#the devil comes back to Georgia | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

enwoso · 6 months ago

Note

hi! I absolutely love your alessia russo x child!reader posts. your writing is so good! if you’re up for writing some more for this universe could you maybe do something with reader being a menace with the england girls and causing some trouble? it’s okay if not!

DEVIL IN DISGUISE — alessia russo x child!reader

*back with my fave little universe! and don’t worry there are more bits to this little universe i am in the middle of writing them🙃*

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alessia had been on england camp since monday and it was now wednesday, you had accompanied her for the short camp.

but since arriving alessia hadn't had the most smooth couple of days like she usually would and that was because she wasn't able to take her eyes off you for more than a few seconds in fear that you would be up to something you shouldn't be.

on top of that she had noticed that a couple of things weren't here that she needed. like her training socks, which she had to go and ask the kit man for some spares putting it down to her forgetting them when being asked why she didn't have them. brushing it off she forgot about it quite quickly, you taking her focus as you were in your little trouble maker mood at the moment.

as the other day alessia had turned her back for one moment and you had vic pelova looking down into a full water bottle telling the dutch that she was looking at something inside the bottle before you squeezed the bottle into her face. ice cold water dripping down the poor dutches face.

today was travel day, the girls were playing back at wembley and had the day to recover after having a light training session early this morning.

everyone was eating breakfast, you had ate yours probably too fast for your mums liking but nevertheless she couldn’t be mad because at least you had eaten. knowing that you couldn’t play until you had eaten majority of your food.

alessia was sat talking with a few of the girls her gaze looking over to you every so often to check you weren't doing something you shouldn't of been doing — instead seeing you just colouring in content while also watching the cartoon that was playing on your ipad.

"so how is the little munchkin?" mary asked as alessia had turned her attention back to the table after checking on you for the fiftieth time in the past three minutes. alessia eyes going wide, pulling a face that said it all.

"that doesn't sound good" georgia pointed out as alessia hummed.

"she's starting to get a little naughty, like the other day i walked into her bedroom and she had drawn all over her walls and then proceeded to say it wasn't her even though she had the pen in her hand." alessia explained the girls trying to stifle their laughter as the blonde spoke.

"did it come off the walls at least?" beth asked as the blonde shook her head, proceeding to explain how her brother was thankfully going to repaint the walls for her.

"didn't she bite someone at nursery as well? tooney was on about that the other day, weren't she" millie commented looking towards mary for back up, the goal keeper nodding. the blonde groaning as she thought back to the day.

"wait you never told us girls this story"

"yeah i wanna hear it!"

"so i went and picked her up as usual after training, and then the teacher pulled me and began to tell me how she had bitten a little boy but when i asked her why she did it she said that the boy bit her first but the teacher never mentioned that part so i don't know what to think!" alessia explained the girls humming along to show that they were listening.

“are we sure she isn’t the devil in disguise?”

"well if he bit her first then her biting him is totally valid" georgia said shrugging mary agreeing mumbling something about it was good she was sticking up for herself — the other two however not as convinced, "yeah but if you give her that excuse, she'll go around biting everyone" beth said as the other two both hummed.

“that’s is true, she did make him a card to say sorry though so-“ alessia shrugged a chuckle coming from her as the others awed at the thought of you sitting and spending your own time to make a card to apologise.

“was the card made before or after you banned her from using pens?” millie asked but before alessia has a chance to reply you were heard yelling to get your mums attention.

"mummy! mummy!" you called over, alessia still talking with the girls, "look mummy!" you appeared a bright smile on your face as you held onto your top holding out a sticker.

“wow! what did you get that for?” your mum asked as she looked to you holding her hand out for you to high five. “i helped one of the coaches-“ you began but as you carried on your explanation, alessia’s eyes went wide your arms were covered in big bright red drawing and doodles you had done all up your arms

"oh my god" your mum whispered to herself, her hand stroking up your arm to find out if the pen was dry or not. "lovie, why have you done that for?" your mum sighed thinking about how on earth she was going to get the pen off.

you shrugged in response to your mums question, a smile on your face clearly happy about the colour of your arms, glancing over to the girls sat around the table who were trying to keep their smiles and laughter in.

"what have you drawn on your arms with?" your mum asked as your ran back over to your little table to grab the pen. alessia's head falling straight into her hands as a loud groan came from her.

"at least she knows what colour north london is!" leah joked trying to bring light to the situation, her and few others the only ones laughing as alessia brought her head back up shooting a dirty look to the captain.

"not the time leah." alessia mumbled through gritted teeth as she saw you running back over. pen in hand.

"this one mummy!" you held out a red sharpie towards the blonde. of course it couldn't have just been a simple crayola pen, it just had to be a permanent marker that you had somehow found.

mentally alessia was screaming, physically she was trying her best not to scream and stay as calm as possible.

"where did you find that lovie" alessia calmly asked as you explained how you got the pen, that you had found it in the pen pot which you weren't exactly lying you did find it in the pen pot but it wasn't your pen pot.

it was the pot that all the adults used but you didn't think they would mind if you borrowed it. alessia could feel her patience running thinner and thinner as the seconds went by.

since the drawing on walls situation at home incident alessia had made sure to hid each and every single pen possible, instead only allowing you to colour with pencils and even still that was under supervision. this was adding to the reasons of why it would be a while until you were able to retain your pen licence back.

"less have you seen my boot-" ella began holding one boot in her hand as she stopped at the sight of you, "woah that's a nasty sunburn tiny!" the manchurian gasped ruffling your hair as few laughs heard from her teammates as she turned to them not knowing what part of the joke she was missing.

"mate, how's she gonna get a tan never mind sunburn when it's seven degrees outside!" beth deadpanned as ella nodded along realising how silly her comment was.

"silly auntie ella, it's pen!" you giggled as ella's eyes went wide. the pieces fixing together but confusion hitting her as she knew about your redecoration of your room and the fact that alessia has hidden every pen in sight. "i thought you had banned her from using pens?"

"i have!"

“the devil in disguise strikes again!”

after many layers of baby oil and tissues most of the pen had came off your arms much to your protests that your mummy was getting rid of your artwork.

you had managed to make it down to the lobby where the team was beginning to gather for the bus arriving, people swarming around with big camera asking some of the girls questions.

you were sat with your mummy, you sat with a small coffee table in front of you. a picture game you had been playing with spread across the table.

"lovie? what's in the backpack?" you mum asked as you struggled to get it on your back, it looking very full. alessia trying to remember if it looked like that when you both arrived on camp.

“just my things” you huffed, the backpack dropping off your shoulder and onto the floor. “what things?” your mum pushed wondering what on earth you could have in your back to make it so heavy considering she had all your clothes, and your ipad in her bag.

“do you want me to carry it for you?” your mum asked as you shook your head mumbling a no as you lifted the bag up with great difficulty onto the seat. “well how about i help you put it on, yeah?” she smiled as you nodded a little admitting defeat.

you picking your backpack back up and passing it to your mummy who was sat down on the chairs in the hotel lobby. you stood in between her legs waiting for her to help you put it on, slotting one arm through the strap and then the other.

you mummy keeping you still for a moment as she pulled the zip a little, showing a glimpse of what was inside. a confused look taking over the blondes face as the sight of things which definitely were not yours.

opening the bag up a little, alessia discovered where her lost training socks along with her headphones she had thought she had forgotten as well as ella’s lost boot, millie’s t’s shin pads, chloe’s water bottle and beth’s slider.

the blonde laughing to herself as she took each item out placing it on her lap, you turning about once you thought you mum had finished putting it the bag on your back. “mummy it feels light- hey there mine!” you frown turning around and seeing the things that were in your bag on her lap.

“lovie, these are the girls’ things” your mum explained, you backpack falling to the ground as your pout got bigger, “but i found them?” you said hopefully that you would be able to keep them.

“i know, but these still belong to the girls and they might be sad if they don’t have them anymore and we don’t want to upset anyone do we?” your mummy smiled softly, as you looked over to some of the girls who were starting to gather in the lobby before it was time to get on the bus, looking back at your mum you shook your head.

“good, now can i give these back to their rightful owners?” your mum laughed slightly as you pout loosened and you nodded. you mum kissing you on the forehead as she sat you on the chair she was on, picking up the items in her hand as you grabbed your ipad to watch. your mummy telling you she would be a few seconds.

the blonde walking over to the little huddle near the coffee machine where beth, ella and millie were. “are you now the lost property box like?” ella joked watching as alessia walked closer to them, millie and beth laughing as alessia sarcastically laughed along.

“one purple boot, two shin pads and a slider!” the blonde smiled as she handed each of them their stuff back. “where did you find these?” beth asked as she looked at her slider.

“lovie, ‘found’ them and she’d put them in her backpack” alessia explained as the three awed as a few giggles followed.

“the devil strikes again!”

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justagalwhowrites · 1 year ago

Text

Yearling - Ch. 1: Break

A night out takes a turn. The first chapter of Yearling, a TLOU fan fiction. Find the Masterlist here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Canon-typical violence. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI, 18+ only.

Length: 5.6k

AO3 | Next Chapter

Friday, September 26, 2003

Dubois, Wyoming

“They ain’t even that good,” you took a sip of beer, glaring at the girl in the short, white eyelet lace sundress standing near the band on stage. Your Texas accent got stronger when you were drunk. It also got stronger when you were pissed. You were speaking with a full blown drawl now. “I can play better n’them.”

“Baby Doll, you can play better than everyone in town,” Justin leaned down, his head so close to you that you could feel his breath on your cheek, his lips brushing the shell of your ear when he spoke. His arm went around your waist. “Better than you is a damn a high bar…”

You could hear the smile on his voice and you turned around in his arms to face him, eyes narrowed.

“You’re lovin’ this,” you said. “I can tell, you’re just havin’ the time of your life…”

“I ain’t gonna lie to you,” he smirked. “It is fun seein’ you get all worked up over a girl hittin’ on me.”

“I am not!” You swatted his chest. “I just think it’s disrespectful, she saw me come in with you, she should know that you’re gonna dance with the one that brung ya…”

“Hey,” he teased. “I brung you, not the other way ‘round…”

“Yeah, yeah,” you waved him off, turning back around and taking another sip of beer just in time to see the girl in question heading to the bathroom with one of her friends. She looked a little green and you smiled a little. Served her right. You looked back up at Justin. “Don’t go thinkin’ you’re hot shit now just because I didn’t like some rancher’s daughter tryin’ to climb you like a tree.”

“Oh I’d never dream that you thought I was hot shit,” he kissed your temple. “Don’t you worry. Need another?”

“It’s Friday night and if I’m gonna listen to that band fuck up ‘Devil Went Down to Georgia’ you better goddamm well get me another,” you said. He just shook his head and worked his way up to the bar. You smiled a little, watching him go, rapping your fingers along the side of your almost empty beer bottle.

You were getting attached to Justin.

He’d started out as something fun to do over the summer when he showed up at the ranch you’d been working at for more than a year now. He was a few years older - not enough to make it scandalous but enough that he knew what the fuck he was doing. He was rugged and handsome and he was happy to buy you beer and whiskey because, at 19, getting your hands on the stuff was tricky. It had started in May with you fucking him.

At first, that’s all it had been. After a few weeks of him staring at you when you were hanging tack back up at the end of the day, you all but cornered him in the barn.

“You got some kind of problem with me, cowboy?” You snapped, getting so close to him that the brim of your hat almost caught his chin.

“No I do not,” he replied. “Unless you count the fact that your ass looks way too damn good in those jeans to be doin’ nothin’ but ridin’ horses all day. Otherwise, I got the opposite of a problem with you.”

“Oh,” you stepped back from him, looking him up and down. He was tall, broad, handsome. He reminded you a bit of the boy you’d lost your virginity to when you were 16 and he’d been working on your parents’ ranch back in Texas. “Well, I’m done for the day, headin’ back to my room. You’re welcome to join if you want to see what else I’m good at ridin’ on.”

You turned and started off toward the bunkhouse. He scrambled to catch up with you and you smirked a little. He was definitely going to be fun.

In August, he asked if you wanted to go to dinner sometime. You frowned, looking over at him, his naked body shiny with sweat.

“Dinner,” you said, incredulous. “With me.”

“That’s what I said,” he replied, looking over at you. “Unless there’s someone else you’d rather go to dinner with…”

“You realize you’re already fucking me, right?” You frowned. “You don’t have to try.”

“Oh trust me, I noticed,” he grinned, a little cocky. “But I’d like to do more than fuck you. So I’m askin’ you to dinner. Gonna try to make a proper lady outta you and all that.”

You snorted.

“No proper lady to be had here,” you said. “But… we can have dinner.”

This was actual date number five. Not that the number of dates meant much when you were already screwing every chance you got.

But you’d gotten to really like Justin, especially now that you were spending almost every spare second together. Maybe love him. A little. You’d cross that bridge when you came to it.

“You know,” he came and pressed a new beer into your hand and took your empty bottle, putting it on a nearby table. “Bet you’d look pretty as hell in a little dress like that…”

He ran his nose along your temple and you glared at him a little.

“OK, first of all, it’s after Labor Day, wearin’ all white like that is tacky,” you said. “Second of all, you get frustrated when I take 10 minutes to tame my hair before we leave, you know how long it takes to look that put together? Longer than you want to wait, cowboy.”

“OK well I’m dyin’ to know where you got that Labor Day thing from. But you’re prettier than her, so I’m sure it wouldn’t take you that long,” he said, smirking a bit. “And I’m not talkin’ about for every day. Maybe if we were to… I dunno… take a trip somewhere.”

“A trip?” You smiled, brows raised. “You tryin’ to take me away from all this, that it?”

“Maybe,” he winked. “Thinkin’ maybe a few days, we run away to a cabin on a lake, find some fun restaurants, I get to spend way more time kissin’ you than usual…”

“Sounds good to me,” you were about to move to kiss him when there was a strange, snarling sound from over his shoulder. You frowned, leaning around him just as he turned to look.

The girl from before - in the stupid white dress - flew at him, her blonde hair tangled, her fingers curved so her nails were more like claws. He stepped back, his hands going up to stop her but she didn’t seem to notice or care.

She jumped, knocking him to the ground as you jumped out of the way, the girl ripping at his shirt before digging her bared teeth into his neck.

“What the fuck!” You yelled, grabbing her by the hair and yanking her backward. She sprawled on the floor next to Justin for a second before she scrambled up onto all fours and tried to rush you. You took your half full beer bottle and throttled her on the side of her head, hitting her with every ounce to strength you had, sending her down to the ground, unconscious.

“Shit!” A man near you looked between you and the girl.

“Hey, she fuckin’ started it!” You snapped. “She just tried to take a chunk out of my boyfriend’s neck!”

Someone else got down on the ground with the girl as Justin got to his feet. You looked at his throat, her teeth marks red and oozing.

“Jesus, she got you good…” you frowned, leaning in close.

“We should call the cops,” the man near you said.

“And that’s our cue,” Justin took you by the elbow and started pulling you to the door.

“Hey, we didn’t do a damn thing wrong,” you said as he dragged you along beside him. “She went fuckin’ nuts…”

“Yeah but that’s your third beer of the night and you’re 19,” he said quickly. “Rather not get in trouble for buyin’ you booze…”

“That’s the girl that hit ‘er!” Someone yelled. You looked up at Justin.

“Run!” Justin pulled you with him as the two of you took off, him clearing a path with you at his heels until you were in the parking lot, a handful of people on your tail.

“Sure hope you ain’t drunk!” You said as you jumped into the passenger side of his rusted pickup.

“Sober enough to get us outta this,” he said, turning the key and holding it until the old engine turned over with a growl. He floored it, nearly taking out the front of a sedan on his way onto the main road.

He careened through town at 80 until the streetlights had faded in the distance and the sky was bursting with stars.

“What the fuck was her problem?” You crawled to the middle of the bench seat and tried to get a look at his neck. “Maybe you should go to a hospital, this looks bad…”

“I’ll just clean it up when we get back,” he waved you off. “I’m too eager to find out what kind of sex I get as your boyfriend…”

“What?” You sat back, incredulous.

“You called me your boyfriend back there,” he smirked. “I’m really ready to find out what that means once I’m in your bed…”

“Oh, Jesus,” you shoved him playfully. “You got a one track mind. And you shouldn’t read too much into what I say when I’m defending myself because some psycho tried to take a chunk out of ya.”

He winked and you rolled your eyes.

The two of you made it back to your room without any more excitement - something you were plenty thankful for. Once you were inside, you took Justin’s plaid button down off and draped it over your worn wooden desk chair before getting out your first aid kit. You usually used it for patching up cuts when a horse did manage to throw you - a rare occurrence - or when you weren’t paying close enough attention and cut yourself on barbed wire - less rare.

You frowned at the bite mark, the skin around it red and angry, as you cleaned it with rubbing alcohol and applied a bandage.

“This looks infected,” you said. “Really should take you to a hospital…”

“Nah,” he waved you off. “I’ll go to a doctor in a day or two if somethin’ ain’t feelin’ right. I’m fine, Baby Doll, really.”

He tugged you onto his lap and kissed your cheek.

“You’re cute when you’re worryin’ though,” he smiled a little. “If I’d known all it took was some rancher’s daughter gettin’ handsy with me to get you to be all over me, callin’ me your boyfriend, I’d have done it sooner…”

You rolled your eyes and shifted so you were less sitting on his lap and more straddling him and his hands went to your waist.

“See if you were in a dress, this’d be easier…”

You glared at him.

“You’re not careful I’ll give you a matchin’ bite mark on the other side of your neck.”

“Oh, from you, I’d welcome it,” he smiled, kissing you as he unbuttoned your shirt.

You ground your hips down against his as he undressed you, his hands exploring you as he kissed you. Once you were bare from the waist up, he pulled you down on the bed and you crawled down his body, opening his pants and stroking his hardening length a few times before taking him in your mouth in one, swift motion.

“Fuck, Baby Doll,” he groaned, one of his hands going to your hair. “Fuckin’ love your mouth…”

You hummed in approval, making his legs twitch as you sucked him, bobbing your head up and down his length as his fingers dug into your scalp. You worked his cock until he pulled your head roughly away from him, panting for breath.

“Really don’t want to come before I have a chance to properly fuck ya,” he said, grip loosening on your hair.

“So demanding,” you teased, looping your fingers over the top of his jeans and boxers, pulling them both down his legs and leaving them on the floor. You took off your own jeans and underwear, too, and crawled up his body, leaning over him to grab a condom from your bedside table. He took one of your nipples into his mouth and sucked you as your breasts hung over his face, his fingers sinking into your hips.

He reluctantly released you when you moved back down to straddle his thighs, opening the wrapper and sliding the condom on over his thick length. You looked at him naked in front of you and rubbed two fingers through your slit, spreading the wetness that had gathered there.

“You gettin’ wet from suckin’ me off has to be the hottest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen,” his hands slid up your legs as he watched you arrange yourself over him.

“I’m so busy thinking about this the whole time I can’t help it,” you said, breathless, as you sank down onto him. He groaned as you did, your body slowly and surely taking all of his cock into you. Your hips met his and you ground yourself down against him, his hardness just big enough to stretch you enough to satisfy. You rode him like that, rubbing your clit as you did, his hands on your hips as you worked yourself to an orgasm on his length, coming around him with a whimper.

He took advantage of your orgasm and grabbed you, flipping you onto your back and driving into you as you rode out the last waves of pleasure, arranging your legs so he was pressing deeper. You groaned as he started to fuck you harder, faster, the force of it making your tits bounce.

“Love seein’ you come on my cock,” he grunted. “Love seein’ how this tight little pussy takes me…”

He ground himself in as deep as he could reach, your body tightening around him again.

“Fuck, I love you,” he gasped it out as he started to come deep inside you, spilling into the condom.

Your eyes went wide and your orgasm hit - soft and subdued but not entirely put off by his words. He collapsed beside you when both of you were spent, your own slick leaking out between your legs. You stared up at the ceiling.

“Knew boyfriend sex would be good,” he teased, a little breathless and smiling at you.

“Yeah, about that,” you said, propping yourself up on your elbows. “What did you say at the end there?”

He frowned.

“I said…” and his eyes went wide. “Oh shit… I didn’t mean… I don’t expect… Look, I…”

“Did you mean it?” You asked, brows raised.

He flinched.

“Maybe,” he said. “But I wasn’t plannin’ on sayin’ a damn thing about it to you, alright? So please don’t freak out about this, OK? I feel like we’re in a good place…”

“I…” you paused. “Well I dunno if I love you yet or not but… I do like you. A lot. You’re kind of my favorite person so… I might love you a little. But just a little.”

You shrugged and fell back down onto your back. He smiled.

“Well, you’re my favorite person, too.”

“Don’t read too much into it,” you smiled a little.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Baby Doll.”

He rolled over to kiss you before getting out of bed. You frowned.

“Gonna go rinse off,” he said. “I’m feelin’… I dunno, just off.”

“I’m telling you, that stupid bite is infected,” you called after him as he went to shower. You waited until you heard the water turn on and got out bed yourself, getting his shirt from the chair and shrugging into it. It hung on you and you had to roll up the sleeves. You smiled a little at the physical representation of him enveloping you, the shirt smelling like his cologne with the faint smell of hay below it - a smell he never seemed to really shake. You liked it.

You got your guitar from its stand in the corner and settled back down on the bed, tuning it briefly before just noodling on it. You’d been experimenting with a combination of chords and the rhythm you could get from tapping on the guitar body itself.

“That’s soundin’ good,” Justin said, coming out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel. He got is boxers off the floor and stepped into them, draping the towel over the chair.

“Thanks,” you said. “Not sure what I’m gonna do with it yet but something eventually… Feeling any better?”

“Bit worse actually,” he frowned. “Maybe I should go back to mine, what if I’m comin’ down with somethin’. Don’t need to be gettin’ you sick, too…”

“You were just inside me, Justin, whatever you got I’m gonna get,” you rolled your eyes. “Assuming it’s contagious and it’s not from that damn bite.”

“She wasn’t rabid,” he teased, climbing into bed beside you. “Sure I just picked up somethin’ somewhere…”

You put the guitar down beside the bed and curled into him, falling asleep breathing in the smell of hay on his skin.

His twitching is what woke you up.

“Justin,” you whispered, nudging him. He didn’t respond. “You’re dreaming, c’mon baby…”

You gave him a shake but he didn’t wake up. You sighed and untangled yourself from him and the sheets. You grabbed your panties off the floor and ducked into the bathroom. If you were awake, you might as well pee. You did that, chugged a glass of water and went back into the bedroom.

It was uncommonly dark, the new moon making it so there was almost no light coming in through your windows. You nudged Justin again as you tried to get under the covers.

“Hey,” you shook him a little more firmly this time. “Baby, you’re dreaming something crazy…”

He responded then, taking in a deep, raspy breath, his movements still sharp and jerky.

“Justin?” You said quietly. “Hey, it’s me, it’s…”

He shrieked, sounding like the girl at the bar and you shocked back from him, jumping away just as his fingers reached and groped for you.

“This isn’t funny!” You yelled, stumbling over your guitar as you backed away from him. You squinted, barely able to make out his writhing in the bedsheets in the dark. “Justin, cut it the fuck out!”

He just shrieked again before he fell to the floor with a thud, his breaths still coming in deep, rasping pants.

“Justin?” You crept toward his side of the bed cautiously. He snarled and scrambled, on all fours, for you.

It shocked you so much that he got ahold of your ankle, yanking you onto the ground so hard that it made your brain rattle in your skull, his fingers digging harshly into your flesh as he dragged you closer.

You fought without really thinking about how or why or who, you just kicked as hard as you could with your free leg, catching the side of his head with your knee. He shrieked and released you and you scrambled back from him, pulling yourself up by your bed to run around to your nightstand. You yanked the middle drawer open - just below where you’d grabbed a condom just hours before to put on the man who was now bent on killing you - and pulled out your hand gun.

“Justin!” You were crying. You almost never cried. You weren’t sure when you’d started. “Please! I don’t want to do this, please!”

He snarled and lunged for you again and you pulled the trigger. He collapsed immediately and you screamed, fumbling to turn on the lamp on your side table.

“Justin?” You got down on the ground next to him. You’d shot him in the chest, right by his heart. The rattling sound of his breaths were gone. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please…”

You sobbed, instinctively trying to put his blood back inside of him. If you could just fix it, put it back together, he’d be OK, he’d wake up and be Justin again and everything would be fine. That had to be the way it worked, it was the only thing that made sense…

You barely noticed it, out of the corner of your eye. He’d pulled the bandage off his neck at some point, the violent bite mark on display and a fibrous, vine-like tendril reaching out from his throat. Reaching for you.

You yelped and scrambled back from him, your gun still in your hand. The thing was still moving, with a mind of its own.

“What the fuck?” You were panting for breath. His body twitched and you did the only thing you could think to do.

You ran.

“Help me!” You ran out front of the bunk house, gun still in your bloody hands. “Please! Help me!”

You heard it before you saw it, the rattling breath and the inhuman snarl. Like the girl at the bar. Like Justin.

It was Keith, one of the older ranch hands. He worked with the cattle. You’d almost never seen him so much as jog and here he was, running for you, snarling, his hands in a claw-like shape.

“Stop!” You held up the gun. “I ain’t jokin’, I will shoot you!”

He kept coming, the snarling getting louder. You fired, shooting him in the head by the glow of the light on the barn. He collapsed where he stood as you heard something crash against the door of one of the other rooms at the bunkhouse. Like someone was hurling their body against it, trying to break free.

You looked around, frantic. There was only one thing you were sure of: you’d get torn apart if you stayed here. You didn’t know why, you didn’t know what caused it, but you knew you were going to die if you didn’t get away.

You ran to the paddock where you’d been working with a horse, a filly who was just past her yearling stage. You’d been breaking her in, now that she was old enough, barely to dumb broke, just starting to carry a rider and learn commands. She was there, asleep in the grass. You jumped the fence, not wanting to risk going in the barn where there were sometimes still people, even at this hour.

“Hey Nike,” you whispered. She roused with a whinny. You’d named her for the goddess of victory and you hoped that meant she’d help you win whatever the fuck battle was apparently happening here today. “We gotta get goin’ sweet girl…”

You coaxed her to her feet and she shook her head, her mane bouncing. You jumped on her back and realized that you hadn’t even put on shoes or pants, you’d been in too big a hurry to get the fuck out of your room. But it wasn’t safe to go back, not now. You’d have to make do. You tucked your gun into the waistband of your panties. Nike pranced, impatient below you.

“We’re gonna get the fuck out of here,” you said. “You and me.”

You leaned forward and took some of her mane in each hand, one on each side of her neck. You couldn’t afford to go and get reins, you hoped this would be enough.

“Lets see if we can make you a jumper…”

You nudged her forward and got her moving. There was more snarling from the bunkhouse, louder now. Something must have gotten through a door… you shuddered, thinking about it.

Once she was up to a good clip, you pointed her at the fence line and drove her to it, adjusting your weight and pulling back on her, hoping that she’d figure it out.

She did, you barely hanging on as she sailed over the fence posts.

“Good girl!” You said, driving her toward the woods at the edge of the property. “It’s you and me, Nike. You and me. We’re going to get through this, we’re going to get help, we’re going to get through this.”

You said it more for you than your horse as you rode into the dark of the forest, the ranch and the bodies of the first men you ever killed behind you.

***

Sunday, November 2, 2025

“Been quiet today,” Tommy said from beside Joel, the gentle crunch of the snow under the feet of their horses the only other sound on the cold air.

Joel groaned.

“Jesus, Tommy, why don’t you just ask for us to get swarmed by infected,” he glared at his little brother.

“Don’t tell me you’re superstitious now, brother,” Tommy smirked a little. “You and I both know that whatever I say don’t got shit to do with anything that happens later.”

“It will if I deck you for sayin’ stupid shit,” Joel replied. “And I ain’t superstitious, I’m just smart enough to not say somethin’ that goddamn dumb in the middle of a patrol.”

The men were, at this point, about a four hour’s ride from Jackson, Wyoming. But they’d been taking it at a slow pace because - as Tommy had rightly and stupidly pointed out - it had been a quiet day. A quiet day in a quiet month.

Raiders seemed to have gone dark - either hunkering down for the coming winter or migrating elsewhere. So had infected, though they knew they could put that on their migratory patterns. Stupid fungus was smart enough to know that the humans it occupied couldn’t hold up in extreme cold and that their host bodies would freeze and die if they stayed too far north during the winter. Things thinned out this time of year.

“We should turn around and head back soon,” Tommy said. “We cut over a few miles, we’ll be able to sweep up and check a different area…”

“You know this shit better’n me,” Joel shrugged. “Just don’t be surprised if we come up on a pocket of raiders now…”

Tommy rolled his eyes as they rode up on a stream. He nudged his horse to follow it, cutting back toward Jackson.

They’d only been following the path of the stream for about 20 minutes when Joel first noticed it. The sign of footprints, then blood.

“Tommy,” he said quietly, nodding his head at it.

“Shit,” Tommy sighed, shaking his head.

“You said it was quiet,” Joel said, trying not to smirk at him.

“Fuck you,” Tommy replied, steering his horse to follow the footprints.

They didn’t have to go far, the snow growing steadily redder the further they went, until there was a body face down on the ground.

Joel slid off his horse and crouched next to the man, checking for signs of life even though it was pretty obvious that there weren’t any. He rolled the man over. There was a sizable knife buried in the man’s chest but that’s not the thing that caught Joel’s attention.

“Jesus Christ,” he looked up at his brother, still on horseback. “Tommy, look at this.”

Tommy frowned, dismounting and squatting down next to Joel.

“Oh fuck,” he said. “Was that… infected?”

The man’s face had been nearly torn apart, nail marks like some kind of feral animal had gotten to him but they were distinctly human, little half-moon shapes dragged through his flesh that had gushed blood. He’d been alive when something - someone - got to his face.

“Ain’t ever seen one go at someone quite like this,” Joel said. “And infected don’t use knives…”

“Maybe suicide if he got bit?” Tommy shrugged.

Joel looked over the body and found a gun with plenty of ammo and nodded to it.

“Well then, never mind,” Tommy frowned. “Jesus, he pissed off someone…”

“The fuck knows who,” Joel said, looking him over more to see if he could find any signs as to where the man had come from. There were a few thick zipties in the man’s back pocket. Joel sighed and held them up for Tommy to see. “Well, probably plenty. I’m bettin’ he’s a raider, probably tryin’ to bring in someone who fought back a little harder than expected…”

“Fuckin’ hell,” Tommy sighed, getting up again. “Grab the guns I guess, knife too. See if we can’t find who fucked him up.”

The men mounted up again and rode on. They found another body, this one shot dead and not scratched to hell, though one look at the nails - free of blood and torn flesh - told Joel this was another raider and not who they were after.

“Joel,” Tommy nodded at another set of tracks, starting with little drops of blood in the snow and coloring it more crimson as the path wore on.

“Shit,” he sighed, steering his horse to follow the path.

They didn’t need to go far.

Ahead was a body in the snow, splayed out on the ground, splotches of red and pink around it. Joel dismounted and approached slowly. He could sense that this was different. This was who the raiders had been after.

He moved cautiously, almost afraid to see what the raiders must have done to you if you’d done that kind of damage to them. You were bloody but he wasn’t sure the source of it from a quick glance. Your face was bruised and he could see signs of you being bound on your exposed wrist, the skin ringed in harsh and angry red.

“Jesus,” Tommy breathed, coming up along side Joel.

He noticed it then, the small, almost imperceptible movement of your chest. Joel tapped Tommy’s arm and nodded toward your torso.

“Oh shit,” he said.

Your eyes fluttered open and you took a sharp breath, struggling onto your elbows and hands, trying to drag your broken body back away from Joel and Tommy.

“Woah!” Tommy held up his hands. “Not here to hurt you, you’re OK, we’re just gonna try to help…”

“Fuck you,” you spat - literally, blood and spittle flying from your lips as you tried to get a full breath. “Don’t touch me!”

“Hey,” Joel got down on your level, his hands up, and met your eyes. There was something in them that felt familiar. Something that he wanted to protect. “It’s OK. We’re not like them, those men back there. Guessin’ you killed ‘em?”

You nodded once. Your eyes were so wide, you were so afraid. It reminded Joel of a baby deer, fragile and wild.

“You did good, Bambi,” he said, keeping his hands where you could see them. “Fucked ‘em up real good. We’re from a settlement, few hours from here. It’s a good place, we’ve got a doctor who can help you…”

“Can’t walk a few hours,” you said through gritted teeth.

“I know,” Joel said, nodding to your torso. “Mind if I take a look? See where that blood’s comin’ from? I’m just gonna lift your shirt, not gonna touch you.”

You looked at him for a moment before you gave him a stiff nod. He gingerly raised the bloody fabric - you weren’t wearing nearly enough layers to be out in this weather, just jeans, boots and a button down - and examined your stomach. There were two bullet holes there. He winced. He wasn’t a doctor but he knew getting shot in the stomach was bad. He noticed a raised scar on your hip, just below and to the left of your belly button, a branded letter M. His stomach turned. The fuck had happened to you?

“It’s bad,” you managed. “Just shoot me, better… better than dyin’ with them.”

“She’s right, Joel,” Tommy said, his voice low. “She’s lost a lot of blood, dragging her back to town’s just torture at this point…”

You’d fallen back into the snow, struggling to breathe, your eyes closed. But he remembered your eyes, the warmth wrapped in something harsh and sharp.

He realized then what they reminded him of, who you reminded him of. Tess. You were a survivor, like Tess. He hadn’t been able to save her, either. He’d failed her, too.

“Bambi,” Joel said, just sticking with the name. He figured you’d offer your real one if you wanted to. You opened your eyes again. “Now, I’m gonna have to touch you for this but I’m gonna be as gentle as I can…”

“Fuck you,” you winced. “Just…”

“Not going to just let you die out here in the cold,” Joel shrugged out of his jacket and held it out to Tommy. “Gonna get you on my horse - it’s OK if you pass out, I’ll hold onto ya - and we’re gonna get you back with us.”

“I don’t…” you began but Joel slid his arm below your legs and the other behind your ribs and he gently, slowly, lifted you into his body. You cried out in pain but he held onto you, putting you on the horse as best he could.

“Sorry, Bambi.” You instinctively wrapped your fingers around the saddle horn as your body slumped forward and you whimpered. He mounted up behind you and held his hand out to Tommy, who handed him his coat. He draped it over your shivering frame and tugged you against him. Your head lolled back against his chest and you groaned. Your eyes were closed. He wondered if you were conscious.

“This is damn stupid, Joel,” Tommy said, mounting his horse again.

“Couldn’t just leave her out here,” Joel said. “You know we couldn’t.”

Tommy sighed.

“Let’s get back,” he said. “Maybe, by some miracle, this won’t all have been for nothin’.”

“And you said it was a quiet day,” Joel said, starting off at a faster clip this time.

Tommy sighed.

“Fuck you.”

A/N: Hi everyone! Welcome to Yearling! I hope you've enjoyed it so far and that you'll come to love Bambi and Joel as much as I have as I've been thinking about and planning this story for the last month or so.

You can expect updates a few times a week here as I have brain rot and really only want to write this stuff :)

I'll start a tag list, please let me know if you'd like to be added!

Thank you so so much for reading! I hope you stick around and go on this journey with me. Love you!

Next Chapter

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #slow burn

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ladykailitha · 6 months ago

Text

Never Hold Back Your Step... Part 8

Hello! It does look like there is only one more chapter to write on Paper Hearts so yay!!! I'm not sure how much longer Sweet Home Indiana is but it's nearing it's end too.

Steve is never going to go to another party after this, Eddie gets book two of the Boy with a Bat, and they have a frank discussion about how Eddie gets paid for his less than legal side gig.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

trigger warning: homophobic language by an OC.

****

At least the swim team knew to how to throw a party. Lyle was hosting and even though his family wasn’t well off, not like Steve’s parents, there was still enough room for the whole team and a few of their friends to have a good time.

Granted there wasn’t any booze, not openly anyway, but there were ice chest after ice chest of canned sodas. And all kinds, too. Steve was on his third Coke and had already sussed out the dude with the beer and was working his way over.

Going right up to the guy was asking for trouble that neither of them wanted.

The music wasn’t too loud, but you could dance to it in the main part of the house. People were actually laughing and having fun.

Which really should have been Steve’s cue. The universe was out to get him and wouldn’t let him have a moment’s peace.

He had almost reached the guy with the beer when Ezra blocked his path.

“Hey, Steve,” he greeted syrupy sweet. “I’m so glad you made it out. I wasn’t sure if you would come without Eddie Munson.”

Steve frowned and tried to move around his co-captain. “I go lots of places without Eddie. I went to nationals without him, didn’t I?”

Ezra put his hand on Steve’s chest to stop him. “Sure you did, but we didn’t win nationals now, did we?”

Steve looked down at the hand on his chest. “We swam our hearts man, the other teams were just better. Hell, that team from Georgia was on fire.”

Ezra snorted and rolled his eyes. “They only got where they were because they were black. They didn’t have any real talent. Not like us. Not like you and me, Steve.”

“Are you saying Lyle and Nick held us back?” he asked with his brow furrowing deeper in his confusion.

“We’ve always known that Lyle is a strong swimmer and not a fast one,” Ezra moaned waving the drink in his other hand around. “But he’s all this shit town has on offer.”

Steve gently pushed Ezra off of him. “Hey, how about not talking shit about the actual host, man.”

Ezra rolled his eyes. “Whatever,” he huffed. “That’s not even why I’m over here. I’m here to warn you about Munson.”

And there it was. Everyone in his life had felt the need at some point in the last six months to warn him off the super senior.

The other boy leaned in close, his lips a snarl. “He’s a queer, a little faggot boy,” he hissed, the spit landing on Steve’s face. “It’s the town’s worst kept secret.”

Ice slid down Steve’s spine. Oh shit. Of all the places he thought the other co-captain was going to go, that was not it. Drugs. DND. The ranting on table tops. All that slid away to sheer terror.

“And you better not bend over in the showers,” Ezra continued, “a pretty thing like you would just be his type.”

Steve’s eyes went wide. “Wha–what do you mean?”

“Everyone knows that if you can’t pay for your weed,” Ezra sneered, “that he’s willing to take a blowjob as payment instead.” He leaned further into Steve’s space, so that they were almost touching, the stench of weed radiating off the other boy in waves. “I saw Harry Masters sucking him off for a gram of the good stuff.”

Steve stomach lurched and swooped, bile rising up in his throat. Harry Masters was on the baseball team. He was tall, good looking, with that devil may care charm of Rob Lowe. Looked like him, too.

“What he does or doesn’t do doesn’t effect me, man,” he said, trying to aim for nonchalant and missing by a mile.

Ezra laughed in his face.

“Dude,” he cackled, “if you didn’t want people to think you’re down bad for ‘the Freak’ maybe rein in the eye fucking. I’ve seen the way you look at him and it makes me sick.”

That was when Steve got it. He had been wondering what the hell this conversation was.

“Oh my god!” he laughed. “Fuck, man, you were scaring me for a second there. You’re just jealous I don’t have the hots for you.”

Ezra pushed him. “The fuck I do, Harrington!”

“No, no!” Steve crowed. “I’ve got it all figured it out. All the times I caught you staring at me, all the times I felt someone watching me, all the times you’d try to keep me late after practice. You wanted me all to yourself.”

His co-captain turned purple with rage and swung at Steve, but before he could even flinch, there was someone at his side, holding Ezra’s wrist to keep the hit from even going anywhere near Steve’s face.

“Eddie!” Steve breathed. “What are you doing here?”

Eddie smiled at him with that soft dimpled grin Steve loved. “Hey ya, Stevie. I was just plying my wares when I heard the commotion and came over to make sure you were all right.”

“So you are my good luck charm,” Steve said brightly.

Ezra wrenched his arm out of Eddie’s hand. “This doesn’t concern you, Freak!”

Eddie leaned in close and cocked his head to the side. “It does, because you were talking shit about me and Stevie, here. And as Stevie’s good friend, I’mma gonna come to his rescue. Now, you’re going to skedaddle on home and sleep all this off.”

Ezra spat in his face. “Or what?”

The older teen just smiled menacingly. “Or else that gram you smoked will be the last you ever smoke, because I’ll report to you for doping for matches.”

Ezra paled and he gulped. “You can’t do that! I’ve never done anything but weed.”

“That’s true,” Eddie admitted. “But they’d have to do this big investigation and your name would be dragged through the mud. Or you could toddle off and go to college and leave this town in your rearview mirror.”

Ezra turned on his heel and ran out of the house as if the hounds of hell were on his tail.

Steve shook his head. “You do know this is where all the allegations about you being a devil worshiping cult leader come from, right?”

Eddie threw back his head and laughed. “They can think all they want.”

Eddie and Steve talked about what Ezra had said about how people make payments for their weed.

“I won’t deny that people have offer to blow me or even have sex with me in exchange for drugs,” Eddie said as they lay curled up on his bed. “But I’ve never taken anybody up on that.”

Steve twisted his head to look up at his boyfriend. “I can’t say I’m not pleased to hear that, but is there a reason why?”

“Several,” he admitted pulling Steve in closer. “One is that there is an actual fucking pandemic going on regarding gay men, and I wouldn’t trust those assholes even with a condoms. Another is that if I say yes to one, then I’ve got to say yes to next guy. And as my supplier wants actual cash for his product, blow jobs aren’t currency in any country I know of. And despite what Ezra said, most of the people offering aren’t men.”

Steve hummed as he snuggled under Eddie’s chin. “I can see that. Any other reasons why you won’t?”

“Does having a super hot boyfriend count?” he chuckled.

Steve kissed the underside of his jaw. “That’s a very good reason.” His hand slipped down his boyfriend’s side and to his belt. “A super hot boyfriend who is very grateful for the rescue.”

Eddie moaned as Steve’s fingers ghosted over his zipper. “Yeah and how are you going to show that gratitude?”

Steve slid down Eddie body and undid his belt. “I was thinking it was such a shame you didn’t get those blow jobs when your cock is so delectable.”

Eddie gasped and threw back his head as his super hot boyfriend’s breath felt hot on the front of his boxers. “God, baby. Show me what you’ve got.”

And Steve spent their evening doing just that.

Steve fidgeted nervously at Eddie’s locker after school. He had finished the most recent comic with only a week of school to spare. He had made sure that Jonathan and Nancy weren’t staying after school for any reason so they didn’t see him make the hand off. He knew he should have just done it at the trailer, but with him cutting it so fine before the end of the year, he didn’t want to make Jeff and the others wait for it.

Eddie loped over to his boyfriend and looked around. “Hey, sweetheart. You okay?”

He thrust the comic at Eddie, his eyes downcast. “It’s the most recent comic. There’s an explanation like before. But please don’t let people see that part.”

Eddie cradled the comic to his chest. “I’ll be careful, I promise. I’m guessing this means you aren’t coming over tonight?”

Steve shook his head. “Lucas wants to go see the latest Bond film, but his friends don’t want to go with him...”

“So you offered to take him,” Eddie finished. “That’s sweet of you.”

Steve snorted and shook his head. “His parents think I’m taking him to ‘Meet the Littles’ or some shit like that.”

Eddie threw back his head and laughed. “Yeah, that’s more like the Steve Harrington I know and love.”

“I’ll call when I get home, though...” he muttered, running his fingers through his hair.

“Okay,” Eddie murmured. “Well talk then.”

This time Eddie went straight to the back page to read the explanation first.

“Hey, Eds,

Again there are parts in between this, parts that don’t include me, that I’ll some day tell you all about. But I’m focusing on the parts I was part of. This time it all started with what the kids thought was a new species of lizard and turned out to be the beginning stages of an Upside Down monster. One they they dubbed the demodog.

I can just picture you frowning as you try to remember where you heard that from and the answer is you heard it from me. You asked me what it was and I told you it from one of their game thingies, but that’s only part of it. These demodogs have flower faces and run on four legs. They are part of a hive mind that allows them to communicate with each other.

Dustin had taken one of these things home and it ate his cat. His cat. You can be disgusted, I know I was. He had originally gone to Nancy’s for help but she had gone off with Jonathan about something related to Barb Holland. This was right after our fight at the Halloween party.

I was on my way with roses to apologize to her, when he intercepted me. And the rest is as they say is history. I would do anything for that kid now.

The other players are Lucas Sinclair and Max Mayfield. I don’t know if you need to know that, but I feel like you have to understand that for the rest of it to make sense.

I have so many tales to tell you but I can’t because it could get you hurt and that is the last thing I want to do.

Also, (blurred words) show you all the times I was brave, that I did the (more blurred words) when it came (blurred words) because I love you so much and (blurred words again) less of me.

Love,

Your Stevie”

Eddie hated how easy Steve had pegged him for frowning at the name like he said he would or how he knew he would be disgusted at the poor cat. He stared at the blurred words for a moment before his own eyes welled up.

Steve had tried writing over the parts with what were clearly tear drops but all it had done was make it worse. Why he didn’t just write again, Eddie didn’t know.

But Eddie could now make out the words, “Also, I wanted to show you all the times I was brave, that I did the right thing when it came to it, because I love you so much and I didn’t want you thinking less of me.”

He flipped back to the beginning and started reading. It was thrilling and exciting. That was if you didn’t know it really happened. And happened to the sweetest boy he had the privilege of knowing.

He wiped away his tears and made a promise to whatever it took to protect this boy with every fiber of his being. Because by god, someone had to.

****

Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16

Tag List: @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

@spectrum-spectre @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson

@messrs-weasley @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @danili666 @goodolefashionedloverboi

@val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89

@vecnuthy @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer

@yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon @cinnamon-mushroomabomination

@dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual

@angels-of-hades @mugloversonly @y4r3luv @greeniebean911 @birbsauce

@acingthecounts @cryptid-system @counting-dollars-counting-stars @kultiras @ravenfrog

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #boy with a bat

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ataraxiaspainting · 10 months ago

Text

It's Cold Outside.

Yan Chrollo x F Reader.

Synopsis: A stranger has weaseled his way into every aspect of your life.

Warnings: Yandere themes, non-con/dub-con (the reader is under the influence of aphrodisiacs but non-consensually), the reader is described as AFAB and uses she/her pronouns respectfully, threats of violence, stalking, manipulation, Chrollo the Creepster, and unhealthy relationships.

Word Count: 2.2k.

Ten Songs Like This Piece:

(You’re The) Devil in Disguise by Elvis Presley

Salvatore by Lana Del Ray

Who Is She? by I Monster

Kiss Of Fire by Georgia Gibbs

Money, Money, Money by ABBA

Sex with a Ghost by Teddy Hyde

4:00A.M. by Taeko Onuki

How I’d Kill by Cowboy Malfoy

Sonne by Rammstein

The Great Gig in the Sky by Pink Floyd

“I say let the world go to hell, but I should always have my tea.” — Fyodor Dostoevsky, Notes from the Underground

*~*~*~*

i. “Technicolor worlds with white clouds are bound to be destroyed by silver snow.”

When you step into your house, it is like you are instantly transported back to a year ago. Everything in sight, from the walls to the shelves, has decorations of some kind, whether going all out with the kitchen table having an entire feast of delicious holiday treats made by your grandparents, or just a green and red painting of a Christmas tree placed in your older sister’s usually monochromatic room. Perhaps the painting is yet another way she proves that she can somewhat react well to requests to change her room a little bit. Even if the painting is on the farthest wall from the door and is partially hidden from view by the many anime figurines and books larger than your head. Your mother claims that it is a miracle she convinced her to put up any holiday decorations in her room at all and thus doesn’t bother her further.

Each room also has a different festive scent, your younger sister’s room having a hot chocolate scent mixed with the smell of piled up dishes on her desk, most coming from when she was ‘helping’ your grandparents cook by ‘testing to make sure the food isn't poison’.

How heroic of her to sacrifice herself for the family.

Your room, you think, looks much better than your sisters’ combined, having decked it out to the maximum by taking out all of your Halloween decorations and replacing them with Christmas ones. It took you the whole weekend, sure, and caused you to break the bank, but your love for accessories outweighs your logic and reason by quite a lot. Your beloved record player is back on your table that also simultaneously houses your television and jewelry playing Elvis Presley’s Blue Christmas. A wreath larger than your torso is on your door and your room smells like all the holiday air fresheners you found in your closet. Pine, peppermint, orange, lemon, cranberry… all mix to make a beautiful festive scent unmatched by even your parents’ bedroom. Everything is how it should be, and how it always is every year.

Well, almost. A man named Chrollo, a man who gives you anything but comfort, has been invited to your family-only yearly Christmas party. When your father, who has always been too protective of you and your sisters and never lets you spend time with the opposite gender, told you that Chrollo of all people would be attending, you tried to argue otherwise. You tried telling him that none of you had known Chrollo for so long, but he had rebutted Chrollo’s lie that you had known him for over a year with you two developing a close bond. You realized it was too late then, and Chrollo had charmed your entire family, with even your older sister always having a smile on her face whenever she saw him at her workplace.

ii. “Like actors, each snowflake has a different role to play. They sing along with every step of a boot as a deceitful way to express their pain.”

The moment the doorbell chimes, its piercing resonance assaults your eardrums and causes an unsettling shiver to course through your spine.

You find yourself in an unsettling situation as your family eagerly awaits, and to your dismay, you are the designated individual tasked with the responsibility of opening the door. You two are such good friends, aren’t you? We wouldn’t want to get in the way of your bonding time.

You want to say he is lying, to tell them everything, every threat he has told you, him meaning them or otherwise. But as soon as they know of what Chrollo really and truly is, they will meet a painful end; that being pushed onto train tracks, their drink being laced with a poison that destroys the body from the inside out, or having nails thrusted into their bloody palms as they hang on their bedroom wall as you look in horror. Elton, Anya, and Robert all being examples of such… You don’t want to think of the bodies just waiting to rot around the Riverbend, your fault or otherwise.

You also don’t want to drown in this river. A river inhospitable to any aquatic life whatsoever, and only harbors a barrier of carnivorous plants that eat those who dare come close. Butterworts, large lilac purple ones that feel like they have been dipped in the most tempting butter mixed with forbidden fruit and honey produced by none other than the queen bee herself. Are you the fly, or are they? You have no idea, and you don’t want to find out.

“Hello.” Your response is concise and devoid of warmth, with a noticeable absence of your usual cheerful demeanor evident in your expression and tone.

Chrollo's smile is so sinister that even the most depraved devil's grin would pale in comparison, with all the large gift bags behind him swinging like a tail.

“Ah, [First]. Happy holidays. No need to be so cold, you know. The snow is already doing that for you. So-”

Despite your strong desire to slam the door in his face, you choose to step aside and allow him entry, in an attempt to silence him.

“Put the gifts by the tree by the kitchen table. The white table and not the black one.”

However, rather than fulfilling your expectations, all he does is elicit a burst of laughter so unique that it resonates within you, while discreetly handing over the most colossal gift bag, compelling you to accept it as if under some intangible force.

“Just a little something. I know it’s customary to wait until later but… I simply can’t help myself. Open it whenever you get the chance, dearest.”

…He means right now, in your room, doesn’t he? Perhaps he installed a camera in your room as you slept, he has certainly threatened to do that before. Or maybe he will just spy on you through the little space between the door and the frame. He has done that before, after all.

…

You resisted the urge to scream when you saw a picture of your mother sleeping blissfully, the camera focused on her ring finger with the caption Should I take another souvenir? written on it, but the card, as beautiful as it appeared with a lace envelope and your name written in script on the card’s cover above Chrollo’s, proved to be even more of a challenge. When you read the words on it, your heart plunges so deeply that you fear your gastric acid will erode it.

Save your tears. For even if you cry to the whole world, it will never be enough to make me disappear. Meet me outside in five minutes, and make whatever excuse you deem necessary. No exceptions.

As you begin to read further, a wave of fragrant and delicate floral scents envelops your senses, instantly igniting a warm sensation in your head, leaving no time for contemplation.

Trying to ignore your slight dizziness, you read the rest of the card.

Just a little something to make sure you do this. We wouldn’t want your family to see you in… what state you are about to be in, do we?

…Just what did he do to you?

iii. “With the burden of wintertime ending, nature spends time creating beautiful trees and flowers. To accompany them, she makes twisted vines and weeds, for she knows that without them there cannot be balance or purpose in being comfortably numb.”

You were on your back, on his bed, within what felt like one second, not remembering the car ride over to his place, your wrists pinned beneath the strength of one of Chrollo's hands while he looked down at you within another, his other undoing the tie of the bandana on his forehead and showing you, for the very first time, of the cross tattoo underneath it.

All you can do is watch your whole world slow down and be replaced by a dream.

A blissful and sweet dream, as sugary as saccharine and as dissolvable as cotton candy, that is a veil and covers your eyes from what is happening; until it is too late, until you feel some of his fingers go into the band of your skirt and start pulling and pulling, downward, and that is when terror went to combat with your unwanted lust.

“...What… are… you… doing…? Chroooooo…” Your words slur as your mind buzzes with euphoria, and you can feel every sensation in vivid detail, every touch and every breath feeling heightening and intoxicating. As much as you want to, you can’t tell him to stop, not now.

“Shh, it’s what you want, isn’t it?” At least that is what you think he said, because as Chrollo spoke, you struggled to decipher his words amidst the haze that enveloped your mind. Reality fragments, leaving you unable to muster the strength to plead for him to cease. “It will feel oh so very good, I promise. Very, very nice and very, very good.” With that, you come to realize the wetness between your rubbing thighs, amidst the cloudiness and the larger-than-life headache that rips your skull apart. “Do you trust me?” The voice sounds almost heartfelt, not as intimate as it could be, but it was still more than enough for your hands to cling to him and pull him in closer, faster, so he could relieve you of this hell. “I will assume that that is a yes.” His hands move to the two buttons on your blouse, undoing them with ease, softly, gently, like it was a baby bird.

“Faster… faster…!” You feel like a man who hasn’t seen water on any day of their life, and if you lose the location of the oasis you are sure to never find it again.

Like a man lost in the desert, you choke on imaginary quicksand, soon to drown if water does not save you.

“Aw, such a precious little thing, aren’t you?” You are gently flipped over in an instant and he unbuckles your bra, quickly.

“If you love me… really love me… make me feel better… please.”

“Don’t worry, I will.” He flips you over again and his fingers lower to your panties, pulling them down from your trembling legs, just like he did with your skirt. “You trust me after all, don’t you?”

You cry out yes after utterly desperate yes, as he watches, his smile getting wider as he starts undoing his belt. He puts a finger on your lips after he has heard enough, shushing you gently.

“Then trust me when I say that this, my dear, is for your own good.”

Beneath the surface, whether it be shallow or not, you have no desire to comprehend his intentions.

You don’t want to know. You just want this to go away.

iv. “Through discoveries, there is a hint of madness that enters our minds. Only then can we see our world’s colors change from squid ink and bone to begonias and finches.”

Chrollo undoes his belt, then his pants, and then his boxers. You focus on his face to ignore what is currently nearly touching the side of the mattress by a hair or two, hard and enlarged and slightly pink and-

He takes off his shirt button after button, much, much, much slower than how he took off the rest of his clothing. There exists a deep-seated anger within you, yet it is accompanied by a sense of gratitude, as both you and he are aware of your mutual aversion towards this situation.

Despite both of you being aware that this is not your desired outcome, he still kisses you, gently, full of warmth, and tenderly. What you truly desire is to satisfy the ache within you. But he won’t give it to you yet, will he?

Time seems to drag on as his kisses get faster, and more hungry, with his tongue essentially becoming another of your muscles, wet, and neither wanted nor unwanted.

Eventually, you get what you want, after enough begging for him to just get it over with. At the beginning, there is a gentle caress resembling a warm and velvety rose petal. However, as time progresses, the touch becomes increasingly forceful until his fingers enter. But it does not hurt. Should you be thankful for that? At least he is being nice.

He starts thrusting, and that also does not hurt. No soreness. You won't feel any discomfort until your eyes meet, causing a sensation that almost makes you want to throw up, were it not for the illicit satisfaction this dreadful encounter brings. It's a peculiar kind of pain, one that lingers like a ghost stealthily gliding through walls, catching you off guard before you can comprehend its presence.

Nothing hurts, and that in of itself gives you the most pain anyone could imagine.

v. “Heat lightning gives way to summer storms and verdant wind. This makes for a hauntingly beautiful melody of ripples and thunder.”

“…And this maiden, she lived with no other thought than to love and be loved by me.”

vi. “The dead, fallen leaves of autumn come in many shades from bright red to a dull brown. They flow with the wind from one place to the next as invitations from those who passed on to the living.”

#TIME TO WRITE SIN..........#(sweats nervously)#author aya #yandere #yandere x reader #hxh #phantom troupe #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere hxh #chrollo hunter x hunter #chrollo lucilfer #chrollo x reader #yandere chrollo #yandere chrollo x reader #not sfw #yandere hxh x reader #hxh x reader

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cuprohastes · 2 months ago

Text

The Devil went down to Georgia.

And I interviewed him about it.

The Devil takes a long drag on his cigarette. When he exhales, a long sigh, there’s no smoke. he looks at it thoughtfully and puts it out.

"The thing about the fiddle…” he says “The thing that people don’t get, is that I was never going to win.”

He looks at the stump of his ciggy and grinds it out.

“That wasn’t the plan. The plan was to lose. I mean… a golden fiddle? I wish you could have heard it, it sounded like…” he waves a hand. He’s oddly reticent to swear.

“It was awful. Flat, screechy. And I mean, I made it sound good as it could get, y’know? But it was never going to be as good as a real fiddle.”

He laughs. It’s a warm, indulgent laugh, plummy and full of amusement. “No the plan was to lose it. You know how much a golden fiddle you won from the devil is worth? It’s worth… well more than gold.”

He pauses. “The smart thing would have been to take a hammer to it and melt it down, but who’s going to do that? That’s uh… just under 17 kilograms of gold. More than half a million these days.”

He takes another cigarette out and taps it, put it between his lips, takes a long suck that reduces a third of it to ash. I almost don’t notice that he never lit it, because I’m making a note that the prince of lies apparently favours Metric. Or thinks I do.

“It’s worth more with provenance, though. It’s rarer than a Strad - if you could get people to believe it was my actual fiddle, you could sell it for around twenty… thirty million, easily. But that’s the thing.”

And this is where the ol’ devil grins. It’s a brilliant happy smile, the smile of someone who pulled a caper off.

“… Some dumb farmboy goes out, comes back with a solid gold fiddle and a crazy story? Everyone wants the damn thing, for the gold, even if they don’t believe anything else. Family, friends, then the landlord and the Mayor, pretty soon everyone from the governor down was trying to levy taxes on this thing, or confiscate it - That kid killed two guys who broke in before one of them got him. The family started a vendetta against the people they thought they’d taken it. Both of them got beggared by taxes for something they never had…” he chuckles.

“The girl who stole it tried to pawn it, and the guy running the place took her in the back and garotted her with a handful of bootlaces. Bootlaces!” he stops to chuckle. “And then - He got robbed and there’s been at least four heists and ten lawsuits over it. Even I’m not sure where it is.”

He pauses again and stares into the distance, eyes unfocussed.

“Oh the Mar-a-Lago” he states. “Huh. Actually, I think I need to make a call about a certain hidden vault…”

#story #devil #fiddle #humor #humour #comedy #interview with a devil #smoking #no demonic presenting neeps

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doyourememberrocknrollradio · 23 days ago

Video

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"Devil Comes Back to Georgia" feat. Mark O'Connor with Daniels, Cash, Tr...

#youtube

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love-minor-poltergeist · 3 months ago

Note

Are you still taking requests? If so, could I please request the Devil having a sorta flirtatious love hate relationship with fiddler. If you ever heard the Song, The Devil went down to Georgia, you’ll get it but the gist is, the Devil challenges the person to a fiddle competition and lost. But the fiddler offers for him to come on back and try again if he likes, quite rightfully proud of their musical skills even refusing a golden fiddle the Devil offered as a reward… supposedly

A/N: Oh anon your mind!

It took me a while to figure out how to tackle this prompt, and I had opted to make a short fic about it! I'm a little out of practice when it comes to writing something that isn't a set of bulletpoint hcs, so please don't be afraid to let me know what you think!

The Devil Went Down to Georgia Word Count: 2.3k

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Your daddy had always been a religious man, as were most of the folks in your small town.

Many hot summer Sundays were spent getting up early to get ready for church. The priest, hair thinning and skin glistening with sweat, shouting his sermon; eyes ablaze like the fire and brimstone he preached. All you could remember from his impassioned screaming was just how crazed he looked– the hellish landscape he painted forever burned into your mind.

While Pa was nothing like that dreadful priest, he took those words to heart. Always warning to be wary of temptation. For temptation was the Devil’s way of leading you astray. You’ve never truly put your mind into the whole Heaven and Hell business— heck, you stopped coming to church long before your twentieth birthday– but you knew that Pa would never do you wrong.

“The Devil is a man you don’t wanna mess with,” Pa said one day.

You agreed to help him chop some wood after Sunday mass; you don’t remember exactly what led the two of you down this conversation, but you remember feeling Pa’s watchful gaze focused on you as you dozed off during another sermon.

“He’ll come to ya in a chariot of fire, taller than any building you’ve seen, and try to take ya away. Using pretty words and empty promises, and by the time ya see through that honeyed haze, yir as good as dead.”

He finished point with one final swing of his ax, the loud crack of splintering wood causing you to flinch.

Pa’s face softened, mumbling a small “sorry punkin” as he softly clapped a calloused hand on your shoulder.

The two of you stood over the work you’ve done. Silently basking in the afterglow of progress.

After a few moments, Pa spoke once more.

“I’m serious, Punkin,” you felt his hand tighten on your shoulder. “Promise me that if you ever meet the Devil, you do the right thing.”

And so, you promised your pa. Swore on his and Mama’s graves that you’d turn tail and run if you ever crossed paths with the prince of darkness.

Of course, a part of you thought Pa was paranoid. That he was letting his fear of god cloud his reason. Cause there ain’t no way that the big bad Devil would ever wander down into the middle of nowhere, Georgia. A part of you wasn’t even sure if he existed.

But you wouldn’t dare say this out loud. Instead, you meekly smiled and promised your pa. Anything to ease his worries.

And you kept that promise. Life continued. You fell into a comfortable, if not a little monotonous routine. Get up, help with the farm, play your fiddle for the cattle— rinse and repeat.

That is until one day, during a dry summer not even a week ago, you met the Devil.

It happened so quickly. Unexpectedly. One minute, you reclined against a stump, having just finished your chores for the day, and decided to relax while playing your fiddle. The very next minute, you had felt the ground shake.

He emerged from the earth.

The ground was torn asunder as the prongs of a golden trident scorched the terrain an ashen black; a great gaping maw yawned open. Pillars of flame shot forth into the sky, the cries of birds resounding in your skull as the smell of smoke and tobacco filled your nose. You coughed, head swimming as you reached to cover your nose, nearly dropping your violin to the ground as you braced yourself against the roaring flames.

Through burning pillars, a clawed hand emerged. With a snap of their fingers, the portal instantly closed, the fiery pillars forced down into their earthly furnace; leaving behind a blackened scar against the grass, and a looming figure.

And as you slowly lower your arm, fingers tightening their grasp on your bow and fiddle– clutching both to your chest, desperate to get an extra layer of protection against the stranger– a small, foolhardy part of your panic-addled brain couldn’t help but notice one thing:

The Devil was a lot shorter than you’d thought he’d be.

༻︶𓏶︶༺

You didn’t even know what spurred you to accept the demon’s challenge– beat him against a fiddle-playing competition, and you’ll win a golden fiddle of your own. And if you lose, your soul is forfeit.

Truth be told, it was quite a crap deal. The prize he offered you was a bit… gaudy. Heck, who were you kidding? The thing was tacky and ugly. The strings looked way too stiff, too harsh for your weathered old bow. It wouldn’t serve much for anything other than as an oversized chachki.

However, the way the demon looked at you– or rather, how his hooded gaze looked towards his talons…

He looked bored. Was he so confident that he’d win? Did he think that little of you?

You were so miffed that you found yourself saying yes without a second thought. The minute you did, a deep, haughty laughter filled your ear, and a pit formed in your stomach. A devious smile formed on his lips, eyes upturned and alight with arrogance.

The darned bastard had thought he had it in the bag…

Well. You did make a promise.

However— Pa wasn’t there.

And you’d be darned if some stranger could think he could walk all over you.

So you may or not have… tried a little too hard in your wager. Just a little! Well, you technically had to. Since you didn’t want to lose your soul. However, despite the circumstances, you enjoyed your little competition. Not to mention that the further you two went, the more you felt that warm, drunken feeling of satisfaction well up in your belly.

Cause for a demon so darned confident in himself, he was only really decent at it. Well, scratch that– he was good, but you played your beloved instrument almost every day.

And the difference in skill was apparent. Extremely so.

The Devil had felt his fingers ache and knuckles burn from how hard he gripped onto his bow, lips pulled into a tight frown as he watched you practically dance circles around him. Your hands were a flurry of movement and a grin steadily overtook your face the longer you played.

By the time you had finished, the demon had already given up. He huffed, hackles raised and steam emanating from his fingertips. The black flesh of his cheeks was aglow with a deep, rusted red as he grumbled under his breath.

With little fanfare, he tossed the golden fiddle down at your feet. None too gentle as it nearly hit your feet, forcing a jump for you. He turned away from you, his tail whipping about erratically, and raised his trident.

Wait, that was it? No goodbye, no afterword? Not even a cliched speech about how “he’ll be back”? Is he just going to give up? Darn, you had a lot of fun— the horrible threat of losing your soul aside. No one indulged in music with you, not to mention keep up with your speed.

You bit your lip, and you looked back towards the demon.

Oh, your pa would kill you for this.

Just as a portal was torn open, flooding your nose with the scent of smoke and sulfur, you made up your mind.

You grabbed his tail.

The limb felt strange in your grasp. It was thin yet dense with underlying muscle; like grabbing onto a cottonmouth. Not to mention it was hot. Overwhelmingly hot. Practically burning your hand. You watched as the pointed tip quickly wrapped itself around your wrist; coiling itself until you felt the blood circulation become cut off.

Nevertheless, you persisted. Biting through the pain with watery eyes as the Devil immediately stopped. He whipped his bed back to you, nose scrunched and face pinched into a sour frown. A low growl emerged from his throat, annoyance clear as day in his sickly yellow eyes.

You grinned.

“Now hold on, Mr. Devil,” you start, casually placing your fiddle on your shoulder. “I gotta say, that was probably the most excitement I’ve had in this part of Georgia in years-”

“Get on with it.”

Yeesh. Someone was a little cranky.

“Alright, alright, keep your pants on, mister,” you snort. “Now, before I was so rudely interrupted, I just wanted to say you’re always welcome to come back!

”

The Devil’s face relaxed for a moment. Nose no longer as scrunched as week-old laundry and lips dropping its frown. He didn’t relax his grip on his trident.

“What.”

“Yup!” you chirp, your lips popping at the p– an action that didn’t escape the demon’s notice. “Listen, it gets mighty boring around here! You’re welcome to come on back if you want to try again!”

The Devil turned to face you fully now, brows knitted together as he stared down at you. His mouth fell open, then closed, then open again. This repeated a few times as he silently stared at you. He shook his head, leaning his weight against his trident as he lowered himself to your height; eyes narrowed.

“What.”

“Ya heard me.”

“Hold that tongue of yours, yokel,” he spat. “What game are you playing?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Your offer. You do realize the gravitas of this offer, no?”

“Yessir.”

“You said I was welcome to try again. Your soul will always be at stake, do you know that?”

“Yup.”

“Once you lose it–”

“If I lose it. Ya haven’t beaten me yet.”

“Oh shut it, you little shoehorn,” he jabbed a clawed finger at your chest. “Once you lose it, your soul is mine, and you’ll be cursed to live out the rest of your pitiful existence as a husk. Devoid of any consciousness.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You’ll be a zombie, you moron.”

“Copy that, captain.”

“Are you normally this stupid?”

He grabbed your shoulder at that point, eyes wild and teeth bared. You felt the hot, piercing tip of the prongs of his trident press against your neck; his breath– rich and hot with the scent of tobacco– hit your face in warm puffs. The demon’s nose brushed against yours, and god almighty if he moved any closer the two of you would be kissing.

Soft, traitorous warmth found itself seeping into your cheeks. Your heart flipped-flopped about in your ribcage like a trout out of water, and you silently prayed that the demon couldn’t hear it as you mustered up a cocky grin.

“Nope. I’m just the best there ever was.”

A growl, low and gravelly, rumbled from the Devil’s throat. A look of annoyance filled his eyes as he clicked his tongue. He let go of your shoulder and rose to his full height. The prongs of his trident eased their bite on your neck, no longer threatening to stab into the pliant flesh of your windpipe.

Blazing metal slowly traveled upwards, leaving behind whispers of heat in their wake as the Devil slowly eased it beneath your chin. The Devil slowly and methodically craned your head up, quietly relishing the way your throat struggled to force down a nervous swallow.

The demon remained silent the entire way through. Only breaking it to occasionally growl if you tried to speak; his eyes lidded and lips threaded into a thin line. The Devil's tail moved to and fro in a metronomic pattern as his gaze grew hooded; contemplation weighing the lids down as he raised a large hand towards his mouth.

The entire interaction lasted maybe only a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity had passed before the silence was broken by another low rumble from the Devil. Not quite a growl, but it wasn’t a purr, either. You couldn’t put your finger on it. However, you could guess it only meant something good, as the Devil finally moved his trident away; and you find yourself shakily releasing a breath you didn’t even know you were holding.

“Very well.” The Devil shifted his trident beside him once more. “I accept your offer.”

He knocked the butt of his trident against the earth once, twice, and the earth yawned open once more. Red light washed over the demon’s form, illuminating the demon’s back in a crimson halo.

He grinned, baring sharp teeth, eyes full of malintent, and your stomach rolled as you could only imagine what was going on in that man’s head.

“I won’t stop until that soul is mine, little mortal.” He pointed a finger towards you. “You best keep yourself sharp. I’d hate to be disappointed after all of that talk.”

You watched as he stepped a foot within the portal, cheeks pained as you fought to maintain your cocky grin.

“Lookin’ forward to it, sweetness.”

The endearment was tacked on at the last minute. You didn’t mean anything by it. After all, you had just beat the Devil at his own game. You were safe. For now, at least. Perhaps it was just the high of victory that had pushed you to be a bit more saucy with the demon.

What you didn’t expect, however, was the way his face fell. It was hard to make out from the red light of the portal beneath him, but you coulda swore that you saw his dark cheeks become a rusted brown.

He turned his head before you could look any further, an annoyed huff following after.

“Good grief you’re annoying.” You heard him mutter. “I cannot wait to crush your pathetic body into the ground.”

“Don’t get too excited, Mr. D.”

Oh my god, why couldn’t you just shut up?

“Keep talking like that and I’ll start to think that you want to see me again.”

While a part of you panicked, it was overpowered by a snort as the Devil let out an offended ‘UGH’ before leaving. He had practically leaped into the portal, desperate to get away, leaving behind smoldering earth in his wake.

As you stood there, heart frantically racing, all you could do was wonder when the next time you’d see him would be.

And you silently apologized to your pa for looking forward to seeing the Devil again.

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#cuphead #cuphead dont deal with the devil #cuphead: don't deal with the devil #devil x reader #x reader #reader inserts #gender neutral reader #requests #ch the devil #ch the devil/reader #meet ugly #fic #self ship #the devil cuphead #cuphead devil #tsundere #does this count as tsundere?idk

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