#RAT NOISES INTENSIFIES

[nikolaiismysugardaddy]

GUYS GUYS GUYS

i made a quick translation of the panel where Fyodor talks with Sigma

! SPOILER !

[deathbxnny]

So we know that Boothill had a daughter but what is he had a S/O that also was killed but their consciousness was put into a robotic body(?) and they work for the IPC. Not having any memory of what the IPC did to their family and they meet Boothill again after a long time. Maybe they didn’t even recognize Boothill. Just angst.

ʕ •̀ ω •́ ʔ congratulations on 1000!!!

Oooh, I really love this request, Anon!! I've been craving something angsty and tragic, so I hope you'll like this and thank you for the request!!<33

Content: Reader is similar to the Androids from "Detroit: Become human", spoilers to Boothills past!!, past romantic relationship, heavy angst, hurt/no comfort, swearing, reader kind of is hinted to have a southern sounding accent, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns!!

((Not proofread))

"You promised your next life to me." (Boothill x Gn!Reader)

"That was close-" "-Too close! I told ya not to shut the gates too hard! The damned hens nearly got us killed when they woke up!" A young Boothill hissed to you, although there was no malice in his voice, only a playful tune of amusement. You grinned, biting into one of the apples you had stolen. "But we're alive right now, aren't we?"

The sun was slowly peeking out from beyond the mountains, painting the skies above you in soft blues, pinks, and oranges. You leaned against the tree you were both hiding in, trying your best not to fall out of it or make too much noise, lest the swearing and enraged farmer nearby heard you. It was just supposed to be a little early morning fun, in which you both hopped your neighbors fence to get some of his freshly harvested apples.

Some may call it stealing, but you often liked to call it "borrowing". Served the old man right anyway. He always sold them for too high of a price at the market!

"God damn you, brats! Once I get my hands on you, you'll never think of crossing my damned fields again!" The farmer yelled, loading his shot gun, before he seemed to trip over the pots you had accidentally run into on your way to the tree. Both of you snorted at the cursing intensifying, your hands pressing against your mouths to weakly muffle the laughs that threaten to bubble out of you.

A door creaked open in the distance, the disgruntled old wife hobbling out in annoyance. "RANDY! WHAT ON GOD'S GREEN EARTH ARE YOU DOIN'? IT'S NEARLY 5 AM!" She yelled, the farmer quick to scramble up and pull on his hat with a gulp. "Those damned kids are back!-" "-I don't care! Get your ass back in here, or so may the Aeons help me!" The man only reluctantly did as told, trudging back inside in sizzling rage, yet decided that for today, the little rats could escape him just one more time again. He'll get them next time.

You two waited for a while after the door slammed shut before you finally let out a relieved giggle. "That's what he gets! Old man Mr. Roger had it, comin'!" You slid down the tree, skillfully landing on your feet, before you ran towards the cornfield you came from. "Let's get back to the horses!" You called out behind you, making the young boy follow after you quickly, albeit slower due to being the one carrying most of your "borrowed" goods. You had always been the braver one. The one with the most energy and the most strength to do things. He looked up to you in moments like these, nearly admiring you when you jumped over the fence with no difficulty. He struggled alot more than you did before he too finally reached your horses on the otherside.

"That was really fun..." Boothill trailed off as he helped you load up your half of the apples onto your mare, that was attempting to take one for herself. You hummed in agreement, thanking him right after whilst he helped you onto your saddle. "It's always fun when you're with me." You commented with a shrug, not understanding the weight of your kind words that made his heart beat faster. You rode next to eachother in silence for a while, your eyes glued on the sunset before you, and yet the boy found you more interesting to look at. He bit his lip nervously when the sun hit your eyes just right, making them glow.

"I'm gonna hit the bed the second I'm home... but we'll meet later today again, okay? See ya!" It wasn't a request in Boothills' mind. No, it was simply a natural demand, a requirement to be there, to see you. He watched you ride on the opposite path back to your home, wondering when he too could be braver than you and spill the words that were on his mind for his best friend.

--

That was one of the only memories of Boothills childhood with you that he could remember anymore now. It was odd to think that you two were once nothing more than little troublemakers ridding through the early morning hours together. Only years later however, you'd see eachother every day through marriage.

Your home was a small cottage near the oceanside, miles of fields and meadows surrounding it, in the distance, unexplored forests and mountains. It was your idea to move there as it was still close to his family, and he couldn't have been more grateful. Especially with the small bundle of joy he one day found whilst he was out checking on the cattle during a strong thunderstorm. You were resting at home that night, your fingers moving quickly as they crocheted a blanket you had been working on for a while, ears strained to listen to the music over the static that played through the radio. The fireplace was warm, eyes beginning to drop shut from the exhaustion of a busy day on the farm, when suddenly the front door creaked open and in came your husband, soaked to the bone.

You sat up, watching carefully as he set down his dripping hat and pulled off his boots with one hand clumsily, the other tightly wrapped around something you couldn't see from the dimness of the room. "Come here, honey. Look what a sweet little thing I've found out there." He chuckled gently, holding out the wrapped bundle to you, whilst he pulled away some of the cloth to show the face of a small, sleeping infant. You gasped in surprise, eyes widening, as you were quick to take her out of the wet cloths and wrap her into your own warm arms. "Oh she really is so little!" You whispered in awe, and Boothill could see the love you had for what would soon become your adoptive daughter from the start.

She was your everything ever since that fateful night, you two lovingly calling her "Lavender" after the fields her father had found her in. She was a lively, easy child, so loving and sweet, that your heart couldn't help but be filled with her the moment you met her. Boothill found alot of purpose in raising her with you, often times taking her on horse rides around the land he owned, or taking her out to fish, whilst you taught her how to garden and crochet things herself.

You and Lavender were his sweethearts, his everything. All that Boothill lived for... until eventually, you weren't.

--

The day came in which the devil's from above, also calling themselves members of the "IPC" came down to slaughter you all senselessly. No one survived, no one but Boothill. Your daughter was dead instantly, her small daughter hidden under the heavy rubble, never having stood a chance against the bombs.

He could never forget the relief he felt when he found you, even if it was short-lived. You were fatally injured, breath labored and short, as you tried to hold on for just a moment longer. His arms wrapped around you, tears in eyes when he saw the fear for the first time in yours. No amount of bravery could save you now. "(Y/N)... you... please, you can't die." He chocked out, unable to comprehend the agony he was in. Yet you couldn't hear him over the ringing in your ears, your hand reaching up to grasp his shirt tightly with all the strength you had left. "I'll... I'll find you. I swear I will. In my next life. I promise... I..." Your arm dropped, the fear relaxing into nothing, as your breathing came to an end, the only thing left being the crackling of flames around you.

.....

....

..

"Mr. Boothill? Are you... alright?" Dan Heng awkwardly nudged the now Cyborg man, his head tilting in confusion. Aventurine raised a brow, his arms crossing as his gaze met your rather unamused one in thought. "My... he only seemed to malfunction once you arrived, (Y/N)!" He grinned teasingly, making you roll your eyes and cross your arms. "Can we please continue? You claimed we didn't have any time to waste." The blonde raised his arms in faux surrender, knowing he shouldn't bother you any more than summoning you here has.

A high-profile IPC android like you surely had better things to do after all than to deal with a failing country, but here you were.

Boothill, meanwhile, blinked a couple of times, his head hurting and throbbing in agonizing pain. Just how was this possible? Just how were you alive?

Why did you not recognize him?

"... I... sorry, they look really familiar." He said, trying to compose himself when you gave him a sharp, uninterested look. Your eyes always held so much kindness for everyone. How could you forget even that? Pulling down his hat to cover his eyes, he sighed and shook his head. He supposed both of you had changed beyond recognition in one way or another.

"Anyways... let's get goin'... that nice, wing-headed Mister ain't gonna go down on his own..." He continued, trailing off for a moment, before he simply turned and left to fulfill his part of the plan. He heard you scoff lightly, obviously unamused by whatever seemed to have angered you so much before coming here.

His soul ached for you in ways he couldn't ever utter out loud again. And whilst you did keep your promise of seeing him again, this is not the life or the way he had preferred.

At least you weren't a liar, he supposed bitterly with a cold chuckle.

Alrightyy... I finally found the time to write this, and I'm unsure how I like it... BUT it's done, and I hope it was okay for you, Anon!! Thank you again for the request!!<33

[in1-nutshell]

Hello! I am SOO sorry that I have been cramping you with asks, so feel as free as you can be to push this one alll the way back, or deny it, I am not desperate at all. I just want to type this before I forget this. So after the Megatron with a daughter who was his opposite post, I, too, am in love with this opposite personality daughter series. Like just all of our favourite men as fathers of daughters with individual personalities of themselves but also more or less all resonated their fathers one way or another, or someone they knew! I LOVE IT! And I realized how this formed a perfect trilogy now.

So I am real curious. What if the three daughters exist in the same universe? And, may or may not interact? (would we need individual names for them all? Or Buddy 1 and 2 and 3 like Spider-Man: No Way Home and no one questions it?)

Hello!

I've actually been thinking about continuing the 'daughter with different personality' thing. Maybe in the future you'll see more!

Originally the plan was to have all the Buddy's to be in the same universe, but I ended up scrapping the idea and decided to create separate universes for each one (unless the plot tells me otherwise :))

When I saw the Spiderman part my mind went to this.

(Who knows for the future)

Hope you enjoy!

Optimus Prime, Ratchet, and Megatron's daughters meeting each other for the first time.

SFW, Platonic, Familial, groundbridge and relic shenanigans, Cybertronain reader

TFP

In TFP Rats universe.

Buddy was just minding her own business cleaning and wiping down her father’s tools.

It’s a nice day on base.

There was low Decepticon activity for the past few days, the children were playing their games, Bulkhead and Smokescreen were trying to get Bumblebee and Arcee to play Lob with them, Ultra Magnus and Optimus were reviewing plans for something, and her father, Ratchet, was with Wheeljack looking at a new relic they found in the Artic.

“It’s not another scraplet trap, right?”--Raf

“Nope! Completely checked it with the scanner. We should be good now.”--Buddy

“We ‘should’ be good?”--Bulkhead

“There is always a percentage of things blowing up, I’m not counting that out.”--Buddy

Without warning, the relic whirled to life jumping and shaking onto the floor.

Everyone jumped and backed away from the whirling sound it made. Bright light came out of it as the shaking intensified. The noise was loud enough to get everyone to come to the main room.

The machine scanned the closest bot, Buddy, and opened a portal, shooting out tons of air.

The children nearly flew back, but thanks to Ultra Magnus and Optimus, they were caught before they flew off the ledge.

“Hey Ratchet! What’s it doing?!”--Bulkhead

“Oh, it’s putting on a rock concert. OBVIOUSLY, I DON’T KNOW!”--Ratchet

Machine whirls louder.

“Buddy! Hide behind the med slab!”--Wheeljack

Buddy already behind the slab, clutching onto dear life.

“With all due respect, WHAT DO YOU THINK I’M DOING?!”--Buddy

Meanwhile in megs dimension

Buddy calmly walking down the halls of the Nemesis with some data pads.

“Hmm… wonder why they need so many data pads…”--Buddy

Sudden portal pops up on the wall next to them.

“What in the—”--Buddy

Portal starts sucking her in.

“AHHH—”--Buddy

Portal sucks Buddy in leaving the discarded data pads sprawled in the middle of the hallway.

In op dimension

Buddy is resting her arm on the handrail while talking with Miko.

“How’s the playlist going?”--Miko

“Haven’t been working too much on it. Patrol has been up my tailpipe lately. Do you have any more recommendations?”--Buddy

“Yeah! How about—”—Miko

A sudden portal opens.

“Umm, I don’t remember Ratchet opening up a groundbridge.”--Miko

Buddy grabbing a grenade from her subspace.

“That’s because he hasn’t!”--Buddy

Buddy chucks a grenade at the portal.

BAM!

Nothing happens to the portal.

“What!”—Miko and Buddy

The portal starts sucking them in.

Buddy grabs Miko as she starts to get dragged in, pounds a hole in the ledge and places her in there.

“Buddy? Buddy what are you—”--Miko

Buddy groans as she tries to keep her footing but gets sucked in and the portal closes.

“BUDDY!”--Miko

In Rats dimension

Two figures pop out of the portal and slam into Ratchet’s daughter.

The portal closes.

The two figures groaned.

Op Buddy sits up rubbing her helm.

Meg Buddy sliding off the med slab and onto the floor on her back.

“Urgh… my aching helm…”—Megs Buddy

Rat Buddy gently massaging her helm before looking at the two strangers.

“Who are you?”—Rat Buddy

Op Buddy looks at the others.

“Who are you?!”—Op Buddy

Meg Buddy looking at all the Autobots in the area.

“WHERE AM I?!”—Meg Buddy

Optimus carefully approaches the younglings.

Megs Buddy quickly moves back while the other two just stare widely.

“Buddy—”--Optimus

“Yes?”—All Buddy’s

All Buddy’s turn around and point at each other.

“Your name is Buddy! I’m Buddy!”—All Buddy’s

Meg Buddy standing up pacing a bit.

“Maybe this is some alternate universe…I always thought something like this was possible from what he said… It’s the only logical explanation for this…”—Megs Buddy

“That seems to check out. Which explains why Dad hasn’t started giving me the ‘speech’ again.”—Op Buddy

“Dad?”--Kids

“… Oh, this is going to be fun.”—Op Buddy

“This is not going to be fun…”—Meg Buddy

Everyone is confused.

Come to find the relic would scan someone and find ‘alternatives’ of them. It could mean alternative of the bot or by their names.

To avoid confusion the Buddy’s are labeled.

Op’s Buddy would be known as Buddy 1.

Rats Buddy would be known as Buddy 2.

Megs Buddy would be known as Buddy 3.

“How come she’s Buddy 1? Why not our Buddy? She was hear before you guys showed up.”--Miko

“Cause I’m older and cooler.”—Buddy 1

“Yeah right.”--Miko

“Don’t believe me Miko? Watch this.”—Buddy 1

Buddy 1 transforms into a monster truck.

“I take it back! That’s so cool! Can I ride you!?”--Miko

“Of course!”—Buddy 1

“Miko no!”--Bulkhead

“Miko yes!”--Miko

“Then why is our Buddy number two?”--Raf

“Because I’m the second oldest. Three is the youngest one here.”—Buddy 2

“Guess it makes sense. You she is kind a smaller than you two.”--Jack

“Hey! I’m a minicon! Of course, I’m smaller than everyone here!”—Buddy 3

“You’re a minicon?”--Arcee

Buddy 3 shrinks back a bit at Arcee’s gaze nodding.

Buddy 1 made the Team guess who her father was, bets were on the table and ready to be thrown. Buddy 1 managed to get Buddy 3 to get in on the guessing part. Buddy 3 guaranteed that no one would guess her creator.

A part of her didn’t want them to know either.

“All right we are ready.”--Miko

“Wow so soon?”—Buddy 3

“Too soon if you asked me.”—Buddy 1

“We’ve narrowed down three bots for each. If we win, 1 needs to take me out dune bashing in her alt mode.”--Miko

“Miko!”--Bulkhead

“I can stand by that.”—Buddy 1

“And if you don’t guess right?”—Buddy 2

“You’ll have to tell us.”--Miko

“…”—Buddy 3

“Lets get started!”--Miko

“Okay these ones are for Buddy 1.”--Smokescreen

“Got it, lets hear them.”—Buddy 1

“First one… Wheeljack!”--Miko

Buddy 1 laughing at the response.

“HAHAHAHA, Sorry, its just, just that Jackie here is more like my Uncle. Definitely not my dad.”—Buddy 1

“All righty then… Bulkhead!”--Miko

Buddy starts laughing at that one too.

“Nope! Bulks also like my Uncle!”—Buddy 1

“The last one… Smokescreen!”—Miko

Buddy is now on the floor laughing her tanks and near crying.

“…I’ll take that as a no then…”--Raf

Buddy finally stops laughing.

“You lose.”—Buddy 1

“Got that. Now spill it! Who’s your Dad?!”--Miko

Buddy stands up rather stoically.

“One shall stand, one shall fall.”—Buddy 1

Everyone stares at Optimus, who looks equally as surprised.

“Your—your Boss Bots kid!? How!?”--Miko

“A question everyone has been asking since we met.”—Buddy 1

Miko turns to Buddy 3.

She hoped that they would have forgotten her, but alas here she was.

“Your turn!”--Miko

Buddy 3 nervously sits next to Prime and Ratchet

“First one… Arcee!”--Miko

Buddy 3 looking terrified.

“NO! I mean no.”--Buddy 3

“How about… Ultra Magnus!”--Miko

Buddy shakes her helm while looking at Magnus.

“Sorry try again.”—Buddy 3

“Okay… Optimus!”--Miko

Buddy 1 looks at Buddy 3.

“Are we siblings!?”—Buddy 1

“I mean aren’t we all in a way?”—Buddy 3

“Buddy.”--Ratchet

“Sorry, the answer is no.”—Buddy 3

“Dang it!”--Miko

“Then who is your Dad?”--Raf

“…Megatron…”—Buddy 3

“…”—Everyone

“HOW!”--Jack

Buddy shrinks back at the sudden movements.

Buddy 1 and Buddy 2 immediately stand by Buddy 3

“Hold it now. Just because 3 dad is Bucket head, no offense.”—Buddy 1

“None taken.”—Buddy 3

“Doesn’t mean she’s bad. Right?”—Buddy 2

“No, no I’m not.”—Buddy 3

“Really and how can you prove it?”--Arcee

“Arcee—”—Buddy 2

“Well think about this. If I was truly bad, why haven’t I hurt you.”—Buddy 3

“Because your short?”--Smokescreen

“… Okay that one’s asking for it… but beside the point, I could have easily hurt the kids, yet I haven’t. I could have attacked or given any other hint that I had malicious intentions. But I haven’t, have I?”—Buddy 3

Pause

“I stand by 3.”—Buddy 1

“And I stand with 1 and 3.”—Buddy 2

“I will stand by her as well.”--Optimus

“Prime!”—Most of the team

“Prime?”—Buddy 3

“She is our guest and so is 1. We must treat them with the respect they deserve.”--Optimus

“…Thank you Prime.”—Buddy 3

After the confrontation a little more research is done on the machine.

Thanks to Buddy 3’s expert decoding skills, she was able to read the full effects of the machine as well as how to reverse it.

The good news was that the effects were reversable.

The bad news was that the machine needed time to recuperate before usage again.

The Buddy’s decided to kill time by hanging out with each other and the team in the meantime.

Aka shenanigan time.

1 tries to start a conversation with her alternate family especially with Prime.

She is curious to see if there are any differences between her father and her alternative father.

“You always did have a thing for the Halls, didn’t you?”—Buddy 1

“The Halls of Iacon was where I worked.”--Optimus

“You mean, where Orion worked.”—Buddy 1

“…Yes.”--Optimus

“Sorry, but I see Orion and Optimus as two separate bots sometimes.”—Buddy 1

“It is understandable.”--Optimus

3 tended to stay with 2 for the most part.

2 was a soft soul and was quiet for the most part.

2 did entertain 3 with the occasional story here and there.

Buddy 2 and 3 talking to each other near the med bay.

“What do you think they’re talking about?”--Smokescreen

“Beep boop bep bop boop. (Probably about medical stuff.)”--Bumblebee

“Yeah, probably.”--Smokescreen

“So, then Arcee raised her blasters at the wannabe Cybertronians and started blasting.”—Buddy 2

Buddy 3 listening intently.

1 likes to place 2 and 3 on her shoulders.

1 being the tallest and bulkiest of the Buddy’s could support the weight, not that they did weigh anything to her.

The other two Buddy’s liked feeling tall.

“Hey! Hey! Look at this!”—Buddy 1

Buddy 1 supporting Buddy 2 on her shoulders while Buddy 3 was on top.

“We are Buddy Supreme!”—Buddy 2

Buddy 1 has a bright smile on her face.

Buddy 2 has a wobbly smile trying not to laugh while carrying 3.

Buddy 3 is just staring in amazement.

“So, this is what it’s like to be tall… this is nice.”—Buddy 3

Soon it was time for them to leave.

3 really doesn’t want to leave her new friends behind.

She certainly doesn’t want to go back to the dark halls of the Nemesis.

But this pleasant experience was soon to be the spark to ignite the flame for peace between the two fractions again.

She was going to do everything she could to end this war with peace.

Whether Megatron liked it or not.

“It was lovely seeing you all and knowing there are alternative versions of myself out there. I hope we meet again on much pleasanter terms in the future.”—Buddy 3

“Same goes to you 3!”—Buddy 1 and 2

Buddy 3 walks through the portal.

A flash of purple shines before returning to its natural color.

“It’s your turn kid—”--Wheeljack

“SEE YA!”—Buddy 1

Buddy 1 back flips into the portal before a flash of blue shines.

The portal turns off and all is still.

“…Well, wasn’t that an eventful Wednesday afternoon?”—Buddy

In megs universe

Buddy bounces off the wall of the Nemesis.

Literally.

“For once I’d wish for a smooth landing…”--Buddy

“Buddy.”--Soundwave

Buddy looks up to see Soundwave.

Buddy waves.

“Hey Soundwave.”--Buddy

Soundwave starts walking forward.

“Sorry about the data pads—”--Buddy

Soundwave is in front of Buddy.

“I swear I meant to go straight to the room when—”--Buddy

Soundwave gets down on his knees and pulls Buddy in a tight hug.

Buddy freezes for a moment before hugging back.

None say anything, just holding onto each other in one of the empty halls of the Nemesis.

In op universe

Buddy gets thrown at Bumblebee and Smokescreen.

“OW!”--Buddy

“BEEP! (BUDDY!)”--Bumblebee

“BUDDY!”--Smokescreen

Both bots hugging Buddy’s sides tightly.

“We heard from Miko that you go sucked into some groundbridge or something!”--Smokescreen

Buddy patting both bots helms.

Bumblebee digs his helm further in Buddy’s neck cables whirling in concern and relief.

“Boy, do I have a story to tell you guys. But let’s wait till everyone gets here, I can’t wait to see Doc bot’s reaction to his daughter.”--Buddy

“HIS WHAT!?”—Smokescreen and Bumblebee

“MY WHAT!”--Ratchet

[hotdfic]

A Daughter For A Son

A/N : ahaha sooo dark content, blades, blood and more !

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The dim torchlight flickered in the narrow passage beneath the Red Keep, casting long shadows across stone walls that had seen secrets and whispers for centuries. Daemon Targaryen’s cloak whispered against the damp stone, his steps steady and determined. In the darkness of a forgotten corner, a small figure awaited him, half cloaked in shadow—the ratcatcher of King’s Landing, men as elusive as the rodents they hunted.

“You know why I’m here.” Daemon’s voice was low, just above a murmur.

The ratcatcher’s eyes gleamed with something between fear and intrigue. He inclined his head, the grease-stained cloth hood slipping back to reveal a face more familiar with grime than sunlight.

“She’s kin, isn’t she?” he ventured, a hint of disbelief coloring his words. “One of your blood, the second youngest targaryen of viserys and queen alicent.”

Daemon’s eyes narrowed, the violet depths becoming cold as ice. “She’s a threat to all that I seek to build. My kin, yes. My blood… perhaps. But loyalty? Hers has never been clear.”

The ratcatcher’s fingers twitched at the mention of betrayal. His knowledge of hidden passages and secret exits made him one of the most dangerous men in the Keep—not because of his strength but because of his reach. He looked up, waiting.

“If I choose this path,” the ratcatcher whispered, “it must be with precision. The girl is young… fragile, as I’ve seen.”

Daemon’s gaze held steady. “She’s weak. And weakness, when unchecked, can rot the entire tree. You are to approach her subtly. No blades, no noise… only shadows. Fear can be as potent as any poison.”

The ratcatcher nodded, the hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Consider it done, my prince.”

As Daemon turned to leave, the ratcatcher’s voice followed him down the corridor. “You may find her weak, my prince, but even the weakest rat can bite when it feels threatened.”

Daemon’s lips curled into a knowing smile. “Then make sure she never has the chance.”

-

Back inside the Red Keep, Lyanna’s hands trembled as she walked through the corridors of the Red Keep. She could feel something watching her, something unseen and insidious, a shadow waiting just out of sight. For days, she’d been plagued by a growing unease, the weight of eyes she couldn’t place, footsteps that vanished the moment she turned her head. But tonight, the walls themselves seemed to close in, and every flickering torch cast her shadow longer and darker.

Her chest grew tight, a cold knot settling in her stomach as the breath escaped her lips in short, shallow gasps. She had thought herself strong—resilient, even—but tonight, the very air felt thick, suffocating her as if it held secrets it dared not reveal.

“I… I’m safe,” she whispered to herself, hugging her arms close. Her words barely broke the silence, her voice trembling. “There’s nothing here. It’s just the dark… it’s only shadows.”

But the comforting words she forced upon herself only seemed to echo mockingly in her ears. Her vision blurred, and a heavy wave of dizziness washed over her. She stumbled against the wall, clutching at the stone for support, as the world spun around her.

A dark figure lingered in her thoughts, the silhouette of someone with eyes sharp as daggers. She tried to shake it off, to ground herself, but the thought persisted, burrowing deeper until it clawed at her mind like a feverish dream.

“Daemon,” she murmured, the name slipping out before she could catch it.

A shudder wracked her body as she slid down the wall, knees pulled to her chest. Her breathing became more erratic, the sounds around her intensifying—the creak of floorboards, the hum of distant voices. She was trapped, drowning in the very corridors that had been her home. She didnt know what was happening but she could sense her uncle,

She clamped her hands over her ears, trying to block out the haunting whispers that seemed to linger in the shadows, whispers of secrets she feared to know, of dangers she couldn’t bear to face. The pressure in her chest mounted, tightening like a vice.

Tears began to slip down her cheeks, mingling with the chill sweat on her skin. She was lost, adrift in the suffocating darkness, unable to find a way out of the terror that gripped her heart.

-

Daemon returned to his chambers, a heavy silence settling around him as he shut the door. He poured a goblet of wine, letting the sharp taste linger on his tongue as he considered the delicate web he’d woven. The Red Keep was filled with those who could whisper secrets, but it took true skill to turn those whispers into fear—something to gnaw at a person’s very spirit.

Lyanna had always been a complication. Young, innocent, and unpredictable, she stirred sympathy among those who found her weakness endearing. But for Daemon, the price of compassion was too high. He had no room for softness in his plans. His gaze fell on the map spread across his table, a map of Westeros littered with marks indicating power plays, alliances, and—of course—threats.

She was small, a single piece on the grand board, but if she fell… it would send a message.

"Blood may bind us, but loyalty binds us stronger," he whispered to himself, fingers tracing the edge of the map.

A knock at the door startled him from his thoughts. He strode across the room, nodding to the silent messenger who handed him a folded slip of paper. The seal was broken—no doubt by the ratcatcher himself.

“Her mind is weakening,” it read in scrawled, hasty ink. “Queen Rhaenyra will earn her throne.”

Daemon crumpled the note, his satisfaction marred by an unusual pang. He was a Targaryen, after all, and the family’s legacy was as precious to him as his own blood. Yet his pride and ambition told him otherwise: Lyanna was a risk to his wifes throne he could no longer afford.

-

The silence in Lyanna’s room was shattered by a faint creak. She opened her eyes, heart pounding as the familiar dread seeped into her veins. There, standing beside her bed, was a ratcatcher, a wicked glint in his eyes and a dagger gleaming in his hand. This time, he wasn’t lingering in the shadows or playing games; he was here to finish it.

“Stay quiet, princess,” he murmured, his voice like oil sliding across stone. He brought the dagger closer, the tip hovering just above her throat.

Panic surged through her as her hands gripped the bedsheets, knuckles white with terror. She tried to stay silent, tried to keep calm, but her instincts screamed otherwise. With a sudden, fierce defiance, she took a deep breath and let out a scream—loud, piercing, enough to cut through the stillness of the night.

“HELP!”

The ratcatcher’s face twisted with rage as he pressed the blade closer to her throat, his eyes flashing with a dangerous gleam. “Shouldn’t have done that,” he hissed. “Now you’ll be—”

The door burst open, and Ser Criston Cole stormed into the room, his sword already drawn. His gaze swept the scene, taking in Lyanna’s terrified expression and the ratcatcher’s weapon raised against her.

“Step away from her!” Criston’s voice was low, deadly. The ratcatcher hesitated, his grip tightening, but before he could respond, another figure appeared in the doorway.

Aemond.

His eye blazed with fury as he took in the sight of his sister, held at knifepoint by a man who dared to lay hands on her. In a blur, he unsheathed his sword, the steel gleaming with lethal intent as he moved forward.

“You’ve chosen your last target, you coward,” Aemond snarled, his tone as cold and sharp as winter’s edge. His eye never left the ratcatcher, his steps deliberate and deadly.

Trapped between two armed men, the ratcatcher’s confidence wavered. He tried to shift his grip on the knife, pressing it a fraction closer to Lyanna’s skin in a desperate bid to maintain control. But in that instant, Criston lunged, his sword slicing down to knock the dagger from the ratcatcher’s hand. The blade clattered to the floor, and before the man could react, Aemond was upon him.

Aemond’s fist collided with the ratcatcher’s jaw, sending him sprawling backward. The assassin scrambled to his feet, but Criston blocked the doorway, his sword leveled and ready. The ratcatcher glanced between the two, realizing too late that he was trapped.

“Did you think you'd get away after murdering my sisters children? And now my sweet sister?” Aemond’s voice was deadly calm as he advanced on the man, his sword pointed at the ratcatcher’s heart.

Lyanna’s breaths came in shuddering gasps as she scrambled away, watching with wide eyes as Aemond and Criston cornered her assailant.

The ratcatcher’s face twisted with defiance as he spat at Aemond, his voice laced with venom. “This was never about you, princeling. Your sister is the one who threatens the plans of those far greater than you.”

Aemond’s expression darkened, the fury simmering just beneath his calm exterior. With one swift motion, he drove the tip of his blade just close enough to graze the ratcatcher’s chest.

“Who sent you?” Aemond demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

The ratcatcher sneered, even as his face paled. “I serve loyalties that you would never understand,” he muttered, his gaze defiant.

Aemond’s eye narrowed, and for a moment, it seemed as if he might drive the sword through the man’s heart then and there. But instead, he nodded to Criston, who stepped forward, grabbing the ratcatcher by the collar and dragging him toward the door.

“We’ll get answers soon enough,” Criston said, casting a reassuring glance back at Lyanna. “You’ll be safe now, princess.”

As the door closed behind them, Lyanna’s fear slowly began to ebb, leaving behind a sense of shock and exhaustion. Her heart was still pounding, but she looked up to find Cristons’s gaze fixed on her, his face mimicking a worried father.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, his tone gentle as he knelt beside her.

She shook her head, swallowing back the tears that threatened to fall. “No… no, I’m fine,” she managed, her voice barely a whisper. “Thank you, Sir Criston..”

Aemond walked out with blood dripping from his sword, approaching Lyanna he brought his sister into a hug and kissed her forehead.

[ticklygiggles]

Scent | Lucifer x Diavolo x Fem!Reader [N$FW]

A/N: Commission for my dearest baby sweetie boo @otomiya-tickles Thank you so much for you kind support my dear, you're always so nice and precious to me I love you endlessly. I hope you enjoy these horny demons asjdnsjansf

Summary: Lucifer comes back to the House of Lamentation to find that he can't access his own office?! There's only one person that would dare to do such thing besides their annoying brothers!

Words: 5.5k (under the cut)

He could sense magic as soon as he entered the House of Lamentation and he tensed momentarily by the door, sharpening his senses and feeling a slight rush of adrenaline coursing through his body, but after a heartbeat he realized that it was a magic that he knew so very well and a warm feeling spread across his chest as he relaxed again... until his heart dropped to his feet- why on Earth was he feeling this magic flooding the House of Lamentation and why did it seem to come right from his bedroom? More specifically, his personal office? 

Lucifer whined deep inside his heart. "Rats," he mumbled, fighting the urge to stomp his foot like a human child throwing a tantrum.

The magic only seemed to intensify the closer he was to his office and more profanities slipped from between his lips. This was no good. He knew very well that this was one more of Diavolo's silly games and he almost didn't want to open the door once he was standing in front of it. He didn't know what he was going to find once he turned the knob, and he was a little scared to find out too – he had a lot of work to do that evening and he wasn't sure he'd have the time to deal with one of Diavolo's diversions that would most likely make Lucifer fall behind in his work. 

He grabbed the knob and gripped it tightly, causing it to creak and shake under the strength of his grip. Lucifer took a deep breath and counted… one, two, three…, but his hand remained glued to the knob, refusing to turn it around to open the door. One… two… three…, again, nothing. 

"One… two… three! Huh?" 

This time he had turned the knob or at least had tried to. The knob he was holding so tightly had barely jingled before it suddenly stopped mid-turn. Lucifer blinked, perplexed and profusely confused by the situation, but he tried again, but the door remained closed. Did Diavolo….

"... Locked me out of my office?!" 

Unbelievable! What was he trying to do?! This was no behavior for a Crown Prince, was it?! Ah, but he'd see, this was not going to stay that way! Lucifer growled and in his mind he casted a small teleportation spell that, in seconds, had him appearing in front of the beautiful wooden door of Diavolo's personal chambers.

He gripped the knob and with a swift move the door opened wide for him. Lucifer took a step in, and baring his fangs, he said:

“Diavolo, can I know exactly why you decided to lock me out of- oh?" 

He didn't notice it instantly, but as he took a step further into the room, a wonderful scent tickled his nose. His nostrils immediately fanned and he took a deep breath, taking it all of that sweet smell and feeling a pleasant shiver run down his spine. 

It hadn't been that long since he smelled that scent, but it was a gift to be greeted by it when he was not expecting it. Was this the reason why Diavolo purposely made him go to his room? Oh, Lucifer might be able to forgive him if that was the case.  

"What are you guys doing?" He said, suddenly aware that there was, perhaps, a bit too much noise in the room. Was that… laughter? 

"Ah, Luci!" Diavolo said, looking up at Lucifer. "I knew you'd be here soon!"

"Luhuhucifeheher! Sahahahave mehehe! Mahahake hihihim stahahahap! I wihihill dihihie!" 

Lucifer frowned as he closed the door and slowly made his way to where Diavolo and the source of the laughter were.

There, behind the beautiful white canopy covering Diavolo's massive bed, Lucifer found the Crown Prince sitting at the edge of the bed, grinning mischievously with a playful glint in his eyes as you squirmed and jerked about while Diavolo tickled you mercilessly.

He was barely surprised to see you there. He would often find you huddled in Diavolo's room when Lucifer was, perhaps, a bit too busy to humor you with his company. Your visits to Diavolo, however, would often end with you and the Prince being scolded not only by Lucifer, but also by Barbatos who claimed that 'you were a great distraction to the Master. Thanks to you, he will avoid his work and that will be a problem for everyone'. He would then try to drag you out from Diavolo’s room, but you wouldn’t leave and, above all, Diavolo wouldn't let you go.

In other words, Lucifer was simply unfazed to see you there, instead, he was puzzled, for that delicious aroma was still so very present, filling every corner of the room and, if he was not mistaken, it was even intensifying as seconds went by.

Diavolo's hands buried under your arms had your head thrown back with hysterical howls of laughter, a very cute yet rare sound, Lucifer had to admit. Also, were you ticklish? He remembered Diavolo and himself had playfully and briefly tickled you in the past, just a squeeze or a poke, but it seemed that you were really ticklish, if the cute snorts meant anything at all.

He had already completely forgotten the reason why he had personally gone to Diavolo's room, his mind busy in other things as he moved even closer to Diavolo and his little victim, he then asked cautiously:

"Were you guys having… fun while I was away?"

Diavolo must have noticed the implied reference of 'fun' and, still tickling you to pieces, he looked up at Lucifer and frowned, tilting his head to the side in the most adorable way possible, making Lucifer's heart swell in his chest. 

Diavolo hummed, "we weren't," he said solemnly. "We've been doing this… for quite a while now, I'd say," he admitted without a trace of shame as he looked down at your laughing face with a tender smile and sparkly eyes. "Why do you ask- oh, did you know that our cute human was ticklish?”

Lucifer chuckled, shaking his head slightly, “I did not,” he said, grinning at seeing your pink face before returning his attention back to Diavolo. “I was asking because there's a scent in the room that made me think so."

Diavolo frowned again, "what kind of scent- oh."

Probably caught up by the discovery of your ticklishness, Diavolo seemed unaware of the exquisite aroma spreading throughout his room, but now that he did notice, his hands immediately went to a stop and he took a deep, deep breath, his cheeks turning a little pink as he looked down at you one more time, excited wonder in his darkened eyes. 

"We haven't… done anything," he said, seeing you catch your breath between a severe case of the giggles. 

Lucifer couldn't help but smile tenderly at your adorableness, but shudders running down his spine were making his skin bloom with goosebumps and he so desperately wanted to take you right on the spot, but instead of giving in to his low instincts, he waited patiently until he thought you'd be able to speak properly.

"Mind to explain, beautiful?" Was the first thing he said as soon as your giggling had died down a little.

You looked up at him through teary eyes, "I- I swehear I didn't do ahanything! Diavolo just staharted tickling mehe a-and-"

"Not that." Lucifer shook his head, uncrossing his arm to wave a hand, signaling to the whole room. "I mean this."

You blinked, looking around the room from your spot laying on the bed and Lucifer wanted to laugh. How could you be so clueless of your adorableness? Did you have any idea what you did to Diavolo and himself?

You highly probably didn't. 

"Hmm, what?" You asked, a very confused expression in your face. "The… room? I didn't… make it…?"

Lucifer rolled his eyes fondly and Diavolo chuckled, confusing you even more. 

"Of course you wouldn't notice," Lucifer mumbled, shaking his head. "I mean that your scent is all over the room. You are aroused."

Your eyes widened and the blush covering your cheeks deepened until it was a vibrant red color. Lucifer fought the urge to chomp at them as if they were the most juicy apples, rather, he let a dangerous smirk curl the corners of his mouth. 

"I'm not!"

You were lying. Lucifer knew this smell by heart, he knew it as well as he knew the magic that now flooded his office. Humans would call it pheromones, a strong scent that stimulated all of his senses, arousing him beyond belief. There was no way he could be mistaken, especially not when Diavolo himself had also smelled it and recognized it right away. 

It was impossible to not recognize your scent. It was intoxicating. It made Lucifer feel light-headed and his heart would beat like crazy within his chest. A wave of heat would rush through his body, making him shake and tremble as shivers ran down his spine. He often salivated like crazy too, mouth watering for you; fingertips itching to touch you. 

Simply put, there was no way in all three realms that he could mistake that wonderful smell and yet there you were, lying to his face as if he didn't know better.

How adorably dumb of you.

“You always expel this scent when you are… excited,” Diavolo explained, making you look at him. “You can’t smell it, of course, but Lucifer and I can and we can't be mistaken, my love. You are, like they say, turned on." 

Your eyes were wide and your face red and if Lucifer didn't know you, he'd think that you really were terrified, but he did know you and he clearly saw that glint of excitement twinkling in your eyes.

“Hmm?" Lucifer purred and he grinned devilishly when your eyes jumped back to him. "Could it be that you were having so much fun playing that little game with Diavolo? Do you like being tickled that much?” Your eyes went impossibly wider and Lucifer froze on the spot, his smile dropping. “Wait, do you actually-

“No, I don’t! I just… Dia- Diavolo was t-touching me so I- Ah! No! What are you doing- stop!” You yelled, jerking when Lucifer sneaked his hand into one of the legs of your loose shorts. He had propped one knee onto the bed, leaning and hovering you. “Lucifer, don’t! Ngh!”

“Keep acting like this,” he warned, cupping your sex and pressing on it with the heel of his palm, "and you’ll see what happens to nasty little liars like yourself.” His hand pulled your underwear apart so his gloved finger could slide into your heated cunt, you were dripping wet and a loud moan escaped you when he curled his finger inside you, touching your tender spots.

You grabbed his arm and tried to push him away. “Lucifer, please,” you sobbed, tears of shame and pleasure clinging to your lashes. “Don’t do this. D-Diavolo,” you cried, glancing at Diavolo with pleading eyes. “Tell him to s-stop, please!" 

"Don't do this, you say?" Lucifer asked, hovering more on you. "When you're already soaking and leaking?" He chuckled when the blush on your cheeks impossibly deepened and you jerked your hips away from him, shaking your head. 

"Did you really like me tickling you that much, my love?" Diavolo suddenly asked. The sweetest gentleness in his voice. Lucifer saw him cupping your face between his hands as you shook your head again. "If you liked it so much, you should've said so!" 

"I s-swear I don't! It's just, ngh! Haaa, wait! Wait, Lucifer, I- ah! Ahahaha!" 

Surprised, moany laughter filled the room as Lucifer thrusted a single finger into you, teasing the weakest spot inside you and Diavolo's fingers were brought to life and they were pressed into your waist, tickling you all over again. Your hands tried to fight Diavolo's, but also Lucifer's and a cute human like you could only do so much against their inhuman strength, so in the end, you could only grip onto their wrists, trying to push them away. 

Lucifer smirked at you. And you said you weren't turned on by the tickling? Now that Lucifer was stimulating your insides and Diavolo was tickling you, that sweet scent intensified, making both demons feel dizzy and just as horny as yourself. You were basically sucking onto his finger and he easily thrusted one more digit into you, curling them nicely to pleasure you.

You tried to close your legs, making Lucifer growl as he settled between them, keeping them open so he could angle his hand to keep touching while your clothes still got in the way. He felt strangely aroused when you squeezed him between your legs and he chuckled, sliding one more finger into you. 

"Ngh! Plehehease! O-Oh, plehehease!" You cried, both your hands now moving to push at Diavolo. "Dohohon- ah! D-Dohohon't do this! S-ngh-Stahahap!"

"Why do you want us to stop if you're enjoying yourself so much?" Diavolo asked, genuinely confused, his thumbs digging into that muscle right above your hips, causing Lucifer to shudder, feeling that same spot tingling on himself. "Is Lucifer hurting you?" He teased and Lucifer huffed. 

"I assure you I am not," he said, looking at you with half-lidded eyes. "I am doing my best to make her feel good, as always." 

He kept hitting that sweet spot within you and he knew that the fabric of his glove was making you feel strangely good, but Lucifer wanted to give you more. He wanted to see your eyes roll back, he wanted to make you see stars, he just wanted more.

"AHAHAHA! W-Wahahait! NGH! Ah, w-wait! O-Oh, w-wahait!"

Poor you. It was as if Diavolo and Lucifer had read each other's minds for Diavolo had moved his hands to your tummy, causing your laughter to increase as well as your squirming. Lucifer, on the other hand, had pressed his thumb against your hardened clit, rubbing deep circles, making you throw your head back with a loud moan, your legs shaking slightly around him. 

"I think our cute human will cum soon," Lucifer said, feeling the scent thicken around you all. "What shall we do, Diavolo?"

Diavolo chuckled, stealing a quick kiss to Lucifer's lips before sneaking his hands under your shirt to tickle your bare tummy.

"S-Stop! N-Nohohoho mohohore! No more! I- ah! I'm c-cumming! I'm- aaah!" 

Looking at you cumming was something out of this world. Both Lucifer and Diavolo thought they had seen no creature as beautiful as you. The way your features twitched in pleasure, your body tensed and shook with the force of your orgasm, back arched beautifully. The way your hips tried to move away from their touches, and that wonderful unrestrained moan that escaped from your lips – all of you. They simply loved all of you. 

And now, they have seen a new side of yours. A little secret that you were probably planning to keep to yourself for the rest of your days, but they had discovered it and Lucifer knew that neither him or Diavolo would forget about it. Especially not when your lips were trembling into a pleasured smile as you went through your high. 

Lucifer felt you clenching wonderfully around his fingers and he made sure to walk you through your orgasm with gentle touches against your clit. Diavolo on the other hand, had turned his quick tickles into soft ones, fingertips dragging across your stomach, fluttering against your jumpy lower tummy. 

"S-Stohop… A-Ah… N-Noho mohore," you babbled, trying to push their hands away from your hypersensitive body. "I c-cahan't, it… it tihickles…"

"And you love every second of it," Lucifer said, pulling his fingers out of you, making you cry and tremble.

"N-No." You shook your head. "Please, s-stohop," you said breathlessly, your skin still covered in goosebumps. 

Lucifer chuckled, raising an eyebrow. "Oh? Are you sure about that? Diavolo, what do you-"

All the words got stuck in his throat when he looked at Diavolo. Lucifer felt a shiver run down his spine when he saw the lust darkening Diavolo's pretty golden eyes as he looked- no, stared at you. Lucifer heard the soft muffled sound of you holding back a whimper. He saw you trying to make yourself tinier under his intense gaze.

"I think,” Diavolo started and both Lucifer and you jumped a little, “that our dear here wants to play some more," he said and you shook your head nearly desperately, but who were you trying to fool?

Not them, obviously. Right?

Lucifer nodded and smirked, lifting his drenched gloved fingers for you to look at them. "Look what you did," he said. "Will you be a good girl and clean them up for me? Open your mouth," he commanded, not waiting for your answer, and your lips trembled before you opened your mouth wide for him. 

Lucifer felt his hard-rock cock pulsating when he shoved his fingers into your mouth, making you gag slightly before you started sucking on his fingers, tasting yourself with a lustful glint in your dazed eyes. Your weak, trembling hands wrapped around his wrist and Lucifer smirked, shifting his hips forwards so you could feel his hard cock against your sensitive pussy. You moaned, grinding against him as his one free hand sneaked under your shirt to lightly trace your stomach. You choked around his fingers, letting out muffled giggles. 

You looked so devastatingly wrecked, it made Lucifer’s cheeks flush as he grew more and more excited, his teasing thrusts against your clothed arousal grew faster as he was starting to feel it a bit too much and grunts and moans kept escaping from between his lips. His head started to feel light, his breathing became erratic and with just one more grind against you, Lucifer finally came in his pants. 

He pressed his fingers against your tongue as he circled his hips. The release was blissful and almost painful after holding in for so long. He hung his head back with a pleased sigh as his body trembled and tingled. He was not one to cum this easily, in fact, the Avatar of Pride felt a little embarrassed as he slowly started to regain his senses. His flushed cheeks felt hotter as he pulled his fingers out your mouth, grinning lightly when you coughed around a moan. He shyly looked over at Diavolo. 

His eyes widened and he trembled when he found Diavolo looking at him, face also flushed and fangs bare. 

"I'm going crazy," Diavolo growled. "Take her clothes off,” he commanded, making you squeal and squirm. 

Lucifer gulped. Things were heating up. 

Diavolo grabbed Lucifer’s wrists and guided his wet gloved hand towards his own mouth; Lucifer held his breath when the Crown Prince bit the tip of his middle finger and pulled the glove off with his teeth. 

"Do I need to repeat myself, Lucifer?" He purred, an eyebrow raised as he licked Lucifer’s finger. 

The Avatar of Pride couldn't help but smirk, his body vibrating. "No, Your Highness," he said, quickly hooking his fingers into the waistline of your shorts and underwear, pulling them down. "I'll do as you say," he mumbled and your shorts and underwear were off in an instant, exposing your drenched warmth.

You shrieked, quickly trying to cover yourself up. "N-No, wait! D-Don't look! I-”

"Arms up." 

Your arms immediately raised above your head on their own, making you cry out as you tried to pull them back down. Lucifer saw with a watering mouth how they stayed up, not moving even a millimeter. Your eyes were wide, looking at Diavolo with little tears on them. Diavolo had used his magic to keep your arms pinned and a ting of excited fear settled in your eyes. 

What were you feeling exactly, Lucifer wondered. What did those tears mean? The sobs making you shake slightly could make him think that you were hating every second of it, but when you looked at him, he could see flames of lust in your eyes and he had seen those beautiful pleading eyes many times before to perfectly know that you were enjoying yourself more than what you wanted to admit. 

Also, that sweet scent kept overflowing the bedroom, he was worried Barbatos might feel attracted to it as well. If you were hating this, would the scent be so damn strong as it was?

"Pl-Please…"

Please what, Lucifer wanted to ask, but then, Diavolo's deep voice was filling his ears and he couldn't think straight anymore. 

"You had your fun," Diavolo said, gently placing a hand on Lucifer's shoulder. "Now it's my turn."

Lucifer nodded, obediently moving to the side from between your legs that quickly closed, trying to hide your pulsating and swollen pussy. He couldn't help but lean to capture Diavolo's lips in a fierce kiss. Tongues pushing into each other's mouth, swirling together in a dance that had Lucifer feeling light-headed. A pretty moan escaping him, causing both you and Diavolo to moan too. 

The Avatar of Pride smirked against Diavolo's lips before pulling away, gently pushing the Crown Prince to that perfect spot where they could see their human from the best view. 

"Di-Diavolo," you said, arching your back. "Pl-Please, I think- eek!" 

Another adorable shriek left your lips when Diavolo rested his hands on your knees and suddenly opened them up widely, licking his lips hungrily. 

"No, beautiful," Diavolo purred. "I don't want you to think, I actually want your mind to go blank so you can only focus on all the pleasure and tickling you're going to feel."

Lucifer shivered when you moaned, arching your back and thrusting your hips in the air. 

"Now, excuse me," he said, his head lowering. “Thank you for the food.”

You gasped, "w-wait, n-no, ah! Aagh, Diavolo! Dia- angh!”

Lucifer saw with great pleasure how your eyes crossed when Diavolo's lips pressed against your heated and wet skin. His tongue licking the length of your slit, pushing into your folds until he found that little spot that had you seeing stars. 

"D-Dia- aaaah- Diavolo! Ah, please! Please!" 

Lucifer's hands were itching, but he just couldn’t tear his eyes apart from your beautiful face furrowed with pleasure. He couldn’t stop looking at your body, squirming and arching and pushing into Diavolo's mouth as he ate you out. He wanted to hear those delicious moans and those obscene wet sounds Diavolo evoked when his fingers also joined the fun, going further inside you as he sucked on your poor clit. 

He wanted to look and hear, but oh, he so desperately wanted to touch you too. 

“N-No, Lucifer!” He ignored your cries as he grabbed the hem of your shirt and pulled it up past your head and up to your immobile wrists. Lucifer grabbed your ribs and he chuckled when you jerked heavily. “I, I don’t w-ant- nnghh, this! Please!”

“When will you stop lying?” Lucifer purred as Diavolo slurped down between your legs, making you cry with pleasure. Lucifer lowered his head to your chest and he looked up at you adoringly. “Are you not ready yet to admit that you’re enjoying this?” He felt your skin covering in goosebumps as he started to place open-mouthed kisses around your breasts, teasing you some more. 

He held your body still, pressing his hands on your ribs when you tried to arch more into his mouth. He felt you deliciously shuddering and trembling under their attention and he thought that he just couldn’t get enough of your frustrated cries and moans. 

“Maybe we should really stop,” he said suddenly, his lips millimeters apart from your nipple, his warm breath making it go hard. Your gasps and moans grew louder and more frenetic by the second. You were so close tu cum again. “What do you think, Diavolo?” 

“Since she’s hating it so much,” Diavolo said, raising his head from your heated folds. “I guess we should stop.”

The amazing frustrated cry that left your lips had both demons smirking and moving uncomfortably, their clothes becoming too tight around their crotches. 

“Please, don’t!” You sobbed pitifully, your hips desperately shaking, trying to reach that wonderful relief, but it was useless. “Dia- Diavolo, please!”

“Now you want it?” Diavolo asked, cleaning his mouth with the sleeve of his black shirt. “Didn’t you say you wanted us to stop?” 

“N-No, I j-just-!”

Lucifer grabbed your chin and made you look at him. “Would you be a good girl and tell us exactly what you want?” He purred and felt Diavolo’s chin resting on his right shoulder. 

“We might be demons, but it is a hassle to read minds, you know?” He grabbed your waist and you jerked when he squeezed you softly. “So? What is it going to be?”

Oh, Lucifer almost felt bad seeing you sobbing like this, he wanted to take you between his arms and clean your tears, however, ‘almost’ was the key word. He was beyond dizzy with your scent overflowing Diavolo’s chambers. You were enjoying every second of this. You liked them teasing you until you cried, you liked them tickling you and eating you out. You liked them treating you like a little toy they could use until they got bored– so would you be good and admit it?

“Please,” you cried, liking your lips. “Please, please, please… tickle me more and keep making me feel good. Please?”

Lucifer felt Diavolo shuddering behind him and in a blink of an eye, he was back with his head between your legs, not before leaving an open-mouthed kiss to the back of Lucifer’s neck, making him bite back a moan. 

“Ngh! Y-Yes! Th-That feels s-so good! NghahahAHAHA!”

Lucifer went to work quickly too. His hands latching to your ribs, squeezing them gently but hard enough to make you laugh your head off. His light, nimble fingers rubbed, pinched and vibrated against each bone and in the sensitive spaces in between. Your moany laugh made him shudder as he closed his mouth around your erect nipple. Your body reacted wonderfully to that, arching against his hands and mouth, asking to wreck you more. 

“I cahahahan’t!” You laughed, shaking your head when Lucifer’s fingers found a nerve on your lower ribs that had you nearly in hysterics. “Plehehehase hahahave mehehercy! NGH!” You cried, but Lucifer ultimately ignored you as his tongue flicked your nipple.

Lucifer had never met someone who could get horny by tickling. It was a stupid game that he didn’t particularly enjoyed or disliked, but if he could, he would keep himself away from any situation that could possibly have him laughing his head off, so knowing that there was a silly human who liked being tickled to pieces was something new to him, yet it was also absolute adorable and, if he had to be honest, really hot. 

Your laughter was simply beautiful and those obscene noises more so; it was a combination he never thought of but that was starting to be one of his favorites. 

“PLEHEHEASE! Oh, plehehease, I’m gohohoing to cuhuhum! I’m going t-toho-! AH!”

You barely had time to regain your breath before you dissolved into another orgasm. Lucifer sucked on your nipple and dug his fingers into your highest ribs, so close to your armpits, as he felt you coming one more time. Your body jolted, shivered and trembled with great force, your skin covering in goosebumps. 

He lifted his face to look at you, a string of saliva connecting your nipple to his mouth, and he whistled, seeing your face. You were sweating, tears rolling down your cheeks, drool dripping down your chin and even some snot was coming out from your nose. Your face was red, your eyebrows furrowed- you looked so beautifully wrecked, Lucifer could barely take it.

“P-Please,” you babbled, whimpering as Diavolo kept licking your trembling clit. “N-No m-more. It tihickles!”

“You’re gorgeous,” Lucifer mumbled, his nose nuzzling your wet cheek as you came down from your high. “I want you to laugh some more.”

You shook your head, “n-no plehease, I j-just cahame. It’s g-gonna be soho ba- AHAHAHA!”

Lucifer’s fingers were suddenly nestling under your arms, your armpits nicely taut for his fingers to tickle them merciless. 

“NOHOHOT THEHEHERE!” You begged, howling in hysterics. Your laughter was the loudest they had ever heard. “Plehehease, Luhuhuci! I’ll reheheally dihihihie! Plehehease nohohot thehehere! I juhuhust cahahame!”

Lucifer chuckled, his fingers wiggling right in the middle of your armpits. “You’ll not die,” he said tenderly. “I won’t let you.”

You could only shake your head as Lucifer tickled you. The Avatar of Pride was vicious in his attack, he wanted to hear that hysterical laugh, he wanted to indulge you in all the tickling you’ve missed for not telling them what you wanted.

“I really can’t take this anymore,” Diavolo suddenly said and Lucifer turned around just to see the Crown Prince unbuttoning his slacks, his cock, red and wet, escaping from his underwear, looking ready to burst. Lucifer’s fingers froze as he stared at Diavolo’s length, he gulped, swallowing thickly. “You don’t mind, right beautiful?”

You gasped for air as you weakly lifted your head to look at Diavolo, your eyes widening when you saw his erect cock. You shook your head. “Di-Diavolo, I ju-just came. Give me o-one moment, I- fuck! Angh!”

He easily entered you. You were plenty wet already, Diavolo slipped easily into you. The Crown Prince gripped your thighs as he moved in and out. Your moans filled their ears and Lucifer didn’t know where to look, but his fingers twitched and he remembered he was tickling your poor, exposed armpits.

“NO! Nohohoho! Nahahat thahahat! Plehehehase! PLEHEHEASE! Luhuhucifeheher!” You threw your head back, laughing and moaning as Lucifer heard Diavolo’s own grunts and moans along with the sound of skin slapping against skin. “H-Hahaharder! Diahahavolo, h-hahaharder!”

Diavolo chuckled, “o-oh?” he said, through gritted teeth. “Harder? Like this?”

You moaned, “Yes! Yehehes, mohohore! Plehehase, mohohore!” 

“More what?” Lucifer asked, tilting his head to the side with a playful smirk as he vibrated his fingers against your armpits, making you snort. “More tickles?”

You nodded your head weakly, “YEHEHES, plehehease! AH! Ahahahaa, nnngghh!”

Lucifer was surprised when you jolted and he looked behind him to see Diavolo’s thumbs sinking into your hips, tickling as he fucked you nicely. “You like that, beautiful?”

You nodded again, your voice hoarse. “Yehehehes! I’m gohohoing- annghh! I’m gohohoing to cuhuhum!”

“Me too,” Diavolo mumbled and Lucifer how both his lovers came undone at the same time. Their moans sending shivers down his spine. 

“LUHUHUCIHIHIFER PLEHEHEASE!” You shrieked in hysterics. Lucifer hadn’t stopped tickling you and after cumming for the third time, you were far from sensitive, he was amazed you could laugh still. “I’m gohohoing crahahahazy, plehehehease!” 

“Are you now? I’m sure you’re loving- whoa!” He was a bit startled when your arms suddenly came down, trapping his hands under them. Diavolo had broken his own spell and now you were free to move and squirm as you laughed your precious head off.

Lucifer chuckled and he finally stopped, pulling his head out from under your arms to let you catch your breath. You collapsed against the bed, breathing heavily and twitching a little. The strong smell slowly faded away and the demons’ arousal slowly died down as well as they looked at you adoringly and they both laid beside you, embracing you between their arms as they whispered sweet things against your ears.

‘Why didn’t you tell us before?’

‘Were you scared we were going to make fun of you?’

‘Was that too much?’

‘Did you enjoy yourself?’

‘What was your favorite part?’

A bunch of questions that mostly had you giggling because their whispers tickled you, but you answered each of them and they were satisfied, knowing that you stubbornly refused to admit that you were enjoying yourself. 

“Thank you,” you said softly. “That was amazing… I wouldn’t mind repeating it again some time.”

Lucifer laughed at that and he squeezed your waist, making you giggle. “Like right now?”

“Nohoho! N-Not now,” you said, shaking your head and moving closer to Diavolo who gently covered your naked body with a blanket. “Right now I want to sleep.”

Diavolo beamed, “a nap sounds fantastic right now!”

Lucifer made a face, “we’re all sticky, though, let’s take a bath first.” He hid a smirk when you and Diavolo whined like children as he got up from bed, heading to Diavolo’s bathroom. “Who knows,” he said, shrugging. “Our hands can slip and we could end up doing something else- oh, weren’t you both in bed?”

Suddenly, you and Diavolo were behind him, following him into the bathroom and he chuckled, shaking his head.

In the back of his head he thought about the main reason he had visited Diavolo’s chambers in the first place and he felt guilty thinking about all the paperwork that was awaiting for him at his office. Maybe he can skip the napping and let his darlings rest while he worked and-

“Aha! N-Nohohot mehehe! Not mehehehe!” Diavolo laughed, already half naked with your hands glued to his ribs, tickling him playfully. 

Lucifer sighed, smiling softly. Well, that paperwork could wait one more day, couldn’t it?

[waywardmateo]

First time posting my work, here goes.

——————————————————————————

Late Night Reading

Alastor x incubus!reader

|| I like the concept of Al paired with an incubus, something about a canonically asexual gentleman paired with a sex demon just allows for the latter to realize that they're worth more than just their body and work through some underlying trauma in a relationship where they're under no pressure to put out. It tickles my brain.

That aside, since an incubus is a male sex demon the reader will be read as masc/gn. I might be persuaded to write for a succubus reader at some point, but since the fandom is so diluted with content directed mainly towards cis women I just want to see more content for masc and gender neutral readers.

The neon lights never blinked out in Lust, the dirty corners of the city illuminated softly by its bright façade. Light pollution was at such a high potency that one wouldn't be able to make out a star in the crimson sky. It was dingy, filled to the brim with a type of secluded filth that stewed just beneath the surface of the buzzing neon lights and the hushed, dirty whispers in the ears of lovers.

A back door creaked open, and you all but spilled into the alleyway. Clutching the railing beside the doorframe not unlike a sinner clutches a rosary, your knees buckled and you retched over the edge of the stairs. Gasping—choking on your own bile as tears pricked your eyes—you dragged yourself onto wobbly legs and proceeded down the steps. Two at a time, almost desperate to get away from something.

You grasped your bag tighter as you walked past the front of the building, past the throngs of people clamoring to get admitted. The bright lights blinked out one word. Ozzie's.

You hadn't intended to end up dancing at Ozzie's. The only other work for an incubus in Lust was, well. Better to not think about it. It made your skin crawl.

Rats scuttled past you as you made your way to the station, gripping your bag like a vice. You stepped onto the train headed for the Pride ring, shouldering past the crowds of other hellborn and finding a seat by the window. You stuffed your bag under the seat and tried to unwind.

The night had been worse than most. Hands ghosting over your body, forcing sour fingers in your mouth, grabbing your great curling horns, stuffing dollar bills down your pants. You shivered, the acid bile scalding your throat threatening to make a reappearance.

Patrons treated you like a wind up toy they could crank up and let run until it subsequently ran itself immobile.

Best not to think of it now. You leaned your head against the window and stared out into Hell's swirling cherry-colored night sky.

You sigh, the breath condensing as it hit the window. The train rattles on almost soothingly. Every so often someone is let off at a stop, the brakes squealing to a halt.

—————————————————————————————————————————

Around the fifth stop or so, you step off the train. Bag in hand, you slowly approach the large, looming hotel. You falter before reaching out to push open the door.

It was only supposed to be a couple of nights. You were at your lowest, evicted from your apartment after being laid off from your job in Pentagram City. You had approached the hotel with a few crumpled dollar bills in your hand, but the Princess refused to take them. Despite your inability to be rehabilitated or redeemed due to your being hellborn, she still let you stay rent free at her hotel. You hated feeling that you owed her, so you constantly offered yourself to be at her complete disposal. She always declined.

You always did the dishes to make yourself feel better for being a leech, anyhow.

Tonight, you quietly ventured past the foyer. Nobody should have been awake, but the crackle of radio static immediately alerted you to the presence of another demon. You halted, a cold shiver running down your spine. The white noise only intensified.

Alastor sat in the armchair, legs crossed. He was without his overcoat and his staff was propped up against the sofa. He was leaning forward, his face resting against the heel of his palm as he gazed at you. His monocle hung loosely against his chest, and there was a book in his lap. It was almost as if he were expecting you, waiting for you.

"Oh, dear. This won't do, sneaking around at night, hmm?"

His voice held a sharp implication.

"I wasn't sneaking," you protested. "I was at work."

"Ah, I'm sure you were, my dear." He said it absently, like he didn't quite believe you. His voice carried across the room easily, creating an ambience of white noise and radio static that eased you up only slightly.

"What're you doing this late at night, anyhow?" You turn the accusatory tone back at him.

"Ah, reading. I've been known to enjoy a good book or two." Alastor chuckles.

You sat down on the sofa across him.

"Okay..."

"You seem awfully tired."

"Yes, I was at work."

"Tea?"

You paused. Weighing his offer with some skepticism.

"What blend, the blood of your enemies?"

"Aha, very funny. Chamomile."

He offered you a teacup. Still warm. Almost as if he knew you were coming.

You took it gingerly, almost as if it might explode. You've learned to fear him, but tonight he seemed almost docile.

You held the teacup in shaking hands. Alastor notices.

"What seems to be the matter, my dear?"

The fireplace crackled in the background against the sound of radio waves as you thought carefully over your response.

"I'm just tired, is all."

"Hmm."

You took a sip of tea to lengthen the silence. It soothed your burning throat a bit.

"Wonderful talk. Well, I'm headed off to bed, I suppose I'll see you in the morning, [Name]."

You nod once.

After seemingly taking a moment to contemplate, Alastor stood up and took hold of his staff. He turns to you, taking your hand, and pressing a kiss to the back of it.

"Sleep well, my dear."

—————————————————————————————————————————

Thank you so much for your notes! Especially on my first work.

Blessed be <3

-M

[welikeclownsinthishouse]

Entry number 16 for @ailesswhumptober

Day 16: amputation/lab rat

He got brought back out earlier than he hoped he would but he knew he would be fine in the end. He could deal with another weird injection, could deal with another mystery illness.

When he got wheeled into the familiar room however he realized with dread that there were no needles this time. The only things lying on the small table he got placed next to were a scalpel and a small saw.

Ben's eyes widened in fear when he realized what they were planning to do and he tried to open his mouth, to yell or even plead but the muzzle wouldn't let him.

He could do nothing but watch as one of the Russians switched on a light that had never been on before and the sudden harsh, fluorescent lights overhead cast an eerie glow on the not so sterile surroundings. He could feel the cold, unforgiving metal of the table beneath him and a shiver ran over him.

The room was filled with the low chatter of the people doing this to him and Ben wished he could understand them. His gaze was fixed on the Russian holding the saw though, his face was obscured by a mask like it usually was.

He clenched his teeth as the surgeon's scalpel made its first incision on his upper arm, right where they usually stuck the needles. The pain was excruciating, an intense burning sensation that seemed to sear through his very soul. His muscles tensed and he struggled to suppress a scream, his nails digging into the edges of the metal table he was lying on.

With each deliberate cut, he felt another wave of pain needling through his whole being, a pain he had never felt before. The room seemed to start spinning, and his vision blurred as tears welled up in his eyes. He tried to blink them away but another deliberate cut made that impossible so he just tried to think about something else, anything that might help.

For a few minutes, he was able to distract himself with thoughts of his old team until he heard metal on metal at least. He glanced in the direction of the noise and felt another bout of dread when he saw that the guy had put away the scalpel only to grab the saw Ben had seen earlier.

Only seconds later he felt the bone saw's harsh grinding, heard the way his bone got split in two. The sickening thud as his arm finally fell into a metal tray would be etched into his memory forever.

He didn't really notice the scientists getting rid of the saw, didn't see what they did to his arm but he did notice that they didn't wheel him out. They just sat on chairs, surrounding him and keeping their eyes on him.

The dull pain in his arm and his face stayed with him as he cast a glance around the room, trying very hard not to look at the place his arm should be in.

He noticed his eyes grow heavy not long after and fought hard with himself not to fall asleep, he didn't want to miss anything they might do. The exhaustion of the day won out however and he fell into a restless sleep.

As he woke up, presumably only hours later considering each of the scientists that were with him previously were still there, still talking amongst each other, he could feel a deep throbbing pain in his shoulder.

As his eyes focused the pain intensified, and he grit his teeth, trying to stop himself from trying to scream; his mouth was already sore and bloody from trying to before and the muzzle was still there. It felt as if a thousand needles were being driven into his shoulder, and he couldn't even do anything to escape the agony.

As the minutes passed, he noticed something strange, a tingling sensation in the remnants of his arm, and he watched in a weird mix of horror and awe as tiny buds began to form. It was like watching a gruesome, yet fascinating, miracle unfold before his eyes, but the pain didn't let up; it only got worse as the new tissue grew and stretched.

He clenched his fist and sweat started pouring down his face as he stared at the new limb growing out of his shoulder. The regeneration process is incredible, but all he can think about is how excruciatingly painful it is. He longed for the sweet relief of anesthesia, or death he wasn't picky, but he knew neither would be granted to him.

When his arm was finally fully grown, the skin still looking pink and disgustingly raw, he finally looked back at the Russians still in the room. His stomach dropped at the sheer and open excitement on their faces, all of them talking over each other in a language Ben couldn't understand.

When one of them stood up he hoped they would bring him back to his chamber finally but said hope was squashed when the guy picked up the scalpel, pointing it at his leg.

Ben really hoped he wouldn't wake up the next time he fell asleep but he knew deep down that he wasn't that lucky. He had never been lucky.

[lordratwich]

*A loud knock can be heard coming from the front door. Opening it reveals a cross, stuck a few meters in front of the door, that's about 5'2, with rat corpses neatly arranged in top and all around it, making it look like it was literaly made of rats. On top were younger ones, starting from baby hatchlings, and getting older going down. In the middle, "short?" was written using rat cadavers of different sizes that seemed completly covered in... Blood? It definetly looked like dried blood*

*No one was to be seen in the area*

Finley took a minute to realize what he was looking at. He produced some kind of loud, shocked, strangled noise and froze, heart pounding, staring at the…. Whatever it could be called. Their fingers dug into the doorframe. They couldn't take their eyes off the cross. It took him a while to muster the force to push himself away from the door and stumble forward to investigate. He reached out, tentative, and let his hand make contact with one of the corpses, but immediately jerked back from the feeling of the unnatural cold. Breath intensifying, he circled the cross, still shocked, beginning to mumble something.

“She didn't know. She doesn't know. She doesn't know. She doesn't know. She doesn't know. Tone it down, dude, tone it down she doesn't know she doesn't know tone it down she doesn't know she doesn't know she doesn't FUCKING KNOW!”

Finley’s soft words devolved into yells, and he threw the pen he'd been holding into the bushes in a rage. He turned and looked at the cross again, at the top in particular, where the babies were. “Oh my- I can't-” shuddering, Finley covered his face with his hands for a moment, then peeked out again, dropped his hands. His movements seemed quick and random. He briefly paced back and forth before stopping and turning to face the word.

“Short,” he muttered in confirmation, answering the question mark. “Short monster. Gremlin. Goblin. Kobold. Snotling. Imp.” Finley abruptly reached out and dug his fingers between the rats, tearing the cross out of the ground. He dragged it into the lab, fueled by rage, and leaned it against a wall. “Dead rats. Let's see how you like dead rats when they're attacking you in the afterlife, Camy- No- no. We're not killing her. Don't. No. Bad move. Bad move, Finley,” he told himself. Finley left the room with the rat cross inside, tears in his eyes. “Let's come up with something worse.”

[fishedeyelenz]

Camille 👀👀👀

1,7,8,20,30,32

Thank you!!!

1.About an hour, or two. Depends. She can really get lost in her mind sometimes, so it's not that much of a problem for her, and knows how to slip into something akin to a meditative state. Though she would rather be up on her feet doing something instead, and if shes in any way nervous she wouldn't stand sitting around for too long and would have to get up to do something.

7. Sensory experiences usually, mostly smells and songs. Old 60s, 70s, 80s songs remind her of her youth, lavender perfume reminds her of her mother (she can't wear lavender bc of that ) . In the Rats in the shadows timeline she could always tell when Billy was snooping around in the house cause when she woke up his smell clinged on to everything. It smells like dust. It reminds her of that first very scary Christmas season with him, but also the second better one. Playdough also reminds her of childhood, when she would spend days crafting something with it.

8. To stop crying, though not in a mean way. Her father didn't know how to deal with her cries cause they always frightened him. It made him feel very lost. He always tried to gently cheer her up, but unfortunately the phrase "please don't cry/ you're too strong to cry/ you are a lioness, lionesses don't cry" slipped through his mouth constantly. He meant the best, but it resulted in her burring her sadness and not showing that part of herself to others. She almost always cries alone. Also in school they always told her to stop scribbling on the walls/desks, stalls/wherever but she never listened to that noise lol

20. She would say something like "platonic/familial love is wide, its always spreading onto other people and intensifying and pulsating while romantic love is directed at specific people and it lives in those people and it's overwhelming. But romantic love is also the type that most easily cools out" or something like that. Makes sense to her, idk if anyone else gets it lol.

30. Nobody honestly. She truly does believe that every person she met meant something to her and it was meant to be that way, she just regrets the ways she acted with them/if she should have cut them out of her life earlier or things like that. But even the worst experiences she sees as learning experiences.

32. She would rather ask people about themselves but if she had to innate the conversation she would try to relay anecdotes that in some way relate to the person she's talking to. If she's talking to a doctor she would tell them about the time she had her tonsils taken out and things like that. Ofc some conversations come easier to her, like she has an easier time stricking up conversation with artists like herself for example, and is less likely to play by ear with them and knows exactly what she wants to say about herself and her experiences.

If anybody wants to ask more questions about her or about Bean feel free to do so!!!

Question list

[blurbsoffanfiction]

The hunters, a group of elite, shadowy figures, have a vendetta that makes their pursuit relentless. They've studied Victor, know his tactics, and are prepared to use his violent history against him. As night falls, the urban landscape becomes a menacing maze of narrow alleys and towering structures, perfect for a cat-and-mouse chase that pushes Victor to his limits.

Victor, with his acute senses and animalistic instincts, navigates the city's underbelly with a mixture of fury and caution. He’s not just running; he's plotting, setting traps, and using the environment to his advantage. Every shadow could be an ambush, every noise a signal of approaching danger.

Meanwhile, Sarah, torn between fear for Victor and her own safety, plays a crucial role from the shadows. Using her knowledge of Victor's hunters—gained from previous encounters and Victor’s own begrudging disclosures—she provides him real-time updates through a secure comm link. Her voice is a steady presence in his ear, guiding him away from traps and towards potential escape routes.

As the hunt intensifies, Victor's reflections on his past misdeeds merge with his present desperation. He's not just fighting for survival but also grappling with the weight of his history, wondering if this relentless pursuit is his penance. The cityscape blurs around him, a visual metaphor for his tumultuous thoughts and relentless pace.

The climax might occur in a deserted warehouse, where Victor, cornered, decides to confront his pursuers. It's here that Sarah, disregarding Victor's stern instructions to stay clear, steps in from the shadows, her presence both a balm and a spark. The confrontation that follows is not just a physical battle but an emotional showdown, as Sarah’s unexpected arrival forces Victor to acknowledge the depth of his connection to her, further fueling his ferocity to protect not just himself but the life they share.

‐--------------

The hunter's knew all his weaknesses, how he fights, what he does to survive, they accounted for his healing factor keeping him injured with rounds that scatter and explode each time he heals, loud noises only he can hear, heat signatures and scents all over the place they didn't account for her, not really, she's human, easy enough to get rid of, at least they think. Except now she's between them and Victor Creed. He's injured, bleeding, senses going nuts, and she's standing there with a shotgun ready to protect him.

-----‐-----------

She's upset, grumbling to herself as she patches him up, waiting for his healing factor to override whatever it was that slowed it down, "Curtis ratted us out."

She says 'us' not 'you' because that's how she sees it; that's how she sees everything, 'us' , 'we', 'ours'.

"The next time I see his face my fists have got a few things to say to it...."

----------------

Under the dim and flickering lights of the warehouse, Sarah's gentle voice carries through the tense air, softening the aftermath of their brutal fight. Victor lies in her lap, his breathing heavy and ragged from the pain and exertion. His body, though healing, struggles against the specialized rounds designed to keep him incapacitated. Despite this, a sense of calm begins to settle over him, driven by Sarah’s steady presence.

As she strokes his hair, Victor's tense muscles start to relax under her touch. Her fingers move rhythmically, untangling knots and smoothing over the coarse strands, her motions deliberate and soothing. The scent of gunpowder and blood lingers, but it's overshadowed by her familiar, reassuring presence.

Sarah starts to hum, a melody soft and melodic, floating above the quiet buzz of the city outside. The tune is a simple one, one she often hummed during quiet moments back at their safehouse, a sound that had become a symbol of safety and normalcy in their chaotic lives. Her voice, steady and warm, acts as a balm to Victor's frayed nerves.

"Take a nap, Vic. I got you," she whispers again, her words a gentle command laced with unwavering protection. Her hand never stops its movement, her touch a constant reminder that she's there, that he's not alone.

Outside, the distant sound of sirens begins to grow, a reminder of the reality waiting for them, but inside their temporary haven, it seems far away. For now, they're in a bubble of calm in the eye of the storm.

Victor's eyes flutter shut, the pain ebbing away with each note she hums. Trust in her protection allows him a rare moment of vulnerability, his usual readiness for battle eased by the security her presence provides. In these fleeting moments, their roles reverse; the protector becomes the protected, and Sarah stands guard over the fierce warrior now softened under her care.

As Victor drifts off, Sarah keeps watch, her eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of new threats. Her grip on the shotgun beside her is loose but ready, a silent vow that she will defend them against anything that might dare to disturb this rare peace. Her resolve is steel, her love a shield as potent as any armor.

In the stillness, broken only by the sound of Victor's slowing breath and her steady humming, there's a profound intimacy. It's a stark contrast to the violence that had raged just minutes before. This moment, though fraught with the echoes of battle, speaks to the deep bond and mutual trust that has grown between them, a testament to their survival and to the strength they find in each other.

[wrestlersownmyheart]

Eddie Kingston Drabble (#3 Eddie Kingston X Female Reader)

Jericho turned me to face Jamie while he held my arms behind me, making me essentially helpless even though I struggled and tried to free myself. Jamie stepped forward then with a smug smile on her face. “I’ve wanted to do this for a long time you little goody two-shoes.” 

I heard, and could see, Eddie through the window screaming his head off that he was going to kill Jericho. That he’d better let me go.

But he didn’t. The first blow from Jamie landed right on my ribs, causing me to lose my breath. Then the next blow landed on my other set of ribs. I was gasping for air, and sinking to my knees when I heard the door being pounded on. 

I wanted nothing more than to beg for help but I didn’t. I knew it would only upset Eddie more, plus, I didn’t want to give that satisfaction to Jamie and Jericho.

So I took the beating like a man.

Jamie clocked me good in the head with the brass knucks, and the next thing I knew I was lying in the floor, wet warmth dripping down my face. But it didn’t stop there. She began stomping me hard in my ribs and head. I was immediately dragged over to an open locker and my arm was shoved inside. Jamie then threw all of her weight into the door, closing it on my arm.

The door managed to dent and clicked closed, my arm still trapped inside the locker. There was a crack as the door clicked shut. And a pain like I’ve never known assaulted my arm and shoulder.

A white light invaded my vision then. I couldn’t see for the pain.

The commotion behind the locker room door intensified. 

All I could do was lay on the floor and try to breathe. But it hurt so badly to even just inhale.

Everything was fading from white to black and back to white. Then black. I think I was going in and out of consciousness. Suddenly, it sounded as if Eddie and the guys finally got the door busted open–there was the loud sound of splintering wood, and then what must have been the door flying open and banging into the wall.

The noise caused me to come to a bit, and I saw Jericho, Jamie and the others running for a secondary door in the locker room to make their escape.

“Cowards…” I muttered under my breath.

“Shhh… Y/N,” I heard Eddie say from just above me, trying to rouse me. “Stay with me, baby. Just stay with me...”

If you want on my tag list just ask! :-)

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[nikkialena]

Ninety Days

Goku x black reader Vegeta x black reader

Destroyer reader op reader

"Chichi.....Chichi hold on a second are you sure this temple is abandoned?"

A soft groan rumbled within your throat; the rats were back sneaking into your humble abode uninvited like the vermin they are, once upon a time you were greatly feared throughout the universe.

Everyone knew your name and not a single soul dared disrespect you such as this, perhaps you'd become too lenient, allowing them to escape one too many times unscathed. And like the little pest, they are they multiplied and began growing bolder. Well, your patience has just about run thin with the human race, you've tried your hardest to ignore their glaring flaws. But every time you try and look past their sins and offer them mercy, they spit on it squander it, and then throw it back in your face.

And waking you up from your blissful sleep was the last FUCKING straw, with an annoyed growl you clambered out of bed. Someone was going to die today. Or maybe a plethora of someones, after all, you were supposed to destroy this planet a few years back only you fell asleep. Well now that you are thoroughly energized, nothings standing in the way of turning this planet into an asteroid belt.

As you shook off the blankets and rubbed the remnants of sleep from your eyes your stomach growled rather loudly, well almost nothing.

༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄

"Are you sure about this?" Bulma asked for the tenth time; something just didn't feel right about this, every little noise made her skin crawl and her knees weak with fear.

Chichi just rolled her eyes at her overly cautious friend waving her off with an acute nod, "yes for the hundredth time Bulma this temple has been abandoned for quite some time now no one is here besides us."

Bulma didn't look too convinced; "why are we even here again" she grumbled dragging her feet along the worn cobblestone.

Chichi rolled her eyes again as the former flinched at the echoing screech of a bird of prey in the distance, "the fruit of the Nile it's rumored to be the sweetest berry in the universe, and not just our universe all of them combined I'm going to whip up something extra sweet for Goku and Vegeta don't you want to try that?"

Bulma snorted rubbing her arms "no I don't if it means stealing from a god", Chichi just waved her off, " once you taste what I have planned then you'll be ecstatic we did this".

She hummed before falling silent, Bulma opened her mouth to ask why she randomly stopped when she shushed her, a soft thundering roar of rushing water filled her ears she grinned excitedly.

"Chichi" Bulma whispered shouted as the prior rushed into a dark hall and disappeared around the corner, looking around warily her skin began to crawl and she swore she could feel eyes watching her from beneath the shadows.

"Chichi I think this is a really bad idea" she groaned chasing after her friend only to run face-first into her back, rubbing her nose she glared at Chichi until her eyes connected with the massive tree.

It was an unnatural shade of opal with purple hanging leaves that stretched well beyond her viewpoint, a gentle breeze made her spin on her haunches only to be met with nothing.

But the unnerving feeling that they were being watched only intensified, no something was wrong very wrong they shouldn't be here.

"Let's go we're leaving I'm pretty sure Goku and Vegeta won't be disappointed about not eating a fruit they've never heard of", grabbing Chichi's wrist harshly she tried dragging her out of the cave.

But Chichi squirmed herself out of her grasp in from and center of the massive tree, "I'm not going back empty-handed besides I don't see no god do you finders keepers".

Stretching out her hands she reached for one of the massive hanging vines, the berries hung low just within reach catching the dying light of the sun made them sparkle like jewels making them all the more tempting.

At first, the berries gave some resistance almost as if the tree itself was unwilling to let go of its treasures, but with one hard pull the branch snapped and she stumbled backward raising her trophy for all to see.

"See no biggie now we can leave"

"LEAVING SO SOON BUT YOU JUST GOT HERE HOW ABOUT YOU TAKE A BITE HMM?"

༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄

Oh, how you adored the look on their faces; a blatant display of fear so pleasing it almost made you want to spare them.....almost.

The cave fell deathly silent as the two Homosapien females regarded you with unease, you stride towards them with elegance and a malicious grin creeping onto your features. "Oh don't stop on my behalf by all means, continue taste the succulent juices of the fruit of the Nile I promise...its to die for".

The way your voice dropped an octave was off-putting but defying a god was most certainly a death wish, standing in front of the female known as Chichi you resented her with a plump round berry the size of her palm.

"Bite"

You growled earning a worried look from the ravenette although she didn't dare disobey, with trembling fingers, she examined the crimson berry and delicately dug her teeth into the skin peeling it off slowly.

Growing impatient you gripped her head and jaw between your fingers, "aww c'mon now I know you didn't come all the way of here just to taste skin HAVE A TASTE TAKE A NICE BITE".

Forcing her teeth down upon the berry its juices exploded into her mouth and trickled down her lips, you let go with a satisfied smirk "tasty right?" You cooed as she wiped her mouth nodding her head slowly, your eyes quickly flickered to Bulma who flinched as if she'd just been shot.

Smiling sweetly at her your lips curled above your teeth, "would you like a try it truly is the best thing you'll ever taste".

She shook her head no vigorously and you shrugged "really what a shame" you hummed, "it has many benefits it's sweet, replenishes energy, has healing and regenerative properties, quite the potent cure-all for many diseases and toxins, oh and is chock full of cyanide and tetrodotoxin".

Their eyes widened to the size of saucers at the mention of not one but two deadly toxins, your [e/c] eyes turned to glowing slits as you waved your hand around your head.

"Oh silly me did I forget to mention that small detail, don't be modest now you wanted a taste savor the flavor", you sang forcing the rest of the berry down her throat with brute force.

Bulma looked at you with wide terrified eyes as you licked your fingers clean of the sweet juices, Chichi choked and gagged on the remnants of the berry "Y-you have to help her p-please w-w-we didn't mean to steal from you your grace" she whined pathetically.

You simply tsked at that waving a finger in her direction "no you didn't mean to steal from me that wench", you growled pointing a perfect painted finger at steadily paler Chichi "did which is why I've chosen to spare your life, besides even if I wanted to help her which I don't but let's just say that I did. I wouldn't be able to sadly, there's no known cure for cyanide or tetrodotoxin in any Universe, when I think about I can't help but laugh at the irony of this situation."

"WHAT'S FUNNY ABOUT THIS?!" Burma shouted at the top of her lungs as she clung onto Chichi, the latter began sweating and swaying on her feet.

As if the slightest of breezes would knock her on the ground. Meanwhile, you settled for floating on your back causally floating through the air, a soft chuckled spilled from your lips as you lazily rolled over laying your face in your palm.

"The reason she's dying is because of human ignorance, the Nile fruit developed poison to defend against humans who consumed the fruit like glutenous pigs to a near extinction level isn't nature beautiful?"

You sang slowly flying around them in a taunting manner, Bulma was at a loss for words and Chichi looked ready to puke out her innards at any given moment.

"You have to stop this" Bulma stated matter of fact making you squint slightly but nothing more, waving her off you giggled softly "I just told you I can't silly" "YOU'RE A GOD ARE YOU NOT?"

You again waved your finger crossing your arms across your chest "while yes I am a god I'm not that kinda god hun, I'm a god of destruction I destroy things for a living in all honestly I couldn't give two fucks if you and everyone on this miserable dirtball died."

"Matter of fact I was supposed to destroy this dingy little planet decades ago but I decided to take a quick cat nap, one you and your little friend over there ruined waking me from such a pleasant dream. "

"SO YOU'RE DOING THIS OVER A STUPID NAP?"

Having had enough of her tongue you swiftly grabbed her by the throat, raising her to eye level so she could grasp how serious you were. "You'd best watch your tongue before I take filthy flesh monkey, I'm not doing this because you ruined my sleep". You tightened your grip on her throat making her cry out " I'm doing this because you dare have the gall to steal from me, invade my home, and, well I just never really liked humans to begin with".

Dropping her to her knees Bulma scrambled to her knees and crawled away from you rubbing at the purple-tinted mark left on her throat, "mark my words vermin your kind has tried my patience for the last time, you have sixty days to enjoy life while you can then this planet and all its Inhabitants will perish by my hand."

You began to ascend into the sky for dramatic effect until your stomach growled obnoxiously loud, blushing softly out of embarrassment you cleared your throat.

"But I may extend your existence to seventy-five to ninety days if you prepare for me a meal to my liking", you shouted trying to sound authoritative and not as a begging child thankfully Bulma just nodded her head eagerly and you smiled " excellent".

[nochiquinn]

campaign 3 episode 40: kittens! not in the episode, just in my house.

I won't lie - I'm half an hour late bc I was building a settlement in fallout 4 and lost track of time

mala literally just messaged me "travis: there will be no werewolf dick". I have zero context for this and I don't want any.

I'm assuming imogen had an emotional something or other with her not-dead mom

I swear it's just the in-betweeny nature of the game rn fucking with me, I'll care more once we loop back into the main plot

yanking fearne's hand into the air

"lots of bad isn't unusal" oh bb

at the end of the day we're all just horny undead bird-rats

The Moon Guy

"at night we could tie each other up" marisha's face

lays in the floor about dorym

"I really wanted to punch a werewolf"

"you're in pain long enough it just all becomes background noise"

oh I will CRY

"miss you too" I ALREADY SAID I'D CRY LEAVE ME ALONE

"a dozen is like 20"

combat was mentioned and I immediately checked ALL the way out ksldjfsl

final fantasy boss music intensifies

okay you have my attention now

that's what that picture laura posted was dsklfs

"I watched that conversation!"

"when you die it'll be very special"

that is too many fire

I know I said this last time but: soul eater

"no amplification" travis remembers the last time ronin was involved in a miniboss fight

Super Miss

oh damn

"the big chicken" blinks in georgia

excuse me

imogen??? ma'am???

shocking rats

travis I was so proud of you earlier

at least I've got chicken

the rain effect!

sdkjhfskj no one trusts the werewolf

"lunacy!" taliesin

guess what having two seven-week-old kittens who don't know what a day/night cycle is makes it really hard to pay attention to things

matt what is your voice

I'm only picturing the boar spirit from mononoke

"kinda hate it, kinda into it"

werewolf skillshare

guess what having two seven-week-old kittens who can escape their kitten pen makes it really hard to pay attention to things

[madiesunny]

We need... Tiny houses. Small tiny houses to put here to show the power of the tornado. If we can get a tiny house that would be great. Can we get a tiny house??? We cannot get a tiny house. Look, we can’t keep putting the merch money towards buying tiny houses! Liste- YOU HAVE TO STOP. There’s smaller mortgages it’s a good investme- NO. We have a bunch of small mortgag- WHOSE BUYING THEM??? Well... MICE! OBVIOUSLY! Stuart Little! Where is he gonna live?!? MICE DON’T HAVE JOBS!- IN ONE OF THE TINY HOUSES! HE’S AN ACTOR!- Mice don’t have jobs! He’s an actor! RATATOUILLE MARK! HE’S GOT A JOB! THAT’S A RAT! THAT IS DIFFERENT! Are you saying... that rats and mice alike don’t deserve TINY HOMES?!? I’m saying Rat’s DO, Mice DON’T! And don’t question why... What about Mickey Mouse? *mocking noises intensify* Have you ever seen a mouse that big? NO THAT’S A RAT!

[the-proofreader]

He hated being away from Qirri during combat.

It had become a deep-seated fear since Claw Island, and had only intensified during the fight against Mordremoth where she had gotten so sick as a result. But necessity called, therefore she was on the platform with Yao while he fought alongside Rama against the huge demon that had manifested before them. A shot from the detective ripped just past his shoulder as he slammed his hammer into the demon, snarling up at it as he did. Focus, he growled internally. A clean fight means everyone goes home. You pay attention to what’s in front of you-

He didn’t get to finish his lecture to himself, as the beast swung a massive fist into his jaw and sent him spinning into the rocky ground, rolling until he almost came to the edge of the platform. Rama’s voice, calling his name, echoed distantly as he pushed himself up with one hand while the other rubbed his jaw. He shook his head to try and chase the feeling of fog away, then froze as a new voice spoke.

“Apples… Apples…” It was barely a whisper, but Garrus’s fur rose upward like there’d been a blast of arctic air across him. He scrambled to his feet, awkwardly bringing his hammer up, as he looked in the direction where the demon had been.

“No. You can’t… You’re- you- I watched you go down,” he stammered. He turned his head at an all too familiar noise nearby: the death rattle of a Risen. “Qirri- QIRRI! Look out for the Risen!”

“Death hardens us as water does a fired weapon, Firstblood. You out of all Tyrians should know that better than anyone.”

“She can’t hear you, Firstblood.” Tybalt chuckled lowly, while clutching at his abdomen. “She’s too busy for you, after all. Her little krewe, got herself a boyfriend now… No need for your little warband of two anymore, it seems.”

“Shut up,” Garrus hissed as he directed his phoenix Cailin at an abomination, while he struck the killing blow on the Risen in front of him. “Shut up! Tybalt, you were never like this! Why-?”

“I wasn’t hardened! I dragged myself out of there because I knew it wasn’t my time!” His hammer connected with the last of the Risen and he turned to try and find Tybalt on the ground so he could give him a piece of his mind. “More importantly, I had to get Vezz out of there! He was going to stay!”

“So noble and self-sacrificing,” Tybalt replied with a mocking laugh, but he was nowhere to be found. Instead, Garrus found himself face to face with Rama, who looked confusedly up at the charr.

“You good, Commander?”

“I- yes. Fine.”

“It’s just that you were saying some stuff about someone named Tybalt..?”

“Worry about yourself, and I’ll worry about me.” Garrus shifted how he was gripping his hammer, trying to ignore the uncomfortable feeling growing in his stomach. The demon reappeared between them, and seemed to anticipate his next action as it slammed its fist into his stomach before he could swing upwards. He flew backwards and landed on his back, gasping. Before he could start to get himself up, there was a weight on his chest. He looked up and groaned. “No, no, not you…”

“It’s nothing. I’m fine.” He noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. “It’s coming back.”

“Yeah, sure, but if something weird is going on-”

“Yes, me.” Ryland leaned into the paw he had planted on his chest, even digging his talons in. The wound from where his father had stabbed him still looked fresh. “Tell me Firstblood, you should-be gladium, were you having fun playing the hero? Fraternizing with that little rat you call a warband?”

Garrus bristled as best he could at that last accusation. “Ryland, I fought for all of Tyria! I still fight for all of Tyria, and all its people! We can’t keep seeing it as us versus them! Bangar-”

“Ryland, stop-” If there were any creatures on the platform with him and Rama, Garrus couldn’t get a clear sight on them to direct Cailin to attack. He couldn’t seem to hear any.

“I’ll stop when I’m good and ready. You want to know why? I did what I did for our people. I died for our people. Do you even remember the faces of your fahrar?”

“Don’t you dare speak of Bangar,” the other charr replied. “He thought of all of us. He was doing his duty to all of us. You are completely, utterly alone, Firstblood. If you really wanted to take responsibility for a dragon, you would have taken Braham’s place or mine as the champion of Jormag or Primordius. But you didn’t.”

“I couldn’t stop either of you from the choices you made-!”

“Because you didn’t care enough to,” Ryland spat back. “Because you care more about being the hero of your story than actually taking care of others. That’s why. You’re not a hero, Firstblood. You’re a coward who uses others for glory like a staircase.” He had to be drawing blood now with how heavily he was weighing down on his chest now-

A shot rang out from Rama’s saber, and Garrus blinked. Ryland was gone, but the pain remained. “Commander! Are you all right?”

“I- I think so. Got the wind knocked out of me.” 

He started to get back to his feet. Whatever was going on, he hoped Qirri wasn’t having nearly as bad a time he was up here. He rolled his shoulders, trying to work out the pain of having the weight of a full-grown charr male all but standing on his sternum.

“Commander, look out-!” Rama shouted. Garrus turned his head just in time to see the demon swinging at his head. Once again he hit the ground, this time his head bouncing off so hard that the breather with its special Jade Brotherhood filters was knocked away from his muzzle. He shoved himself up, reaching for his breather, but froze as familiar voices filled the air.

“You replaced us with an asura of all things?”

“You couldn’t be bothered to come back to even check if we were still alive? I was down there holding the rubble up with my magic for four hours, yelling for help, but no one came!”

“A skritt would be a better legionnaire than you, for all you cared after Barradin’s tomb!”

He shut his eyes as tightly as he could, abruptly reminded of when he was small - too small to even be in his fahrar yet - and a fearsome thunderstorm had rolled through. He could just barely recall the feeling of his dam’s arms enclosing him, keeping him safe from the roaring sky that seemed to be tearing itself in half every few minutes. The voices continued, escalating in volume, as he was peppered from all sides with a variety of threats: why hadn’t he stayed in the tomb if he wasn’t going to be a good charr; why couldn’t he have stayed dead in Elona if he was going to just ruin the world like this; what was the point of killing all the dragons if he was going to screw up and not kill the little rat that attacked the last dragon who wanted to actually cooperate. “ENOUGH-!” he roared after another attack on Qirri’s character: why would he want to travel with a “sickly little thing who should have been put down at birth by her dam”. He opened his eyes and started swinging, wildly, catching sight of the demon and snarling a command for Cailin to attack without a second thought. For a while, it seemed like their combined attacks, along with what Rama was doing, was finally working…

And then it abruptly disappeared.

“What happened?” Garrus tried to shout, but it didn’t come out. Instead it suddenly felt like every ounce of his strength was suddenly gone, as if something was dragging it out of him, and he dropped to his knees.

“Something’s wrong with Qirri-!” he heard from Gorrik in the distance, and everything disappeared in a blanket of gray.

Dark Visions

The haze hides darker thoughts. (AKA I am so sorry this is living rent free in my head now.)

Spoilers for EoD: What Lies Beneath

“I should have known I couldn’t rely on a child.”

If the tightness in her chest wasn’t bad enough, the sound of that sweet, familiar voice felt like a punch in her gut. The darkness clouding her vision was intense, but Qirri could just make her out: Sieran, glaring at her from where she lay on the ground. Glaring like the bubbly, kind sylvari had never glared at her in life.

“Sieran?” Qirri’s voice was muffled behind the breather mask, cracked from a blow from that awful ley line creature before. The air felt like oil. “Sieran, no, I- you said I did everything I could-!”

“You were too little, ruby eyes,” the apparition was rasping out. “Too small, too young. I should have known you could never handle this weight. You could never be strong enough.”

Qirri’s breath hitched in a sob, taking a few steps back, only being startled out of her shock when JUICE slammed a massive jade arm into the apparition of a Risen brute coming up on her left. Shaking her head hard, the little asura swung around her rifle, taking a few shots as she backed up, tears pricking the corners of her eyes.

“No! No, Sieran, I did everything like you taught me! I messed up but I got better I know you know I did-!”

“Poor, weak little ruby eyes…”

“Sieran please!”

She had to focus. Clear out these Risen so she could think. Sieran… Sieran had always believed in her, hadn’t she? Had always known how capable she was! That’s why she’d pleaded with Gixx to let her take her on as an apprentice, in spite of her young age. She’d known what Qirri was capable of!

But the anguished rasping of the dying apparition continued in its damnable mutter, the words curling into an icy ball in her gut, so loud in her ears that she almost didn’t feel the hand that gripped her arm, yanking her out of the way of an explosion of dark energy right where she’d been standing.

Startled, she blinked, whipping her head around to find Gorrik, his mouth moving on words she at first couldn’t quite make out. She just caught the last of what he was saying as most of the darkness cleared from her vision. “...-gotten killed, chief! Are you okay- oh by the pinion gears, your mask is cracked! Quick, we can have JUICE carry you out of here into fresh air and-”

“I’m fine, Gorrik!” she bit out, jerking her arm away. Every breath felt heavy and thick, and she could feel her lungs laboring, too weak to process the strange mixture of haze and oxygen she was taking in. They didn’t have the luxury of backing down right now. “Where’s Garrus?”

The look Gorrik gave her was genuinely hurt, but he didn’t press, instead gesturing towards the platform lower down. “He’s down there with Rama. Yao and I are handling this one. You’re sure you’re okay? You were calling Yao Sieran-”

Immediately, almost as a reflex, Qirri tensed up. “It’s fine, Gorrik, don’t worry about it. Let’s just kill this thing and get out of here!”

She didn’t wait for him to reply, charging forward and giving a verbal command to JUICE to attack the demonic apparition. Not that it was easy- with her ventilator cracked, the medicated mist it pumped directly to her, was no longer doing much to help, slipping out into the viscous haze instead, and the filtration system she’d added before heading down was no longer functional.

There was no time to think about that right now, however. There was too much at stake, too much to do. They had to stop these things feeding on the ley magic, had to find out more about what was affecting it like this.

Yao was calling something out to Gorrik as they directed Finn to fire along with JUICE, but their words felt strangely muddled. Distant, like she was hearing them speak from underwater. That strange darkness was creeping into the edges of her vision again, and her breathing quickened, grip tightening on her rifle. “Gorrik! Gorrik it’s happening again-”

“I can’t believe I ever thought I could rely on you.”

She didn’t want to look. How could she look?

But she didn’t have much of a choice. If she didn’t, there was no way she was going to banish the strange nightmare, shaking as she shifted to glance in the direction of the all too familiar voice.

Sieran may have been her mentor in the Durmand Priory, but Zojja had always been there first.

And there she lay, that intense gaze focused on the small asura, a sneer curling up her lip. Qirri swallowed, shaking her head. “No. No, Zojja, not you.”

The apparition’s gaze didn’t falter, voice rasping as it had after Zojja’s injury in Maguuma. The last time Qirri had seen or spoken to her. What sort of pupil was she? “My mentor learned quickly that the first pupil is always the failure. I see now that was all too true.”

A hiccup of a sob escaped Qirri as she shook her head hard, JUICE moving into action on autopilot to take down a few Mordrem apparitions that threatened at the edges of her vision. “You don’t mean that!”

“You’re weak. Sickly and frail. You were never good enough to be my student. You were a failure as a student, and you were a failure in Maguuma.”

It was all she could do to keep firing on the Mordrem that clawed their way towards them. Keep knocking them back as her one time mentor continued to berate her, plucking at insecurities and whispering things she’d only ever secretly thought of herself.

“You don’t think that. You never thought that!” She hiccupped again, the awful tightness in her chest increasing. It was so hard to breathe. Her hands felt weak. “I was a good student! I learned so much, you taught me so much, I know I was good!”

“You were never. Never worthy.”

“Stop it!”

The darkness cleared as a final shot sliced through the apparition of a Mordrem, and this time it was Yao near her, their hands reaching out to right her as she staggered. “Qirri-! You don’t look good…”

Qirri sniffled and hiccupped again, coughing roughly as her lungs struggled against the thick haze. “I’m okay, Yao. It just… I just got distracted. Where is everyone?”

“Gorrik’s still up here. Detective Rama’s still with Commander Firstblood on the next platform. I think we’ve got this one on the ropes, but after that, we’re getting you out of here.”

“But-”

“No buts. I’m not losing any more friends down here today.”

Yao gave the top of her head a fond rub after that before they darted off, calling out to Finn to support her and JUICE as they engaged their prosthesis to start firing on the haze demon.

It was even harder to breathe now, but she did her best to keep her feet under her, checking her rifle before beginning to fire again. It was all she could do to stay focused on the fight again as her vision blurred in and out, even with her glasses somehow still in tact on her face. Strands of hair hung loose around her face, pulled free from where it had been clipped beneath her braids, and she could hear herself wheeze with every breath.

The platform where Garrus must’ve been was as loud as this one, and she could hear the charr even if she couldn’t make out what he was saying. It was, if nothing else, proof that he was still alive. Proof she could hang onto.

This had to be over soon, didn’t it? Surely the fight couldn’t drag on much longer. She wanted out of here, away from the terrible visions and the apparitions berating her, dragging up insecurities from the darkest parts of her mind.

She wanted her lungs to feel less like they ached and burned.

Focus was what she needed, but even as she tried, she could feel the darkness creeping in at the edges of her vision again. Like it had before, it made her stomach churn, and the knowledge that she would again be reached by these awful visions…

It couldn’t, she thought, be worse. Nothing could be worse than her two mentors acting like she was their worst decision.

But turning her head to see an all too familiar figure, just her side with her dark hair hanging around her face, sitting on her knees and huddled over as if to protect herself from the darkness that surrounded them both… it was almost too much to bear.

She would know Taimi anywhere. Even in a horrible vision.

“You were supposed to be there for me.” The accusatory voice from her dear friend, her krewemate, cut deeper than either of the previous hallucinations combined. “You weren’t there when I needed you.”

Qirri swallowed hard, taking a step towards the apparition. “Taimi… I’m sorry, I- I was sick, I couldn’t-”

The apparition curled tighter, and Qirri was forced to recoil and react as more aggressive haze beasts, resembling Awakened this time, began to claw their way towards them both. “You’re supposed to be my friend! Why haven’t you helped me?!”

“I’m trying, Taimi, I… you know I’m trying…”

This time, she couldn’t stop the tears that rolled down her cheeks, shoulders shaking as she struggled to keep her feet underneath her. Taimi’s voice was too real, too close. They had been one another’s first asuran friend, they had formed the Dragonwatch Krewe, they worked so hard together and Qirri had made no secret of her work to try to find something to help.

“You never try hard enough!”

“I’m trying as hard as I can! I can’t lose you, Taimi!”

Those words seemed to finally break the apparition’s hold on her, and she staggered back as the darkness cleared, just in time to watch the demonic creature crash to the ground. Gorrik was yelling something, but it cut short when he saw Qirri standing with her rifle dangling in her hands, eyes wide as she stared at the spot the vision of her friend had been just moments before.

“Qirri?” He called, turning to head back over after seeing Yao down the zipline to the platform where Garrus continued his own fight. “Chief, Taimi isn’t here- are you okay?”

She tried to answer, but her throat felt tight. Every breath felt desperate, barely bringing any air into her aching lungs past the tightening in her chest, and Gorrik hurrying forward to get his arm around her was the last thing she saw before her eyes rolled back and she collapsed, everything going dark around her as her krewemate called her name.

[thefanficmonster]

There You Are

PART 2: ‘Finally, You’re Back’

Karl Heisenberg x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Mild spoilers for Resident Evil 8:Village, Swearing

Genre: Romance, Mild Angst

Summary: It’s the life before the nightmare. It’s the breath of fresh air before the pollution. The sunshine before the storm. And there they are, standing in the warmth of a sunny spring day in that Romanian village, their meeting coincidental yet fated at the same time.

Requested by Anon. Hi darling! I’m sorry for the long wait but here it finally is - you request turned into a fic! Also, big thanks to that other Anon who gave me the idea of modifying the fic in a way where it’s now gonna be a two-parter, a sort of the before the nightmare and the aftermath of Heisenberg’s turning. Regardless, I hope you enjoy the read. Love, Vy ❤

Because one is incapable of expecting the unexpected One can never see what the future may hold One can never know what storms await One can never fully prepare And neither did he Because he could’ve never guessed Never known He could only see so far ahead He could only plan so much Yet he always thought he’d run free Let the winds and rivers guide him forward Never did he think his fate would uproot him into a nightmare He had no idea what to expect He had no idea he’d never be the same again Hell, to him it was the first and last time But to his hope it was a lightning spark Praying for more Regardless, in that moment When eyes met eyes, all he could think was... ‘There you are’

And there they were, standing in the almost completely melted snow on the outskirts of the Romanian village, the shy sun rays shimmering on their skin, making their hair glow. Their gaze gave away nothing yet so much simultaneously. Their crystal, shining yet still tired orbs were busy taking in their surroundings, their back turned to him. They didn’t have to face him for him to be able to guess they weren’t from around here. Truth be told, there were several clues that let him know: the clothes, the shoes, the sun-kissed skin - which there’s no way they could’ve obtained from the gloomy sunless winter in the village- but most important, the dead giveaway was the huge rucksack burdening their back and shoulders.

‘A traveler‘, he thought, ‘They’re probably lost. There’s no way they landed in this shithole on purpose.‘

The contemplation of whether to address them or not ends shortly and not really willingly - it mostly has to do with the fact that his thoughts were momentarily shut up when the traveler’s eyes met his. 

Even with the amount of distance between them, something in those E/C pools glinting in the faint sunlight while also reflecting the brightness of the last remaining snow on the ground stole his breath away and paralyzed him. He was rendered helpless and unmoving from simple eye contact with this stranger.

But they weren’t done surprising him with the overwhelming power they unknowingly possessed.

They, out of the blue, shot him a smile that could only be described as blinding. One that sent his heart racing, eyes widening ever so slightly with disbelief. He was rarely offered such a kind reaction upon being seen by someone. A smile - not a mocking or menacing one - was an expression he rarely saw directed towards him.

‘They don’t know you, idiot!‘ He scolds himself mentally, ‘They don’t know what kind of lowlife piece of shit you are.‘

Yeah, they don’t. And they’re never gonna find out

He was willing to pull every lie from the book to keep his miserable life as a nearly homeless, poorly treated worker of three jobs hidden from this stranger. He didn’t want to see pity in those eyes nor sympathy in their smile.

He didn’t want things to change. Though, he simultaneously didn’t know what ‘things’ he didn’t want changed.

And so, he decided to create some, knowing full-well they would be temporary.

“Need any help? You lost or something?“ He calls out to them as he makes his way down from the cliff and into the large field where they’re standing.

They shake their head in response, loose strands of hair forming a curtain over their features as they do so, their smile never fading, “Nope, not at all. I’m exactly where I wanna be.”

“What could you possibly wanna see here?“ He asks, now without having to belch his lungs out due to the smaller distance between them.

They turn away from him, pointing to the monstrosity of a building he’s more than familiar with, towering over the village and dominating the outskirts. Having been abandoned for years now, the factory has become a home for rats, roaches, bats and Karl Heisenberg. The young man runs the risk of having it all crumble atop him while he sleeps the three hours he’s allowed each night. He’s not usually embarrassed by this fact but he doesn’t proudly announce it either. Sure, some people who pick on him and are determined to make his life a living hell have spread rumors about his place of stay but no one dares go into the factory to fact-check. It’s menacing exterior looking to be straight from a horror movie or a nightmare is more than enough to drive any person away, but the haunting noises the place harbors accompanied by the many creatures that produce said noises just add to the fear factor among the villagers when it comes to the century old structure.

“That.“ The traveler says, looking almost dreamily at the building so many people turn to with disgust and fear. “Would it be trespassing to enter? I really wanna have a look inside.“

Forgetting to mask his confused and surprised expression, Karl is caught with that wide-eyed, mouth-slightly-agape look on his face which sends the traveler in a fit of laughter.

“I know I probably sound crazy saying that, but abandoned places are sort of my thing, you know. I can’t simply pass by one without going in and doing a literal scavenger hunt. Not that I ever find much apart from graffiti and crap all over the place, but it’s worth having a look. Especially inside a place that looks that old. And man is it huge.“ No, his assumption was right the first time - their eyes do indeed get dreamy when they turn to observe the giant structure further down the overgrown path.

Who gives him the right to tell them no?

“Lucky I found you then.“ He says, shedding every last bit of confusion and replacing it with enthusiasm, a wide smile plastered on his face, “Follow me, I know all the entrances.“

He needn’t tell them twice. Hell, he barely had to finish his sentence before they literally took flight as they rushed - as much as they could with the heavy backpack they were carrying - towards the factory, taking his hand to drag him along, never stopping their river of gratitude the whole way there.

It awoke something in him, something warm and genuine that made him want to get to know this sunshine in human form better. He hasn’t had a chance to smile plenty in his life, never having a reason to do so. But during this less than five minute interaction, he hasn’t been able to contain the grin brought upon him as a side effect of their own happiness.

“I’m Karl, by the way!“ He informed them as they stomped their way up the path.

“Nice to meet you, Karl!“ They called back, giving him a brief glance over their shoulder, “My name’s Y/N.“

‘Y/N‘ the name echoed and repeated itself in his head, intensifying that feeling dangerously close to adoration.

“Nice to meet you too, Y/N.“

                                                              *  *  *

Dust and dirt had stuck to their clothes, practically merging with the textile by the time the pair left the factory to see the setting sun once again. The darkness and dinginess of the factory periodically made them forget how beautiful the outside world was. The place was filthy but what Y/N didn’t know is that it had been in a worse state before. Before Karl started staying there.

The young man always had a fascination with mechanical engineering, having met many workers who worked in the factory prior to its closing. They often times snuck him in so he could admire the work process the different types of machinery they had in there - many of which still remained in the factory covered in rust and spiderwebs. That being said, he took it upon himself to clean up a bit, treat the powerful mechanical giants with the respect and decency a machine of their kind deserved. Some he even miraculously repaired - probably the biggest achievement in his life - but he was yet to put them to good use, given that he still didn’t know how to properly operate them and what their true purpose was.

“That was incredible!“ Y/N cheered once the two had stepped onto the grass outside in the field again, “I can’t believe I almost started debating whether to go or not after so many of the villagers tried to scare me.“ They turned to give the factory one more lingering look, “Damn, I wish I could go back in there again to see if we missed anything. Unfortunately, my time’s limited.“ They sigh, checking their wristwatch before sparing the setting sun a look as well. “And it’s almost up.“

The knot that suddenly appeared in Karl’s throat made him choke on the oxygen he had inhaled. The worry of what those words of Y/N’s meant made his stomach turn.

But, before he could ask what they meant, they gave him an apologetic smile, their eyes still shining, but saddened now, “I have to get going. I have a different destination I need to reach by dawn.“ They sighed heavily, looking down at their boots. Karl opened his mouth to say something, but he found himself to be at a loss for words. He felt hollow and empty and couldn’t bring himself to stomach what he had been told. However, Y/N once again beat him to the opportunity of saying something. Their head snapped back up, their eyes meeting his, now glimmering with the glow he had grown to think of as familiar at that point. “However, that doesn’t mean I won’t be back.“ They took him by the wrist and brought his hand up, opening his clenched palm to drop a small chain in it. “Growing up, I was taught to not expect people to return things you give them but to go and take them back yourself. And so, Karl, I’m giving you this necklace and promising I’ll be back to retrieve it.“ They closes his palm again, letting his arm fall by his side. While he still had only processed half of all that happened when they spoke up again, “Ok, so now I ask of you to stay here, not see me off, not follow me, just stand right here. Or you can turn around and walk away too, that’d be even better. Can you do that for me?” They asked, cringing suddenly, “Sorry, I’m bad at goodbyes.“

He faintly nodded, unable to get any words out yet again. That was probably a good thing, cause there was a huge risk that he would’ve asked them to stay if he spoke. 

Taking his nod as a positive response, they gave him a quick peck on the cheek before turning around and walking off in the direction they came from earlier, leaving him behind.  Karl wanted to force himself to walk in the opposite direction like they had told him to, but he couldn’t tear his eyes off them. He stood there, heart aching, watching them go. All the while squeezing the dog tag necklace tightly in his hand. The physical proof of the person that reminded him how it felt to feel.

The physical proof of the promise that they’d come back.

They’d come back to him.

He’d see them.

And he’d once again think to himself...

There you are, finally, you’re back