#//cries and screams and eats the dirt and screams some more

[revvywevvy]

BRO I GOT A MAGNIFYING GLASS AND READ THIS MF SO FAST THE SECOND I GOT IT OUT THE PACKAGING YOU HAVE NO IDEA

all I can say so far is this was a very good purchase. very happy i got this. i loved seeing the concept art for everyone and seeing all of the production stuff!! i'm going to get little post-it notes and bookmark every single page that includes Pyrrha <33333

also. i read some of the storyboards. the storyboard for after Pyrrha's Nightmare fight made me hate Patroklos even more 'why do you have to be my family?!' WHY CAN'T I GUT YOU LIKE A FISH HUH??? boy better be thankful that wasn't what he ended up actually saying in the story or we'd be on a whole different level of hatred here. already bad enough his ungrateful ass abandoned Pyrrha after she saved his life if that mf said that then OOOOH BOY. *biting patroklos's fingers like an angry dog* NO MORE SPIRIT SWORD FOR YOU STINKY

anyways enough of his tool ass PYRRHA IS SO LOVELY!!! I LOVED SEEING THE ART AND CONCEPTS FOR HER!!! I LOVED SEEING HER STORYBOARDS!!!! SHE'S AMAZING AND PERFECT AND SOSO INCREDIBLE AWAWAWAWA

[rs-hawk]

Fluff only for this one. Woman Reader (sex irrelevant)

Your Godly lover had given you immortality after They nearly lost you. They couldn’t bear the idea of losing you. You hated Them for it even all these centuries later. You had to watch your family grow old and die. Your younger siblings. Their children. Their children’s children. Eventually you couldn’t even be around their descendants. It was too hard. All you could do was set up a trust fund each time you found out another had been born. You still had to take care of them somehow. They were all that was left in this world of your family.

You were a whispered legend in the county you lived in. Some thought you were a Spirit of the Forest that was from the pre-Colonization of the area. Some said you were a monster, lurking and read to eat unsuspecting youth who wandered into your trees. Others said you were stolen by a man who killed you. Very few whispered the truth, because those who had eventually were forced away from the area to allow it to be settled.

It wasn’t until some of your youngest sister’s descendants moved back to the area that you allowed yourself to peek at them. You’d find excuses to go to town, to find them. Your sister had been gorgeous. Maybe the most beautiful woman aside from your mother that you’d ever seen. She was tall, with eyes like clay, hair like midnight and skin so smooth you always wanted to be the one to paint it. Her descendant was none of those things aside from beautiful.

Her eyes shun like the midday sky, with hair that curled and twisted in ways you’d never imagined before the settlers came. Her face was round and childlike despite the life line that aged her face. Her skin burned easily in the sun that your sister loved, but there was ink on that skin. A permanent painting of a bird. You couldn’t help but smile. The more you saw her, the more you wanted to get to know her. You were attached. You did get to know her. You two chatted, and her voice sounding like a melody. You loved her. She was almost like her sister had come back to you.

Then she died.

You felt like your heart was torn out of your chest. You screamed, cried, begged your Godly former lover to let you die, but They didn’t. Then, a few days after, you stood at the edge of her funeral, watching her cold body be lowered into the ground. You saw her husband standing there with their child. A beautiful little girl who reminded you so much of her mother.

It wasn’t long until you saw that same beautiful little girl curled up in a ball in the middle of the woods, sobbing. Her father said he wanted to go camping, then left her. You couldn’t let the search party find her. They would give her back to that man who said she ran off, and she was too young to deny it.

As you sat with her head in your lap and she started to fall asleep, having washed the dirt out of her golden hair, your Godly former lover appeared before you.

“This will hurt. It always does.”

You look at Them, your lower lip trembling. “I know, but I had to save her. He would have just done something else if this didn’t work.”

They look down at the little girl, tilting Their head. “Her heart reminds me of hers. Pure. Soft. She will grow up to be kind, just like her.”

“I miss her,” you whisper, voice cracking as you look down at the sleeping child.

Your Godly former lover lays Their hand on your shoulder, squeezing it softly. “I’m sorry for what I did to you. I love you.”

“I know. I wish you didn’t.”

“I know… me too.”

[zileans-big-cl0ck]

✦–Dirty talk with League men (how do they call you and how do they want to be called in bed).✦ NSFW

✦Basically praise kink.

✧ prompt: ✧ I had this laying in my drafts for, like, eternity, so I’m not quite sure how did I come up with this. Prob my voice kink kicked in.

✧ champions: ✧ Zed, the Master of Shadows; Thresh, the Chain Warden; Kayn, the Shadow Reaper; Talon the Blade’s Shadow; Shen, the Eye of Twilight.

✧ reader: ✧ female.

✧ warnings: ✧ obvi NSFW; dirty talk; praise kink; sub!Kayn because I love him being submissive; degradation; bondage; Thresh is a sadistic brat.

✧ author’s note: ✧ ignore any mistakes since I'm too tired to read this for the third time or smth. And please don't eat me alive for Kayn's part, I have like two other drafts with sub!Kayn headcanons for the appreciation of a dom!reader, which we need more‼️

masterlist

✦Zed, the Master of Shadows.

Zed can do both: if you enjoy degrading, he will call you a slut or a bitch, but if you prefer soft petnames, something more subtle and fragile, he can call you his little shadow.

He isn’t really talkative, especially in bed. The Master of Shadows usually keeps on his mask of a stoic, ruthless person, silent and deadly. He lets out some heavy grunts of frustration thought.

But your apperance makes him feel different. Complitely different.

He can be a real dirt talker when desired. Whispering in your ear sweet promises of the things he is going to do to you, when you sit obediently on his lap.

You are going to melt in his hands from his voice only anyway.

As for him, he doesn't need you speaking to him during sex. Zed enjoys your cries and moans, there is no need for rushed words.

But he has one weakness, that he would never admit outloudly.

Call him Master, as his official title states, from time to time. And watch him tensing from your subtle tease.

Moan Master Zed and he will be yours for a while. Hopeless and lost in your innocent being that admits his supremacy, so alluring.

✦Thresh, the Chain Warden.

This sadistic demon would probably call you something simillar to his own property. It is a well known fact how controlling he is, as he treats the petty souls of those who lost them to him like pathetic objects.

Therefore, a pathetic little soul would work too.

But on the other hand, Thresh doesn’t want you to adress him at all.

He wants you to be all chained up in a convoluted position, with something in your mouth so you can't mutter a single word.

The only sounds he demands are the cries of yours, either of pleasure or from pain that is caused by his tortures.

So no talking back. No calling him. Only painful screams and your chained body under him, fetching and gorgeous, yet moving away from the touch of his cold claws.

His plaything.

✦Kayn, the Shadow Reaper.

Starting with what he would love to hear from you pretty mouth…

Please, call him a good boy.

Call him handsome. Call him yours and yours only.

But call him a good boy. And he will become a hopeless mess under your body.

It makes him feel appreciated and adored by you, the person his soul crawls for. When you take care of him, when you are so gentle…

Oh, it is impossible for him to not call you mommy. If you enjoy it, of course.

He would mutter the sweet name out of his breath, while you ride him.

✦Talon, the Blade’s Shadow.

Some would call him eternal silent, maybe even grumpy. But he is just not used to a genuine company of a caring human being.

Every segment of his body was made for killing, his devotion - the job of an assassin.

But he is capable of love - the fire kind, full of sacred desire that ends his continency that had been made to prevent him from wandering off from the path of a killer. Greedy and possessive, where he wants your body under his own to claim you whole, mark as his, force you to stay by his side.

Under the cover of a private room, he becomes a tease. Talon finds your whimpers adorable whenever he whisper a husky good girl into your ear.

On the other side, you hear him saying ’my name doesn’t matter’ in different situations, official or not, definitely too many times. So you make sure to moan his name in the moments of pleasure, when you bury your face in the pillow of your bed, feeling the sensation building up in your core, hearing the obscene sounds of melting bodies.

And it touches his weak spot. To have his name on your lips, cherished, adored.

✦Shen, the Eye of Twilight.

He is a gentleman, a sweetheart and the most respectful man you know - he would never dare to degrade you in any possible situation.

Therefore Shen is more eager to call you ma’am or love, or with the relationship ongoing - just a simple my gorgeous wife.

When it comes to petnames, he is a simple man - he desires a sweet and adoring confession, like handsome or just his own name. It always sounds heavenly when it comes as a hot whisper of pleasure from your mouth.

[angelpregdreams]

short daydream in (1st attempt) 1st pov

content: labor, fpreg, crowning

The ache between my hips screamed at me to rest but I knew that was not likely to happen soon. As if sensing my determination, the two little ones in my belly shifted and nudged my bladder uncomfortably.

"Stop." I mumbled, knowing it wouldn't do anything. The twins wiggling enough for me to pause and hold my belly with one hand and supporting my back with the other. For the last hour they had been restless, far more than normal. And as I had traveled the weight between my hips got heavier. Pressure began to build and it made me want to spread my legs apart in instinct.

I took one step as the twins settled and immediately doubled over, both of my hands wrapping around my middle. A dribble of fluid spilled between my thighs and I inhaled sharply, praying that my labor hadn't started. I still had miles before the next town and I had taken a backroad to avoid any eyes on me. The pressure only grew as I tried to continue on, only getting a few feet before I had to pause and hold the underside of my stomach. It was a feeble attempt to ease the weight that urged her knees apart, even as she stood upright.

"Well, fuck me..." I mumbled, looking up and down the dirt path that barely passed as a road. The twins fluttered under my hand and I sighed, knowing what was going to happen but having a knife of fear rip through my heart. I blinked away tears as I resolved myself, taking measured steps off of the path and dropping my gear behind a tree.

The pressure in my body increased tenfold for a moment and I had to lean heavily against the tree, my body shaking from the intensity of it all.

My breath left me in gasps as I tried to regain some amount of control. I was able to drop my cloak and outer robe to the forest floor, just before plopping down as gracelessly as I possibly could. As soon as I landed, pressure shifted to pain in a flash and I cried out, lifting my ass up off of my clothing as quickly as I could. A sudden squirt of fluid erupted from me, soaking my underwear and the bottom of my slip. I whimpered, the pain not leaving, and the pressure increasing as I slowly lowered myself back down.

Pain wrapped around my middle and I cried out, instinctively bringing my legs up and apart. I shifted so my slip was pulled up and away, letting me spread my legs far apart and leaving my pussy exposed to the elements. The breeze over my warm skin felt nice, giving me a few moments to collect myself.

The pressure returned and I groaned, my body urging me to push and I could not find the strength to fight it.

The pressure was so intense in my core I wasn't sure how deep in the birth canal the first babe was, but I began to sob as I pushed, alone, and vulnerable on the side of the road.

My pussy ached after the first push and I whined before bearing down again. The ache erupted into a burn, and I let out a cry, the pressure of my hole spread so far apart making me unable to voice any words. My back arched, my thighs pulled up as far apart as I could pull them, the burn increasing as the head parted my body even more.

My hips spread to make room for the large babe, and I suddenly cursed the father. Bastard goliath-man. Cunt-eating-bastard goliath-man.

I screamed loudly. My pussy spread apart even farther, the head coming into a proper crown and remaining at my entrance. Every nerve in my body was alight and I shook, even between pushes, feeling every sensation of the large baby as it sat deeply inside of me. I cried out as I pushed again, the head spreading me apart farther and I choked on a sob, knowing I had just started. Both babies would need to be born, and I knew I would have to do it alone.

[the-white-void]

Oh! You've Heard This Story?

Summary: Once again, your end has begun, and the story starts anew. Yet, she remembers this story; one told over and over again.

Warning: This contains mentions of violence and repetitive deaths which may be uncomfortable to some readers.

One || two || three

Taglist: @kthehoeforfictionalmen @pix-stuff @kthehoeforfictionalmen @time-shardz @scarletttcroww @mysteriaqueen @atsukawolfcat @junkoslette @mef0rg0r @altheq0 @obliviousariies2007

Blood of gold stained the podium as the blade of the Archon of Inazuma sliced your neck. Leaving the crowds that once cheered for your end turned to fear and shallow worries of regret.

You've seen this before. As your head descended from your body, your consciousness still lingered, even for only a moment. The screams of agony laced with regret and sorrow; the cries of the archons as they saw the precious blood that was wasted on the floor.

That is how it always ended.

Your mind now eases as your death finally comes, then onto the next show.

You open your eyes once more to the lush green grass tickled your ears, and the trees swayed its leaves on your rags; the warm rays that lay on your skin. A scene all too familiar.

You have given up on trying to survive on this game of cat and mouse; simply letting it all roll like a ball, because out of all the countless times you tried to escape before were all futile, even giving up showed the same ending.

There is no end to this scripted play.

Fate is like a chord. No matter how you pull to change it, it will always return to its original form.

You pick yourself up, dust off a few leaves stuck on your rags and walked up to a nearby tree bearing some apples. You reach out for one close yet ripe.

"Maybe Amber noticed me already and might shoot my arm." You blurted out as the apple twisted and fell on your face. "Ah! It's already loose." you mumbled with your brow raised before picking up the apple from the ground; you dusted off the dirt then took a bite. "Doesn't matter, you missed." You uttered as you look to the side where the brunette wearing red hid from afar; her bow lowered from when it first had you a target.

Her face painted with worry and confusion, she focuses her bow to you once more, ready for your retaliation. Yet, you walk back to the spot where you first woke up; legs crossed with your bum on the ground as you continued to eat the apple.

"What?" The brunette mumbles with her brows furrowed, confused why you just say down defenceless while chewing on your apple till you ate it all and the core was left. "Could it be a trick? Are they just luring me in?" Thoughts flooded her head thinking about what you could be planning if you already know where she was.

After laying the core of the apple you just ate on the ground, you look back at where the brunette was hiding. "Even if you are here to catch the imposter, there is still etiquette for how knights capture fiends." You spoke with a sigh and a small smile, waiting for her to shoot her bow, or throw Baron Bunny to your face.

An arrow of fire flew past you and hit the tree right behind you, barely grazing your hair. Amber then emerges from the bushes while her bow was still pointed at you "You have the right to remain silent. Your actions of impersonating the divine deity..." She continues to mouth out paragraphs you've heard countless times before, still smiling without a care in the world.

In a nation distant to the airy breezes of Mondstat, in the land hidden in the forests where rain comes and goes, the land where knowledge is weighed more than mora, Sumeru.

Lying inside the Sanctuary of Surasthana where the Archon resides, she sprung up with a cold sweat, as if she just had a nightmare. Her gasps were heavy and her hands shaking; her dream was as vivid as if it were real, like the times she would occasionally possess the receptionist of the Adventurers Guild, however, unlike those dreams, it was not coveted by the mind of a human nor god. The scene was too real to be revered as a dream.

"Oh... Very well,I'll see you all. Soon."

Were the last words of the imposter before their head departed from their body. "What did they mean? Will it happen again? I saw their memories; it happened to them over and over again. Like a samsara, after reaching an end it'll go back to the beginning. How long have they been doing this? Do they have a goal?" Questions drowned out all their senses before a loud arrogant voice broke her focus.

A short man wearing blue accents and a large hat was snapping his fingers in front of the archon's face with an annoyed look. "Hey! I've been calling you for ages; you said you wanted me to do something." His tone filled with salt and bitterness as he pulled his arms back together crossed.

Lesser Lord Kusanali, the dendro Archon, one who was calm and collected was in a cold sweat, unable to comprehend what reality she had just seen. If it were to happen in this world as well, would it too crumble and wither away.

"H- hat guy..." The dendro Archon's voice trembled when she muttered her words. Looking towards Hat Guy with her eyes widened and trembling "What happened these past few days? There was the imposter a- and..." Her voice trails off as she tries to word out what happened, but her tongue falters to convey what was on her mind.

"The imposter? That news just landed in the Akademia an hour ago. I guess that's what you can expect of a god who can read minds." He mumbles while the Archon gathers her thoughts.

"What? But the imposter was just about to be executed. Everyone was there and... the imposter was... calm... they- they said something then… then…” her eyes wonder off around the room remembering the words of the imposter.

“... Hat guy. Take me to Mondstat; I need to talk to the imposter.” Her eyes were then set on the short man; eyes painted with determination and fear, set on speaking with the one branded as an imposter, yet whose last is shrouded in a thick fog of uncertainty.

The man that looked at the Dendro god puzzled and perplexed. “What?! Are you- just when you hear about an imposter; you wanna go meet them?!! Don't you know how dangerous that thing could be?” His aloof and sour tone shifted to a raised and concerned voice after hearing the Archon's desire to met with the imposter.

Kusanali sighs with her eyes faltering, wondering if it just a ruse after all. She ponders for some time, recollecting and organising the memories she had of the imposter. “The execution just happened with the Electro Archon beheading the the imposter, but before that, the imposter allowed me to look through their memories, then…” her memory was then blank.

“Can they dream?” Hat Guy's voice cut her focus. “If you really wanna talk to them, you can go in their dream and just talk to them there.”

The idea lit up the Lesser Lord's face “Yes. Their dreams. They looked young, they probably still have dreams, like escaping… or… wait… can they dream?” Her voice questioned the mentality and consciousness of the imposter.

[heartfullofleeches]

Camp counselor darling and slasher yan? 👀

Fire crackles in the pale moonlight. Figures cower behind a tree stump as a shadow rises from its amber flames, beckoning the braver of the group to draw closer as its voice drops to a grumble.

"It's said that in this exact forest - right where you're all sitting, is where those hikers met their end. On what had been a quiet, peaceful hike until then, the group suddenly began to hear whistling from the trees. A bird's call some would claim, but none of them could argue the strangeness of it all. The sound was a constant as they moved on, switching directions and even allegedly playing right in the leader's ear. A chilling drone that drew further when brought into question- like whatever was watching them was enjoying their increasing fears. They say if you listen closely - you can still hear it-"

The shadows purses its lips in a would be bone rattling hum save for the giggle they're unable to keep in. Still - the call works in favor of their narrative; teeth chattering from more than just the cold.

"The group collectively ruled to write it off as the sounds of the forest, but the deeper they traveled, the louder it grew... and louder... and louder.... until...it fell from the trees."

A hand slips discreetly into its pocket and over the flames - the fires quickly consume the salts and burst in a fiery, devilish red.

"The severed head of one of their members... missing their tongue!"

The screams of the campers reach all the way back to the main hall as you laugh maniacally- drinking the sweet cries of your victims for as long as they'd play along. With a playful shove from behind, the tarp dropped over your shoulders fall into the arms of your fellow teammate as they shake their head with a chuckle.

"Quit telling ghost stories before lights out. We want them to actually sleep when we get them indoors."

"Aww, come on - they earned it. Clean up their mess on time and majority of what you see here won the tug of war game earlier. That counts for something - right?"

You glance back at your audience who all agree on the notion. It was nice to have some people on your side. Really, you couldn't imagine a better way to spend your summer. Your fellow council was a blast, and groups like those seated around you loved the stories and games you came up with. There honestly weren't any issues at the camp - until your last story about man eating spiders left a camper with a fuzzy blanket restless.

Your teammate stifles their grin and tucks the tarp under their arm, clasping their hands over their mouth as the address the campers. "Alright, lights out in ten. Make sure you have all your belongings or we will take them for ourselves. Stick to the buddy system and get back to your cabins.... that means you too, Y/n."

You wave them off, crossing your legs over one another as you sit in the dirt. "Yeah, I know. I'll head it once the fire dies."

The campers gather their things and wave their goodbyes.

"Bye, Y/n."

"See you in the morning, Y/n."

"Can't wait to see what you got next!"

"See you!" You wave everyone off, warming your hands at the fire as everyone leaves. Eyeing the supplies someone had forgotten, you search around for a stick and roast the remaining marshmallows over the embers as the passing breeze snuffs the roaring sparks. You zip up your jacket as it bites - leaning back to watch the moon as it ducks behind the hanging trees. One by one, lights around the camp go out - a soft hum enduring as the whir of electrics drains out. A branch snaps behind you.

"Dawn? You back already?"

Silence...but still, faintly- breathing. You laugh, sandwiching the marshmallow between two crackers. "I know you're here. I can hear you."

Weight shifts behind you. You look back to see, but the branches and haze of night obscure your sight of the silhouette in the trees. ".....I like your stories...."

"Thanks.... but you're not Dawn.... Lewis, that you? I told you I'm not interested, but you're still welcome to sit by the fire."

" 'fraid not.... I'm not from your part of the woods. Is this.. Lewis giving you problems, Dear?"

"Nah, just a flirt... Who are you then."

Silence - followed by the dying pops of the fire. "Just passing by. Live up the creek a few miles down and fancy a stroll now and then. Didn't know the camp wad reopening so soon and overheard one of your stories a couple nights back. You're a whole lot nicer than the group they brought in last year.... cuter too."

"You sure you're not Lewis?... You're welcome to come back and listen another time if you like - if you're just passing by again."

The smile in their voice is indisputable. "I'm sure we'll be seeing alot of each other, Y/n... I can almost guarantee it."

"Right, hey - it's getting kinda late so I have to go. There's still some marshmallows in the bag you can have if you want." No response. You take it as a yes anyway and leave the bag out for them as you throw what remained of your smore into the pit. You stand up, leaving to grab something to put out the fire and the charred remains of your dessert. A figure steps from the shadow and completes the first task for you - picking up your half eaten smore and dusting off the ash as they lowered their mask. A hum at the sweetness of the treat pitches into a soft whistle as the figure disburses back into the trees.

You exit the main hall, water bottle in hand and head back to the pit site - stopped by none other than your teammate from before.

"Hey, Y/n- you seen Lewis anywhere? He said he was going to check out some noise he heard and hasn't come back yet."

[medusapelagia]

15 The summer camp

written for @steddieangstyaugust (prompt: Childhood) and @augustwritingchallenge (Prompt: secretly alien ) Rating: teen and up Relationship: Steve/Eddie TW: implied violence Words: 1912

Eddie fucking hated the summer.

Yes, fucking, even if that was a bad word, and Wayne would be really disappointed in Eddie but it wasn't his fault if it was the third year Wayne sent him to the stupid summer camp with the stupid kids of the stupid plant for two entire weeks.

Eddie was twelve, he was old enough that he could have stayed home alone, but no, Wayne signed him up for the stupid camp, again. Eddie cried and screamed, he even begged and promised to eat all his greens and not play loud music by night, but nothing convinced Wayne. 

So here he is, sitting in the back of the stupid bus, alone, with his tape player to the maximum volume just to piss Wayne off. He always says that he's going to ruin his hearing blasting music so loudly, but Eddie doesn't care. It's the only way to isolate himself from those mouth breathers.

They all have the same age, more or less, the younger is Jonathan. who is ten, the oldest is Eddie, who is going to be twelve in a couple of months, and in Wayne's opinion that should be enough to have fun. It's definitely not. All those kids wear fancy clothes their moms buy for them at the mall, while Eddie is always wearing second-hand clothes way too big because Wayne says he'll grow into them. So right now he's wearing a very sick Metallica t-shirt that's way too big for him, and a pair of jeans cuffed so many times he lost count.

As soon as they get there the camp counselors are going to divide them into units, or Dens, and Eddie will try to do his best to find a place where to hide and avoid any kind of physical activity the counselors will propose. No swimming, no rafting, no riding, no archery. He has enough books in his backpack to keep busy for the entire duration of the Summer camp.

***

When they arrive, the same smiling faces welcome them. Eddie wonders if it's possible that in three years none of those young men graduated and got a real job. So pathetic. He grabs his bag and waits for the same stupid rituals that will divide the kids into two different groups, when he notices a tiny boy, half hidden behind a tree. He doesn’t remember him from the bus and he’s wearing some clothes that are way too big. His jeans are dirt at the knees like he felt playing through the woods. 

And he’s not the only one to notice him. Andy is pointing at him, grinning with his stupid minions, while four-eyes Alex finally turns and sees the dirty boy.

“Hey, you. Why are you hiding? We are all friends here. I’m Alex, and I’m going to be your counselor. Can you tell me your name?”

The boy seems unsure for a moment, but in the end, he mutters, “Steve.” in the softest voice Eddie has ever heard. 

Alex grabs his name list, reading the names one by one two times before finally finding the boy.

“Steve found you! Our latest addition, huh? Did your parents leave you here alone?”

Steve nods quietly.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, they probably thought we were already here, but don’t worry! We are going to have so much fun together this summer." Alex promises, putting a hand on the kid's back and gently pushing him toward the rest of the group.

"Ok, everyone, this is Steve. It's his first year here with us at the Hideout Camp, so give him a warm welcome."

A choir of Hi, Steve, fills the air, while the kid tries to put up a strong face, but Eddie can see tears in his eyes.

Fuck. Those kids are going to tear him into pieces in no time.

Alex and Jacob start to divide the kids into two groups, and Andy, the son of the plant's HR Director, keeps grinning, pointing at Steve. Eddie knows that he's planning some stupid and dangerous prank because he has been his victim in the past years, so when Eddie is assigned to the Moose Den and Andy to the Teddy one, Eddie decides that maybe, for once, he could care about someone else, so the steps toward Steve and shakes his hand, "Hi, do you want to join my Den? I'm in the Moose one and it's very cool."

It isn't. They both suck, but at least Andy isn't there.

Steve turns toward Alex, unsure, but four-eyes winks at him, "It doesn't happen often that someone asks you to join their Den, Steve. It's a great honor."

"Ok. Well. Thank you. I'll join your Den." Steve replies softly, and Eddie doesn't lose any time and drags him far away from Andy.

As soon as they are far enough from Alex, Eddie whispers, to Steve’s ear “Ok. So. Andy is a prick. Stay away from him and you’ll be fine.” 

He doesn’t wait for a reply, he just walks to the end of the line, waiting to get to the last bunk where he could hide and read all the books he wants for the next two weeks, but when he turns the annoying kid is at his side, smiling brightly.

“I’m Steve.”

“Yeah, I know.” Eddie snarls back, not interested in the latest.

“You should tell me your name." Steve insists.

"Why should I? What are you? A cop?"

"No, I’m not." Steve replies, scared, staring at Eddie with his huge doe eyes, “I’m just a kid.

"If I tell you my name will you just fuck off?" Steve nods, eagerly, so Eddie sighs, and turning his back he adds, "Eddie."

"That's a nice name."

"No, it isn't. It's a shit name. Now can you leave me be?"

"But… you asked me to join your Den!" Steve protests.

"Only to save you from Andy. Now you know you have to avoid him so we can part ways." Eddie replies, grabbing his backpack and following Alex toward their bungalow. He doesn't turn to see if Steve is following as well, it's none of his business, or so he thinks, until he feels a sweaty little hand taking his and he finds Steve smiling brightly at him.

"We are going to be best friends."

Fuck.

This Summer Camp is going to be hell.

***

Even if it’s his first year at the summer camp, Steve seems to outshine in every game or activity the counselors propose to them: archery, obstacle course, climbing, Steve attends every activity and is always the best, and what's worse, it's that he's always dragging Eddie with him. When Eddie protests that he's not strong enough for the canoe, Steve makes sure they are on the same one and does his best to row for the both of them. And when he complains that he doesn’t want to play water balloon dodgeball, Steve hits him first and Eddie starts running to get his revenge.

At the end of the day, they are tired but happy when the counselor gathers them all around the campfire to share some horror stories.

No, Eddie isn’t happy. He’s living a nightmare. Two weeks are almost gone and Eddie hardly finished one of his books, because every time he hides somewhere Steve tracks him down like a fucking bloodhound and drags him somewhere to do something.

“Why are you always so eager to do stuff!” Eddie complains, resting on the grass, and staring at the sky.

“There are so many things to do! And I want to learn them all! I’m not going to have a lot of time to learn and we are going to leave soon.”

“You live in town, huh? That must be cool” Eddie comments, ripping a blade of grass and starting whistling with it. At the sound, Steve covers his ears, shaking his head, and for a brief moment, Eddie could swear he saw a tail. An honest to god tail! Slim and thin like a mouse tail, but still a tail!

“Steve?!” Eddie asks, looking at him worriedly, but Steve keeps covering his face with his hands.

“Why did you do that?” Steve cries.

“I’m sorry, I was just whistling, I didn’t know you didn’t like it. I won’t whistle anymore,” Eddie promises, throwing away the blade of grass.

“Never again?”

“Never again,” Eddie confirms, and Steve slowly lowers his hands.

“Steve…” Eddie asks while they walk back toward the kitchen to have lunch with the others, “Do you… do you have a tail?” 

Eddie isn’t a scientist but he knows humans have no tails. Still. He saw Steve’s tail.

The other boy looks at him, his eyes wide with terror while he bites his lower lip, “Why are you asking?”

“I think I saw a tail when you covered your ears.”

“A tail? Does little Steve have a tail? Let's check!” Andy says, grabbing Steve's pants and trying to strip him in front of everyone.

“Let me go! Let me go!” Steve cries, kicking and screaming, but Andy and his friends have almost immobilized him.

“Stupid prick! Let Steve go!” Eddie yells, biting Andy’s arm. He will be kicked out of the camp but he doesn’t give a fuck. Steve is his friend and he won’t let anyone hurt him! But they are two against five, and there’s no way Eddie can manage to free Steve. Maybe if he ran toward the kitchen he could ask a counselor’s help. 

Eddie doesn’t even have the time to make a plan that the slim pink tail appears once more and this time it grabs Andy’s ankle making him fall on the ground, then it yanks another boy until Steve is finally free and standing, moving his tail like a whip, threatening the boys to get closer.

“Steve?” Eddie calls, confused, and when the chestnut boy turns his eyes are big and wide, and his skin is a grayish color.

“Steve?” Eddie calls again.

“I’m sorry Eddie. My parents sent me here to learn how to survive your world.”

“In my world? What the hell are you saying?!”

Steve doesn’t have time to reply because a bright light starts to shine above them and when Eddie lifts his eyes a flying saucer is standing above them.

“What’s going on?” Eddie asks, confused and terrified.

“Those are my parents. They came to take me away.” Steve replies, grabbing Eddie’s hand, “But don’t worry. We’ll meet again. I promise. Just… don’t whistle around me, ok?” the kid asks and then he disappears.

***

Years have passed since Eddie’s encounter with an alien, that’s what he’s convinced it was.

None at the camp did remember Steve when Eddie came back and even if he did numerous research about the mysterious boy or other alien appearances he never managed to find proof that it wasn’t just a kid's dream.

In the meantime, Eddie has become a writer, and most of his books are sci-fi books about a hero alien called: Steve.

He’s mindlessly signing some copy of his last novel, the same script with everyone, “Hey, thank you for coming. What’s your name?” and then writing the same custom dedication, “To (insert name). Thank you for being with me during this new adventure.”

Kimberly, Jonathan, Francis, one name after the other Eddie writes the same sentence over and over until a familiar voice makes him finally lift his head.

“Steve. Name is Steve.” 

[scuttlingcrab]

A Hellish Dealer

Inspired by the Merchant Raphael that could've been, but now only exists in our imaginations. RIP. Gone but not forgotten. Thank you @firlionemoontav for the prompt idea and letting me know that we were robbed of Merchant Raphael!

Summary: Raphael isn't only a saviour, but a proficient salesman. After coming to Tav’s rescue, again, he offers the little mouse an item, straight from his Devilish line of goods, that he hopes will aid her in the fights ahead.

Link to my other work in the Devil's Archive.

(Image via devils-little-mouse)

Tav gasped for air, clutching at her chest. Her temples pulsed, her skull vibrating along with each thumping heartbeat. Her throat burned as she inhaled, like she had swallowed a bucket full of coal. It made her want to vomit, a cold sweat dripping from her forehead. Tav shivered, struggling to sit up. She eventually found the strength to hug her knees in a sad attempt to warm herself.

Without warning, memories flashed before her eyes. Just moments ago, she had been falling, her body plunging into something sharp. Pain jetted through her chest, a searing sensation stemming from the pits of her soul. Her companions' screams echoed in the recesses of her mind, their pleas for help, cries of agony had blended into one… until there was only quiet, her entire world consumed by nothing but shadows. 

Tav blinked, her eyes caked with dirt. She rubbed away the grime, her mind scrambling, attempting to put the millions of shattered pieces of this reality back together. She loosened the laces of her tunic, hoping that would give her some more room to breathe. Her hands stopped abruptly, running over a massive tear in the middle of her chest. She looked down, eyes widening at the discovery that her entire tunic was covered in dried blood. She instantly reached for her back, feeling an identical rip between her shoulder blades.

Tav’s chest tightened, spots of black dotting across her vision. 

Breathe, Tav. Breathe. 

She felt the floor with her fingertips. Stones. It was damp, slippery. 

She’s still here. Breathe. That’s it. 

She turned her head, attempting to look around, to search for her companions… but her vision was hazy, the specks of black refusing to leave her alone. 

Tav’s nose itched and she suppressed a cough, tears forming from the corner of her eyes as the scent of sulphur suddenly assaulted her senses.  

A large black shadow came into view, looming above her ominously. She blinked again and the area around her slowly came into focus, the shapeless being forming a clearer silhouette… and then a face. Their features morphed into something familiar. Big dark eyes stared down at her, the irises briefly flickering orange, like tiny flames. They were tall, their hair short and brown… 

Wait a damned second. 

“Raphael?” Tav whispered, confusion contorting her face.

Raphael smiled wide, bearing his teeth. He wore the same shit eating grin from when they first met on that bridge, when this entire fiasco began.

“It seems you’re not very perceptive after all, despite my countless warnings.” 

“Your… W-what?” Tav coughed, blood splattering on her palms. She immediately wiped it away on her trousers, growing more disgusted with herself. 

“The infernal markings, scattered throughout this Mausoleum. So simple I had assumed even a half-wit such as yourself could’ve spotted them.” 

Tav swallowed, another lump forming in her throat. Now that Raphael mentioned it, there were a bunch of weird symbols littered throughout the doorways of that stupid fucking Mausoleum, and a few of those scribbles suspiciously resembled arrows. She had shrugged them off, thinking it was some kind of joke or just someone’s sad attempt at artwork. Not actual warning signs from the Devil himself… pointing in the right bloody direction this entire time. They had been lost for hours, going back and forth one twisted hallway after another.

Well, Karlach was right… and Tav was a fucking idiot. 

Tav stood abruptly, hoping to cover up her festering embarrassment. As soon as she rose, the room rotated, faster and faster like she was caught in the middle of a windstorm. The floor came up to meet her in a blur and she shut her eyes, bracing herself for another explosive impact. She instead felt a sharp tug on her arm as her body was yanked to one side, promptly followed by a pleasant embrace. Tav leaned into the hold, enjoying the stillness and melting against the comforting heat radiating from… 

She opened her eyes, only to find herself snuggled in Raphael’s arms, her head resting against his chest. She held her breath as she glanced up at him. He winked in response and Tav blushed, her cheeks catching fire almost immediately. That damned face, that damned Devil… she never thought his smile could get any more condescending.

Tav ripped herself away from Raphael, wobbling as she tried to keep herself upright without his support, but it only got worse. 

“Oh Gods, I’m going to be sic–” 

The sound of a snap ricocheted throughout the chamber walls, settling her stomach and the spinning room simultaneously. 

“The little mouse, ever so hasty to escape the hands that saved it. You nearly soiled my favourite pair of boots. I will have you know, these are quite expensive.”

Tav held her hands out wide to keep her balance, shaking away any lingering bouts of nausea. 

“My f-friends… what have you don…”

“Oh, they aren’t going anywhere. Besides, I’d like a few more minutes alone with you.” Raphael paused, his eyes travelling up Tav’s body as if he was about to devour her for supper. “And please wipe that bewildered look off your face. Yes, that boney little cretin that lingers at your camp isn’t the only one who can bring mortals back from the dead. Now sit still, else you’ll ruin my handiwork.” 

There was another snap and Tav was transported away from the Mausoleum in a rush of sparks that tickled her skin. She materialised on a spacious balcony, her body gently fitting into a plush leather chair. The material stuck to her exposed skin like glue as she fidgeted. Tav inhaled sharply at the view, blood-red skies and an otherwise barren wasteland overtaking her vision. The air was thicker here, weighing on her shoulders like a heavy piece of armour.

“You’ve got to be kidding me…” Tav whispered, just as a dark Hellish cloud appeared on the horizon, growing more ferocious as it crept closer. 

Raphael sat in front of her, legs crossed and cradling a silver goblet. His eyes glimmered against the fiery skies of Avernus as he continued to gaze at her. Out of fondness or hunger? Tav had no fucking clue anymore.

A small table was placed between them, lined with a tray of refreshments.

“Let’s cut to the chase, shall we? I’d like to offer you some commodities for the fight ahead.”

“Hold on. Since when are you , the almighty Raphael, scary Devil-man who threatens foolish mortals, a vendor?” Tav leaned back, laughing hysterically. She watched as Raphael’s smile faded, a menacing scowl replacing any hint of amusement that had previously occupied his face. “Gods, I must’ve really, I mean really, hit my head back there.”

Raphael’s neck twitched and his eyes narrowed, but he remained calm, taking a sip from the goblet. 

“There is a whole world of services you’ve yet to discover that only I can provide. I just so happen to have an entire line of goods that are simply too Devilish to keep all to myself.”

“Do you think I have any bloody gold left? I don’t want anything from you. I just want to be done with this never-ending bullshit! As if this damned tadpole wasn’t enough, you have to be creeping and crawling around every corner! I’ve ju–”

Raphael leapt towards Tav, erupting into his cambion form. Tav cried out in shock as the table burst into flames, the bottles of wine and various jars of food exploding. She winced, covering her face to protect herself from the flying shards of glass. Raphael crushed the goblet in his hand like it was nothing but cheap, flimsy material. Wine oozed from his fist like blood, the liquid sizzling as it touched his skin.

He leaned closer to Tav, pointing a claw at her face. 

“I would hold that wretched, ungrateful tongue if I were you. If it wasn’t for me, you’d be nothing but a sack of flesh rotting on the shores of the Chionthar.” 

“Raphael, I’m sorry.” Tav muttered, her words barely audible against the thunder from the approaching storm. 

“I cannot hear your pitiful squeaks, little mouse.”

“I’m sorry.” Tav said again, her voice shaking. “I-I w…” 

She hid her face in her hands before Raphael could see her weep. She felt humiliated. Actually worse, like she was a spoiled child having a temper tantrum. Ungrateful. 

Tav choked on her tears, her body trembling against each emotional wave that crashed against her, destroying what was left of her self-control. The sadness was suffocating, her exhaustion crippling. She was just so tired. Of everything. Everyone. Fed up with being bent and moulded like she was merely a piece of metal in a forge. It wasn’t only Raphael. No . But her companions, pulling her in twelve different directions all at once, each with their own personal vendettas. And that tadpole, swimming around her brain, digging deeper and deeper into her subconscious. The sleepless nights, tossing and turning from the voices in her head. 

It was too much. 

“Why did you bring me back?” Tav muttered eventually. 

There was a brief pause as thunder cracked through the air, a hot gust of wind blowing across her hands.

“I’m not done with you yet.” Raphael replied, softly. 

“I hope you make it quick then. So the next time I fall you can just leave me to die in peace.”

“Yes…” Raphael began, delicately peeling Tav’s fingers away from her face, lowering her shield. He placed his own hand on her cheek, the warmth from his palm drying the tears that fell. He held his hand there for what felt like an eternity, and in truth, Tav didn’t want him to let go. She tried to look away, but she was drawn into his gaze; those dark, deceitful eyes, slowly losing herself the more she stared into that welcoming abyss. 

“I think I’m satisfied.” Raphael continued, releasing Tav from his hold. “Consider that my first and only warning. Next time I won’t be so… generous.”

Raphael returned to his seat and Tav let out a sigh, pressing her fingers to her cheek where the remains of his touch still lingered. 

He clapped his hands twice and a massive wooden wardrobe appeared behind him. He twirled his wrist, opening the double doors and showcasing an endless expanse of weapons, armour, and potions. He swiped his hand and the thousands of artefacts flew past him at a rapid speed. He hummed thoughtfully until he raised an index finger and stopped the movement, staring at a large metallic staff in front of him. It floated patiently, the metal was smooth and twisted, almost like silver vines.

“That’ll do nicely…”

Raphael moved his index finger and the staff flew out of the wardrobe, hovering before Tav.

“Feast your eyes on this . It can detect creatures who might not want to be found, simply activate the barrier with an intermediate incantation and nothing can hide within its boundaries. I think it suits your strengths just enough to get this next job done.” 

The staff bounced in the air as it twirled, beckoning Tav to touch it. She reached towards the staff, but Raphael yanked it away with the flick of his wrist. 

“Tut, tut. I don’t just hand things out for free, not even to my most treasured customers. I can give you a discount, however.”

Tav opened her mouth in protest but Raphael raised his hand dramatically to silence her. 

“Those soul coins, I can hear them screaming from your person. A far more satisfactory payment for my services. I don’t stoop so low as to accept gold .” Raphael practically shuddered as the words left his lips.

Tav hesitated, her hand resting above her trousers.

“Come now, Karlach doesn’t need them. If you give her any more, she’ll likely explode before you reach Baldur’s Gate.”

“How did you… riiight .” Tav muttered, nodding to herself. “You’ve got eyes and ears everywhere, yes, yes, I know.”

“Ah, has that tadpole riddled brain finally caught up?”

“Fine.”

Tav unclipped a leather pouch from her belt, digging her fingers inside it. She removed a soul coin and held it up to Raphael. 

“And for an additional soul coin I can throw in a few revivify scrolls, 4 for the price of 1. Seeing as you could barely walk the halls of the Mausoleum without falling into a trap meant for the undead. I simply don’t have enough time on my agenda to wait for you buffoons to drop like flies again. Which will undoubtedly happen, I can assure you. I might even bet you on it.”

Tav bit the side of her mouth, trying to keep herself from saying anything stupid to rile his temper a second time. She shook her head as she pulled another soul coin from the pouch. She placed both coins in her palm, extending it towards Raphael. He giddily accepted, snatching the Hellish currency in one showy movement. 

“Ta.”

Raphael inspected each soul coin carefully, rubbing his thumb over the jagged designs. He brought them to his ear, closing his eyes as he listened to music that Tav could not hear. He sighed with pleasure, nodding along to a silent melody. 

“Oh, how delicious. There is nothing that brings me more delight than the screams of doomed mortals. One of life’s simple pleasures.”

Raphael bounced the soul coins between his fingers, like he was trying to impress Tav with an amateur magic trick, until they vanished in a puff of smoke. The goods Tav purchased flew into her hands, nearly causing her to topple over in the chair.

“Well then, thank you for your business. I’ll be sure to keep my fingers crossed you can survive the next few hours. You know what’s at stake. Until we meet again.”

Before Tav could even utter her thanks, Raphael stood from his chair, gifting her with one of his flourishing bows. Her body was enveloped in another burst of sparks and just like that, she was swiftly returned to the Mausoleum. She unexpectedly found herself yearning for the stifling air of Avernus, her thoughts rushing back to Raphael. 

Tav stood in the same chamber, but she was no longer alone. Her companions were lying at her feet, just like the Devil had promised, groaning as they regained consciousness.  

“Gods, my head. That nearly ended us all…” Astarion whispered, jumping to his feet. 

“Yeah, what a fucking close call. Good job getting us out of that one, Tav,” Karlach added. She remained on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. 

“It would have been an undignified death.” Minthara said, rising to her knees as she released a healing spell. “And worst of all, my vengeance would have remained unquenched.”

Karlach laughed, using her elbows to lift herself up. 

“We’ll get that bastard Thorm soon enough, Minthara.”

Minthara huffed and the companions continued the idle chatter, their voices slowly fading from Tav’s focus.

Tav looked down at the metal staff in her hands, her grip tightening around it.

Right, she better not fuck this up. For all of their sakes.

[pillow-anime-talk]

reaction to his s/o’s death.

request: hi! how would moriarty the patriot characters react to his girlfriends death? sorry my english is bad becaues it’s not my language. if you don’t want to do it, dont do. have a nice day/evening😁

# tags: headcanons; current relationships; romance; drama; angst; death and blood mention; pregnancy and cancer mention too; suggestive

includes: female reader ft. sherlock holmes, jack renfield, james bond, fred porlock, george lestrade {mtp}

author’s note: hiii, thank you so much!

— SHERLOCK

↘ Your death was sudden. Sherlock was not prepared for it at all. He wanted to spend time with you that day at your favorite cafe on the corner of one of London’s streets. He wanted to eat apple pie with you, drink some coffee or tea with honey, and at the end take a walk along the park, talking about plans for the coming weeks.

↘ Your smiling face and eyes full of love, which shone even more at the sight of sweets, were muffled after a short while by the screams of the barista and customers, as well as gunshots, probably the most ordinary pistol. This day was going to be great, but it ended with a shooting by a madman.

↘ The sight of your body covered in blood and your blurred eyes was something indescribable to the man. After everything, the only question left was: Why didn’t he take you somewhere else? The feeling of guilt overwhelmed Sherlock Holmes like nothing else.

— JACK

↘ Just a few hours earlier, you were teasing each other about what to have for dinner, and a little after five in the evening, when you and your dog went for a short walk around the tenements, Jack heard many screams. He quickly put the newspaper he was reading on the table next to his cup of coffee, and then went to the huge window to see what had happened.

↘ The man could only see the galloping horse, the driver shouting incomprehensible words to God, your dog – Sharon – curled up under… you lying in a pool of blood, dirt and mud.

↘ That was when Jack cried for the first time in ten years, since your wedding.

— JAMES

↘ Together with James and William, you went to fulfill a mission; it was a simple task. Talk to the suspect, make a deal, possibly admit guilt and consider the punishment for the sins that the person was supposed to have committed.

↘ At first, everything was going well. Harold Stein, a German who came to London five years ago, was a human trafficker, who he brought from Germany. Pimping was a huge crime, so the three of you decided that there was no other punishment for the man than to hand him over to the police. And it was probably these words caused him to become so furious and disapproving. In an instant, the flash of a knife was within your sight. You quickly jumped away from the criminal, and then, with the will to fight, you wanted to stop him by saying that nothing would improve his situation.

↘ Your good spirit and aversion to aggression caused the knife to move towards you in an instant, and the next thing you felt was cold in your hands and toes. Looking down at the knife stuck straight into your chest, you just laughed. Flying bullets, fights, and poison had never defeated you… it was just a knife. Seeing this, James went into a rage, and even the calm and powerful William couldn’t stop him.

— FRED

↘ Fred understood the concept of death, he had dealt with it for a very long time, especially working for the Moriarty brothers.

↘ However, he never understood and never would understand the concept of the death of someone close to him, beloved, so precious. You were so young, so beautiful and had your whole life ahead of you; you wanted to write, sing, dance ballet, you wanted to open your own café, start a family with Fred in the future, have a pet and a garden where you would grow your favorite vegetables for salads or dinners. And yet cancer, for which a cure had not yet been invented, took you away from Fred in half a year.

↘ And although he had seen your life fading away for the last six months, at the funeral he could not hold back his tears and emotions; even Louis, even his mother, even God himself could not calm his suffering soul or soothe the longing that was visible in his gaze when he kissed your forehead for the last time in the coffin before placing it in the grave.

— GEORGE

↘ To George, you were a real princess, real Queen. And when you got pregnant with your first child, your husband couldn’t have been happier; a beloved woman, a home together, a long-awaited baby that would bear his surname, and also plans for the future like a secure old age and a group of grandchildren around the two of you sitting in old armchairs. Could it have been more beautiful?

↘ It certainly could have been... different. George had many enemies, but when you entered a relationship with him, you knew what to expect. So for five years you lived quietly, not sticking your neck out too much, enjoying being his life partner and future mother. However, everything changed on that one rainy night, when your beloved stayed at work longer than usual, wanting to finish some paperwork. And that’s when someone broke into your apartment. At first, they took what seemed valuable and expensive; your necklace, pocket watch, a bottle of red dry wine, a cigar, your grandmother’s rings, and also gold in small bars. And you would probably have survived that night if not for the instinct that told you to wake up and check if your husband had already returned.

↘ Instead of George, however, you saw a stranger who, upon seeing you, immediately attacked you with a vase standing on the dresser. In a moment, you found yourself on the floor with a terrible headache and spots before your eyes. The only thing you could think about was your husband and child in your belly. Unfortunately, your beloved returned too late and the sight he found was worse than all the nightmares he had dreamed of throughout his life. Guilt, anger, sadness, mourning, a desire for revenge… And in all of this, emptiness and loneliness...

[sinisterexaggerator]

I'll Put It On Your Tab

Wrecker x Gen! Reader

Warnings: Threats made with a blaster. Violence. Attempted robbery. A broken bone or two. Fluff, and a kiss. "Established" relationship vibes.

962 words

Notes: I decided to write a series of "goodbye" ficlets where the reader takes / removes something from each of CF99 as they part ways, however this one deviated a little bit from that path. In this case, the story is left open-ended.

For you, @allsystemsblue. I know you love Wreck. :D

Crosshair || Echo || Hunter || Tech

---

“I don’t want any trouble,” you pleaded, hands held high above your shoulders with arms bent at the elbows. The masked man before you held his blaster level with your abdomen, making a motion for you to fill his sack with all your credits.

“Everything,” he growled. “Put it in the bag.”

Trembling, you rushed to comply, your hard-earned money being forfeit to this brute who was sure to kill you if you did not obey his brusque command.

Your business was Mantell Mix in Ord Mantell City; you barely made ends meet as a simple street vendor. You had a few faithful customers, some more so than others, but otherwise you lived day-to-day off cartons sold. He was sure to clean you out; you would have to eat your product or starve until tomorrow, though the alternative was death.

You supposed you might just count your blessings and be thankful should he keep his word and spare you.

“Hurry up!” he barked; you jumped despite yourself, dropping your remaining profits on the ground for them to scatter at his feet. You gasped, afraid for any repercussions, immediately falling to your knees before him to quickly gather what you could to placate the increasingly impatient man.

“Karkin’ imbecile!” he hissed, pushing you backward by the heel of his boot. You fell onto your rump, staring up with horrified, wide eyes as he took aim at the space between them, tears threatening to fall as your heart crashed wildly behind your ribs.

“I’m sorry—” you began, tilting your head farther, fear expelled to be replaced with elation as your knight in not-so-shining armor loomed above your attacker, massive arms folded across the broad expanse of his chest.

“Is this guy bothering you?” Wrecker asked, almost comically so. He could not help himself, loving to make an entrance, no matter how dire the situation, it seemed.

“Yes!” you exclaimed, scurrying back on the palms of your hands before you attempted to stand. In that same moment, the perp and his half-filled sack of money swung around, Wrecker squeezing the barrel of his blaster so tightly, that he crushed it under the pressure of his fist.

“Why don’t you pick on someone your own size,” the clone demanded beneath his bucket, though this man was nowhere near the height of your darling hero. You watched with bated breath, your would-be robber struggling in vain within his grasp, his mutilated weapon tumbling awkwardly from his grip.

The sack of money had been abandoned, your assailant of the mind he would need both hands to ward off this towering giant who had made it his job to protect you. Though you thought to retrieve what was yours, you did not move a single muscle, watching the scene unfold as you silently thanked your lucky stars.

“Piss off!” the thug seethed, a flurry of motions catching your attention; something glinted in the streetlight above your humble cart.

“Wrecker!” you cried out, a hidden blade unsheathed. He appreciated your warning, but it was not necessary.

A twist and then a crack. The knife was just as easily discarded. The man screamed, though his cry of pain was momentary. Wrecker’s plastoid helmet had met with his skull, knocking him flat in the dirt with a resounding thud.

As soon as he was down for the count, you endeavored to wrap yourself around him; you hugged your rescuer as tightly as you could, though your arms would not even begin to enclose the entirety of his waist.

“Thank you,” you breathed, gazing up. Wrecker chortled nervously, rubbing the back of his head absentmindedly, even though his gear was in the way.

“Aww, it wasn’t nothing.” He shyly brushed away your gratitude. Wrecker always felt that way with you – shy -  though he was not sure what it meant.

You reached; you wanted to see his handsome face. He was beautiful to you, regardless of his many scars.

Wrecker obliged, craning his neck so that you might remove his helmet and set it off to the side. He smiled down at you, a twinkle sparkling in the umber depths of his good eye.

For a moment, he seemed proud. “I sure showed him!” he announced happily.

“You did,” you assured him kindly, unable to help yourself as you traced the raised lines spidering across his skin. You repaid his smile with one of your own, turning to rummage through your cart.

“I have something for you,” you said, withdrawing a fresh carton of his favorite treat. You took a piece between your fingers and offered it to him. He hesitated, finally bending down to gingerly take the small kernel between his teeth.

“Mmm,” he hummed, politely chewing with his mouth closed.  You offered another, this time replacing it with a press of your lips to his when he least expected.

Wrecker’s eyes rounded to saucers before he gradually relaxed, the surprisingly gentle man taking up either side of your face in the curves of his palms. His fingers came to rest just beneath your ears, the rebel clone using this opportunity to draw you in.

“This is better than Mantell Mix,” he mumbled against you; you tried to suppress a laugh, having meant to deepen your connection.

Instead, you grinned, opening eyes that had been shut so that you could lovingly regard him. You returned your hand to his face, cradling his jaw. “I owe you my life,” you whispered.

You thought you saw a hint of a blush as he stumbled to reply. "Uhhh- I'll settle for that," he bashfully requested.

You could barely contain your glee as you rose up on your tiptoes to kiss him one more time. "I'll put it on your tab,” you quipped playfully.

[bandgie]

An Uncertified Doctor

Alucard!smut x fem!reader, my man doesn't get enough attention :(((

synopsis: After an argument with your father about the nightly attacks and his reckless behavior, you find yourself in face with a demon who wants nothing more than to cause you pain. The curse you're given is brutal, needy, and utterly horrid. It's not until a man by the name of Alucard saves you, but at the cost of what's left of your dignity.

content warnings: blood, demons, corpses, drugging, cursed reader, fingering, it get super sticky here, blood, medicine play????, restraints, PIV, some light body mutilation (reader gets slashed across the arm), pullout method (USE PROTECTION PLEASE), oneshot

word count: 7.2k (went a little crzy)

Prologue ~

The children held each other as your mother continued telling stories of monsters. You had heard these a million times, your tiny fingers finding the prickly grass beneath you much more interesting. It was scary the first time you were warned of the beast in the castle, it's thirst for blood. You had cried, much like how the other children cried right now. Begged your mom to not let this monster get you, kill you.

"No!" one of the children cried, making you stop pulling on the grass. "I don't want the monster to drink my blood!" More children started protesting against their invisible enemy, crying and screaming. You turned to your mother, seeing her hide back a smile.

"And it won't get you," she promised, her voice gentle. "You must stay within the village, never venturing too far. And you also must listen to your parents. This monster loves eating naughty children."

That's how you knew this story was meant to scare children into listen to their parents. It become obvious when you did something wrong or bad, they would threaten you with the same blood-sucking demon. Do you want to go to his castle?! Your dad had yelled. I'll drag you there and he'll keep you instead!

The other children began making promises of being good, submissive to their parents. You had a frown on your face, perhaps you were the odd one out. You had a bad habit of not listening to authority, taking things into your own hands. A small part of you thought these stories were made up for you, to make you listen.

It didn't take long for the children's parents to arrive, picking up their terrified children. You watched as your mom went to the parents, most likely to explain why they were so upset. You stood on your tiny legs, walking to eat the remaining snacks that were left over from the school session.

"Ah, sweetie you can't eat too much. Save some room for supper," your mom said behind you. You only laughed though, shoving the remaining goodies into your mouth as you ran. Your mom chased you, bursts of giggles escaping your lips as you let your stubby legs take you as far as they could go.

You squealed when she grabbed you, pulling you up in the air. "No fair!" you screamed. "You're bigger than me!" Your mom only laughed and held you in her arms. You secretly wiped your dirty hands on her shirt, but it was far too obvious to go unnoticed.

She let out an irritated groan and yelled your name, "You know better. Do you want to monster to come get you?" Your giggles quickly died down, your mood turning sour. You huffed and crossed your arms, looking away from your mother, "Monsters are not real! That doesn't scare me."

She tsked at you, setting you down on the grass gently. "Love," her voice was serious, in a way that made you stop your attitude and listen intently. "Monsters are more than demons from the underworld. There are monsters here, on the very dirt you and I walk on. They will hurt you and take you from your family if you wonder too far., if you keep disobeying your family. Do you understand?"

Your small body trembled at her seriousness. Despite being at a young age, you knew that not all people were nice. "Bad men," you whispered, eyes wide. Your mom nodded, seeming satisfied with your answer. "Yes," she said. "Bad men."

She picked you back up and took you inside your small house, your dad already setting up the table for dinner. It stuck with you though, her words, your genuine fear. Even after you had grown, after real, hell-born demons began walking the Earth after the wrongful death of Dracula's wife...

The real demons were human.

Present ~

Your village was in shambles, buildings were half torn down, the smell of death and rotting bodies was pungent, blood painted the ground and walls. Still, your dad tried to make a defense team. A group of men that would fight back against the demons, losing most of the time. You know this was in vain, no mere man could win against a devil's spawn. Your dad was determined however, especially after your mothers death.

You hated how injured he was when he came back home, blood dripping at an alarming rate as you tried to patch him up. Resources was another issue the village, it was depleting. You had to settle for using an old cloth to bandage his wounds, ignoring how your dad said to save any clothes for the upcoming winter.

You sat him on the chair, wrapping the cloth around his arm when tears started to prick your eyes. You sniffed, trying to ignoring the way you wanted to yell at him to stop, to stay safe. You and him had argued about this for months, both of you too stubborn to see the other side.

Still, you cried. Sobbed as you tightened the 'bandage.' Your dad frowned when he saw your tears, using his good hand to wipe them away. "Why are you crying?" You scoffed at his question, anger replacing your sadness.

"Why am I crying?" Your voice is clipped, almost aggressive. "Look at yourself! Your putting yourself in danger, your putting all those men with you in danger! You're going to get yourself killed out there! Do you not give a shit about if you die?"

"Do not speak to me with that tone. Do not curse at me," your father rose he spoke, an attempt to establish the power he has. Before you would have listened, apologize for stepping out of line. Now however, there's nothing to lose. There's not much joy in this house, your dad turned destructive after seeing your moms cold body. Her death changed both of you.

"I will do what I please!" You yelled, standing on your tippy toes to be the same height. "You do! Going out there in a suicide attempt. You don't give a fuck about anything anymore! Not yourself, not this house, not me! I'm your daughter! You're supposed to protect me. You're supposed to stay with me, not those damned beasts!"

You voice was strong, thick with emotion. Tears spilled down your face, hands trembling as you spoke. Your dad was growing angry, you could see how his face turned red and eyes grew dark. "I am protecting you," he argued. "After this village is rid of Dracula's demons, we will-"

You laughed bitterly, interrupting his sentence. "There is no end to this hell," your voice was calmer now, still laced with venom. "I'm not a stupid little girl anymore. It's clear to see that God has abandoned us, there is no way to rid of Dracula's beasts."

Your dad breathed deeply, stepping away from you in an attempt to clam down. You stayed silent as he collect his composure, his thoughts. "Do not speak about the Father is such a way," he warned. "This is a test, a way for the Messiah to see if we really are worthy of walking through heaven's gates."

The church? Your dad has the nerve to preach the church's message when they're the ones that put you in this mess? "You are a fool," you spit, ignoring how your dad balled his fists. "The priests are the ones that caused this havoc. They are the reason mother died."

"Do not!" Your dad yelled, screamed. No matter how upset he got, he never yelled. Sure he raised his voice, but shouted? Never. You jumped, taking a step back as he approached your form. You lowered your head down, shame fogging your thoughts. You went too far.

"Don't you dare speak her name on your mouth. You disgrace me by using her death as an excuse for your temper." Your weeps resumed, looking at the darkness in your dad's eyes. An excuse? You would never. If anything, he was the one using her death to act reckless. You can't keep being in this house, surrounded by the memories of your happy family, what your life was.

What it will never be again.

You pushed him hard, shoving him onto the ground as you ran out of house. He screamed your name, shouting at you to come back. You ignored him, you ignored the bodies you passed, the violent sobs that wrecked you. It's too much to stay here, to endure all the emotional turmoil you have to go though.

So you ran, barefoot. You feet grew wet with the mud and blood mixed. You ran through the gates that kept your village somewhat protecting, ignoring the men on guard that yelled at you. You ran until you couldn't hear them shouting, you ran until the village was nothing but a blurry image in the distance. The grass was soothing under your feet, wiping away some of the wet essence on there. You clutched at your chest, heaving.

Your chest burned, your feet ached, your mouth craved water. You kept pushing forward until you saw a stream. No longer able to keep yourself up, you collapsed, crawling to the water until you were submerged in it. You bathed, drank, and nearly drowned in the stream. Your clothes were drenched, but that didn't matter. They would dry, like your tears.

It had been so long when you had last bathed properly, when you drank clean water. Your dad was coming back home with filtered water, mud still seen in the cups. But this water was clear, it was so easy to see the fish that swam within it. You laid in the water, letting it engulf you with just your head peeking up.

You will have to make your way back home soon, you can't be exposed in the wilderness like that. Demons did not rest, they were active at all times. It's a wonder how you didn't notice any on your way here. The thought of going back home however, was dreadful. You couldn't face your dad, you can't keep pretending like everything is fine and he will be safe. Something needs to change, but what?

You sat up, head thinking of ideas. Prayers do not work like your village had thought. Holy water however, was the real savior. Smaller demons would bursts into flames, bigger ones would be severely wounded. If only the priests at your village weren't cowards, hiding in their sanctuary.

While you were deep in thought, you didn't notice a demon perched on a nearby tree. It watched as you as you stood, water dripping from your clothes. Demons were not dumb creatures, though same acted without thought. They had some intelligence, the ability to plan and strategize. This demon was quite intelligent unfortunately for you, salvia dripping down its lips. It craved to tear your flesh, to drink you screams and break your soft bones. It had a bad habit of playing with it's food.

You walked out of the water, squeezing the parts of your loose dress at the bottom. It wasn't until you heard the soft thud that you looked up, skin prickling in fear as your eyes scanned for an enemy. Then you saw it, a man. He had purplish hair, skin deathly pale, eyes red as blood. You knew his human stature was a way to lure you in, to trust him. This 'man' was a demon.

"Stay back!" you cried, arms out in front of you to keep a distance. "Go back to where your came from, demon!" Your voice shook, eyes watering in fear. It laughed at you, stalking closer.

"That's not very nice," it says, smiling. "I feel hurt by your words, come comfort me." It opens its arms as if it expects a hug, you make a disgusted face.

"Fuck off!" You shout before you run, not caring what direction you're going it. It laughs again, mouth puling back to reveal absurdly sharp teeth. It chased you, letting you tire out before you slowed. It would be easy to take you somewhat compliant.

It tackled you on the ground, rolling on the grass until you were dizzy. It laid on top of you, red eyes sparking in excitement.

"Vermin!" You screeched, arms and legs kicking. "You evil fuck! Get off me!" It caught your violent attempts, easily using one of its hands to hold both of your own above your head. It's weight heavily settled on your stomach, giving you legs no access to kick freely at him.

"I'll kill you!" You threat, knowing how impossible that is. This makes the demon laugh uncontrollably, just for a moment forgetting it's sinful desire to defile you. It used its free hand to wipe a joyous tear, shaking its head.

"Quite the jester are you!" it says excitedly. "You will be fun, but refrain from calling me such cruel names. I am Magnus." You spit in its face, not caring how some of the salvia drips down on you.

"I don't give a shit what you are called, demon," you speak maliciously. "I have to respect for monsters like yourself." It frowns then, wiping the slobber off its cheek and sighing.

"You know, I thought I would enjoy touching your body. Seeing you submit to me in the vilest way possible. However, I think I should just kill you. Painfully," Magnus almost looks sad as he speaks. He sounds as if he didn't really want to hurt you, but you can see the disgusting smile on his face.

Magnus uses his free hand to grab you face, making your lips pucker and shape and 'o' form. Before you have the chance to protest or scream, he spits. You think it's way to get revenge for spitting at him earlier, but he perfectly aimed for the inside of you mouth. On instinct, you swallow. You grimace at the thought, the way is slide down your throat, how sweet it tasted.

You've heard of this. Demons that take advantage of women in the night, ripping their bodies once they're done. Survivors had told stories of the drool. The way the demons saliva was able to make the women crazed with need, make the obedient. You shuddered, you knew his kind. An incubus.

You hated how hot your body got, the desire that pooled in your stomach. Your body was still soaked in water, but you can feel your folds begin dripping in arousal. You shook your head and cried, whimpering at how you body was betraying your throats. You were all to aware of his skin on yours, his body weight pressing down on you. You craved for something to be in the deepest parts you, places you had never bothered touching after the world went to shit.

Magnus smiled as he watched you pant, eyes going wild with hunger. He was not going to give you pleasure, instead he was shred the skin off your meat, make you watch he stuffed his face of your tender muscles. You would only moan he hurt you, your brain would be too far gone to know the difference between pain and pleasure.

Your cunt though, he would not touch that at all. You would soon beg, not caring if he actually devoured your pussy. You would be craving just for someone to touch you there, to penetrate deep inside you. Magnus's fingernails sharpened, dipping his hand to your arms as he sliced the skin. You cried out, blood welting at the wound. He leaned down and licked, moaning at your taste.

"Someone's not a virgin," he muttered. Magnus thought for a moment. He was planning on taking your innocence, but now he's thinking of just fucking you cruelly. That would go against his point of torturing you, he wanted to deny you pleasure in any way possible in the most horrible way.

He sighed, torn between the two options. It was tempting, so tempting to cup your mound, take what little dignity you have left of yourself. Magnus watched as your face contorted in discomfort, fighting the aphrodisiac saliva that traveled in your throat and gut. He wanted to see it twist is pleasure, then rip it from you. Have you crumbling and breaking under him, begging him to stop while secretly wishing he wouldn't.

Before Magnus could choose, you cried out, hot tears falling down your face as you couldn't stop yourself from moaning. "Kill me," you croaked. He was used to this, it wasn't often, but some maidens would beg to be killed before fucked. "Just kill me already," you continued to weep.

The demon smiled, happy with your reactions and sorrow. "No, I quite like it when you beg."

Just as Magnus was going to slice the skin of your stomach with his nails, a large dog appeared, quickly knocking him down to the ground. Your body was released from the demons body weight, you cried in relief and distraught. It took so much strength to sit up, to ignore the aching in your body from running and the demon's drug.

Your unfocused eyes caught a glimpse of a white wolf and Magnus fighting. You groaned as you tried to stand, willing you legs to bend so you could place your weight on them. You were on your hands on knees, feeling disgusted at the drool that seeped down your legs.

You could hear them yelling, Magnus was talking to the animal like it could understand him. You wobbly stood, stop slightly hunched over as you trudged away from the fight.

Left... right... left... right... You walked slowly, trying to build the strength to continue. You should not have yelled at your dad, cursed him and his beliefs. The last thing you will have ever done with him is fight. Tears pricked your eyes again, the burning passion in your body was no match for the pain in your heart. If it's not Magnus that will kill you, it will be the wolf.

The ground rumbled, shaking so violently you feel to your knees. You yelled in frustration, it took so much just to stand. You can't possibly do it again, not when the loud sounds of punches and the pounding of your head rings. Not when your body violently shakes with need, with desire. You hate it, how you go limp on the ground. How your shaky hands find their way between your legs.

You needed something to soothe the ache. It was unbearable, it was inhumane. You placed your hand over your clothes cunt, moaning touch. You're disgusting, you're vile. You're succumbing to the demons liquid, his drug. It's not enough though, not with how tired your entire body is. You wanted more, no, you need more. Your eyes start to close, body shutting down from the deathly arousal your experiencing.

You miss how the white wolf managed to rid Magnus, having him flee from both of you. It moved to you, shape-shifting as it did. There stood a tall man, long limbs with blonde hair that reached his torso. He carefully picked you up, ignoring the lewd sounds you made when he touched you. You were unconscious, but your body was acting as if it was awake. Your sleepy hands gripped, grabbed, and clutched his body, trying to get closer to him.

The man let out an irritated sigh, eyes closing before he walked with you in his arms. He was dreading the thought of dealing with you and the aphrodisiac, but he took you nonetheless.

"This will be such a hassle," he mutters.

~

Three days. You have been in excruciating pain for three days and who knows how more to go. You were informed by the blonde man who saved you, Alucard, that you were cursed. It was a common one succumbi and incubi used for their victims. It was supposed to drive the person insane with need for an undetermined amount of time. It was painful not being touched, and painful being touched. Essentially, you had to choice to die in heat or be fucked to death.

Alucard was working on a potion, a reversal one that would undo what had been done to you by Magnus. He left you alone most of the time, bringing you food and water that you would nearly vomit. Both of you were beginning a routine; him bringing you food, you telling him that only food you need is dick, him forcing the food down you mouth, and you cumming whenever he grabbed your face to force your lips open.

You were beyond mortified when you had creamed your pants from a mere touch of his hand, but he didn't even mention it. By now, he was used to your howls of need, of pain. The way you voice echoed throughout his castle was a constant reminder of the pain you were in. Alucard treated you more like a cat in heat than a cursed human.

Even if it weren't for the curse, you would still want Alucard to stay besides you. It was so lonely to be in a room, chained to the bed (something he had to do for his and your protection). There was no one to talk to, no one to keep you company during this time, nothing to look at.

Alone.

You tiredly fight against your chained hands, your chained legs. Sweat and tears drip down your face, and you could feel the nonstop wetness dripping onto the bed from between your thighs. You haven't touched yourself once since being here. Though you've came, without meaning to, it's still not enough. There's nothing for your pussy to clamp down on, nothing that you could rub between your thighs.

Instead you just lie there, sobbing and cursing at yourself, and Magnus, at leaving your village. None of this would have happened had you stay there. You would have been with company, with human contact, with the only family you have left. More tears slip down your face, and you know it's not just from painful arousal.

Your thoughts are stopped by the door opening, revealing Alucard who has a tray in his hand. You lift your head up to peer at him, taking in his slender frame, long fingers, gentle eyes, and unblemished skin. Just like that, your saddened thoughts are replaced by the familiar need for sex.

You force your head back down onto the bed, biting your lower lip. You're on the verge of begging him to fuck you, though you know he won't. It's futile to even consider, but the skin on your lip still breaks from staying silent. You close your eyes when you hear his footsteps getting closer, you won't be able to stand it if you see him.

"The potion in done," his voice is gentle besides you. This time you snap you eyes open, head turning to his direction. Your eyes land on the tray that has not only food, but a clear glass. It's swirling with green and blue, some gold flecks fluttering around. You left out a sigh of relief, but it comes out like a moan.

Without thinking, you reach for the bottle. You're quickly restricted by the chains, and you yell from frustration. "Fuck Alucard! Just give it to me." You know you're being rude, and it's the last thing you should be to the man helping you. Still, you're not sure if you're asking for the potion or something else.

He set the tray down on a nearby nightstand, grabbing the glass and looking at you wearily. "It's been days since you've been cursed. You could drink it now, but it would take a few more days for the symptoms to clear," Alucard trails off like there's something else, and truthfully you don't have the patience to keep waiting.

"It's possible to also make the symptoms clear up quickly, just within a few hours. However-"

You trash around the bed impatiently. "I don't care! Heal me quickly. I'm not sure I can take much longer." The smell of him has you keening, drooling at the scent. It's the most he's talked to you, and you're clenching around nothing just at his voice. You fear of what you'll do if you have to withstand this feeling any further, death is seeming like a much better alternative.

Alucard's fingers grip the glass a little more harder, and without a word, he sits at the edge of the bed. The dip of his weight makes you anxious, horny, needy. You pray that he quickly gets on with whatever he has to do, but you also wish he can take you. Your body starts shaking in anticipation. This man hasn't even touched you, yet his mere presence makes you vibrate with arousal.

You watch as his hands ghost over your thighs where your dress ends. Your breath hitches, and you nearly cry when he lifts up the dress. He bunches it at your waist, and when his knuckles graze your flesh, you cum. A sob wrecks your body, and your hips left off the bed. You feel so embarrassed, so disgusted with yourself, yet you can't stop the hot pleasure that raked through your body.

Alucard waits until you flop back down into the bed, heavy breathing. Though he's killed demons and his own father, he's never experienced someone with such a curse. You're tempting to him, your soft skin and pleading eyes. The noises you make are so pretty to him, but he knows better than to think anything else.

He's reserved, tucked away in a castle that teleports at will. He doesn't bother with much companionship, let alone a night with a woman. After what happened last time, he swore to stay away from helping people unless necessary. Humans are deceiving, selfish, and everything his father feared. Still, he has a heart, he had a human mother. There is evil in humans yes, but there is also good.

You don't notice how Alucard's eyes travel your body, how his pants start getting a little tighter around the crotch area. You're so out of it, so desperate, it's nearly impossible to ignore you. It takes unbelievable strength to pull your underwear to the side, more to ignore the way the cloth stick to your pussy. Alucard unconsciously licks his lips.

You moan at the feeling of being exposed, of being looked at. You dare to life your head up, peeking at Alucard who dips his middle finger in the cup to coax it in the liquid. He notices your staring, and looks up. "I promise to do nothing indecent. I just have to insert this inside," he explains.

You only moan in response, opening your legs wider for his access. With gentle movements, Alucard smears his finger all over you clit. You squeal, body quivering from the stimulation. He's applying it like ointment, but what he's doing is anything but doctor-like. Alucard is avoiding your bud, the place where you ache for him to touch the most. You try to maneuver your hips so he could graze it, but he keeps one hand at your hips to keep you still.

Though he's touching you, something you've been praying for since you got to his castle, now it's not enough. You begin begging, pleading with him to touch you. You've lost what decency you had left, opting to succumb to the effects of the curse.

"But I am touching you," Alucard protests. You watch as his lips fight from turning into a smirk. Oh he's into this. Now you finally take in how his tongue keeps licking his lip, how dilated his pupils are, the way his fangs poke out from his -

Wait, fangs?

Surely, you must be hallucinating. Delirious from pleasure that you've began seeing things. You blink a few times, trying to get your eyes right. When you open them, however, they're still there. Your eyes widen in disbelief, in shock. You open your mouth to ask about it, but he slips his finger inside.

You whimper instead, fingers clutching the sheets under you. Your eyes roll back to your head, letting your walls squeeze his finger. You're panting, thoughts of his inhuman teeth forgotten as you finally have something inside you.

"Forgive me if you're a maiden," his voice breaks through your moans. "This is the fastest way to the the results you want. Tell me to stop, I will."

You shake your head so harshly, Alucard worry it might fall off. "No! No," you cry out. "I'm not-fuck! I've had- shiiiiiit," Your mouth fails you. It's impossible to speak now that he's started pumping his finger inside you. It's nothing compared to cock, but it's still long enough to have make you squirm.

"Ahh," Alucard's voice is understanding, "I see." Truthfully, he's glad you're not a virgin. It would have been awkward when you've healed, he can't handle confrontation like that. He gives a few more pumps before he pulls out, a string of your essence still clinging to his finger as if begging to not leave.

"Put it back in!" You sob, fighting against the chains. You're left empty, pussy throbbing like it's also crying. Your teary eyes watch as he dips two fingers into the potion. You almost forgot he was giving you medicine, too distracted with how much your desire pooled for him.

"Please." There's no point in pleading, you know he will give you what you need. Still, the thought of being left here again to endure this pain has you worried. Alucard pulls his fingers out of the glass and rubs the liquid on your clit. This time, he does touch the bundle of nerves. You whimper, head thrown back as you relish in his touch.

Alucard releases his hand from your waist to dip his middle and ring finger into the potion. Now his two fingers on each hand soaked, he moves it to enter your cunt. He watched as you mouth falls open in a loud moan as he pumps and rubs you. You're tightening so much around him, convulsing like he's exorcising a demon.

A quiet groan escaped his mouth when you start fucking yourself on his fingers. With the little free movements you have, you shift your hips upwards and downwards. You don't have much energy, but doing this makes it so that his fingers are able to hit your sweet spots.

Alucard speeds up his movements on rubbing you, feeling your insides spasm around his fingers. You're close again, and your lower half is so sticky from all the combined wetness. You don't bother counting on how many times you've finished from his hands, but in how skilled he is. Alucard's movements are calculated, soft, and gentle. Despite making your pussy squelch and squirt, he does it as elegant as ever.

With another loud moan, you cum on his hand, letting your hips still as you savor your orgasm. Eyes closed, legs stiff, and mouth hanging open, Alucard pulls his finger completely away from your body. You gasp, looking up to see him eyeing your spasming walls. Sure, you might need this 'healing' more than him, but he looks as desperate.

It's not until you see Alucard move to the bottle that you notice it's almost empty. Truthfully, you've began to feel the beginning parts of the working medicine. You can think a little clearer, your head isn't pounding as hard, and your body doesn't ache as painfully with desire. Still, your body craves more. From the curse or from your own yearning, only God knows.

"Wait," you speak up. Alucard halts his movements, fingers just above the cup. "What is it?" He asks, "Are you in pain?" Some of the lust in his eyes was replaced with worry, and you would've melted on the spot had you not had your exposed pussy bared to him.

"No, I'm fine," your voice is reassuring. "Actually, I think it's working." Alucard nods, "It seems so, you can speak in full sentences now." You laugh at his words, a little embarrassed at your previous behavior. You chew on your lower lip, now able to feel some shame from what you want to ask.

"Is it possible to..." you trail off. Your eyes scan your nude legs, his wet fingers, then your eyes land on the tent in his pants. Alucard notices this, blushing at your bold vision. "To what?" He pushes. Even if you're being very direct with your eyes, he still needs that verbal confirmation.

You think on how to word it properly so that you don't further humiliate yourself. Then you think, fuck it. "You have already seen my womanhood and felt it yourself. What's the harm in using your cock to apply the serum?" There, you asked him. You let out an exhale, surprised at yourself with your own bluntness.

His eyes widen, then he scans your body. You're tied, chained to the bed. You can't do him any harm even if you wished to, plus you did not seem skilled in hunting demons or anything of the sort. Alucard weighs the pros and cons in his head before coming to a conclusion. "I suppose you're right, there is no difference at this point."

Alcuard stands off the bed, and you watch in anticipation as he rids himself of his pants. Wet hands untie the knot, gently dragging the material down his thighs, calfs, until he hits his ankles. Even in undressing, he is as poise as ever. With nothing underneath, you watch how his dick touches his lower abdomen, the head screaming to the played with.

A hum leaves your lips, legs opening a little wider upon seeing him. Alucard is far too embarrassed to look at you, but you can tell he appreciates your reaction from the red in his face. You yank of the chains enough to have them rattle, forcing him to look up at you. "Rid of these quickly. I think my arms are about to fall off."

You watch as his expression falls a little, a small look of pain crosses his eyes. "I cannot."

You raise an eyebrow, "You cannot?" He nods, confirming your question. "I find it more...comfortable to keep you bind." His tone is set, but the way his eyes meet yours shows his nervousness. You sigh, a little irritated at his request. You click your tongue a few times, thinking. "What about my legs then? Could you unchain them at least?"

He taps his chin thoughtfully, almost forgetting the fact that his dick is still out and proud. "Yes," Alucard comes to a resolution. "Tell me if you feel discomfort." You thank him and watch as he bends over to the bed, easily opening the clamps on your ankles to set you free.

Once your legs are released, you stretch. You feel a few bones pop and groan in satisfaction. Alucard chuckles at you, now finding himself on the bed as he crawls to your hips. Without missing a beat, you reopen your legs. You push your knees up to your chest, letting him adjust in front of you.

Anticipation relights in your chest as you observe him between your legs. Alucard soothingly rubs his hands up and down the back of your thighs, planting kisses on your somewhat sore ankles.

Gentle, you think. You haven't been with a lover in a while, and to be treated so tenderly after so long does something to you. Alucard's sweet, golden eyes meet you. Though you can see the passion and lust in them, you can't help but see fear. It's strange. Why is he one scared when you're the one who's tied? At his will and power literally beneath him, yet it's him who trembles in anxiousness.

"I'm not going to hurt you," you don't know why you say it. Perhaps it's because you want to make him feel better. A part of you regrets even speaking up, but that feeling goes away quickly when he smiles almost shyly at you. "I know," he says. "It's just been a while."

You were going to say that you have also been abstinent, but you moan instead when you feel the head of his cock sliding against your clit. From the previous cum and orgasms, Alucard finds himself humping against you eagerly. He uses his hands to reach down and press his cock harder against you, making sure to apply pressure.

You quiver, eyes locked on his as you hear the slickness of your connecting bodies. Alucard keeps his other hand at the back of you thigh to keep your leg open. His hips move with determination, captivated by your soft flesh.

The curse has not yet fully gone away, so it's not long before you feel the impending build up of yet another orgasm. You're moaning at every thrust Alcuard provides you to let him know that you're close. He watches how his dick glistens from your wetness despite not even being inside you once. Alucard knows it's just the curse effects, but a small part of his hopes it's from his actions.

Just to experiment, Allured dips the head of his cock into your entrance before sliding back out. You clench around emptiness, suddenly eager to cream his cock. "Alucard," his name is magic on your tongue. He doesn't even need to ask what you need nor do you need to say more. You both want it inside.

Alucard groans as he gentle slides his cock in you. There's little to no resistance, and even if there was, you would take only pleasure in the stretch. It's already hard not to when he fills you up so nicely, his girth spreading your lower lips perfectly. You didn't intend to come with his first breach, but you did anyway.

Your body tightens, your warm walls clamping on his dick like you did to his fingers not too long ago. An actual whimper leaves his lips, and you only squeeze him tighter. You can feel yourself pulsing around him, the leaking of your cum down your ass. Surely, you must look exhausted. With a heaving chest, sweaty body, and knotted hair, there must be nothing appealing to your appearance.

Still, Alucard finds beauty in your afterglow. The wet and dry cum spread between your thighs, the way your eyes seem to gloss over every time you finish, truly a sight to behold. It's been so long since he has experienced pleasure to this extent. Alcuard will cherish this moment for as long as he can.

It's why he thrusts into you again, relishing in your overstimulated noises. All you can do, and want to do, is take it. Let Alucard take you as he pleases, as he deserves. He's been so patient, so kind. This is the last he deserves.

Now that both of his hands are on your thighs, you start honing in on his touches. His long hair tickles your legs, even a part of your stomach when he leans down to get a better angle. His fingers dig into your soft flesh, almost possessively. His mouth is open, panting as he fucks into you.

Even in his most primal state, Alucard is still graceful in his movements. You don't think it's possible for any man to look as beautiful as he does in the moment, yet here he is. You unconsciously tug at the restraints at your wrists, desperate to touch him, to kiss him.

His pink, soft lips are all you can look at while Alucard is too distracted with looked at how your cunt eats him up. Now with more confidence, he lifts your legs higher. He pins your thighs to your chest so tightly that it constricts some of your air flow. The current mating press has him close to your face, dick adjusting to the new position.

There's no way you can't not pay attention to his mouth now, his breath on your skin. Alucard is on his feet now, crouched so he could slam into your overstimulated pussy perfectly. He's so deep, so thick that you feel his tip go almost in to your cervix. You cry out, eyes teary as he finally looks up at you.

Alucard looks at you as if he's hurt you, but now he can see the pure lust gaze you have. It's almost as if Alucard had heard your wish to kiss him because the next thing you know, those same lips are pressing down on yours. You moan into his mouth, a sudden burst of pleasure explodes in your stomach.

"Holy shit," you manage to speak. Your legs are spasming insanely, his grip had turned a little harsh just to keep you still. You don't pulling away from his sloppy kiss, you know his thighs must be soaked in your cum.

He is first to break the kiss, letting out a choked laugh before driving into you harder. You didn't even get the chance to come down from your high. Instead, your body moves like a rag doll underneath him from the intense overstimulation. Now you're somewhat thankful for the chains, you have something to grab onto without worry of hurting anyone (besides yourself).

Alucard knows he won't last much longer. Not only is his dick going to explode, but his legs will give out from staying at a squatting position. With loud groans and unfocused eyes, you know he's close. After days of watching your struggle, the desperation for Alucard's touch, he finally gets to soak in all your being.

A part of you wishes that you could do more for him, but the way his face begins to twist in pleasure tells you that he's perfectly happy with how things are now. His hips stutter, your name leaves his lips in aroused chants, and he pulls out.

You gasp at the sudden lost of contact, immediately begging for him to put it back in. Though you have cum an already unknown amount of times on his cock and fingers, you think it's only fair for him to get the same treatment in finishing in your soft pussy no matter how fuck out you are.

He ignores your wails though, he continues stroking himself the completion on your stomach. Wet cum sprouts on your tummy, legs still stuck in the previous position. Though you know you should be grateful for him not cumming inside, you're still thoroughly disappointed. Alucard has the same feeling as you, but he's still gentleman.

You slowly let your legs down, wincing at the soreness and stiffness you're met with. Alucard is quick to help you, gently placing your legs on the bed. You're still breathing heavily, on the brink of passing out when he awkwardly lays besides you. From the way he's panting, he's also just as tired as you.

It takes a while before he's able to speak, turning his head to you. "Are you okay?"

You laugh, also turning to meet his eyes, "Yes, Alucard. I feel great." He hums thoughtfully at your answer, a soft smile on his lips. You want to talk to him more. You want to ask about his castle, how he seems like to be the only one here, where he came from, where he learned to fuck like that.

Despite your curiosity, sleep gets the best of you. And you think this will be the first time you get a good nights rest in years.

a/n: this is my man frfr

taglist: @whatamidoing89, @panda-wolf, @fatgumsbby, @nekohollowsychogoth

[sassenashsworld]

Preston at Sanctuary

(because he deserves a counterpart more than anyone else)

The List

At first, Preston can’t even sleep. He can’t. He doesn’t even dare to enter a building. He patrols the outskirts of Sanctuary, never letting his guard down, always on the lookout for any signs of danger that might threaten the community.

Five.

Only five survived the Quincy escape.

Five.

The haunting visions of settlers and Minutemen falling, one after another, just won't leave his mind...

Five.

It’s been five days since they took refuge in Sanctuary, and he still can’t let go of his musket.

Five...

He stands in front of one of the ruined houses in Sanctuary. He looks lost in thoughts. He hasn’t been able to rest. He has been working non-stop to secure the settlement, but the ghosts of Quincy linger in his thoughts, a constant reminder of the past days.

He heard the gunshots, the screams, the footsteps running in their back. Their breaths heavy, the gunners closing in, the unsettling gurgling and gargling of feral ghouls echoing around them, panic setting in as they scramble to escape, and the screams, always, piercing through the chaos once more.

Cries of terror, cries of suffering, cries of despair...

He can’t shake off the memories. They keep running through his thoughts, never stopping, always there.

He shuts his eyes tight and gives his head a firm shake, attempting to push it all away.

“No… no…”

A sudden movement catches his attention, prompting him to spin around and lift his weapon, ready for anything.

“Woh boss!!”

It's only Sturges. With a heavy sigh, he lowers the musket.

“What is it?” He inquires.

The man looks at him, concern etched across his face.

“Hey there, you holding up alright? You seem a bit off, friend. When's the last time you caught some shut eye?”

Preston gazes upward in thought.

“The eve of the slaughter.”

The mechanic gives a disapproving look at that response.

“By the stars… Preston, you ought to take a breather. You've been at it without a break since we got here. So, when was the last time you had a bite to eat?”

The Minutemen lifts his brows in surprise. He is a bit uncertain about it. He ought to have eaten. At a moment. Surely. Yes. He has. The first evening at Sanctuary. Sole has managed to scrounge up some tatoes from a nearby farm, and Marcy has prepared some a stew of some kind. Did he eat it?

Sturges clenches his jaw, a heavy weight settling in his chest as he sees just how exhausted and lost his friend has turned.

“Crap… So, you ain't had a bite to eat, huh?” He places a hand on Preston’s shoulder. “You ought to grab som’thin’.”

Preston’s gaze falls to the dirt, and his shoulders droop. He ain’t gonna lie about it. He's been pushing through on nothing but grit and determination, refusing to back down. But now, the weariness is finally catching up to him. He’s feeling a bit under the weather.

He draws in a deep breath, nodding with a sense of resolve.

“Yeah… Look like I could use some food. Perhaps a little rest wouldn’t hurt either...”

The mechanic grins and gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

“Alright then. I'll whip up some grub for you. You take it easy now, chief.”

The other gives another nod. He's too worn out to put up a fight.

He slowly makes his way toward one of the ruined houses, stepping inside. This place may be a wreck, but it’s still got more to offer than being empty. It will amply suffice for now.

He sinks down to the ground, resting his back against the wall, too weary to find better. Exhaustion weighs heavily on him, and he gradually succumbs to a fitful slumber. But then, the sharp crack of a gunshot jolts him awake.

He springs to his feet, bolts into the street, and searches for the source of the noise.

The settlement looks calm and quiet, but that gunshot had to come from somewhere nearby. Preston readies his musket and surveys the area with a keen eye.

Everything is just... still.

There is nothing.

All clear. No threats in sight.

Not a single shot fired.

No sounds of suffering…

No enemies.

Preston scans the area again, searching for anything unusual. But everything seems normal. He scowls and brings his weapon down.

“What in the world...”

He stands there, ears perked, ready to catch any hint of movement or noise that might break the stillness.

As Sturges returns with a bowl of tato soup, he notices Preston still standing in the middle of the street, alert. He approaches with the soup. He can see the strain etched on his friend’s expression.

“What's going on, boss?”

“Sounds like trouble! I just heard a gunshot!” Preston, in a state of near panic, searches for the source of the threat. “Did you catch where that noise was coming from?”

Sturges seem uneasy.

“There wasn’t a... single shot fired. At all...”

Preston gazes at Sturges, his expression a blend of bewilderment and subtle alarm.

“Huh? No, I... I swear, I heard a shot ring out. I just heard a shot ring out not too long ago.”

Sturges gives him a worried glance, his brow furrowed with uncertainty.

“Could be you were just lost in a dream? Well, I gotta say, I didn't catch a single thing. And I was just there, you know?”

Realization drowns on Preston. He finds himself reaching the end of his rope. He now hallucinates, and it's shaking him to the core. A surge of unease and dread grips him tightly. He paces back and forth, seeking to steady his nerves. But he can't let his guard down. He can't lose the little he has saved. He can't...

His breath catches every time he attempts to talk himself out of his worry. He can't shake off the torment that settles deep in his bowel.

“No, no, no... I can't... I can't let this happen. I must keep going... I've got to ensure this place stays secure…”

His breath comes in sharp gasps, and his heart pounds like a drum. It seems like everything is slipping through his fingers...

He glances around the settlement, his gaze shifting anxiously from one corner to another. He can’t trust his own mind anymore. He can’t even tell what’s real and what’s not. The pressure and unease swelling within him are almost too much to bear. He’s on the edge, ready to break at any moment.

Sturges places a steady hand on his back, rubbing it to ground him, offering a sense of comfort amidst the chaos he is feeling in himself.

“Hey, I’ll get Marcy and Jung to check out the settlement while you catch some Z’s. Two folks will be keeping watch. Everything's gonna be just fine.”

Preston gazes at the man, exhaustion carved on his face, a hint of anxiety in his eyes.

“I... I ain't sure I can catch any sleep. What if another vision comes creeping in on me? What if I can't figure out what's genuine and what's just a mirage?”

Sturges places the bowl of soup in his hands and gestures toward the house from which he had just stepped out.

“Sole's gone and set up some turrets around this place. Marcy and Jung will keep watch. You take this soup and fill that belly of yours, then you catch some shut eyes on that bed in the back of this place, got it?”

His friend takes the bowl of soup, examining at it for a moment as if he was minding what it could be. He finally looks back at Sturges, the exhaustion still etched on his features.

“I... I’ll give it a shot... but I can’t promise I’ll find any rest.” He draws in a deep breath, then gives a slow, deliberate nod. “Okay... I’ll have the soup and then catch some rest, sound good?”

“Alright. In the meantime, we keep at it, just like always. If anything comes up, I’ll make sure to rouse you. Don't you worry about a thing. Just... take a breather.”

Preston gives again a slow, thoughtful nod.

“Alright... I'll give it a shot.” He gazes back at the bowl of soup cradled in his hands, contemplating its warmth. “Appreciate it, Sturges... I can't imagine getting by without you."

Even though it's just soup, he finds it hard to get it down. When he finally gets it done, he decides to follow the advice of Sturges and makes his way to the back room.

He lifts an eyebrow, taken aback.

This room, in stark contrast to the rest of the house, has undergone some serious cleaning. A somewhat wobbly bed, but luxurious in terms of the Commonwealth, has been installed. It’s quite the upgrade. The scent of change is wafting the air.

But Preston can hardly enjoy it.

He takes off the shoulder strap of his musket, leans the weapon against the bed's frame, prepared for any situation, and then carefully climbs onto the creaky mattress.

Rather comfortable...

He stretches out on the bed, seeking to ease both his body and his thoughts. But it's tough. His worries and fears keep swirling around. He can't shake off those eerie whispers, and his mind is conjuring up visions that just won't quit.

He shifts onto his side, trying to find a comfortable position. He can’t relax; his anxieties just won’t let up. He can't shake the memories of everyone he lost back in Quincy. The memories of their faces and the painful sounds of their cries and the gunfire. It's all too much...

He closes his eyes tightly, battling to shove those thoughts aside. He wants to rest. It’s what he truly needs right now, be feels like he’s trapped in hell with no way out.

His mind is a maelstrom of fear and anguish.

Despite the fatigue weighing him down, he can't shut it all. He can’t find peace. Every time he drifts off to sleep, another nightmarish hallucination jolts him awake.

Then, at a moment he can't quite place, something shifts.

He opens his eyes, feeling a little groggy and disoriented. He takes a moment to get his bearings and realize where he is. He glances at the window and notes that the darness has now fallen on the settlement.

He feels almost as exhausted, but there is a slight improvement. He can't deny it; he should have gotten some hours of rest in his body, and he feels already better in some senses.

He raises a hand to his forehead, rubbing the exhaustion from his eyes. He feels still far from rested. However, he can't deny that he did get some sleep, even if it was just a drop of hours.

He sits up on the bed, blinking away the last remains of sleep. He picks up his musket from where he had placed it by the bed and checks the surroundings of the room. Everything is just as it should be, normal. It’s quiet out here. No echoes of gunfire or the moans of ghouls to be heard. He draws in a deep breath and slowly exhale, working to calm the storm inside him.

He's starting to get a grip on things now. But he knows the night is not over yet...

As he gets out of the house, Sturges is hanging around close by. He came his way immediately.

“You call it sleep? You were gone for a mere three hours.”

Preston lets out a heavy sigh and rubs a hand over his face in frustration.

“I attempted to find some peace, but it was a struggle. I hardly got a wink. Just kept seeing things that weren't there...” He casts a glance at his friend. “I’ve got a handful of hours, but it sure doesn’t seem like it’ll be enough...”

Sturges gives him a worried glance, like he's trying to figure out what's really going on in that head.

“You gotta take it easy, boss. You can't just keep pushing like this. It's not gonna end well. You're gonna wear thin if you don't look after yourself.”

A shout from Marcy diverts them from their conversation, and they dash with the same step towards the bridge of Sanctuary. Preston drops his gun, a look of surprise crossing his face as he sees it’s Sole coming back from the mission.

They've done it!

They've taken care of that old factory, driving out those raiders, and now they've got another settlement on their side with the Minutemen!

As soon as he hears the news, Preston feels a sense of liberation floods through him, lifting a weight off his shoulders.

“You actually pulled it off!? You really took care of those raiders and set up a new settlement? That’s impressive!” He can hardly wrap his mind around it. That news sparks a fire in his heart, igniting a sense of hope and thrill for what lies ahead. “You actually made it off... you made it happen!”

He’s grinning wide, and tears of relief starts to well up in his eyes. Sole lets out a hearty laugh and gives him a friendly pat on the shoulder.

“Of course we did it, Preston! We're the best team there is.”

Sturges too has a smile from ear to ear, giving Sole an enthusiastic stroke on the back, filled with pride.

“You really knocked it out of the park, Sole! Well, would you look at that! A fresh settlement has popped up in the team Minutemen! That's downright incredible!”

As they huddle around a fire for a warm evening meal, Preston finally feels it to enjoy his share of the food. It's just so delicious. His savior is sitting beside him, relishing their own portion of the Radstag they brought back for all the Quincy survivors to feast on.

“Hey there, I’ve been mulling over a thought...”

Sole takes a bite and gazes at Preston with curiosity.

“Yeah? What is it? Something on your mind?”

“Do you ever sense to truly belong to our cause? I believe you've got what it takes, no doubt about it.”

The vault dweller raises an eyebrow, caught off guard by the unexpected request. They weigh their words with caution before they let them out.

“You... you think so? I mean, I'm not sure I have what it takes. I'm just trying to survive, you know? I lack the training and the experience that you guys have.”

Preston lets out a light laugh.

“Are you talking about me? Because, you know, there ain't another one around. And I hate to break it to you, but you’ve done more than just survive. You’ve built a home for us all. You’ve lent a hand to another settlement in need. You’ve even taken out a whole nest of raiders! We owe you a lot. You’ve got what it takes to be a Minuteman, no doubt about it.”

Sole hesitates for a moment, weighing their options meticulously. They never judged it from that angle before.

“I guess...I guess you're right. When you put it like that, I guess I have been helping out a lot. But... I'm not sure about becoming a full-fledged Minuteman. That's a big responsibility—

They catch Preston's hopeful gaze and pauses, the words hanging in the air as they reconsider their next move.

“Okay. Okay, I sign up. It's fine!”

The Minutemen's face lights up with happiness.

“That's fantastic, General!”

The other nearly gags on the food, struggling to swallow.

“G-General? That's quit the promotion!”

Preston chuckles.

“You know, I’ve seen a lot of folks out there, but you’ve got something special. Folks are already gathering around you. Being the last one of the Minutemen, nobody can argue my choice.”

Sturges pipes up, his smile spreading across his face.

“You know, that’s a solid argument. You've got more guts and smarts than anyone I've come across out here. You've got the makings of a true leader!”

Sole glances at Sturges, then shifts their gaze to Preston, utterly bewildered.

“Are you sure about this? I'm just a normal person who's trying to survive.”

The Minutemen shakes his head, a warm smile on his face, as the mechanic puts a reassuring hand on the survivor's shoulder.

“Don’t underestimate yourself. You've got more in you than you think. You've got a real talent for rallying folks and sparking that fire in them, and let me tell you, that's worth more than any cap out there.”

When Sole finally gives in and accepts, and that Sturges brings out some bottles of beer by the fire, Preston almost sinks in in relief. He's got himself a new leader. He has a new General.

And he feels it, a solid one.

A fine, fine General of the Minutemen.

And before he realizes it, Preston doesn't only sink in.

He drifts off into a well-earned sleep.

[lil-gae-disaster]

Uh.

Jonathan is shot.

Freddie is sad.

@schnitzelsemmerl | @hamalicious-soup | @marsfingershurt | @papers-pamphlet | @imobsessedwiththeatre

OC mentions

------

(Takes place in early 1780)

It has been a week since Frederick has returned from the spy mission.

It has been a night since they have brought Jonathan in the nurses tent, shot at the shoulder near the neck (it be only gods work he was not shot fatally at the neck), wound likely infected from the dirt and his brown eyes not open.

The terror Frederick had felt is not one he would like to experience again.

They have only allowed the Scotsman to enter deep in the night, Anna was quite surprised to see him still awake. But Frederick could not sleep. Not without Jonathan next to him, not without the tallers chest raising and falling gently and not without his comforting embrace that shields them both from the harsh winter and, additionally, Freddie is being shielded from frequent nightmares he seems to have since he had returned.

He could not return to the cot, knowing it will be cold and not kept warm by the larger body next to the tailor.

His own body and mind would not let him. It felt as if he were trying to run from his own soul.

Catherine and Mabel have recently looked after him, with the latter forcing the soldier to eat. He complied, just to keep her from adressing him more.

He did not want nor need company. He felt as if some being was swallowing him whole, consuming his mind and his soul. Only the shell would be left.

He held the hand of the unconscious nobleman. It was warm, fortunately.

What if you are just imagining it

He had cried and begged and pleaded with the nurses to let him in, to let him help, to let him at least see Jonathan. Such despair was only known to him after his mother had died and he was kept out of her room, where his newborn sister laid together with their mothers lifeless body.

It was acceptable back then. He was merely 10 years old, nobody would have expected less of a boy who found out he had just lost his mother.

But he was now a grown man. 28 years old. He should have more composure than to beg, plead, cry, scream for him to see his bunkmate.

But what if he died. What would you have done?

His throat hurts. It must be because of the lacking water and because he had exhausted his voice last night.

Giles has asked of him since he had missed their nightly drinking round. Fortunately, Adele told the man Frederick was occupied.

Occupied with grieving a friend who has not yet died.

Was friend the correct term? Hamilton had given a visual of how he reacts to Laurens, them being known to the farm boy as one, and such do, how Frederick has observed, infact apply to how Frederick may react to Jonathan.

He was a sodomite. He was cursed as that, he knew that now. But would he dare to risk his dearest friends life over his own feelings? He would not.

And in addition, the man was not even sure if he was feeling correctly. Perhaps this was a misunderstanding and he just feels strong friendship towards the nobleman.

But, then, would friendship encompass the desire of their lips to meet? The want for touch? The phrase "I love you" spoken sincerely under the nightsky with his head in the lap of the brown haired man, staring lovingly at him from where he laid?

Frederick doubted such.

But, he could not deny the bounds the affection he held for Jonathan has overstepped, is overstepping.

He could not deny the appreciation he felt for every night they could share each others warmth and scent and not seem suspicious, since the other soldiers are doing such, too.

He could not deny how much he loves likes to wake up to find Jonathan beside him, especially after he had underestimated the amount of alcohol he had drank the night before.

He most certainly could not deny the regret he felt after Jonathans name has slipped out of his mouth on the rough winter mornings he had to share a bed with Joseph Hayes, Catherine's brother and the man who had brought them into such a predicament.

The relief he felt when he was able to hug Jonathan again was indescribable. He felt truly alive when he had ridden off as he got called back to the camp and was met with Jonathans embrace and muttered words of relief spoken against his wild hair.

"Kenneth", a soldier whose name he did not know, called. "I relay a message from Hayes. He had asked if you were to join breakfast or if he must join you, since you have not moved since Smith was brought in."

Huh.

He turned his head to the soldier, but did not look at him.

"Would you mind asking Hayes whether he would enjoy to join me?"

[shes-some-other-where]

June of Doom Day 19, 27, 28, 29

Sobbing | Dissociation | Stairs | Display | Last Resort | Numb | Gag | “I’m so cold.”

Please heed the warnings. Dead dove: do not eat.

<<< previous | next >>>

Contains: lady whump, aftermath of noncon/SA, dissociation, helplessness, hopelessness, restraints, gag, suicide attempt

WC: 950

Wet-paper petals

The body on the bed was still. It could move, but moving hurt. Moving dragged skin, reddened and burned by friction, over wool and cotton that mercilessly scratched. Moving shifted the light, illuminating blossoming bruises.

Bruises—broken blood vessels—temporary, violent purple in their prime, but not eternal.

Involuntary shivers wracked the body, however: the tiny tremors of limp, exhausted limbs. Bluish lips formed soundless pleas to no one: Please. I’m so cold. Please.

If there was only stillness, then there was no pain. Frigid numbness, perhaps, but numbness was bearable.

It was a body on garish display: arms spread wide and bound in place, showing off tender skin now marked. Adorned. Pink and abraded beneath the ties.

A body, and nothing else.

A door crashed open, casting a resounding clang throughout the room, and the illusion was shattered.

The maidservant stirred, bringing her knees as close to her chest as she could, her eyes squeezed shut. Please. No more. No more.

Footsteps slowly approached.

She tried to hold back a sob and failed, mewling into the leather tied around her mouth. It tasted foul: dust, sweat, oil. She couldn’t remember when it had wound up there, or where it had come from. A belt from a uniform, perhaps? It didn’t matter. It had served its purpose, stifling her frantic cries when her enemies decided they’d had enough of her tongue being free—after it, too, had served its purpose.

The footsteps halted, and her eyes flew open.

The soldier. He’d promised to kill her one day. He’d dragged her before the prince. He’d kept his distance, he hadn’t touched her. But he’d stayed silent.

He’d done nothing.

He reached toward her now, and she flinched, unable to disguise how she wept, condemned again to the indignity of freely flowing tears while he stood by and watched.

“No,” she begged. Some dried substance at the corner of her mouth cracked with the movement of her lips. “Please.”

He didn’t answer, but simply reached for her bound hands again; silently, he untied them. Torn strips of red fabric, ripped from a mass that had once been a gown, fell away. The soldier stepped back.

The maidservant fumbled with frozen, clumsy fingers and found she could not untie the leather belt. She pulled it from her mouth instead, letting it hang slick and dripping around her neck.

“Get dressed.”

Two words, a simple command, brimming with unbridled disgust.

She coaxed her unwilling limbs off the bed, stumbling toward the heap of once-ravishing silk, now ruined, stinking of pond-water and sweat. She struggled into it anyway, hungry for the scant warmth and comfort it would bring.

Her arms screamed, as unhappy free as they had been restrained. Her legs ached. Trembled. Burned.

The soldier said nothing, offering no release from . . . wherever she was. A dungeon cell? Perhaps. Likely. She dimly recalled stairs and windowless corridors. She’d fought and screamed and cried. Earned welts and bruises for her efforts.

Efforts ultimately in vain, like everything else she’d ever done.

An unexpected weight, hidden in the depths of the dress, bumped against her leg.

“Come here,” the soldier said. She looked up to find him watching her with narrowed eyes. The scratches on his face had clotted to perfect, parallel scabs, muddy brown in the poor light. “Move.”

She obeyed.

“Give me your hands.”

She did.

He tied them together in front of her, not torturously tight but securely enough that she could not wriggle free. She watched numbly, pretending those dirt-and-blood-stained fingers belonged to someone else. He thought he was being clever and cruel, lording his power and control over her yet again, protecting himself from another attack.

Didn’t he realize? She was done fighting.

Another tear slid down her cheek, splashing against his hands as he tied the final knot.

With a scowl, he shoved her away from him, back onto the cot with its mattress still damp. She caught herself clumsily, whimpering in pain. “Sit still and stay quiet while I find out what to do with you.”

He turned away.

When the lock clicked, that means of escape barred—not that it had ever been within her grasp—the maidservant felt for the makeshift pocket she had made what seemed like lifetimes ago.

I’m sorry.

She’d whispered those words to the food taster, and she’d meant them. What had become of him? Had the prince found him? Was he dead? Imprisoned? Coerced into bending to the prince’s darkest whims?

I’m sorry.

If only she’d had the chance to say those same pitiful, inadequate words to her brother.

Her stiff fingers struggled with the knots in her skirt. She wept, forcing them to keep working until, at long last, the knots came free.

She laid out the crushed flowers methodically, inspecting each. They were beautiful, even in death: wet-paper petals of soft yellow, like summer sun dimmed by mist. That colour, warm and lovely, hearkened back to golden days of long, long ago—before her life had been upended, ravaged, and utterly destroyed.

Back when her life was worth something.

She found two flowers with their poisonous spines intact and lifted them reverently from among their fellows.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, but there was no one to hear, no one to see, and no one to mourn.

She sank the two sharp, spindle-like thorns into her fingertip; a cool sense of numbness spread outward. One prick, he’d promised, and you’ll be on the floor. What about two?

She fell, matted hair fanning out over the soiled mattress, poison coursing through exhausted veins.

A body, still living, but only just.

A broken heart, pulsing with strength enough to decorate her finger with a single, welling drop of blood.

June of Doom Masterlist

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@juneofdoom

All my writing is original. Feel welcome to interact/comment/reblog. Pls don’t steal or repost.

[ordinaryschmuck]

Full Family AU Part 25

It was recess time for Luz's grade, all her classmates running around on the playground equipment, screaming off the top of their lungs, pretending to eat wood chips, and being too much for the supervising teachers to keep up with. Luz, in particular was walking around, holding a notepad and a crayon she borrowed from inside. She then walked over to three boys on the jungle gym, literally hanging around.

"Hello!" Luz chirped, hiding her nerves. "I'm pretending to be a news reporter. Want to answer some questions?"

The boys all either nodded or mumbled a, "Yes." Luz smiled as she flipped open her pad to a page. At the top were the words "Having a sibling," with a line going down the middle, one side labeled as "Good" and another labeled as "Bad."

"First question," she said. "Do any of you have siblings?"

Two of the boys raised their hands.

"I don't," the third said. "But I can do this."

He then proceeded press his hands against his cheeks and blow a raspberry. It got his friends to laugh, but Luz wasn't in a laughing mood.

"For you two, would you say it's good or bad to have a sibling?"

"Bad," both said, making Luz look up from her notepad in shock.

"Really? You both think that?"

"Yeah," one said. "My little brother gets more toys than me on Christmas. I barely got everything on my list last year while he got literally everything."

"And I have an older brother," the other boy claimed. "He's always so mean to me. Sitting on top of me, farting in my face, calling me a 'Buttwipe.' I don't even know why, he just does it."

"That's...interesting to know," Luz told them. "Thank you for your time."

She walked away from them, adding two notches to the bad side of her paper.

'So, it's not good to have a young or older sibling,' Luz thought. 'Is Vee older than me? Or am I older? Does that mean I have to be mean? But I don't want to be mean...'

Luz eventually made her way over to a girl sitting in a patch of dirt, drawing circles with a stick.

"Hello," Luz said, getting her attention. "What'cha doing?"

"Drawing circles," Bobbi responded. "What are you doing?"

"Playing reporter. Can I ask you what having a sibling's like?"

"Oh."

"But my cousins do," the girl spoke up, more attentive. "They're twins."

"Oh!" Luz held up her notepad in anticipation. "They have to get along, right?"

"Not really," the girl said with a shrug, causing Luz to frown. "They fight a lot. Every time I see them, in fact."

"Oh...good to know..." Luz trudged off, adding two extra notches in the "Bad" side.

'There has to be someone who has good siblings...'

So, she set out to talk to everyone in her playground, hoping to find at least one notch in the good side of her paper.

Only to be met with a similar pattern of answers.

"My sister got an ice cream for getting hurt, but I couldn't get any! Even though I cried a lot for one!"

"My brother won't stop screaming when Mommy tries to feed him. How is it so hard to eat?"

"I can't even play with my brother without Mom saying I'm being too rough. Kevin was rough with me, why can't I be rough with Dylan?"

"She won't stop crying!"

"I wish I was an only child..."

Kid after kid after kid had the same thing about how awful it is having a sibling. Each answer was worse than the other, with Luz sitting up against the monkey bars, staring at the several notches she made on the bad side. The only ones that were on the good side were just notches that carried over from the bad because Luz ran out of room. Tears started to fill in Luz's eyes as worry began to grow in her heart.

'If having a sibling is this bad...what are me and Vee going to be like...?'

[angelsanarchy]

Alkaline: Euronymous x Y/N Series CH 28

Tagging: @ophelialaufey @madamemaximoff06 @forever-not-gonna-sink@ajmiila02@liquidsmoothdomme@shady-the-simp @auggiethecreator @tempt-ress @blacksoul-27 @shroomje

It was dark and he was standing in the middle of the woods. He couldn't feel anything. The trees moved with the wind but he couldn't feel the breeze. He caught glimpses of long blonde hair cutting through the trees and he felt his heart skip. It was Pelle. He picked his feet up to follow the streaks of blonde through the dark trees. He tried to call out to him but couldn't find his voice. The deeper he walked into the woods, the more lost he became. He spotted Pelle again. He reached out to touch his shoulder and when he spun around half his skull is gone, blonde hair drenched in blood. Oystein stumbled back and was startled by a sudden wave of heat. He could hear screams and see flames. He ran towards the fire and saw his parents and little sister trapped in the burning house. He tried to run towards the house but his legs started to sink into the dirt like quicksand. He heard laughter as he cried out to his burning family and it was Varg, pissing on the burning house and laughing at him. Oystein felt it getting harder and harder to catch his breath.

"Relax man...it's just sacrifices to the cause." Faust smirked, blood dripping from his teeth as he wields a large hunting knife. Y/n is crying at his feet as Varg walks over, taking the hunting knife and runs it across her abdomen, her entrails spilling out into her hands. He grabs her by the hair, yanking her head back, exposing her throat to him as he slices through her neck, blood spraying across Oystein's face.

Oystein jumped with a start, reaching for his face and wiping it.

"Hey hey, it's okay. You're okay babe. Just breathe." Y/n was sitting next to him, running her hand down his bare chest and moving his hair from his face. She looks him over with concern.

"Were you having a nightmare? You were making a lot of noise but I was too afraid to wake you." Y/n could feel how hard his heart was beating and his hands were shaking as he covered his face.

"Oystein...what happened? What did you dream baby?" She stroked his hair and he shook his head, reaching over to grab a cigarette and lighting it up.

"I honestly don't even want to rehash it. It was just..really vivid and fucked up." He explained seeing how shaken he was pressing his lips to the cigarette.

"You know none of it's real. You're safe here with me. Everything is okay." She tried to reassure him but he nodded.

"For how long? I mean with the way things are going right now, Varg could go to the press, turn us all in and I'll be sent off in handcuffs as some satanist who likes to eat brains." Oystein was upset. Y/n could tell whatever his dream was about, it had rocked him.

"How about you finish that and then we'll get you cleaned up?" Oystein wasn't sure what she had in mind but he watched her get out of bed and walk into his bathroom. She started up the shower and came to the door naked pull him towards the bathroom. He was still naked from the night before and followed her into the shower letting the hot water wash over him.

He could feel her hands run over his chest, his ribs, she grazed his semi hard cock but knew this wasn't about getting off. It was about comfort. She massaged shampoo into his head and let her fingers work through the migraine he was starting to get. He groaned into her touch and when she rinsed his hair, he wrapped his arms around her tightly. She relaxed her body against his and ran her fingertips up and down his back. The shower was relaxing and Oystein could feel the weight that he was left with from his nightmare washing down the drain.

"I love you Oystein. Everything is going to be okay." Y/n kissed his chest and looked up at him. He leaned his forehead down and rested his forehead against her own. He never thought he would be with someone who made him feel like everything was really going to be okay.

They got out of the shower and Oystein threw on sweatpants and let Y/n towel his hair dry.

"Can I ask you something?" He spoke from beneath the towel. She stopped rubbing his head and looked at him.

"What would it take for you to leave me? I mean of all the terrible shit I've done, what would be the deal breaker for you to call it quits?" He asked making her furrow her brow.

"Well I guess cheating would be up there. I don't share well so I'd absolutely not give you a second chance after that. Murder would also be pretty heavy. I couldn't be with anyone who would take another life. Hard drugs and alcoholism are up there too. Putting hands on me in an aggressive manner that I don't specifically ask for would be a deal breaker." The more she listed, the more Oystein made a mental note of things to avoid. He knew he wouldn't cheat or put hands on her. He knew his drinking isn't too bad and he doesn't use hard drugs. I absolutely hasn't murdered anyone so that's an easy one.

"I was involved in the church burnings...with Varg and Faust. I know you probably guessed that but I had to tell you. I don't want anymore secrets between us." Oystein explained making Y/n sit down on the bed next to him. She nodded like she knew already and that gave him some sort of odd relief.

"When Pelle killed himself, I freaked out. I didn't know what to do. I just...I sat there with him and cried for what felt like forever. I found his note...I just...I felt like I fucked up. I felt like I let him down and the only thing I could do was push his death to something extreme so no one would ever forget his name." Oystein started getting upset and Y/n took his hands into her own.

"I didn't keep pieces of his skull, I didn't eat his brains...I just wanted to cement his name into black metal because he deserved to be remembered. He was my friend...he was fucked up but he helped me become the person I am." Y/n wiped the tears from under his eyes.

"None of these nightmares are new. I've been dreaming about Pelle since I found him. The only thing that's different now is that more of the people I love are dying in them and I don't know how to stop them." Oystein let Y/n take his head and put it on her shoulder.

"Listen to me Oystein, you've made mistakes but you are not a horrible human being. You have a heart and a soul and you recognize the error of your ways. You are a talented and brilliant artist. You have a family that loves you, a band that respects you and a girlfriend who is so in love with you, she would take a bullet for you." Y/n held him tightly.

"You are not in this alone anymore. You've got me and I'm not going anywhere, no matter how bad it gets. You have me." He lifted his head from her shoulder and kissed her. She sighed into the kiss and laid him back on the bed to hold him. Oystein knew he needed a fresh start. He got one with Y/n and now he needed one for the rest of his life. He just didn't know how he was going to go about it.