He snatches the white rabbit next. “BunBun?”

“Carrot.”

“Appropriate. How about Ghosty over here?”

“Casper.”

“How original. Aaaannnddd....?” He shoves the next one in your face to get your attention: a fat baby chick with an enormous orange bill.

“Mr Quakers,” you answer matter-of-factly.

“I bet he’s loads of fun on that little nub of yours,” he snickers. He tosses the poor chick like a free-throw basketball across the room.

He grabs the next one, buried waaaay in the back of your bed under all the rest. “Alright, Let me guess… Hammy the Hamster.”

“No that’s—“ you take one look at the one currently in his palms: a medium sized hamster with bitty hands and a large head as big as his squat body. Quickly hiding your shocked expressions, you go back to your book and say very casually, “Um…that’s… Frank.”

“Frank?”

“Mhm.”

“Just Frank.”

“Yup.”

“Frank the Hamster. How does that make sense?”

“Well I didn’t name him.”

“And who did?"

You swallow, wondering why Joel’s got so many goddamn questions about the naming conventions of your stuffed animals. “Um … Frank did…”

“Stuck up fella, naming the thing after him. Who was this “Frank” then. Your uncle? Was he as perverted as me?”

“No. Frank’s… my ex.”

Your face feels hot, avoiding his gaze and trying to look anywhere but at him.

Joel stares at you with an unreadable expression, then back to the fisted squishy hamster plush. He contemplates for what feels like an eternity. There’s an uneasy silence hanging in the air, and your heart is beating out of your chest, wondering what he may be thinking about those word resonating in his ears.

He clenches his jaw, gritting his teeth into diamonds while looking at something so extremely soft and huggable. You hope maybe he’ll just dropkick it out the window at worst, but instead:

“Hands and knees on the floor. We’re fucking Frankie the Hamster tonight.”

There was no “we”. What he really meant was YOU are fucking Frank the Hamster tonight, and he is pinning you down and forcing you to grind on it harder.

“Joel—that—feels… uncomfortable.”

He’s not rubbing his cock along your ass, or nudging your clit or kissing you. Instead, he’s caged you between the thick mass of his sold body and the hamster on the floor, your legs spread out with his knees along the inside of your calves to keep them open.

He keeps rubbing along your pelvis, palm digging into the squishy part right below your belly, pressing hard against your bladder.

“Joel,” you warn again. Your legs quiver with the rapid build, too afraid to push him off entirely. He’s steaming, that’s for sure, but why torture you above the little helpless guy?

“S’matter? You don’t like rubbing your slutty pussy over your ex’s face?”

“It’s just a stuffed animal—ow!” You cry as Joel pinches your nipple through your shirt.

“You grind on Frankie’s face before?”

“N-no. Never,” you swear.

“Mmm. Not sure I believe you, sweet pea. Kept him all these years, didn’t ya?”

You shake your head, too afraid to face him. You really hadn’t been grinding on the hamster ever. In fact, you nearly forgetting of his existence until Joel fished him up while asking everyone’s name.

He forces your back to arch even more drastically, putting more pressure between your naked cunt and the soft squish bellow you. You furrow your brows, fear creeping between your spread legs, unable to clench against something to brush off the mounting pressure in you.

“Joel please—I really need to go...” you didn't want to finish the sentences. He wasn't pleasuring with his hands you in the right places so much as building pressure in the wrong one.

“Go where? I’m all you need. Right. Here.” His fingers dig possessively into your side while his other hand pushes into your lower belly.

You shake your head again. Heart racing now that you no longer care about your pleasure and are more concerned with the mess of forbidden bodily fluids you’re about to rain all over your poor Frankie—

It hits you with burning desire mixed with an irksome bile. You gasp out angrily.

This. Mother. Fucking. Asshole.

Joel smirks into your neck behind you, as if reading your mind figuring out his evil little plan.

“S’wrong, angel? Would you rather be doing this with any of MY plushies I’ve spoiled you with?”

“I—you—“ you grit your teeth, eyes closing as a wave of panic washes deep through your core. You’re desperate not to make a mess, a fool of yourself to tame his sadistic need to own every inch of control over you.

He hears the little staggered pants from your lips. “Do it,” he commands softly but with finality, laced with a sadistic “win” for him.

A tear slips down your cheek as you moan sadly, your stomach giving up and unclenching as the walls of your bladder breaks, and hot urine spills into the stuffed animal’s face currently wedged so tightly against your entrance.

“Shhhhhh,” he coos, finally grinding himself against your ass. He can hear the feint rushing liquid of your piss splatting into the cotton.

He presses you further into its plush softness, suffocating every inch of your crotch so that it absorbs all the nasty warm juice squeezing out of you like a lemon. Your legs quiver violently as you can’t help but release more and more, flowing out as if by his demand and feeling the poor plush get heavy with the rush filling its cotton innards up.

"Naughty girl, am I making you piss all over your ex's face? Little Frankie doesn't deserve that does he?" He taunts, fully well intending for this to exactly happen as he wanred.

There’s so much, and another tear slips passed you, but this one because it feels so—relieving. It’s gross and nasty, embarrassing and heartbreaking all at once, and it makes you hump against him and the dampened hamster even more.

Joel feel the quickened breaths coming out desperately from your nose as you grind down on the defiled thing all soaked up with your own piss. Your hips are frantic, smothering your cunt with the piss-logged plush desperately, as if you were trying to...

“Shit—are you…?”

You cry out in response, mouth agape with satisfied groans when you clit catches along the wet seams just right and you find yourself cumming on the sad wet thing drowned below you.

Joel clears his throat in surprise. His cock pulses on its own and floods the inside of his pants in white strings of his seed.

Did he think you would probably cry? Yes.

Did he want you to pee and destroy your ex’s little gift to you? Yes.

Did he expect you to fucking cum from it? Um.

Did he know HE would cum from it??? No. Definitely not.

His teeth grind against one another trying not to think about how perverted he is, pulling away from you so you can’t feel his sticky spent through his trousers and on to your back.

The squishy lump below you begins seeping the now cooled piss into the floor boards. You sigh deeply, not sure what to do now that your little punishment has turned into—something wilder.

You feel a gentle kiss along your cheek, his thumb caressing away your tears.

“That was hot,” He admits plainly.

You cover your face to hide your smile. It’s gross. It really is. Should be embarrassing. You don’t even want to think about the hamster on the floor, the memories you’ve just soddened with your own fucking piss.

He helps you off the floor. Your thighs still shake, the uncomfortable feeling hanging there in disgust now that you’re mentally sober again.

He guides you to the shower where you both wash up quietly.

“Um—listen I didn’t… I don’t know why you would keep your ex’s stuff but…I mean I’m reasonably… it doesn’t make me feel great, so ya can’t blame me, for getting jealous—“

You shut him up but tugging against his half hard cock.

“First of all,” you say, the sudden boldness in your voice blanking his mind into submission under your touch.

“That plush, was from my first boyfriend—in high school. We dated for 2 months,” you continued, your fingers gripping his base with a gentle squeeze, feeling him swell to full mass, “and then he realized he liked boys. That was it. We laughed about it and stayed good friends. He gave me the stuffed animal as a parting gift to college for helping him through it all.”

You stop rubbing his cock and Joel opens his eyes. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“So…Frank’s just… a friend…”

You kiss his collarbone. “Just a friend,” you repeat.

The water coats his back soothingly. An ache that had formed in his muscles, the strain of aggression tickling his brain from the minute he heard you had a stuffed animal named after your ex, still in your bed after years, had suddenly vanished.

“Why—why would you say hes your ex and not just your old friend? Why'd ya let me make you do that to it?” He asks, concerned now that he’s ruined something sentimental to you over his quickness to jealousy.

“Because—“ you nip along the swell of his chest, both hands working along his hardened cock. “You wanted it.” Your thumb swipes along his tip, the precum feeling sticky despite the shower water drenching you.

He moans, head falling into your shoulder as he thrusts his length into your palm.

As your wrist continues to jerk him off, your lips ghost the shell of his ear with a deadly, lascivious whisper:

“And I’m too crazy for you to say no.”

- - - -

Permanent Taglist

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st4rfckerz · 5 days

Text

ITS THE CROSSOVER EPISODE WOOOO

mdni 18+ (threesome)

You were trapped. Stephen held you closely against his chest as you stayed entangled in his arms. You open your eyes and peer down to see the black haired boy tightly holding onto your thighs with an iron grip. Grinning eagerly, Sam pulled your legs apart further, ensuring he had full access to your most intimate parts. His tongue delved deeper into the warmth of your cunt, savoring the taste of your arousal as it leaked onto the wet muscle. Stephen's voice was like velvet as he whispered into your ear.

“You doing ok?” he asks sweetly, caressing your jaw with feather-light kisses. You couldn't help but writhe above him, feeling the warmth of his body press against the skin of your back.

You mutter a meek ‘yeah’ before turning your head and enveloping your lips with Stephen’s. Sam couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy as you reached up and pressed a soft kiss to Stephen's lips. His fingers suddenly pushed inside of you as he watched, seeming a little annoyed. Caught off guard by Sam's sudden intrusion, you gasped sharply, arching your back and pressing into his skilled hand. Your body responded instantly, throbbing under his touch as Stephen continued to explore your skin with feather-light strokes.

“Don’t forget who’s really making you feel good sweetheart.” Sam states slyly. Sam's eyes locked with Stephen's, the tension between them thick enough to cut with a knife. In defiance, Sam licked at your folds more aggressively. It was clear he was asserting dominance, challenging Stephen to keep up with his own prowess. Unfazed, Stephen merely smiled, pulling you closer and rolling your erect nipple in between his finger and thumb.

As you squirmed against Stephen, he let out a low, throaty groan. Your movements seemed to ignite something within him, pushing him closer to the edge himself. With a final gentle squeeze of your hip, he pulled back slightly, giving Sam a knowing look. Sam, sensing the change in atmosphere, redoubled his efforts, sucking harder on your clit while continuing to thrust his fingers inside you.

“Don’t stop Sam, please ‘m so close-” Your body responded, trembling under their skilled touches, and you knew it wouldn't be long now.

“You gonna cum on my face, hm?” Sam teases you, rubbing your clit with his thumb while simultaneously working his fingers inside your tight hole. You turn your head bashfully into the crook of Stephen’s neck and your lips release small, pleasing whimpers.

Sam slaps your cunt, making you yelp loudly. “Look at me while you cum, or I’ll stop.” His tone was menacing but you obeyed without hesitation. A white-hot flash of pleasure tore through you, and you cried out, your body convulsing in their grasps.

“I know Angel, I got you, it's okay.” Stephen purrs in your ear, stroking your hair sweetly as he speaks. Sam raised his head, his eyes dark and lustful as he looked upon your spent form. He reluctantly pulled away from between your thighs, a hint of reluctance in his eyes. Sam hovered above you and roughly guided your face to his own by your throat. He brings your lips crashing into his own, his tongue thrusting forcefully into your mouth. The intensity of the kiss left you breathless, your heart pounding in your chest. When he finally released you, he nodded towards Stephen, who eagerly took advantage of the opportunity to claim your lips as well. The contrast in their kisses was palpable: Sam's rough and dominant, while Stephen's was tender and loving.

Sam instructed you to turn around. You hesitated for a moment, but the command in his voice left no room for argument.

“Come on baby, up.” Stephen helped you adjust, his fingers lingering just a moment too long on your skin. Sam wasted no time, climbing onto the bed behind you, pulling down his boxers and positioning himself between your legs. Their gazes locked, a silent agreement passing between them; you were theirs, and they would have their way with you in any way they desired.

Your face hovered just above Stephen's bulge. Your fingers trembled slightly as you reached for the waistband of Stephen's shorts, tugging them down until his erection sprang free. The sight of him, swollen and ready, sent a new jolt of arousal coursing through you. Sam, ever the instigator, whispered in your ear, "Go on, taste him. You deserve it." With a nod, you leaned forward, gently kissing the head of Stephen's cock before taking him into your mouth, taking him in deep and savoring the salty taste. Behind you, Sam watched intently, admiring the scene unfolding before him. Finally, Sam pushed into you, filling you up completely as you fully took Stephen into your mouth.

“Oh fuck.” Stephen breathes out. His hands threaded through your hair, guiding you as you sucked him off, while Sam's thrusts grew stronger. Sam slapped your ass, hard, leaving a stinging sensation in its wake. As you moaned, your throat vibrated against Stephen's length, causing him to shudder and whine above you.

“Such a dirty fuckin’ slut," Sam growled, his words sharp and biting. His thrusts growing harder and faster. You couldn't help but respond, your body arching to meet each plunge. "You love this, don't you? Being taken by both of us?" You could only nod, moaning around Stephen's cock.

"You're doing so good, so so good." Stephen whispers under his breath. He closes his eyes and lulls his head against the headboard. The contrast between Sam's harsh words and Stephen's tender affirmations was a strange mix, but God did you love it.

“Told you she would be, she’s a greedy whore isn’t that right?” Sam swats your ass again, sweat dripping from his brow. Another guttural moan rumbles in your throat when Sam’s hand makes contact with your flushed flesh. Stephen's eyes flutter open and his gaze met yours "She's taking it all so well." Stephen mumbles. He took your hand in his, his expression softening at the sight of tears streaming down your face. "You look so pretty baby.” he murmured, his thumb wiping away the tears from your cheek.

You felt the familiar coil coursing through you once again and you release a muffled moan around Stephen's cock, the intensity of your orgasm consuming you.

“There you go, sweet girl, just a little longer.” A smirk appeared on Stephen’s face, his anticipation growing with each spasm of your muscles. Sam's grip on your hips tightened, his thrusts growing more frantic as he neared his release. He pulled out of you, his shaft glistening with your wetness. Without warning, he aimed for your back, painting your skin with his cum. You could feel the heat from his seed slowly trickling down your spine.

“Fuck ‘m cumming-” Stephen's release came suddenly, his hips jerking forward as he filled your mouth.

The room was filled with heaving breaths and the air was thick and warm. As Sam went to get a towel to wipe you off, Stephen leaned in and kissed your sweat-drenched forehead. "We'll clean you up," he promised, his voice gentle. You smiled, a sense of contentment washing over you. Despite the pain and intensity of the night, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the experience.

#nai writes ୨୧ #stephen glass #sam monroe #stephen glass smut #sam monroe smut #stephen glass blurb #stephen glass drabble #sam monroe blurb #sam monroe drabble #st4rfckerz

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chiyoso · 9 months

Text

𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒔𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒇 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉 (revising/proofreading)

series masterlist | part two

࣪ ˖✧ following content. headcannons · crossover · reader is herrscher of death · oc coded · sprinkle of trauma · fighting · nanook doesn't know what personal space is, nanook is referred to he/him in this fic · welt/blade ptsd moments.

࣪ ˖✧ author notes. 11/21/23 update: everything is planned out, and this will be a series. // 4/17/24 update: revamping. 1.7 out of 3 done. (god forbid tumblr fucking me up by restarting the app, and i didnt get to save. im)

࣪ ˖✧ hired actors. the astral express · the stellaron hunters · aeon nanook.

𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒕 𝒚𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒕. 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒍 𝒆𝒙𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔

𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐓 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 had his hand around his throat, feeeling it lump to the sight of you.

𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐓 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 questioning your existence in this world internally, over and over, and it didn't help that your evident youth glistened under the lights of the express' lounge, reminding the old trailblazer of what being a herrscher was; a longevity of your lifespan, a title feared by a decaying world, along with reminding him of the sins he committed long before being welcomed to this world.

𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐓 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 whose stomach churned at the sight of your breath hitching in your deep sleep, a sign of your consciousness returning while his astral companions and a fluffy conductor that held your hand, giving your body a positive reaction to the soft conductor's paws, all looked at you with utmost fascination.

𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐓 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 who couldn't help but feel compelled to ingulge in his curiousities, finding your stigmata almost immediately in the process. an intricate design that its way paved against your flesh from your neck, down to your chest.

𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐓 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 discussing with himeko and the conductor afterwards, having discovered your body, floating along the stars unconsciously that alerted the astral express, hence the automatic notion to save you.

𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐓 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 rembering stigmata technology along with other various things back from his homeworld. it's technilogy originating from schicksal, from a tyrant, and it's something that will determine if you were either a friend, a foe, or neither, and welt yang desperately hoped you were the first option, holding onto the hope that you weren't a being against humanity.

·୨⚝୧· ⸻ prologue; the sovereign.

“everyone,”

welt took a step forward in instinct, hollow and guarded to your direction. “step back, now.” a warning to his stellar companions, feeling a dread that swelled inside him from taking in your familiar energy, honkai energy, radiating and reemerging from you, forcing a part of him that he buried long ago to be present in your presence.

“huh?” the pink haired girl took a moment, glancing back and forth to you and him. “what do you mean mr. yang? she's still asle—” the pink haired's curiousity was interrupted, followed by a small yelp, reaching out for your arm mid-way, the girl's body tensing up as she found her wrist being held tightly with one deft movement, non other by you, which alerted everyone instantly.

“a-ah! let... let—go!” she whined, struggling in your godly grip, and collectively, everyone's took sharp breaths, sensing the thick, sickening spike of your aura.

you felt in your wake a metal sensation against your neck, resulting you to fully awaken in your unconsciousness, eyelashes fluttering open to the sight of a lounge of some sort.

once you did, they all took notice of your eyes the first thing, a color of your irises that brought out the shape of your pupils, it was polaris star shape and unusual — but besides the initial glaring, you shouldn't ignore the cane against your throat.

star of eden. you felt it's familiarity.

and the sovereign's presence. you found him.

unphased, you release the grip on the poor girl's wrist, sitting up slowly with the metal that remained on your throat.

“i see,” you take a breath, your eyes following the direction of the length, up, up and up towards it's bearer. “the mission,” you say with half effort, a little hazy from just waking up. “it was a success.”

haah. you were frightening, your voice dripped with elegance, haunting and low, the astral express' interiors allowing echo with the words you muttered.

mission? as if himeko's and welt's thoughts were one, giving each other looks of shared conflict.

“state your business.” the boy with horns broke the silence, his index and middle finger positioned to your neck aglow, along with the pressure, and yet their unease hadn't settled as you were truly unphased by their threatening actions.

“i relay... a message.” your head rotated slightly, to the all-too-familiar sight of authority. “you.”

“you do not belong here.” he intercepts.

“and neither do you, mr. sovereign.”

welt facial features screamed death. his amber irises determined to yours once you found yourself under his gaze, hearing the oh-so familiar title you let him wore again, the strength of your voice not helping as it would echo through the train's lounge.

his companions looked to one another in brief confusion, then all eyes settled on the visibly disturbed, distressed man who looked at you with so much fear and disarray.

flight or fight?

fight.

adrenaline filled hands, fogging his rationality, his mind thick with a current full of resurfacing memories. his astral companions that didn't need to know that side of his, these shattered fragments of his past, he didn't need them to be reminded, he—was about to plunge star of eden through your throat, but his cane. it was already on the other side of the express, flicked away with a lift of your finger, landing against the wall with a clear display of strength, cracks all over the surface the cane piercing through halfway.

“dan hen—” no need to complete as the vidyhadra's cloudhymm magic began to disperse the group towards the man with the glasses, away from you, hurriedly retreating from your presence.

the moment you took your first step up from the cushioned seat, you were greeted by a gravitational force in shape of an black orb, moving straight towards you with its force pulling the air around it—but you've been warned of it by your mentor, the concept of his abilities.

“a warm welcome.” you sighed as they further tensed to you—meeting the black hole with the tip of your summoned lance (the 6th divine key), feigning ignorance to their reactions while the other hand movies, a finger tracing down from your neck to your curves, black dust particles surrounded your body, changing your battered former dressing to a grand, black and elegant flowy dress, perfecting your once messy state.

“forgive us for being such a terrible hosts, however—what is a herrscher doing here?”

“haah, you act as if you weren't one, mr. former herrscher of reason.”

“...strongly,” two fingers hoist his frames up his nose bridge, eyes following the direction of his uneasy companions, before returning to yours.

“i advise you to cease. continuing calling me something from my former self, in which i've severed ties with long before, is something i heavily don't recommend to resume doing.” the astral express crew remained on the defense, pairs of eyes guided by determination, and uncertainty all focused towards you.

...she was right, he really is too guarded. you thought, a little bit of admiration for your mentor on how she predicted this possibility of his hostility.

𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐓 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 couldn't understand you, even when you bathed in nostalgia for him, even when you aligned where your loyalty lies, meaning no harm, he couldn't understand you, and understanding something you thought you were knowledgeable about left a sour taste in his mouth.

𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐓 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 allowed his defenses to simmer, reassuring his fellow trailblazers that you were an ally, an ally of highest regard more specifically, now aware of your situation along with who, what about and why you were doing these things.

𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐓 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 who had his eyes intently to yours, finding himself wavering to the mention of your mentor (bronya zaychik), having a familiar name escape your lips, uttered in this other universe, so far away from where he was, but he was good at controlling himself and his emotions, except for the gleaming of hope in his tired eyes.

𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐓 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 more curious than ever, once he sees through your facade of intimidating elegance, falling apart to subtle, fidgeting movements with your fingers, the entirety of your demeanor and body language turning a 180 due to his line of questioning and persistence, insisting about the truth as to why you were willing to go such lengths and risk just to find him, even risking yourself that you might not ge able to go back to where he was what he was trailblazing for in the first place.

you're thankful though. that welt yang was more of a gentleman than you thought, having no other information regarding about him, except for official and important things, that made him seem threatening, or even far more than that.

also thankful that he didn't pry about your gradual change in behavior, bit by bit as the two of you continued conversing, discussing, getting interrogated, but you didn't mind, not at all.

not if you were being watched by those brown, tired eyes, attentive especially to you, maybe even captivated too? who knows. you'd brush that last thought under the rug though.

“mr. yang—?” the pink haired girl stepped forward, interrupting your thoughts, along with the conversation you and him were discussing.

“i'm sorry to interrupt but...”

“no,” welt cuts her off, glancing back and forth to you and the rest of his astral crew. “you all have every right to the context of everything's that happened within this short span of time.”

“please,” a mature voice caught your attention briefly, turning your head towards the woman in white and gold ornaments. “take your time.” the red haired woman steps in, walking in between march and himself.

“we trust in your judgement and intuition, if this person is able to be in your presence without so much provoking much hostility within you, then surely,” the red haired woman turns to face to yours, and you greet her with a subtle, necessary smile, and it doesn't go unnoticed that you two were seizing each other up, an internal battle welt and the others could sende.

“we are able to trust her too—and besides, it looks like it's going to take a long time explaining everything, so,” she turns towards her young companions, hands clasped together.

“why don't i prepare all of you some snacks and coffee in the meantime?”

𝒃𝒍𝒂𝒅𝒆 𝒇𝒕. 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒂𝒓𝒐𝒏 𝒉𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔

𝐊𝐀𝐅𝐊𝐀 didn't expect an actress like you to take part within the stage, let alone bearing a leading and costly role similarly to that grey haired trailblazer.

𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐒 too. resulting in prolonged scripts, revising plans for penacony, it was disharmony, with elios relying in his hacker again, summoning her and against the IPC for a chance of information about you, but to no avail once she took action.

𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐖𝐎𝐋𝐅 found you, and her research of you frustrating, annoyed that she could've been spending her time grinding shit in her game, and instead she's spending it trying to find things about, tedious really, it was just her rummaging through files from any knowledgeable source she could find.

𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐖𝐎𝐋𝐅 was at a stalemate (for once), when prior to this, she thought she had finally found some dirt on you, only to actually find dirt and dust on all information regarding you, be it from the intelligentsia guild or the genius society—nothing. there was nothing about you, or your species, so.

𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐒 commanded his faction, already on the tail of the astral express, and word after word, his actors and actresses will get information about you, and of course.

𝐊𝐀𝐅𝐊𝐀 finds you separated from your crew, and yet the woman couldn't shake a certain feeling off. it was neither fear, nor any sort of unease, either way, she became guarded along with her fellow hunters, only up until the point where you, the new actress noticed the group, having them under your gaze.

·୨⚝୧· ⸻ sidestory one: elios' new actress.

spirit whisper. in low, sultry tones the woman said.

that was the name one of her abilities this pecuilar woman had. a mental themed ability, able to torment, suppress, or soothe the psychological state an individual was in, along with being able to control a mortal's state of self to her bidding.

unfortunately, the moment kafka encountered and tried her ability over you, she was met with a flood of honkai energy that protected you infinitely, or rather—reciprocated her gesture.

just toying with this, less superior version, a type of corruption she was using, accessing her mind instead, tormenting the woman in ways more than one, but you can't bring her to her end yet of course, not yet. she fascinated you.

no one could. except for the sovereign, but besides that, it was the way she held herself, her lack of fear, her mannerisms and how she looked, you resisted the urge to turn her into a mindless honkai creature. elegant, powerful, maybe emperor class level even if you decided to do so.

“you interest me.” you gave a faint smile, before tugging one of her glowing threads, pulling her close to you while it was active, then your hand forces contact towards her chin, now forcefully to meet your gaze.

kafka felt a sudden pulse in her essence, her stomach whirring with an unfamiliar sensation as she locks her eyes upon your unique pupils.

young one?

you looked the same age as her.

youthful, beautiful and enchanting, the way your voice sounded; so dreamy with maturity, complimentary with your authoritative narration.

and kafka wasn't smiling this time. a sight silverwolf couldn't believe, taking mementos with her phone from far a reach, away from you.

“—and i've never heard a threat sound so enticing before.” you break into a chuckle, giving her a moment of respite, before flicking the woman in the chest, sending her flying with a forceful speed towards the man with dark, navy hair with red tints in the end of his beautiful strands, catching her with a visible shock in his widened eyes.

“you are a walking contradiction, a threat to elio and our goals,,” kafka grips the hilt of her sword, taking a side stance. “you will meet your end. poetically, if not cruelly. as elio's script implies.”

she reminds you of a certain woman you have once laid eyes on. a certain schariac, but only the way they present their demeanor and wit.

“blade-” cough. “bladie. please, do it.” the woman spoke with shaky exhales, using her spirit whisper to him that failed on you. “unleash the mara—”

“you will refrain from doing so.” you interrupted, suddenly appearing infront of the individuals.

“you—” were so far away, how did you—blade with no choice had to drop kafka, with intent to bring his infused weapon to your throat, only to be met with an lance that manifested from a key that you summoned, parrying him.

blade felt his insides suffocate, with a clenched jaw and his already turbulent mind, only spiraling downwards further at the sight of it. your weapon.

flowered with sharp ornaments of death, a dark material for its main body. it's so intimidatingly elegant, designed as if it were mimicking life and death, a craftsmanship only seen with those who had a knack for birthing weapons — like him as a prime example.

like him.

like him?

“agh,” he longed for death with a groan, more than he ever did in his long life. having instances of unwanted imagery just thrashing against him, along with the fluctuating mara within, triggering and pulsing, with no kafka to ail his suffering with spirit whisper, enduring memories from the old, back when he was a blacksmith, someone mortal.

what does he mean?

and normal.

like yix██g.

but.

who is yix██g?

despite experiencing metal and physical pain, kept his eyes to yours, one hand covering half of his face, the other had let go of his weapon, unable to hold it and himself, just struggling in your almost divine like presence, while you just studied him in clear fascination.

you drifted around the struggling man, your eyes preying upon the sight of liquid gold that seeped out from the glowing cracks, and the noises you found delectable from him came to a sudden halt, reduced to shaky gasps, and throaty exhales.

it was silent.

but it was your doing too.

“you crave death,” you whisper, trailing a sharp nail from the base of his right hand, up towards his bicep, you wrap your hand around it, keeping him in place. “but,” your eyes glow, and he tenses.

“only because the opposite of it clings to you mercilessly,” you can see blade struggle to stand, yet his eyes remained conscious, or trying to keep consciousness, and with a faint smile you help, pressing your front close to his, digging your nails into his arm, earning a grunt of pain from him.

was this it?

was he able to finally achieve—“death,” this word snaps blade out from his sleepy trance, his gaze falling to the new feeling that invaded his flesh.

it was the lance instead of your hand, remaining eye contact as you pierced a small part of his flesh, a closeness not enough to distract him from the sensations of vitality, life and energy, almost like coating his very soul besides his body.

this isn't right.

“n- no...” he grunts, both of his blade's gripped the length your heavy lance, taking in unsteady breaths, locking his eyes to yours—and only now he sees you truly, taking in the sight of you.

“you can't do this to me.”

with those words, the will of honkai whispered to you simultaneously, and you learned nothing but him craving the blankness of death, the end of which he desperately wanted long before all this.

“i-” you mirrored his conflict, facially and emotionally, your own will wavering from this revelation. “you- you don't desire salvation?” you whispered weakly, refocusing his attention and snapping back to reality, biting his lip to blood, torn with the feelings of betrayal from wishing for death all his life, as well as finally enjoying the peace that he finally achieved because of you.

blade could only reply with silence, yet his gaze told a thousand tales of sorrow and a hidden gratitude that he had no choice but to express.

“i see.” but it was too late, seeing as how you pulled you and your lance away from him, your weapon, assuming its key-like state once again before disappearing into a golden dust of air.

he stood still in the same silence, but his expression became more vulnerable each second, and he allowed his gaze that followed you, you that assumingly kept his the mara in him control, or got rid of for good, either way, he was at a silent bliss. it was far superior than spirit whisper.

it's effectiveness would be proven by how he began find himself trembling in self awareness, the fog in his mind that had once enveloped him, always feeling like in the verge of breaking, now met with feelings without torment that he longed for since his many rebirths and eons of living.

“what you crave,” he gets interrupted by your sudden closeness, your face nearing his, all while you trail your index against his bandaged scars on his left hand. “is a temporary solution,” you smile, and he inhales.

“you are already aware of death, so why rehearse it further?” his gaze falls to your gesture with confusion, reacting to your words with disbelief, along with your sudden touch.

you were wiping golden tears that streamed down to his pretty face with your thumb, the remnants of the golden liquid that strained his face looked absolutely endearing, especially when he looked all confused and fragile, causing you to chuckle while your thumb continued to wipe the gold off the handsome canvas of a man.

your touch was similar to how kafka treated him, and yet, yours carried obvious interest and seduction that his scarred, gashed physique subtly trembled to, and it calls to you again as well, the will of honkai whispering the remainder of his struggles to you while you continue to study him—and he was doing the same to you.

“immortality isn't that bad, there are an infinite amount things to do and to live for.” you say with a distant gaze, retracting yourself from him, with blade following you to your direction instinctively, almost as if it were a reflex to follow you.

blade stood tall, idle as you drifted away from him, his appearance nothing matching the vulnerability his expression carried, having trouble with breathing, taking in sharp, unsteady breaths as if it were his first time breathing in a long time, and it was, you gave him this new beginning.

how can you say those words so simply?

something he was unwilling to acknowledge, this overwhelming sense of clarity you gave him, and if it was unintentional or not—what is he to do with this unwanted peace now?

you won't get away with this.

this wasn't the mercy he wanted.

you can't do this to him.

not after all these centuries of pleading for death.

“you—simpleton.” he grunts, clenched fist mirroring the frustration mixing with his weak gaze. he couldn't do anything. how can he?

what could his own blade do to you? and what would it benefit him if does decide to come at you once more? the one that gave him this serenity, this peace of mind he had once had long ago.

and if someone like you existed, won't his loyalties lie better at the hands at someone who was able to give him wanted? instead of continuously giving him tedious tasks, missions, with nothing to look forward to afterwards.

the silence broke with a snap of your fingers, golden dust particles coming off from your fingers, and of course, they had no choice but to refocus their attention to yours.

“somewhere, and someone, knew, that i would be here,” you incite, your irises preying to their direction, settling upon the battered three.

“it's not you,”

“isolated from the express. a coordination much perfectly timed, and so carefully anticipated,” and your gaze shifts to kafka.

“as if my presence caused a troubled influx of superiority, becoming known to those with great influence.” they all glance to one another, specifically to silverwolf shrugging, before laying their eyes on you as you continue ascending.

you point to blade.

“nor you,”

to the silverwolf girl.

“especially not you,” you point to kafka, and can't help but subtly smirk to the sight of her in her physical state, something that you had a delight in causing from her persistence in erasing you from elios' narrative.

“and,” you let out an amused 'hmm.' “the three of you are so willing to reduce yourselves into puppets,” and you raise your chin, and you sneer at their facial response and ques. “so, continue what you are familiar with, and listen well.”

with your index, you do a vertical motion, cutting the ether with a dark glow that trailed your finger against the space before you, the rift having these scarlet and gold colored, mist-like substances seeping out from its contents.

the rift expands shortly after its creation, warping and molding into a dark gate, with an arched entrance, and an abyss at the other side, pertaining the same two-colored mists that glittered towards you.

the two hunters had already helped kafka up, continued to look towards you that was prepping to take your leave. “on the day, where···i find the path of akivili struggling against their foes, will be the same day where the concept of their faction ends. this includes any living, and non-living thing.” you give both the two contrasting individuals, before taking a glance to blade.

“because a herrscher—no,” you pause, rethinking your choice of words, turning your body to them once more. if welt had provided you information that holds true, then.

“classify me with a category you're all familiar with, to give your elios' an idea of what kind you are dealing with, and is planning against. you are making an enemy of an emanator of a pathless.”

you sigh through your nose.

“and maybe something more.”

but this faction didn't need to know about that yet, especially blade.

[editing/revising/proofreading]

[this part below is being edited real time.]

”... And, if any of you partake in harming The Sovereign, Welt Yang, I will gladly ruin the continent of this universe only within a few hours, heed my warning, or die permanently to the touch of my weapon.”

Permanently. Permanently?

Warm, throbbing and dizzying.

That's what he felt at the moment from the genuine threat you gave, he sensed no bluffs, no lies and only the truth, and he... found complete comfort in knowing you can give such a wish to the trouble man who struggles in his immortality.

Blade's heart only fluttered to your words upon talking about a permanent death, while Kafka only looked... genuinely annoyed for the first time, something even Silverwolf couldn't achieve.

Herrscher... Herrscher... Whatever you called yourself, it was an old language and something Silverwolf can definitely look up about.

And you, mentioning Welt Yang of the Astral Express—even if you said something else... about... him being the Sovereign? Them following Elio's next scriptures, they will definitely be stopping by to wherever Welt Yang is, alone or not, ignoring your genuine warning with the goal of attaining information from him regarding to you.

Blade... smitten at the thought of permanent death, only wanted to meet you again, to feel your authoritive, piercing gaze to him again.

He tried his best, prolonging the pierced scar you placed upon his flesh, to not heal immediately, but ultimately losing to his immortality a few days after, leaving him restless and unyielding to the thought of your reverence since meeting you.

Herrscher... of Death.

Something his mind kept repeating, and the threatening, genuine tone of your elegant and sensual voice just left him alone with his vitality, his newfound serene and awareness of himself that you bestowed to him only frazzled his mind and the clear emotions he was once experiencing again in a frantic daze.

He will plead to Elio, to Kafka, to let him meet you again—ultimately being denied as you were the most dangerous leading actress in their script that they desperately tried resuming without fail. He needed to see you again, that was apparent, and his visible desperation only amused Silverwolf while she worked, researching about you with Blade by her side, waiting for the silver haired girl to indulge him anything related to you.

You tested his patience immediately.

You were emitting such intense, unfamiliar blazing heat signatures that anyone with the technology or the abilities to sense such energy can easily detect in any reach within the universe, thus alerting... a few Aeons.

But only The Aeon Of Destruction was the first to take action.

The Aeon himself... had a certain difficulty capturing you in his domain in psychological aspects, all because of the intense, infinite authority that the Will of Honkai had that resided within you.

You were on your way towards Jarilo-VI, heeding the cute little human whose wrist you gripped firmly previously request since encountering the—Trailblazers...

is what they call themselves, apparently they're also under the belief of what they call an "Aeon" something similar to you, an Aeon of Trailblaze, named Aki- Akivili? No matter, The Sovereign had already informed you quite a lot, important information that had stored inside your brain with the help of the Will, that enhanced your capabilities in all aspects.

Once again, you were on your way towards the supposed cold planet you haven't been to, heeding a request to the human named after a month, flying along the sea of stars with your flowy, dark and elegant dress, only to be met with a sudden bright light combusted to where you previously were that you effortlessly dodged.

Looking over your shoulder with a stern gaze, your irises land upon an unfamiliar figure, a figure whose presence heavily differed from the people you encountered previously.

Your stoic expression changed to one that was filled with amusement, your lips curled into a sly smirk as you turn your body to face the figure who dripped in gold.

“Now this... is a situation I've certainly been wondering about since my time here in this universe.”

You enraged him with the familiar feelings of anger, frustration and all things negative.

You weren't cowering in fear, dread and insanity like the last time people laid their eyes upon, and that angered him further.

“Reveal your nature, or perish to my wrath.”

...

“And who, might I be revealing myself to?”

You questioned the Aeon back?

A sudden whip of golden liquid hurled towards you in a speed that only beings like you and him are able to witness.

But it was met with an effortless vertical rift of darkness that emitted with white dust particles that met the aureate liquid whip, and you weren't moving an inch as well.

The Aeon's slashed chest that continued to drip with gold, throbbed with a slowly growing sense of wonder from your piercing, unwavering gaze.

A staring contest basically, all while both of your abilities continued to clash each other, but one thing was clear... You genuinely weren't phased by such a situation at all, especially with that growing faint smirk that he grew more irritated of.

Fucks sake, he was an Aeon.

But you...

He didn't know anything about you, everyone except for your mentor's mentor (Welt Yang).

How was the Aeon supposed to know? That you were a living death, an absolutely feared existence back in your homeworld?

As soon as an uncontrollable yawn escaped your mouth, your little action caused the being to flare up in golden destruction of his boiling liquid.

“You dare...”

“I dare.”

He genuinely wanted to go all out.

But how can you satiate the thoughts the stirred endlessly within his heavily troubled mind? How can you heed his running questions if he decided to end you? (He can't, if he tried either way.)

“You're one of the creatures who call themselves... an Aeon, that the mortals revel and believe in, aren't you?”

Creatures. Creatures???

He's so pissed off that its starting to show on his face, veins popping all over his jaw along with the dilating gaze of fury was visible to you, causing your playfulness to highten. He was one of those type of 'rulers' that you despised, the same type of Herrschers who wanted to rule over humanity that you hated.

And the fact that you called him a creature.

Another blink, and he was suddenly infront of you, fuming before you while you planted your 'innocent' smirk towards the tall, menacing Aeon.

“What are you.”

Now, Welt Yang had mentioned the time, date and the advance technologies about this universe to you. Of course it was all vast and drastically different to both of your homeworlds, even the Previous Era's technologies heavily differed to this universe's, and this universe was all the way fast forward to a more than a thousand years later, and the time this mission you did in hopes of discovering Welt Yang's whereabouts happened, it was 2029 in your homeworld, a vital information that heavily fascinated you.

With that knowledge in mind.

“An old god.”

“No such thing.”

“Of course, you most likely came into life after the creation of the old, ancient rulers titled Herrschers.”

...

Herrs...cher?

“An old language... You speak the truth.”

“But of course.”

What can he do now? What is he able to do?

You were a more ancient testimony in contrast to him, he couldn't... fanthom you, understand you.

“And I come from another universe if it satisfies your loud thoughts.”

“...That is if you believe in multiverses, being who weeps in gold.”

“Mm.” That made sense to the Aeon, a concept he can grasp. His anger immediately soothed, replaced with a natural curiousity and fascination towards the being before him.

“Before so rudely interrupting my travels,”

“All you need to know, is that I side with humanity.”

Oh.

“And I've most definitely heard of your endless atrocities and sins against the mortals who struggled to your lowly imbued subjects that abide your words, Aurelian.”

Referring to the time where the pink haired mortal that shared their recent adventure against a being named Phantylia the Undying, a Lord Ravager who works under the Aeon, Nanook.

The air tensed once again, this time the Aeon felt your seriousness, your stern, unwavering gaze.

Your words raised a question within him.

“...Why do you side with such weak, feeble and distasteful creatures? Beings that taint themselves with nothing but greed, selfishness, and an endless need to hurt their fellow kin—”

“You speak from experience, don't you?”

Ah. That was haunting, for a split second.

Oh how he hated your words with a passion.

Only because... you spoke nothing but continuous truth, and despite his supreme status of being the Aeon of Destruction...

The forgotten, brought out once mofe with the truth can only truly waver whatever creature harbors a dark, sinful past—and we all know this certain Aeon, is just oozing with a heavy amount of all kinds of negativity. Holding eons and eons worth of sin, all by a tall, dark, and quite ravishing figure.

Bzzt Bzzt ... Bzzt

Right, Jarilo-VI.

“Mm, however fascinating this situation is, I must take my lea—”

“No.” (Decode: I'm not done with you.)

“Unfortunately, that is not for you to decide, Aurelian.”

“Tch, foolish woman.” Says the Aeon and his uncharacteristic actions right now.

Aurelian... you already had a nickname for him? Teasing bastard.

Nanook attempted to grab your arm, only for you for you to retract and raise it up as your face breaks into a knowing smirk once again from earlier.

Wh—!?

“You dare defy me?”

“You dare provoke me?” Your smirk fainted, narrowing your eyes to his actions.

“You're blessed to witness my appearance that many perish in hopes of understanding the concept of an Aeon.”

He attempted to attain you in his grasp once again, which he successfully did as his hands finds its way swiftly to your wrist.

“Unhand me, the subjects of Akivili need my presence.” — “At once.”

“Resist once more and you'll b—”

You sigh, in defeat, summoning the tall, black and red gate you previously with your other free hand, and he took witness to your effortless abilities.

“Encounter me once again in another time where I don't have matters to attend to, Aurelian.”

The moment he loosened his grip upon witnessing your summoned gate, you quickly free yourself from him, floating backwards towards the gate while your eyes settled into his, before disappearing into the gate towards Jarilo-VI.

Too agile, he thought.

“... How difficult.” He referred to your enigmatic existence. Nanook's thoughts lingered about you, a serious threat to his existence and his other fellow Aeons, and yet couldn't help but think about the nickname you gave him.

The way your rifts of darkness swallowed his bright, golden attacks with minimal effort, he wanted to fight you again, maybe even seriously, he wanted to converse with you once more, more about you, your capabilities.

And, as trifling this encounter was, this one wasn't the worse one—for the Interastral Peace Corporation (IPC) had their eyes set on you.

2024 CHIYO·SO.

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