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selenezq · 6 months ago

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🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞MDNI🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞

CW: dub con, loss of control, sex pollen trope

Pairing Alastor x Reader

Reader is AFAB

Edited by the lovely @the-demon-of-a-thousand-eyes

But That's A Freaky Sex Flower

It is a beautiful day in Hell, about as pretty as it gets, really. You take in all the sights and smells as you walk along the sidewalk. You are heading to the store, on an errand for the hotel, when the most lovely flower catches your eye. Coming to a standstill, you bend down to get a closer look.

Pink petals with a beautiful, intricate, black design surrounded a lovely red center. You bring your nose down to get a whiff, inhaling its saccharine scent. Gently plucking it, you tuck it into your hair to wear as a beautiful accessory.

You’ve never seen anything like it before. Excited by your new discovery, you find some extra pep in your step as you walk the short distance to and inside the store. You pass the aisles filled with various foods, houseware goods, and personal items, reading the signs above each one until you see the one you need. You turn left to walk down the aisle, looking around until you see what you had come for: some pens and paper.

Reaching your hands out you gingerly grab them. As you leave the area and make your way through the store to checkout, you suddenly begin to feel warm. Placing your items on the counter, you give a kind smile to the store clerk. "It's a scorcher out there today, isn't it?" You ask congenially.

"Nah, it's not that hot," the cashier responds curtly followed by rather rude eye roll as they ring your items up, then tell you with a monotone voice, "Your total will be $7.93.”

Quickly pulling the money out, you pay for the items. With a smile and a wave despite their rudeness, you head out of the store and are on your way back to the hotel. Walking back, you feel like it's getting hotter out by the second. In an attempt to cool off, you undo the top button of your blouse. As you continue walking home, a drop of sweat trickles its way down your neck.

After what seems to take an eternity, your journey back to the hotel comes to a close. You feel a sense of profound relief at finally being able to get inside out of the heat of the Hellish sun. Opening the door, you step into the hotel, dropping the shopping bag on the nearest surface before throwing yourself onto the couch in the lobby.

"Heya Toots, how’ya doin’?" Angel Dust asks you as you attempt to regulate your breathing. Has it always been this scorching in the hotel? You wonder to yourself.

"I'd be better if the weather cooled off a little." You mutter, a little irritated, the poor attitude unusual for you. You bring your hand up to wipe at the sweat now threatening to drip down your chest. "I did find this pretty flower though." You say, a smile returning to your face as you turn your head to show Angel the beautiful bloom that is adorning your hair.

"Oh toots, that's not a regular flower, it's a freaky sex flower. It's used as an ingredient in the love potion Val makes," Angel says somberly, leaning forward to get a better look. "How long ‘ave ya had it on ya?" He asks with genuine concern. "It can be pretty potent when undiluted." He finishes with a worried frown.

"Probably a little over an hour," you say, beginning to freak out. "How long does it take before it starts to affect someone?" You ask, your tone rising with your temperature.

"Well, love potions usually act pretty quick; I'd guess such a concentrated dose of the aphrodisiac, directly from the pollen’s faster ya know?" Angel theorizes aloud.

"Fuck,” you mumble as you pulled the flower from your hair quickly before tossing it into the trash, as if to pretend it never happened. "Is there an antidote I could possibly take?" You enquire, your tone laced with apprehension.

"Nope, ya gotta fuck someone to get it out of ya system," Angel replied, trying his best not to laugh. "Ya know, I've actually got someone I could ca-"

"NO." You blurt out instantly to shut his idea down. "I mean," you clear your throat uncomfortably, then finish hurriedly, "that's not necessary, but thank you for offering."

"Okay but, you're in for more than mild discomfort if ya don't find someone to help ya." Angel warns you, still trying to get you to see the situation clearly.

"I can handle myself; just please don't tell anyone." You ask the spider demon, deciding to keep this development a secret. You fail to notice the shadow in the corner that had been listening the entire time. You stand up, a wave of arousal shooting straight to your core making you feel almost dizzy.

Composing yourself as much as you can, you bid farewell to Angel Dust and head towards the staircase. As your footsteps lead you closer to the next floor, you grip the railing for support as a particularly painful bolt of arousal sweeps through you, causing an intense ache in between your thighs. When the pain level rises from mild discomfort to something more, you begin to move as quickly as you can down the hallway to your room.

Reaching your room at long last, you hastily grab the doorknob only for your sweaty, clammy hands to slide right off if it. Struggling with the knob for what feels like an eternity, you finally manage to get it open and gain access to your room. Slamming it shut behind you with a bang, you throw yourself onto your bed as another sharp ache wracks your body.

Deciding to take matters into your own hands, you open the drawer to your nightstand, reaching around until you feel the cool silicon material of your most trusted toy. With a sound of triumph, you pull the vibrator out and set it onto the bed. Turning it on with a click, you pull your panties to the side and bring the pulsating object to rest on your throbbing clit as a loud moan of relief rips itself from your mouth.

Your pussy already soaked from the effects of the pollen, the toy slides right into you with ease and you cry out in relief. You can't remember a time this ever felt so good. The toy vibrates right where you need it and the feeling of an orgasm creeps up quickly. Your back arches off the bed as you finish loudly. The toy continues buzzing as you lay there in the aftershock of it.

Pressing the button to turn the device off, a contented sigh leaves your lips as you remove the vibrator from your cunt with a wet noise. The relief your orgasm brought is short-lived, however. because the painful aching feeling quickly returns. Your walls clench and spasm needily around nothing but air. A feeling of desperation quickly rises inside you.

Just as the tears of frustration are about to fall from your wide, blown-out eyes, you hear a knock at the door. Hastily, you shove the sex toy away in its drawer and you pull your panties and skirt back into their proper place. Lurching towards the door as hastily as you can, you try your best to avoid falling amid the dizzy feeling that overtakes you.

Another knock sounds, followed by Alastor's voice calling out, "Everything alright, my dear?" Just the very sound of his voice has your cunt gushing, the aching sensation heightening to a new degree.

Trying to appear as composed as you can, you open the door and greet him, "Hey Alastor, I'm feeling just fine."

"Are you quite sure about that? You look rather flushed," He says, his gaze on your red, damp, complexion. Alastor places his hand on your face and your pulse quickens, you feel as if your blood is boiling you alive. You’d do anything to have his hands lower, where you ache the most.

Letting out an audible gasp, you cut it off before it fades into a moan, the sensation of his skin on yours sending a pleasurable tingling down to your very core.

"I just don't think that's true." Alastor states, pushing his way past you into your room. You stumble, and he reaches a hand out to steady you, gripping your arm firmly.

When Alastor touches you this time, an embarrassing, obscene, moan leaves your lips. The warmness of his skin makes the point of contact feel as if it is on fire. You wonder briefly, Would he touch me there, if I asked him to?

"Whatever is the matter, darling? Could it be that you need something? You'll have to use your words if there’s something you desire." He finishes, smirking down at you.

"I want you to touch me, please." You whine needily as you look up at him. Your eyes shine with desperation.

"Ah, I'm afraid you'll have to be a bit more specific, dear, as I am already touching you." He says, voice full of his usual snark. His signature smile widens, gaze falling to where his hand is still on your forearm, steadying you. You look away bashfully before his other clawed hand comes up to cradle your chin, tilting it up so your gaze meets his crimson one.

"Alastor, please, be kind to me just this once." You plead, voice soft.

"I'm being plenty kind, checking up on you, asking how you're faring, and what you might need." Alastor says, his tone warning. "Now tell me what you need, in better detail." His commanding tone leaves no room for disobedience.

Giving him one last pleading look, you let out a breathy sigh before letting the words fall from your lips, "I need you to touch my cunt, please, Alastor."

"There; that wasn't so hard now was it, my dear?" He says with a winning smile. Alastor pushes you back up against the door, caging you in with his much larger body. He lets his hand trail agonizingly slowly down the curve of your breasts, before playing with the hemline of your skirt. "I could do anything to you right now and you would thank me for it wouldn't you, darling?" Alastor remarks, his grin widening almost sinisterly.

"Yes, please, please help me relieve this burning and aching. I can't take much more." You almost sob out.

"Well, now, we shan’t keep a lady waiting then. I do have manners after all." He declares before hooking his hand in the waistband of your skirt. With a firm yank, he has the garment falling down to your feet. Alastor quickly rips your panties to shreds with a flick of his sharp claws. His fingers find your throbbing clit and begin tracing circles.

"Ah, ah, yes please." You moan in relief, his fingers already providing so much more comfort than your own did. It feels so divine. Bringing his other hand down, he slips one finger into your soaking cavern. Alastor starts pumping it in and out of you as you lean against the door for support. Adding a second digit, and then a third, your lips form an ‘o’ of pleasure. The nosies his fingers make as they push in and out of you are almost pornographic.

It feels pleasurable, but you find yourself craving more, the throbbing you feel in your cunt needing something much bigger. "Please sir, I need more. I want your cock." You beg prettily.

"I'm inclined to reward you for asking so politely." Alastor remarks. Pulling his hand out of you, he brings your juices to his mouth, licking his fingers clean. The movement almost distracts you from the empty feeling between your legs. Before the aching sensation has a chance to return he's spinning you around, face pressed against the wall, bent at the waist. The motion forces your cunt up so he has a better view of it.

Licking his lips hungrily, Alastor takes one hand off your lovely form to undo his trousers. You hear the sound of the zipper moving down before his massive cock springs free. Without warning, he is shoving all of those so many inches inside of you, burying himself to the hilt. He lets out a shuddering groan feeling your tight warmth around him.

You wail as you feel the tip of him press into your cervix. This is the feeling of fullness you’ve been dying for.

"That's it, isn't it, my doe. You just needed to be filled by my cock, didn't you?" He coos softly into your ear, each word punctuated by a hard thrust. His hips snap into yours, each upward movement sending the most delicious sparks through your body.

"Yes Alastor; I needed you," You moan out as his movements become faster and harder. The sound of slapping skin fills the room as his slams his hard member into your dripping cunt. His hand finds its way to your clit again, moving in time with his quickened thrusts. The feeling of your orgasm barreling towards you reaches its peak and you cum on his cock with a shout. Alastor feels your soft pussy walls clenching tighyly around him and he continues to fuck you through your climax, chasing his own release.

With a growl, he finishes inside of you, his cock throbbing as he paints your walls with his cum in powerful spurts. He tightens his claws around your waist, leaving marks on your skin where his sharp tips press into you. Bringing the hand from your oversensitive clit up and away, Alastor strokes your hair gently while you are lost in the haze of fucked-out bliss.

"Tell me; did you really think you could satisfy yourself, my dear? You should have come right to me. Hopefully you are feeling more like yourself now." He hums, pulling out of you gently. Taking you into his arms with ease, he carries you to your bed before tucking you in tenderly. "Rest now darling; your body needs it." He tells you, planting a gentle kiss on your temple. You slip easily into slumber, lulled by the effects of your post-orgasm elation.

#alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #hazbin alastor #alastor x you #alastor x reader #alastor smut #alastor x you smut #alastor x reader smut #sex pollen #hazbin hotel alastor #SeleneZQ

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grunckle · 5 months ago

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On stars, guardians, and Rain World’s cosmology.

One aspect of Rain World lore that’s asked about quite a lot but normally never gets satisfying answers is the topic or Rain World’s space/universe/cosmology. Despite first impressions though, there’s a lot more it than meets the eye, so I thought I would compile most everything we know about it.

For one, to get it out of the way, Rain World isn’t on a planet, and its universe is fundamentally different from our own. This is something Joar has talked about on occasion.

He also said on an earlier dev log how Rain World functions more like a fantasy world where it doesn’t hold much relevance than a real sci-fi like planet.

“Oh, another thing - Rain World isn't a planet lol Cheesy Or I guess it might probably be on a planet, just as Lord of The Rings, Sex And The City, Zelda and Frankenstein's Monster are probably technically on a planet, but just as in those examples the planet aspect isn't really relevant at all. Rain World is more of a fantasy world or a dream world, not somewhere you can go in a space ship ~”

But even if it’s not incredibly relevant, it’s clear a lot of thought was put into Rain Worlds fictional cosmology, this was even mentioned by James.

So, that being said here's what we know about Rain World's cosmology in game.

The biggest indicator of Rain World's unique cosmology is that the Farm Arrays deep pink pearl just mentions celestial spheres, which are aspects of older cosmological models.

"This one is just plain text. I will read it to you. "On regards of the (by spiritual splendor eternally graced) people of the Congregation of Never Dwindling Righteousness, we Wish to congratulate (o so thankfully) this Facility on its Loyal and Relished services, and to Offer our Hopes and Aspirations that the Fruitful and Mutually Satisfactory Cooperation may continue, for as long as the Stars stay fixed on their Celestial Spheres and/or the Cooperation continues to be Fruitful and Mutually Satisfactory." ...May Not as long as the Stars stay fixed on their Celestial Spheres Grey Hand, Impure Blood, Inheritable Corruption, Parasites, or malfunction settle in Your establishment."

More subtly, there's also a mention of the ground colliding with the sky.

"If you leave a stone on the ground, and come back some time later, it's covered in dust. This happens everywhere, and over several lifetimes of creatures such as you, the ground slowly builds upwards. So why doesn't the ground collide with the sky? Because far down, under the very very old layers of the earth, the rock is being dissolved or removed. The entity which does this is known as the Void Sea."

You could chalk this line up to flowery language, but considering the presentation of the rest of the dialogue, it sounds more like an actual aspect of this world.

We know from the Chimney Canopy echo that the sun rises.

"From within my vessel of flesh, I would perch upon this spot to observe the rising of the sun."

And from the top of The Wall we can see the moon and stars (confirmed to be stars by Joar in the previous screenshot, instead of satellites or something else) , which are green!

So, what does this all mean? I think we can entail a few things with what they've given us.

For one, the mention of the ground colliding with the sky implies some sort of firmament, which isn't an unusual concept in the general realm of celestial spheres.

But on the topic of celestial spheres, the pearl actually isn't the only place we see the concept. Guardian halos are very similar to depictions of celestial spheres, and also astrological clocks.

You can make of this as you will, perhaps the astrological references being tied to guardians could hint at the nature of karma, but there isn't much to really delve into that idea.

For what it's worth, celestial spheres are also core concepts in Gnosticism, which Rain World is heavily inspired by. I explain it more in this post about Void Worms, but for a quick synopsis in Gnosticism there are seven planetary spheres, and an eighth above them; the planets and stars are fixed to their spheres. These things just further cement the fact that celestial spheres seem to be a key aspect of Rain World's cosmology, and it would also likely imply it's universe follows a geocentric model.

For a bit of a more out-there theory, people have pointed out how the view atop the wall stretches really far, going far beyond what we could see on a spherical planet like Earth, which has led some to theorize that the world is also flat.

But what is probably the most important aspect of Rain World's cosmology is the nature of dust. Dust builds up, and the bedrock of the world is eaten away at by the Void Sea. Civilizations rise and fall into the sea as new ones are built above it. Many, including myself, believe that the world exists in a sort of state of equilibrium. The world is dissolved from the bottom, then that falls back on the world as dust; even in the final moments of the game we see dust suspended in the void sea depths.

And hey, even void worms are described as being star-like.

"Oh, interesting. This is a diary entry of a pre-Iterator era laborer during the construction of the subterranean transit system south of here. In it they describe restless nights filled with disturbing dreams, where millions glowing stars move menacingly in the distance."

Cyclical, recursive, something else entirely? We can never really pin down the true nature of Rain World's cosmology, but the things we do get hint at something strange and unique. It's such an interesting aspect of the lore, and it seems like Videocult will continue to make mysterious cosmologies in their future projects...

#rain world lore #rain world #rain world spoilers #videocult

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diejager · 1 year ago

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I humbly request more monster!141 if that’s okay? Maybe one where the reader is actually in danger or taken hostage by another group and they go nearly feral trying to find them? Meanwhile reader is just making the other group’s life hell because I mean they work with monsters, this is nothing.

Of course, you even said humbly, I love how cute you are. I give you Hunter being a menace to the Shadow Company.

Hostage Situation

He doesn’t know where it went wrong, how everything went tits-up within seconds. At first, they were treading through a somber and thick forest, using their NVG to guide them in the dark; then they were ambushed, pushed to their own corner with the number of resurfacing Shadows, thralls without their master; and lastly, in those panicked minutes, you were taken, whisked away by the vampire thralls.

They grew frantic when they regrouped, seeing you missing and unresponsive to any calls. The first thing they did was plan for your rescue, standing around the table with Laswell on screen, voices being thrown around with their own opinions and thoughts. It didn’t help Price’s anxiety, only adding to his fear and anger. His tailed whipped and his wing jerked behind him, smoke leaving his mouth in slow, small clouds, but he knew you were capable, able to hold your own with a group of monsters and hybrids without much trouble like you did with them.

“Hunter’s smart, resourceful, tricky, able,” Price sighed, pressing his whole weight on the table. “I’m sure they know what to do with monsters.”

“Much like us, aye?”

“Very.”

With everything set and a plan made, they shipped out to the protected base, grey boxes built on cemented ground in a lush forest. It was unusually barren, with only a few guards patrolling the perimeter and a tense atmosphere. It was suspicious the way they acted and the jerky manner of guarding, back too straight and limbs too tightly wound. They did quick work of them, spraying their blood on the floor and moving forward, head clear and bodies taunt with caution.

They heard bickering, a familiar voice ringing around them and another more masculine one, this one sounding sad and sobbing. They were talking about something, vampiric in essence with a touch of sadness and trauma to it. They approached the source, an open door with a yellow glow lighting the surrounding areas of the wide entrance. The closer they got, the clearer the discussion was, it wasn’t between two people, it was between you and a whole mass of vampire thralls.

“Are you kidding me?” Price heard you scoffed, he imagined you had your arms crossed, a frown adorning your loving face while you stared them down, the mass of thralls lost without their master. “I know you cared about him and all, but he’s dead. He has no control over your minds and bodies, and you know what that means?”

“We’re lost?” The voice was hesitant, seemingly scared of you.

“Fuck’s sake! No! What are you? A lost puppy? Mindless without his master?” You hissed at them, he heard you shift, your boots thumping on the ground as you landed. “What do you want to do? What have you wanted to do before being under his control? Eternal servitude until he throws you away? To serve until you die from a hunter - what were they called… paladins?”

He listened to you berate the group, shaming them about their decisions, acting on the accords of a dead master. Without his influence or his control, being enthralled into doing something he wants or orders, they were lost, much like a puppy without his mother or caretaker. Some had been under him for decades, mind empty apart from Graves’ whims and plans, while others were much, much younger, serving under him only for a few years without much plans outside of the Shadow Company. Those left and thought for themselves, finding something to put their minds on like Mace or Roze.

When the group started murmuring, sharing words between them at your questions, the decided to move in, pushing past the entrance and aiming their rifles at the vampires. They froze, red eyes staring widely at them in what Price would perceive as fear or surprise, none moved, standing or sitting still, but you moved, face broken in a wide smile and eyes gleaming joyfully. You ran to his arms, wrapping them around his waist, being careful not to grab onto his wing.

“Don’t worry about them, I beat them down enough,” you shot him an innocent smile, as if you had no hand in making them all cower and shake hours ago. “Let’s go, hmm?”

Price wanted to scoff, he wanted to laugh and he also wanted to smile and hold you in his arms (he did, wrapping his thick arms around your waist and gripping onto your gear with his clawed fingers, talons threatening to dig into the cloth), but he had to get you home and the thralls disposed off in any way: dead, disappeared, gone or cutting ties with the Shadows.

“C’mon, love.”

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @yeetusspagheetus @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973

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i-heart-slashers · 7 months ago

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Get Your Girl

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | Paul x female!reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | They thought it was just another night on the boardwalk until Paul catches a scent that will change his afterlife forever.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 1 k

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | mentions of weed

Santa Carla is a place where the night holds secrets darker than the shadows themselves. The boardwalk gleams under the moonlight, a shimmering array of colors and sounds that lulled both humans and vampires alike.

Those said vampires prowled the night with their senses keen and alert as always as they sought out their next bit of entertainment... or meal. They roamed the boardwalk at night, their shadows blending seamlessly with the darkness, their whispers carrying secrets of centuries past.

On one such night, Paul found himself trailing behind David and the others. The air was thick with anticipation, charged with something new—maybe it was that new strain of weed he'd smoked after they'd woken up.

He could feel the energy tingling on his skin, urging him forward.

That's when he caught a whiff of something intoxicating, a scent that pulled at the primal instincts buried deep within him. This aroma called out to him like a siren's song.

He glanced at David, whose eyes gleamed with a knowing glint. "Follow your nose, Paul," David murmured, his voice low and commanding.

And so, Paul did.

He wasn't the best tracker in the group, but he let the tantalizing scent guide him through the mass of people on the boardwalk. Neon lights cast a kaleidoscope of colors on the area, and the air was alive with laughter and music, mingling with the salty tang of the ocean.

With his senses attuned to the mysterious scent that beckoned him, he walked, Marko and Dwayne, flanking him, trying to keep his focal point on that scent. David followed behind as he watched the usually wild vampire, keeping an unusually calm focus.

As Paul ambled along, the intoxicating scent thickened and danced upon the breeze, weaving its way into his senses with a seductive allure. It was unlike anything he had ever encountered, a symphony of sweetness and floral notes that set his veins on fire.

He followed the scent like a moth drawn to flame until he stood before a group of girls, their laughter ringing like chimes in the night.

Without thinking, Paul leaned closer, his nose brushing against the hair of one of the girls. He inhaled deeply, his senses drowning in her scent, which enveloped him like a warm embrace, flooding his senses with a dizzying rush of desire.

He closed his eyes, savoring the moment, pushing his nose further into her hair, and realized with a jolt of recognition that this was the scent he had been searching for, the one whose scent had called out to him across the night.

Feeling someone touching your hair, you turned around, your eyes wide with surprise, as you caught sight of a guy sniffing you. He was a tall blond with wild hair, but an expression of pure pleasure lit up his handsome features.

Paul could see the confusion flickering in your gaze, the wariness that danced on the edge of your expression. And yet, there was something else there, too, something he couldn't quite name.

You lifted a hand to your hair, your fingers brushing against the spot where he had pressed his nose. The two of you locked eyes for a moment, just gazing at the other.

For a fleeting instant, time stood still. In that moment, Paul saw eternity reflected in the depths of your gaze, a universe of possibilities unfolding before him. But before he could speak, a playful smile danced upon your lips.

Eyes sparkling with mischief, you leaned in to press your nose in his hair and inhale his scent, your expression softening with amusement. "You smell like weed," You remarked with a playful giggle. Your words laced with an enchanting charm that ensnared Paul's senses even further.

Paul blinked, taken aback by your words. He had expected fear, revulsion even, but instead, there was only curiosity. He found himself smiling in response, a warmth spreading through him at the sound of your laughter.

"Can I have some?" You say playfully as Paul takes the joint he had placed behind his ear, the one he had rolled in for himself in excitement for a late-night smoke, and held out to you wordlessly.

Taking the offered joint, you gave him a surprise laugh as you held it. You thanked him with a sweet smile that he hoped he'd see more of, and he moved to speak.

Before he could say anything, however, your friends appeared at your side, tugging you away with a knowing grin. Paul watched them tug you away, his heart heavy with longing.

He knew then, with a certainty that bordered on instinct, that he had found his mate.

With a parting glance, you offered him a smile that ignited something deep within his soul, a spark of recognition that left him breathless in its wake. As you disappeared into the crowd, Paul stood rooted to the spot, his mind awash with a whirlwind of emotions.

A hand clapped him on the shoulder, and Paul turned to see Dwayne standing beside him. There was a gleam in Dwayne's eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the bond that had formed between Paul and you just now went beyond human recognition.

"She was something, isn't she?" Dwayne said, his voice low and amused as Marko and David both realized who you were— it looks like they'll be gaining a sister soon.

Paul nodded, unable to tear his gaze away from the spot where you had vanished into the night as his dead heart began to ache, wanting to rush after you. "She's everything," he whispered, his voice barely a breath against the ocean's roar.

Marko bounces as he grins, a flash of his teeth glinting in the moonlight as he throws his arm around Paul with an excitable aura. "Well then," he said, shaking Paul as Dwayne and David sighed at their 'terror twins.' "It looks like we've got ourselves a mission. Let's go get your girl."

#the lost boys 1987 #the lost boys #the lost boys x reader #horror slashers #slashers #horror #tlb #paul lost boys #the lost boys imagine #tlb imagine #x reader #reader insert #the lost boys paul #female insert #vampire mates #vampire lover

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ohdeerfully · 8 months ago

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hi! I have a request, I've never really done this before but I'll give it a shot. so my request is that Charlie is tasked by heaven to watch over a very special human soul via a device that is like a full 360 VR kind of setup and this soul just so happens to be Alastor's immortal wife (he didn't know she was) whom he thought had died with him during a bad event and wound up in heaven but she didn't and She stayed the same since the 1930s like her looks stayed the same and her love for Alastor stayed too she never once tried to move on even when her new friends in this time tried to get her a guy but she just refused still wearing the wedding ring her gave her

I hope it's not too much to ask it can be changed to whatever you see if you have full creative control over it!

thank you for your brain anon

theres a couple awkward POV shifts in the story and im super duper sorry about that D: im not good at those

An Eternity

alastor x reader (angst) TW: reader is female, reader gets a lil drunk and drives but shes fine(i do not condone this pls dont drink and drive im so serious), yearning goes ouchie ):

join my discord!

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Alastor rarely, if ever, talked about his time alive. He saw it pointless; a waste of time and energy. How could it benefit him if somebody else knew his history? If anything, it would only open up weak points. And, being an Overlord, he couldn’t afford that.

The only hint of his past was a band on his finger that he never took off. Even after decades in Hell, nobody saw him without it.

People often asked, of course, because how in the Hell did the Radio Demon get hitched? Even in life, he was probably just as unusual and off putting. These questions were always met with a dismissive wave and a laugh, but anybody who knew him—which wasn’t many, truly—would recognize the strain in his voice as he brushed them off. Whatever the story was seemed to only grow more painful with time.

He was deep in thought, humming absently as he trailed through the hotel. He ended up meandering by Charlie’s room, which was cracked open. He took this as an invitation to let himself in, cheerfully grinning as he saw the girl sitting on the edge of her bed looking extremely confused.

“Hello, dear!” He announced himself, standing up straight and fixing his bowtie with one hand. “What does this afternoon have in store for the Princess of Hell?”

“Heyy, Al,” Charlie responded, still frowning at the contraption in her hand. It was a rather bulky thing; an unappealing piece of new technology, Alastor decided. Still, he loomed from behind Charlie with a curious bend in his neck. Her shoulders were stiff, and he couldn’t tell if it was from frustration with the thing in her hand or discomfort at him watching her.

“What is that peculiar thing?” He finally asked, since Charlie made no attempt at explanation. She seemed too focused to really pay him any mind.

“Something Heaven gave me to watch some curious soul they can’t control,” She murmured, fiddling with a couple buttons and knobs. “They’ve got me doing some ridiculous things. I mean, some human soul shouldn’t even concern me. But, they promise these favors will help with my hotel.”

Alastor hummed in response. He of all demons would recognize a manipulation tactic when he saw one—convincing a powerful demon princess to do your chores and promising to help her desperate project in return seemed like something the angels would do. He didn’t care one way or another, as long as Charlie’s naivete didn’t get in the way of his own goals.

He took a few steps back when Charlie stood, seemingly finished with setting up the box. He grinned, amused, when she pulled it over her head. It wasn’t the most flattering thing, and pretty bulky on her face. She looked ridiculous, honestly.

“Modern technology,” He sighed dramatically, leaning down onto his cane as he continued to observe her. “Only getting uglier.”

Charlie didn’t respond to his comment, looking around at what Alastor saw as nothing. She played around with the settings again, and adjusted the straps on her head again, before looking around again. She let out a successful sounding “hell yes” before pulling a remote of sorts from her pocket. She pushed on a joystick.

“What are you doing?” Alastor asked plainly, the building curiosity finally becoming too much. “Why do you have a box on your head?”

“It’s like…” She began to explain, trying to think of how to make sense of it to him. “Like… imagine you were looking through the eyes of somebody else, but still standing in the same spot..?” Her voice tilted at the end, unsure of her explanation.

Yeah, no, Alastor had no clue. But he dismissed it as unnecessary, as he often did with any technology he couldn’t understand.

“I’m seeing… Earth, I guess,” Charlie explained more. “Following around this girl.”

Alastor was only partially listening, humming quietly to himself as he just observed. He wondered if he should just leave—nothing interesting was happening. He was curious to see what antics Heaven was pushing on the Princess of Hell, though.

“Wanna try?” Charlie offered, lifting the headset up away from her eyes. Alastor immediately scrunched his nose up and narrowed his eyes.

“And look as ridiculous as you? Hah! No thank you,” He sat down on a chair near the wall, leaning against the back of it. He threw one leg up over the other. Charlie shrugged in response, and pulled the contraption back down.

Alastor sat for a while, absently thinking about what he wanted to do later as he waited for something to happen.

“Oh! Hold on,” Charlie suddenly said, causing Alastor’s ears to straighten to attention as she reached up and pressed a button. A holographic projection appeared out of nowhere, manifesting through some strange magic. “Forgot I could do that. This is what I’m seeing in here.”

Alastor stood and walked closer, leaning forward on his cane as he studied the projection. It seemed like some kind of bar. He mused at how different modern bars looked from the speakeasies he would frequent during his own life.

“What heavenly task are you doing in a bar?” He joked, trying to find something interesting in the projection. It just seemed like generic bar business. Loud, flirtatious women and boisterous, over confident men. That, at least, was the same from his day.

“Like I said earlier,” Charlie explained, looking around the room. The projection seemed to follow her movement, and Alastor recognized that he was basically seeing through her eyes. How curious. “There’s some… soul they lost control of. And they want me to report to them about her.”

Alastor was very curious to see what kind of soul broke from control of literal heaven. He watched rather intently, leaned forward against his cane to watch the projection.

Charlie turned another knob, and the sound of tacky pop music and loud chatter began to emanate from the bar scene. Alastor wasn’t a fan of newer music, but he was often forced to listen anyway in the hotel lobby.

“Is it possible to turn down that dreadful noise?” He complained to her, announcing his dissatisfaction.

“No. I need to be able to hear what the woman is saying,” Charlie answered stubbornly. Alastor’s microphone of a cane began to obnoxiously play a song of his choice for a moment in retaliation, but died down after a few moments. After all, Charlie ignored his attempt at aggravation, so there was no point in keeping it up.

Charlie looked around the bar, searching. Finally, her gaze settled on a fancier booth with half drawn curtains. From her angle, she could only see a woman. She looked frustrated.

“---get out of your shell! It’s about time you start talking to some guys for once,” Charlie caught the tail end of the woman’s statement. She was gesturing wildly around, exasperation evident in the jagged movements. “I’m sick of watching you pine for somebody who’s been gone for ages.”

★

“Ten years isn’t ages, Mechiele,” You drew your finger against the table, making shapes with the rim of water that the condensation from your glass left. Nearly a hundred years, more like, You commented to yourself. You never told anybody that you were an immortal being. Nobody believed you when you did, anyway.

You sat your cheek against the palm of your hand and lifted your gaze to your friend, who looked at you with a sharp frown. You shot her a weak smile.

“Can you just drop it?” You asked, nearly pleading. You didn’t want to cry tonight, being a little tipsy—you were an emotional drunk. You didn’t want to embarrass yourself blabbering about a dead husband.

“Come on,” Mechiele said impatiently, pushing your pleas aside. “There’s so many hot guys in here, I bet one would just love to take a piece of work like you home and-”

“Mechiele.” You hoped your tone was enough to shut her up.

You should’ve known better, honestly. Mechiele was already abrasive when she was sober, but with the amount of drinks she’s had tonight…

“No, no, no! You bum! Get your ass up right now and get out there! And take that ring off while you’re at it!”

Mechiele quickly lunged at you, a much too playful look in her eye considering how pissed you were right now. You yanked your arm away from her grasp, cupping your hand protectively with the other, shielding the golden band on your finger from her.

“Fucking drop it!” You snapped at her, standing from your seat. “I’m going home. You’re too drunk. I’ll drive.”

“You’re so fucking lame,” Mechiele droned, falling back into her seat. She wouldn’t budge when you urged her to stand and come with you. “He’s fuckin’ dead! Get a new man, already! Alastor’s not-”

Mechiele stopped abruptly when you smacked her. It wasn’t an incredibly hard smack or anything, barely enough to leave a red bloom on her cheek, but it was enough. She looked at you through narrowed eyes. You returned the same expression.

You left the booth and stormed off, cursing under your breath about it all. About Mechiele, about this stupid bar, about the tipsy feeling in your head, about Alastor—

You folded your arms together as you briskly walked to your car, yelling in frustration at your heels and ripping them off your feet. The ground was a little wet and cold, but you didn’t care. After making it to your car, you threw yourself in an switched it on.

You thought for a few moments. You were lightheaded after a few drinks, but you really didn’t want to wait for a taxi. You’d probably be fine, yeah? Sure. Against your better judgment, you began to drive.

It was a long drive, but it gave you some time to think.

You missed him. You pined for him. Nearly every night was agony, missing the presence of the only man you’ve ever fallen in love with.

You cursed whatever higher power there was for making you this way—immortal. How cruel it was, to make you live forever to suffer this longing. You didn’t even notice when you ended up in your room, but you let yourself fall face first onto your bed, curling up into a ball.

Even more, you cursed yourself for ever falling in love. You should’ve known it would only lead to an endless torture of heartbreak. You would never love anybody the same; although, you don’t think you’d want to, even if you could.

You were born to suffer. To spend an eternity in life without him.

★

Charlie continued to watch in shock for a few moments, her mouth dropped at the mention of the Radio Demon’s name. The previously hidden woman stepped from the bar, a furious look in her eyes as she stormed away. Mechiele was left with stubbornly folded arms and an empty glass of alcohol.

“Heyyy, uh, Al, how common is your name..? Do you know…” Charlie asked a bit awkwardly. She got no response. She lifted the headset, and realized he was gone. Even still, there seemed to be a lingering feeling of intense static, and the air somehow felt a bit heavier than before.

★

This had to be some cruel, sick joke, right? Heaven had to be toying with him, finally finding a way to torture his soul. His wife—she was dead. It had been nearly a hundred years since he died, and even if she had lived till she was old—

Alastor was pacing his room, ears pinned and eyes wide in frantic thought. Oh, how he yearned for her. He had managed for so long to push the memory of her away, to lock up his loss in a tight cage as he climbed the ranks of hell; it had all come rushing, barreling, torrenting back when he had seen her—or, no, somebody that looked like her—step out of those curtains. It was only a coincidence that that woman looked like his wife, and only a coincidence that she had a dead husband that shared his name.

His wife was in heaven, no doubt; which was where she belonged, of course, but Alastor had spent the last decade pining for somebody who he could never see again. If given the choice, Alastor wasn’t so sure himself if he was kind enough as to not tear her soul from Heaven and down to Hell by his side. Alternatively, even if Charlie’s idea of redemption were to work, Alastor was truly irredeemable. It was all wistful thinking, anyway.

Alastor’s claws dug into the curtains of his window, staring out into the streets of Hell in an attempt to concentrate on one steady stream of thought.

When billions of people touch the Earth, it’s only natural that coincidences like this rise. Right? He tried desperately to convince himself of different possibilities. It just made no sense.

A knocking at his door made Alastor’s grin curl in deadly malice. He really wasn’t in the mood.

He paced to his door, opened it just enough to fit his body in the frame, and glared down at Charlie. She was wringing her hands together nervously, and only seemed to grow more timid as the heavy, almost palpable ambience of his radio static filled the hallway she stood in.

“I’m busy,” Alastor said bluntly. His lips were curled in a sneer.

“I can tell,” Charlie responded. "I know you don't like talking about yourself-" She began to ramble on about him talking to her about his feelings and whatnot, but Alastor didn’t listen as he shut the door again.

Though, the interruption did give his mind a chance to slow. He sat on a chair in the corner of his room, and opted to fiddle with the radio on the drawer next to him. He tuned it—or, more just magically infused it—to play some jazz to try to keep his head level.

It would take some time to rebuild the dam that held back the memories of his wife. Even just the mere thought of her made him feel weak, and he hated it. The only soul he was capable of falling in love with—gone, forever.

Alastor never took the whole “eternity of damnation” thing seriously, considering the power he held and how comfortable he really was in Hell. However, when he remembered her—

Hell truly was torture. And he was cursed to spend his eternity in death without her.

#ohdeerfully #hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader angst #angst #mutual pining OM NOM NOM NOM #i love angst im sorry guys

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sorrowfulmuse · 1 year ago

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Can I request a OPLA sanji x fem!reader fluffy story please? If you don’t like writing for Sanji, I’d also be fine with OPLA Luffy or OPLA Buggy.

Please and thank you. :)

♡ :: "opla!sanji x fem!reader." short imagine!

mentions/warnings:: nothing, just two pirates being in love although others had misunderstandings about your relationship but.. watch out for typos and whatnot, i am writing this at 4am TT also this will be a simple imagine as i’m rusty and didn’t know what prompt i should’ve used. 😭

p.s im sorry it took me so long!!! i got caught with a few things and almost finished it last night

✧ soft secret kisses being shared, longing touches and love affirmations being whispered into each others ears. sanji was floating on cloud9 every time he was near y/n, no other person could amount to her. not even a Goddess could compare to her beauty and light. she was everything to him, his universe.

sanji relished in her presence every time he was near her, his heart drumming to every kiss she left on his lips and ‘i love yous’. she was his own personal paradise. she hung the stars for him and he worshiped her for it.

although, in love and happy.. they never stated in their relationship to others, were they both single? were they long time friends? ex lovers perhaps? sanji being a flirt again? people had only guessed and assumed they both spoken for by other people. today, was very different that from that spotlight cause well,

"my love, you have to keep your eyes closed!" sanji laughed as he tried his best to guide to this ‘gift’ he kept talking about for weeks. "oh cmon handsome! can’t i just take a little peak?" y/n.. trying to use her charms against him was to no avail, sanji wasn’t going to give up and continued to lead her to his gift. "i wanna see your reaction so no peaks!"

y/n's palms were sweating, when questioned? she could only blame it on the summers heat. she was nervous, nervous about what sanji could possibly gift her. were they running away from the culinary life? the overbearing thoughts had consumed her in the worst ways possible until,

"okay, we’re here." he whispered in her ear, sending a shiver down her back. she almost didn’t want the blindfold off soon as the bright lights were hard to adjust to. "why.." now she was left speechless, a little hidden spot on a island, sanji had decorated the nature around them with beautiful colorful lanterns, bouquets filled with many sweets of her favorite candies and flowers. petals laid on the ground, kissed by more roses after roses.

"sanji.. what is this?" it was unusual for him to be this quiet.

turning to find him down on knee with a small box in his one palm while the other still held hers. "my y/n, we’ve hip to hip since the moment we were both stuck on that rock with zeff. we stuck with each other as we discovered the same passion for food, owing our own restaurant together and many more.. but i want something more than that. no, i need more. i want you and i.. to be happy and healthy forever."

tears flooded against y/n's eyes, "i know it’s just a ring but it’ll symbolize something in the future, anything you want! i just.. i.." now sanji was close to tears himself. "y/n.. will you be my wife?" without a word, the girl before him tackled him to the ground crying her heart out. "of course i will sanji!" they both laid there, crying and kissing each other. "oh! i thought you’ll never ask!" y/n giggled, (she knew) throughout the night they celebrated their engagement, celebrating to spending eternity together.

#vinsmoke sanji #opla sanji #opla x reader #opla x y/n #opla scenarios #sanji x reader #one piece sanji #op sanji #sanji icons #sanji imagine #sanji fanfic #sanji fluff #sanji angst #opla!sanji x reader #one piece #one piece live action

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giorno-plays-piano · 10 months ago

Text

Proposal | Gojo, Nanami, Sukuna

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x reader, Kento Nanami x reader, Sukuna Ryomen x reader

Warnings: fluff, some cursing, a little yandere-ish Sukuna, mention of pregnancy

Satoru knows everything about you, including the way you drink your coffee: he generously adds cream and that fancy caramel syrop he bought for the occasion in the cup he prepared for you, giggling like a child. He feels really proud about making his proposal so creative and unusual. Proposing with a cup! Isn't it sweet?

It's hard to keep a straight face when he hands you your coffee, but Satoru is trying so much, leaving a tender kiss on your temple as you smile. Then you're softly tugging him by the collar to make your shamelessly tall boyfriend bend down and give you a real kiss, and he complies without a word. He really knows everything about you, and yet, every single moment you spend together feels like a gift.

As he sits opposite you, devouring warm waffles you made him a couple of minutes ago, he does his best not to shift nervously in his seat. All his thoughts are about the face you'll make once you see the bottom of the cup. If Geto ever asked him about it, Gojo would always reply with the exasperated sigh that you'd accept. He loves you. He knows you love him, too, even if sometimes he turns into a literal manchild with a penchant for drama. But he's caring, soft-hearted, and ready to walk alongside you for the rest of your lives because he can't imagine spending it with anyone else. There's nothing he wouldn't give you.

It feels like you've been together for eternity, but it hasn't even been that long. He just... doesn't want to delay it anymore. What for? He knows he wants to see you in a wedding dress, walking down the aisle and smiling at him, shining in all beauty. Surely, you want the same?

The minute he sees your face changing, Satoru is jumping off his seat, hands shaking a little. You have just finished your coffee. You are now staring at "Will you marry me?" written beautifully at the bottom of the cup with googly eyes, blinking away tears.

The second you turn your head to him, he's already on one knee with a beautiful engagement ring he spent several weeks searching for, dragging Shoko to every decent jewelry store he spotted for "moral support".

You say yes before you even register what's happening, hugging the cup close to your chest like it's your greatest treasure.

Kento Nanami is not a nervous man by a mile, and yet he finds himself furrowing his brows as he pours down your favorite green tea in the new cup he secretly got you, mulling over the fact you might not find his proposal adequate. Wasn't it better to do it the old-fashioned way? Book a nice restaurant, buy you a huge bouquet of red roses, propose like any other decent man on his knee with a fancy ring...

"But it's really getting old," Shoko enlighted him as she handed him a perfectly normal cup in a box, tapping it with her slender finger. "Look, haven't you heard how Gojo proposed to his wife?"

Then Nanami sat there like a fool and listened to that story, questioning himself if the old-fashioned proposal was really the right way to go about it. You did joke he reminded you of an old man sometimes, and he certainly didn't want you to think that when he'd be proposing.

He still wonders how Shoko managed to change his mind in a heartbeat, but what's done is done. You are setting down the table while he is pouring green tea right into that famous cup, knowing you will see its bottom the second you take the cup into your hands.

Kento Nanami realizes he is sweating profusely, the red velvet box with your engagement ring burning a hole through the pocket of his dress pants. Are you going to say yes? There is't a day he was unsure of your feelings, but he can't help feeling a little self-conscious today. You didn't date long, to be fair, and yet he was convinced you were going to be his wife the second time he saw you. It was that simple.

He likes everything about you, regardless of how cringy it sounds when he tries to put it into words. The way you smile at him every morning after waking up, and how you look when you're packing him lunch before he leaves for work, and how your face lights up when he comes back, tired but happy to find you in his home. He is seriously thinking of changing his god-awful corporate job just to spend more time with you because you make him realize how precious the time you share together is. Marrying you is only logical when every moment he spends away from you, he thinks of coming back and having you pressed tightly against his chest.

Do you feel the same way?

He knows you do when you turn to him, smiling so wide it almost hurts, and he's on his knee before you can say a word. The next second, he is putting the ring on your finger and kissing your knuckles as you say yes, laughing, tears streaming down your cheeks.

Sukuna had never planned to propose. Hell no. Him? Marrying some woman? Whoever even joked about it was going to get their ass kicked. He never even cared for serious relationships, much less marriage that was akin shackling himself for some girl's advantage.

No, Sukuna is never going to get married.

And yet, he is standing in the kitchen in nothing but his gray sweats, holding this stupid cup with its stupid "Will you marry me?" all over its damn bottom. He wants to say he hates it, break it, and throw away the fragments before your eyes land on it, but he also sort of... doesn't.

He does want you to stay. Not like his girlfriend who comes and goes, but like... like someone who doesn't leave. Not now, not ever. Sure, he isn't stupid to believe marriages are binding people forever like they were half a century ago - Sukuna thinks it's a shame, really - but he knows you wouldn't leave. Not with a ring on your finger and his child in your tummy. But both things need work, and thus he is now standing in the middle of a kitchen like a fool, dumbly pouring you coffee in that fucking cup that's supposed to help him propose.

What a fucking pain.

"Can you give me my cup, please?" You ask, hurriedly putting his sandwiches in a lunch box for him to eat at work, and Sukuna nearly splashes coffee all over himself.

"Oi, can't you wait one more minute, woman?!" He yells, enraged he almost dropped the dumb cup and ruined the whole thing, and you immediately send him a death glare.

No, meek little girls wouldn't survive a day with Sukuna. You, on the other hand, are ready to fight him at any given moment, which is precisely what you are going to do now.

"I'm only asking for a cup of coffee, not a dry martini with a lemon twist!" You retort, furious at his attitude, and Sukuna does his best not to throw the kettle in the sink, instead shoving the cup into your manicured hands and turning away as quickly as he can.

This is going so wrong. Why can't he be at least a little more patient? It's his goddamn proposal, and he's fucking it up right from the start.

"You forgot to add sugar," you add dryly, and he thinks he's going to explode.

"JUST DRINK THE DAMN COFFEE, WOMAN!"

Maybe it could have scared anyone else, but you are a woman bending aluminum spoons with your stare, and Sukuna's outbursts aren't scaring you. Instead, you scream at him with the same intensity, "WHY SHOULD I DRINK THIS NASTY COFFEE?"

Sukuna is now fully turned to you, his face contorting in anger, "BECAUSE I CAN'T PROPOSE TO YOU WITHOUT IT!"

He realizes what he just said a second too late, slapping himself in disbelief as you're staring at him wide-eyed across the kitchen. What a fucking moron. He should've just proposed in a restaurant or some shit. How was he going to do the right thing now?

But you finish your coffee in two big gulps and then stare at the bottom of the cup with a dumbfounded expression like you never in a million years expected him to propose. Your eyebrows are so high on your forehead it almost looks comical.

"Are you for r-"

"Yes," he cuts you off impatiently, and you see, he really is nervous. "So, what? Are you going to marry me or not?"

He's going the wrong way about it from start to finish, and yet, it doesn't deter you as you nod, unable to utter a word. He has finally managed to leave you speechless.

Nice, Sukuna thinks before he draws you to him, giving you a heated kiss before you have the time to ask him why the hell couldn't he propose normally. Then he says, "Your dress fitting is on Tuesday. I'll text you the address."

"SUKUNA, WHAT THE FUCK?!"

________

Tags: @minshookie29

#sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader

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sunkendreams · 10 months ago

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uhh asking for a request of bo and just anything that involves with duct tape 😭😭 gagging or bounding im happy either way

Also love ur work! 🩷💖

souvenir.

➾ pairing ; bo sinclair x fem!reader.

in which bo decides that he’ll take you as his souvenir — a pretty hiker lost in ambrose.

format: one-shot — requested.

word count: 5.3K.

warnings: SMUT (mdni), DUBCON, drugging, kidnapping, bondage (tape and chains), restraints, cunnilingus, oral sex (f!receiving), fingering, groping, knifeplay, rough sex, p in v sex, different positions, spitting, choking, bruising, hair-pulling, scratching, marking, use of pet names (good girl, sweetheart, etc.), dom/sub dynamics, begging, dirty talk, edging, creampie, unprotected sex, bo is definitely not nice in this fic

author’s note: this is definitely more of a darker fic, but I actually loved writing it ,,, nothing like gross and horny sex with bo sinclair to get the blood flowing! I hope you all enjoy! Still working on requests, I’m hoping to post a few things this week since I’ve been so busy!

Warm, glittering rays of a vibrant Louisiana sun cut through the thick canopy of trees and marshland, bathing your face in a haze of heat. It was midday — hot and sticky, accompanied by a stifling humidity that was prevalent in the South, not terribly far from a saltwater coastline.

Beneath you was the grass — clutches of wildflowers blossomed amongst strands of emerald, a temporary refuge for you to rest as you savored the outdoors. A town sat in the near-distance, baking away underneath the sun, as evidenced by the paint wearing thin and the asphalt looking gray instead of black.

You’d been hiking by yourself — that was your first mistake. Too brazen and bold enough to be without the company of your friends, and now, subject to the ire of Ambrose’s hidden devils.

It was akin to ringing the dinner bell when Lester had caught wind of your presence through the scope of a well-used Barrett. Once he’d informed Bo over a very colorful phone call, your fate was sealed, doomed to become another pretty fixture in the House of Wax.

There was no getting out of Ambrose — you just didn’t know it yet.

As the glaring sun began to slip behind the verdant canopy above you, you took it as a sign to relocate, trekking the short distance toward the quaint town. You could hear the general buzz and chatter of townsfolk, but there wasn’t a soul in-sight — the ones that were, confined to their eternal tombs.

“Nobody’s home.” You murmured, thumbing the thick straps of your backpack as you sauntered down the middle of the road, glancing at some of the vehicles lining the road. Some appeared brand-new, others showing signs of weathering.

You passed the gas station and row of various houses, making your way toward the church. The distant hum of an organ guided your path, leading you to the steps and to the devil himself.

Bo Sinclair stood in front of a set of white doors, a cigarette hanging from his mouth, a bead of sweat glistening upon his brow. He wore his Sunday best to look the part, gaze flickering toward your pretty, doe-eyed countenance when you’d stopped a few feet away.

A cloud of billowing smoke drifted into the air, a thin gray wisp that dissipated into the staggering heat. He appraised you in an unusual silence, drinking you in, shamelessly admiring the way your jeans clung to your body. Bo’s own fascination was nearly palpable — he still wondered what possessed a girl to go hiking alone.

Maybe you were stupid — he didn’t think so.

“Sermon getting to you?” You hadn’t intended to come off as simpering or awkward, gesturing toward the cigarette in the stranger’s mouth. A chattering ambiance and piano music emanated from inside of the church, and you felt severely underdressed in the presence of this man — the only one you’d seen in the town so far.

A huff escaped him as he ashed his cigarette, granules of charcoal floating towards the steps. “Might need another cigarette if that’s the case,” Bo chortled, taking another long drag. He ogled you again, jaw tensing as he sized you up, unbeknownst to you. “You lost?”

You would do perfectly — prettiest thing he’d seen in ages, that much was for certain.

Bo’s mind worked differently than yours, sinister and callous when compared to your innocuous demeanor. Whilst you stood along the picket-fence, contemplating about finding a good drink of water, Bo was picturing you strapped down to his bed, clothes cut away.

“A little bit,” It was painful for you to confess to being lost, considering how many times you’d traversed the backwoods of Louisiana. The sound of your voice was enough to momentarily sever Bo’s salacious train of thought, watching as you picked at the fading paint along the fence. “Do you know if there’s a convenience store around here or anything?”

He shook his head, motioning down the street. “Closed for th’day, I’m afraid. Lookin’ for somethin’ in particular?” Bo asked, attempting to lay the foundation for you, building a rapport that was surely to break once he got his hands on you. It was all about the building.

You shrugged, withering away beneath the oppressive heat of the midday sun. You wondered how this man was so unusually comfortable within an all-black suit and tie. Nonetheless, you decided to be truthful. “I’m just looking for a quick drink before I hike back to the main road. I��m a little low on water.”

“If you’re willin’ to make the trek, I can take you up to my place. Won’t take long, ten minutes or so.” Bo offered, attempting to sweeten the deal. It was akin to a predator skillfully drawing their prey inward, making it difficult to resist. He took another lengthy drag of his cigarette before smashing it against the concrete with the toe of his boot.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to be a bother,” Admittedly, you felt intrusive — a meddlesome presence amidst a quiet, peaceful town. You felt even worse interrupting a church service, but Bo didn’t seem phased whatsoever. “I don’t want to distract you from church, either.”

Bo scoffed, lips twitching into something sardonic, one hand perched atop his hip. “Don’t think th’good Lord really cares a whole lot for me these days,” He mused, and you couldn’t tell if he was being serious. “Let me take you up there.” He motioned for you to follow him.

Leaving the white chapel behind, you walked alongside him, somewhat smitten by his Southern drawl and charismatic charm. Beads of sweat glistened along his brow, and he promptly loosened his tie as the two of you made it toward a stretch of beaten-up road.

“Name’s Bo, by th’way. Forgot my manners.” Bo mused, making sure to really lay on the flirtation and appeal. It wasn’t hard for him to tell how flustered you were already — and he fully intended on manipulating such a fact.

“Nice to meet you, Bo.” You smiled, cordial and polite as you sauntered alongside him. “How long have you lived here in Ambrose? It seems so far from the rest of civilization.” It was out of reach, away from the rest of the world, a world that was impervious to the sinister deeds of the Sinclairs.

Unfortunately, you were now in their territory, subject to their rules and ire.

Bo chuckled, shamelessly stealing glances at you whenever possible. You were gorgeous — a looker with a sweet demeanor. He wanted to lick that sweetness right off of you, drain it all, keep it for himself. “Lived here for most of my life. Town’s real quiet, jus’ known for the House of Wax.”

Intrigue glistened upon your features, and you recalled the sign that you’d spotted during your hike — Trudy’s infamous House of Wax. The building itself sat in the distance, nestled amongst a cluster of hills. Even that seemed relatively dormant.

“It’s nice here, really peaceful. You must get used to the silence.” You replied, stepping up the incline as Bo gently steadied you with one arm. You murmured a soft ‘thank you’ as a house came into view, rustic yet large. This must’ve been Bo’s home. “Is this it?”

He motioned toward the house, wrapping his tie around his hand as he loosened up his collar. “Yeah, this is it. We’ll go on inside, you can sit an’ I’ll get you fixed up with somethin’ for the road.” Bo chimed, making his way to the front door.

Bo let you inside, gesturing toward the couch and recliner that sat in the living room. It was a very well lived-in home, but you didn’t seem to mind. You moved toward the couch, finally able to sit somewhere comfortable and relax, placing your backpack beside you.

“Thank you for doing this, Bo. I appreciate it.” You piped up, watching as he moved toward the kitchen. The interior of the home felt warm and inviting, littered with plenty of things to look at. There was ample opportunity for Bo to take matters into his own hands.

One of the cupboards in the kitchen had what he needed, a syringe filled with some strange concoction, a thicker liquid. His dark gaze darted toward you, distracted by your surroundings. Bo took the syringe, discreetly keeping it by his side as he stepped behind you, offering you a water bottle.

“‘Course. Heat’s pretty bad in these parts.” He replied, and you immediately unscrewed the lid, greedily drinking several gulps of icy water. Bo was close, hovering above you with a manic look in his eyes.

Before you had time to properly react, his hand closed around the underside of your jaw, squeezing tight to hold you steady. The intrusive, cold prick of a needle digging into your neck made you scream, but Bo had you in a rather uncomfortable chokehold.

“Shh, shh,” He soothed, stroking at your hair. Everything felt numb, and you could no longer feel anything in your arms and legs, reduced to simple tingling sensations. Your cries were in vain, throaty and hoarse as you sank into the couch, limp and lifeless. “Jus’ relax. All that strugglin’ is gonna make it worse.”

Your eyes felt heavy, beginning to close with a weight to them — the last thing you remembered was the glimpse of Bo’s insidious smirk and dark hues before you’d been rendered unconscious.

———————————————————————————

The scratch of duct-tape reverberated around the concrete cellar, obnoxiously close to your ear, causing you to involuntarily wince. The haze of unconsciousness was lifting, but that sound — it made you groan, unpleasant and invasive. You attempted to move as the heaviness wore away in your limbs, but you had no such luck.

You were in the underbelly of some cold, dingy cellar, cement walls lined in grainy polaroids, tools, and obscene amounts of sex toys. An icy, uncomfortable sensation began to pool within the pit of your stomach, and you tried to jerk against the tape around your wrists.

A strange, unsettling chill fluttered about your body, causing you to shudder. Your hiking boots were nowhere to be found, flannel stolen too, leaving you in your shorts and tank top. Something felt intrusive, as if there was an outside presence bearing down on you, crawling beneath your flesh.

Bo was standing at the foot of a strange chair, stained with months-old cruor, dressed differently than before. A pair of mechanic’s coveralls were stained with grease and oil, dark enough to conceal bloodstains. He bit at the strip of duct-tape, clutching it between his teeth as he bound you, keeping you restrained.

“W—Wait,” You babbled, and suddenly, the heightened sensation of fear and startlement blistered through you, visceral and volatile. “Please don’t do this.” Your whimpers fell on deaf ears as Bo continued his mission, sweat layered in a thin sheen along his temples.

Death in a town that wasn’t on the map was a fate worse than any other — you would rot into the ground with no one to find you, only the animals and trees would know; bear witness. You would cease to exist and become a memory, a painful one, eternally trapped within Ambrose.

“You can make this real easy on yourself,” Bo’s husky, dark drawl emerged from the bitter chill of the cellar, roughened hands sliding along your legs. “All you gotta do is behave for me, yeah?” He stood above you, a twisted version of the man you’d met at the church — or perhaps, the real him.

You sucked in a sharp breath, feeling vulnerable and exposed in your current position. Your hands were bound on either side of you with many rings of duct-tape, legs chained to the floor, yet there was some room for you to walk — if that were even possible. You shivered, mostly from the oppressive cold of the basement coupled with fear.

“Please,” Your chest felt tight, fear unfurling from your ribcage as it spread across your body. A shudder rolled down your spine when Bo grabbed your chin, thumb stroking along your lower lip. “Please don’t kill me.”

Something about this place told you that he’d killed before — they’d been in the very same spot that you were now. A sinister, lascivious gleam glimmered within his dark eyes as they raked over your body, lips curling into a smirk.

“Didn’t say anything about killin’ you, beautiful.” Bo corrected, digits beginning to squeeze your chin, putting pressure on your jaw. “But I might change my mind if y’make this hard for me.” His other hand moved toward your shorts, unbuttoning the front as he ripped the zipper down in one swift movement.

You began to squirm, mortified and flustered as you fought against the tape wrapped around your wrists — but it wasn’t any use. “Don’t.” Your voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper as he gave you a pointed look.

Bo scoffed, head cocking to one side. “Be a shame if I gotta shut that pretty mouth of yours, too.” It wasn’t a warning, but a threat, a promise — one that he intended to make good on if you weren’t careful. “Gonna open up for me?” He crooned.

There was something hideous about him touching you — and even more so was the disgusting fact that you wanted to let him do it. He was handsome at the church, all a facade of Southern charm and debonair wit, but this was something else entirely.

With a defeated, pitiful expression, you began to part your legs, and that was akin to victory for Bo. His dark chuckle made you shiver, feeling his hand brusquely tug and wrestle with your shorts, inching them down your legs. “You’re real pretty,” He uttered, looking you in the eyes. “Prettiest thing I’ve seen in ages.”

Heat pooled within the pit of your stomach, and you clenched your hands into fists, nearly whimpering when he ghosted his fingers across your clothed cunt. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction — this was wrong, depraved on so many levels, but you found yourself submitting instead of retaliating.

A strangled whimper escaped you as he rounded the chair, standing right in front of you as he planted a kiss against your forehead. “Bet you’re all wet from this, huh?” He husked, voice kept to a low growl as he slipped his fingers into your panties.

Arousal had collected there, slick and warm upon his digits. Part of you wanted to melt into the chair and disappear, muscles tense and taut as you worked to suppress your whining.

“Fuck, look at that,” Bo sneered, greedily sucking your nectar right from his fingers, causing your breath to hitch within your throat. “Guess I was right.” His hand returned to your aching cunt, the other wrangling your panties aside, movements harsh and rough.

You hated that it felt good, offered you a sliver of relief — you wanted to scratch at your restraints, thighs beginning to quiver. A string of incoherent babbling escaped you, mumbled pleas for him to stop. It was quite the juxtaposition to your hips, which happened to lurch forward into his hand.

Bo bullied his way in between your legs, spreading you apart as he lowered himself to his knees — unexpected, but you still felt embarrassed. “Gonna have to have a taste of this pretty cunt,” With a gravelly hum, he grabbed your thighs, unceremoniously spitting a wad of saliva onto your throbbing cunt. “Don’t move.”

“Bo,” It was almost involuntary, moaning his name as you jolted forward, mouth agape. Bo’s grin felt like a hot brand against your inner thigh as he clamped his hands down into your legs, hard enough to cause bruises. “P—Please.” You sputtered.

Part of you felt terribly embarrassed for enjoying yourself at the hands of this man who’d kidnapped you, your innocence being taken advantage of. His calloused, rough hands spread you apart, broad tongue licking a stripe along the length of your slit.

Bo was eating you out like a man starved, breath hot and heavy as he savored you with his lips, tongue swirling across your cunt. His hands groped into your haunches, against the swell of your pliant flesh, practically forcing your hips to tilt into his face as he buried his head between your legs.

With a wanton moan, you slouched back into the rigid frame of the chair, listening to it creak and groan as you writhed around. The manacles that shackled you to the concrete rustled with your movements, fingers curling into your palms. His tongue was deliberate and slow, teasing you with every stroke.

You tried to smother your noises, not wanting to give him the satisfaction, but he was ten steps ahead of you. “Can’t hear you, sweetheart,” Bo stopped, ceasing any further contact until you submitted to him. “Gonna have to beg for it, I s’pose.” His sigh was theatrical and badgering, forcing you to whimper.

A simpering, choked-up noise escaped from the back of your throat, desperation beginning to mount as you jerked and jolted forward. Bo simply sat still, attempting to smother that smarmy, devilish grin of his as you shook your head back and forth. “Please keep going, please!” You cried.

Bo clicked his tongue, seemingly unimpressed and dismissive, reaching for the knife that sat in his back pocket. “Ain’t ever met a girl this ungrateful. You rather I stop an’ get this all over with?” His voice was vitriolic, full of a manipulative venom that only served to drag you deeper into his pit.

The sharp, icy blade suddenly traced over your legs, goosebumps erupting in its wake as you shook your head. You didn’t want Bo to hurt you — the idea of being harmed, of being so helpless — it frightened you. Bo enjoyed seeing that little pang of fear within your doe eyes as he prodded the tip of razor-sharp silver into your flesh.

“I’m sorry,” You gasped, stumbling over your words and babbling, restless within the chair. “Bo, please! I — I’ll be loud, I’ll do whatever you want, just don’t hurt me.” It was a gushing string of pleas and begging that didn’t go unnoticed this time.

With soft shushing, Bo sighed, kissing along your inner thigh as he dug his nails into your flesh. It was rough enough to make you feel the burning sting of pain, chest heaving with labored breaths as he nudged his lips against your cunt again. “I think I’m gonna keep you for m’self, how’s that sound?” He uttered.

“Good, good,” You nodded. “I — I want you, please keep going.” Whatever bite and edge you had before had diminished completely, shadowed by his dark, domineering nature. It was hard for anything to break through that barrier of his. He retracted the knife, then and there.

A cajoling chuckle escaped him, one filled with mockery and a duplicitous edge as he lapped at your cunt once more. His tongue was like hot coals, raking across your slit with a wanton need, fingers grabbing and groping at the meat of your thighs.

His cock twitched within his jeans, desperate to be inside of you, make you scream. You wanted to grab at his tousled tresses or grip onto his shoulders, but the duct-tape prevented you from going anywhere, digging into your wrists.

Bo savored you as if you were some delectable meal, licking his lips before toying with your clit. His mouth was feather-light and teasing that bundle of nerves, enough to make you contort within the chair. A strangled moan left you, noisy and desperate, wrought with desire.

��Please, Bo, please,” You breathed, and when your thighs threatened to squeeze his face, he roughly pushed you apart, gazing at you from between your legs. The duct-tape chafed at your flesh, uncomfortably tight around your wrists as you writhed, hips bucking forward. “Please!” You were nearly sobbing.

All inhibitions had been abandoned — you were his now, reduced to his pretty plaything, all spread out on a silver platter. Molten heat surged through you when he lapped at your cunt, hand slipping down as he teased your entrance, giving you no warning as two digits sank into you.

A blissful whine left you, head rolling back against the chair as he nudged your clit, just enough to keep you chasing after that sensation. Bo was undeniably cruel, grazing his teeth over the sensitive bud, causing you to squirm and shiver, all sound escaping you.

“Sing pretty for me,” Bo’s husky, Southern purr emerged from between your thighs, teeth nicking your thigh before he finally began to suck on your clit. His thick digits pistoned in and out of your weeping cunt, providing you with an overwhelming barrage of pleasure. “That’s it.” He huffed, lurching forward.

The rattling of chains couldn’t rip you from the moment as liquid heat coalesced between your legs, with Bo’s chin steeped in your arousal. You moaned again, flexing against your restraints, stomach churning with an anticipation that made you want to melt.

Bo grunted, greedily lapping at your sweet cunt, fingers beginning to curl into that sweet spot, prompting you to choke on any sound that bubbled within your throat. He was like a predator, with you in his clutches, a rabbit trapped within the jaws of a wolf.

With another barrage of practiced licks, he continued his onslaught against your clit, eliciting a myriad of sinful, inhuman sounds from you. Bo — it was the only word that fell from your lips like some chant, and he didn’t stop, feeling your knees buckle and shake around him.

His digits buried themselves into your tight cunt, sluggishly rocking in and out as he sucked on your clit. It sent you careening over the edge, lost to a white-hot explosion of ecstasy as you came, moaning and shivering, a complete and utter mess.

He was the devil — pearlescent teeth glinting in the low, buzzing light of the cellar. The shadows moved in a way that made him seem sinister. You were surprised that he didn’t have horns and a forked tongue, but it was likely a trick of the eyes. You huffed, fading away into your post-orgasm haze, but Bo was far from finished.

“We ain’t done just yet,” He uttered, licking his lips as he moved up from between your legs, hand gripping your chin as he dragged you forward. Bo made you open your mouth, head tilted backward as he leaned in, countenance contorting into a sneer. “Got a little gift for you, for bein’ good.”

A wad of his saliva landed upon your tongue, and you nearly choked, feeling filthy and vulnerable. His eyes glistened with an insidious shade, shadowed and bemused as he closed your mouth, forcing you to swallow his spit.

Bo was expectant, waiting for you to say something — but when nothing emerged, he clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Where’s your manners?” He reminded you, patting your jaw like he would a beloved dog.

“Thank you.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, somewhat shrewd as Bo grinned, seemingly satisfied with your answer. You squirmed again when Bo began to unzip the front of his pants, breathing noticeably heavier and wrought with unrestrained excitement.

“Now,” Bo hummed, fishing his cock from the confines of his jeans. His erection was thick and heavy within his calloused palm, oozing with pearls of precum. With a step in your direction, he pressed the head of his cock against your cunt. “M’gonna fuck you right.”

You swallowed the growing lump within your throat, letting out another moan as he teased your entrance, hooking his hands around your hips. Bo was rough and callous, dragging you forward as he sank his cock into you, grunting at the tightness and warmth.

Another wanton moan escaped you, back beginning to arch as he thrust forward, chest rippling with grunts and subtle growls. Lewd, crass noises reverberated throughout the cellar, the only ambiance that you could really focus on. His shadow eclipsed the stark glare of the light, gaze fixated on you.

Bo’s eyes were shadowed, brewing with something dark yet indecipherable. He began to adopt a very brutal pace, cock pounding away at your poor cunt. You hadn’t done this in so long, to the point where it felt borderline unfamiliar. You sputtered and moaned, feeling one of his hands abandon your leg.

That rough, calloused hand of his found its way to your slender neck, digits squeezing at your throat. It wasn’t particularly gentle, but not enough to completely rob you of air. You whined, unable to keep from watching the way his cock disappeared again and again into your sweet, oozing cunt.

You wanted to grab onto him, onto his arm, chest, anything — instead, you were met with harsh resistance from the duct-tape. “Bo,” You moaned, hips rolling in-tandem with his movements. Bo hunched closer, hand tight around your throat as his thumb pressed into your jugular, causing you to wince. “Feels so good.”

“Yeah?” Bo’s voice dropped to a lower octave, cock rutting away into you with a rough, unyielding amount of force. If he went any harder, he might’ve threatened to split you in half. “Fuck, you’re nice n’tight. Can’t believe you’re gettin’ off to this. You like bein’ tied down an’ fucked by a stranger?” He uttered, and you began to stammer.

A wave of liquid heat burned bright within the pit of your stomach, a flame that only grew in intensity as he kept up with his brutal ministrations. Your cunt clenched pathetically around his cock at his words, causing you to shiver again. “I—I …” You didn’t know what to say, embarrassed and ashamed.

Bo scoffed, voice tapering off into a grunt as he continued to rut forward, cock buried inside of you until he could go no further. “Got you so fucked you can’t even speak,” He sneered, grip tightening on your throat. It was bound to leave some sort of mark, but you knew he didn’t care. “You gonna behave?”

Your head bobbed up and down several times over, voice barely above a whisper. “Yes.” You squeaked, watching with blown-out pupils as he reached for the knife, cutting you loose from the duct-tape. Though, once your hands were free, you were being dragged onto the cold concrete on your stomach.

The steely, sharp bite of the knife sliced through your tank top like butter, leaving you completely exposed to Bo, who remained entirely clothed. Goosebumps coalesced along your spine from the icy temperature of the ground, feeling his hand close into your hair as he fucked you from behind.

His cock battered away at your cunt, stretching you in ways that you never thought possible. It was harsh and intrusive, digits tugging on your hair, wrangling you like you were molded from obsidian. Bo savored the sensation of you rocking back into him, thighs quivering like a leaf.

Your eyes flickered toward the muted brick wall on your left, met with a garish display of polaroids — other girls, girls like you. You had a feeling that none of them had lived to tell the tale.

A pang of dread consumed you, followed by fear — you hoped that you wouldn’t end up on that wall too, immortalized in some sick photograph. Instead, you wanted to increase your chances of survival, moaning and whimpering his name, forehead snug against the concrete.

“You wanna cum?” Bo asked nonchalantly, spoken through labored breathing as his thrusts became quick and sporadic. He was close, cock throbbing inside of you as his other hand clawed bruises and marks into the swell of your hips.

“Yes,” You didn’t hesitate, moaning again when he dug his nails into your flesh, causing you to squirm from discomfort. “Please, Bo! I want you to let me cum!” Desperation was laced within your voice, high-pitched and simpering as he let go of your hip.

“Good girl,” Bo grunted, somewhat perplexed by you. “Finally usin’ your manners.” He reached between your thighs, slathered in your slick and his precum, thumb rubbing circles into your clit. Your back began to arch, pushing back into him as he fucked you like a wild animal, chains clanking against the floor.

Pleasure rippled through you in blistering waves, coupled with the faint sting of pain that radiated from your hip. Bo grunted, breath hot and strenuous as he fucked you senseless, pounding away at your cunt with little regard for your comfort. His thumb toyed with your clit, causing you to writhe and moan.

With another harsh rut of his hips, Bo grunted, pushing his hips forward as he came inside of you, ropes of white-hot seed flooding your cunt. His brow glistened with perspiration as he pulled his cock free, leaving you with the mess of it all, haphazardly smeared between your legs.

Bo, in all his cruelty, tore his hand away from your clit, leaving you a throbbing mess, edged to the brink. You wanted to beg for him to continue, but you were spent, hot flesh soothed by the cold temperature of the floor.

“W—Wait,” Your protests were weak, but still strung-out with desperation. “Aren’t you going to keep going?” There was a little sliver of hope within your voice, but he relented, lips curling into a bemused smirk as he gave your ass a light smack.

“Changed my mind.”

You hated him.

For a moment, you saw red, frustrated without any semblance of relief, but also in misery over your current situation. You didn’t know what to do or say — and the last thing you wanted was for him to become angry with you. You didn’t want to become a permanent fixture on his wall of past trophies.

He stood up, hovering above you as you sheepishly rolled onto your back. Bo’s unsteady, dangerous leer sent shivers down your spine, watching as he stared at you for several moments. “Guessin’ you’ll last longer than the rest have,” He crooned, swiping his tongue across his lower lip. “Go on.”

His head jerked toward the chair, signaling you to climb back in. Your legs quivered in the aftermath of being fucked stupid, and you awkwardly reached for your panties and shorts, but Bo intercepted you. Wordlessly, you sat down in the leather seat, naked and entirely vulnerable.

“Keep you like that for when I come back.” Bo’s Southern purr made you shudder as you trembled, both from fear and from the cold. He couldn’t help but take a little bit of pity on you, tossing you a blanket from the old mattress that sat several feet away from you.

Something about being left entirely alone, naked and used in this basement, made you more terrified than anything else. You didn’t want to be left alone with just your thoughts. Even if Bo had kidnapped you, he was more tolerable than solitude. “You’ll come back?” You asked.

Bo huffed, retrieving his baseball cap. “Maybe,” He could see the hint of fear that had glossed over your eyes. “Maybe I’ll leave you down here an’ let you rot.” His voice was somewhat vitriolic, but undecided — part of you knew that he couldn’t leave you alone after this.

You would take the physicality over being isolated.

Silence drifted between the both of you as your legs shifted, the sound of clanking manacles providing the only bit of ambiance. Bo made for the iron-wrought door, standing in the doorway to give you one last look. Even in your disheveled state, you were beautiful — and now?

You belonged to him.

Before Bo shut the door, his lips twitched into the ghost of a devilish smirk. “Guess I’ll see you soon.”

#slasher x reader #slasher x you #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair x you #house of wax #house of wax smut #bo sinclair #bo sinclair fanfic #slasher fanfiction #slasher fanfic #slasher fandom #slasher x y/n #house of wax fanfic #house of wax 2005

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froggywritesstuff · 10 months ago

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rest | yandere!asmodeus

ship/pairing: Yandere!Asmodeus x g/n!reader

fandom: Helluva Boss

request: anon: yandere asmodeus

warnings: yandere, kidnapped reader, too many pet names (reader gets called darling, sweetie, honey, and baby), forced close proximity, unwanted touching (not sexual), unhealthy relationship, not proofread

word count: 710

A/N: i'm so very tired rn. i do not in any way support yandere behaviour, please know that this writing is purely fictional, and should not ever be reenacted in real life

You glare at the door in front of you, debating running away and back to the comfort of your own bed. No, comfort wasn’t the right word. Your mattress felt unusually hard tonight, and the sheets felt like sandpaper grinding against your skin. Your blankets were too hot and you felt suffocated underneath them, but that wasn’t nearly as bad as the uncomfortable sensation you got from sleeping without any covers. After an eternity of contemplation, you will yourself to lift your hand to the door, your knuckle knocking against the wood. Regret immediately hits you as the sound rings through your ears, but you stay still. It’s been too long since you got a good night's sleep and you weren’t gonna let an overgrown chicken stop you from getting that. You’re not letting your guard down, and you’re not letting yourself forget about the monster he really is. The love he claims to shower you with is nothing but poison he decorates with food dye and glitter. And you won’t fall for it, no matter what.

”What’s the matter darling?” he opens the door and you reluctantly crane your neck upwards to meet his eyes.

”I can’t sleep.” you say simply, hands clinging onto your pyjama shirt.

You don’t miss the way his smile widens ever so slightly, before he asks, “Do you wanna sleep in my bed?” he pushes his door open further, allowing you to get a look at his bed. Your body has never felt as exhausted as it does when you see his bed. It’s just so big and fluffy, and the blankets are so soft, you feel like they’re calling to you, telling you to come sleep.

The thought of saying no and marching back to your own room crosses your mind more than once, but you genuinely don’t think you have the energy to do that right now. Nodding your head, you remind yourself of all the shit he’s put you through, you just really want a good sleep. You’re not falling in love with him like he’s so convinced you eventually will and you never will, you know that.

“Is everything alright with your bed sweetie? Anything you need fixed?”

“I dunno I just couldn’t sleep.” you shrug, frustrated over how genuine his voice sounded.

He grabs your shoulders, leading you to the bed, "Well not to worry darling, you're always welcome to sleep in my bed."

You know that. Not a day went by when he wasn't reassuring you that there wasn't any pressure to sleep with him, and that he trusted you to grow comfortable with him in your own time. Though apparently not enough to not kidnap you. You keep reminding yourself of that whenever you catch yourself thinking about how nice he treats you. Or whenever you find yourself wanting to believe him when he tells you how much he loves you.

The bed as you suspected is comfortable as fuck. The soft sheets and blankets gently hug your body, and you can feel yourself sinking into the mattress. It's almost enough to make you forget about your captor lying next to you. Almost.

"You comfortable honey?" his voice rings through your ear, making you aware of just how close he is.

Shuffling over to further the distance between you, you sigh, ”I hope you know I’m only doing this for your bed, this has nothing to do with you.”

”I know.” he answers nonchalantly, making your chest tighten with frustration.

You sit up, staring at him with the coldest glare you can muster, ”I just want it absolutely clear that I’m exhausted yet I took like, ten minutes standing in front of your door, contemplating sleeping in the same bed as you.”

”You’re adorable baby.” he says tiredly, laughing softly as if this were just some joke. His hand gently but firmly pushes you back down to the bed, done with the ease of moving a pillow. You go to make yourself more comfortable on the bed, but feel Ozzie's hand pull you against his much larger body.

Before you can even begin to struggle, you're trapped between him and his arm, as his mumbled voice softly speaks to you, "Get some rest darling. I love you."

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random-posts680 · 6 months ago

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•I knew you’d be back•part 2

Part one here: https://www.tumblr.com/random-posts680/748793779031605248/dont-come-looking-for-me-part-1

A/N: guys holy moly I’m so sorry it took me an eternity to finish this but I hope you like it!

Warnings: maybe spelling errors, killing, death, royal family after reader, Feyd, blood, arena fights

Your hair was sprawled out as you laid on your back, it casted over the sheets of Feyds bed. Your arms were comfortably crossed over your ribs. And Your feet dangled off the edge.

Feyd mostly matched your position as he laid next to you. His arm closest to you layed out in the space between both your bodies. He itched to wrap it around you and pull you closer to him.

But unfortunately, how things were currently was as close as he was going to get. He wished to be something more with you, but even just being close at your side as friends kept him content. Silence filled the room before you inhaled to speak.

“Do you miss me?”

Completely taken aback by your question, Feyd turned his head to the side to look at you. His face contorted into an unusual look of concern. Your face stared at the nothingness of his ceiling until your eyes snapped to the side and your head slightly followed

There was no answer from him. He looked from your eyes down longingly at your lips then back up. You were unreal to him, something otherworldly, you were the most beautiful being he’d ever seen, and the most important to him as well. When he came out of his thoughts he looked back to you. Your face still awaited an answer.

“Why would I need to, when you’re right here?” His voice is gentle but still holds a bit of his rasp. Before you thought of an answer Feyd inhaled and continued “And I’ll never have to, I won’t let anyone take you from me.” There was that murderous gleam in his eyes that you’ve seen a handful of times. It was never directed towards you, god never, Feyd-rautha couldn’t stand the thought of you getting injured by his own hands, and it filled him with rage thinking of it being by somebody else’s.

You smiled at him, seemingly grateful at his answer and promise of protection. He returned your smile and inched ever so slightly towards you. His eyes trailed around the features of your face, they stop at your lips once again. This didn’t go unnoticed by you. You glanced down at his pale lips in return. Your faces began to invade the gap between the both of you.

Feyds arm reaches up and his cold smooth hand cups your face and pulls you in. His body heats up at the contact initiated. You close your eyes….and so does he.

Feyd-rautha twitches awake.

His mind recalls the images produced from his sleeping state. He remembers the odd question you asked him and his heart rate picks up when he recollects the end of the fantasy. It was like this most nights. Dreams and visions of you invading his mind, moments he’s had with you and moments he had wished to have with you.

The harkonnen desperately wants you back. It has nearly been 6 months since you seemingly disappeared without a single trace of where you may have gone. You aren’t dead, that is all that Feyd-rautha knows. And it keeps him determined to find you.

———————————————————————

Your ship wasn’t anything fancy. It could stay in space for long periods of time and is undetectable under any radar. It keeps you hidden, and that’s what you need most, especially now.

When you were found out to be residing on Giedi prime, you knew you had fucked up. You remember being awoken by your com that night ringing loudly. Once you groggily picked up, the call consisted of only a few sentences before you were on your feet and moving.

“Y/n, they’ve found you, you need to leave now! We have a ship ready for you at these coordinates!” The lady spoke on the other end. The coordinates were then listed on the screen.

You were grateful for the people at your job who were working to protect you from those who were out to hunt you, they believed in doing the right thing so when they discovered you floating through space, you told them your story and they took you in and offered you a job and their protection.

The truth is, you were the next Queen of your house, the standards for that queen were specific and high, one of the most important being you would need to be able to give birth to an heir. So from a young age you were tested for fertility so you could begin training, learning, and one day be married and give birth to an heir.

That was never fate.

A few weeks before you were to be married a freak accident occurred and it left you injured and to your houses dismay, infertile. Now, in most scenarios it wouldn’t have mattered if you were infertile but in your line of royalty there was information that could take down the entire nation of your planet that only a fit queen and king were supposed to know, and you were no longer of that standard of a fit queen due to your infertility.

You knew everything, and you were no longer going to be queen. This left them to having no choice. They were going to kill you and then begin training a different female relative of yours.

You were smart enough to realize their plans for you, so the night you found out of your infertility, you left. You knew they’d be after you the moment they realized you were gone.

Similar to when you ran away from your home planet you left most of your stuff on Giedi prime. Your heart ached a bit at the thought of leaving behind the good friend you had made here. You knew you couldn’t do anything about it so you at least gave him some attempt at closure when you scribbled down the note that he would later find. You’d miss him and he’d miss you ten times more. It’d drive him mad.

Along with the note that he found he also noticed his missing blade which brought you to the night prior. feyd had been showing you his collection of blades, you knew you shouldn’t have but you took one, you knew that someday your family would find you here and you wanted to be prepared. You hid the blade and as if you had foreseen the event, the very next night was when you would need to make your escape.

You dropped the note into one of your notebooks and slid the blade into your belt. You found the designated coordinates, and there your ship was. It hovered above the ground just enough for you to climb inside. You remeber looking back into the Giedi prime night, hoping that feyd-rautha would follow the one demand on that scribbled piece of paper.

Life after leaving wasn’t easy. You had plenty of battles and worked hard on combat training. The hardest part about leaving though was being away from feyd. You really did miss him. You cherished the moments you two had together and they often replayed in your sleep. With each day your desire to see him again grew.

Which led you to now, 6 months later, you are back, hovering just off of the atmosphere of the black and white planet. You know it’s a horrible idea to pay this visit but you need to see Feyd. The way you left him haunted you, you know you were his only form of support and you just up and left without any warning. You owe him the knowledge that you are sorry and willing to do whatever it takes to make it up to him.

You wonder what he is doing now, you wonder if he ever found that note, you wonder if he’d even cared that you’d left. You wonder if he’s missed you as much as you’ve missed him.

‘What ever he may think, I’ll find out myself’ you think, as your hand pushes the steering mechanism forwards. You ready yourself to enter Giedi prime once again. You flip the switches and type in your coordinates for landing. You push and your ship begins to fall into the planets gravity.

———————————————————————

Feyd-Rauthas arms are outstretched. His muscles exposed to the air within the threshold. Servants gather around him, painting the black shapes over his nearly white skin.

Ever since you left, this has been his only source of enjoyment. Killing those drugged slaves in the arena. His only way to cope with your disappearance.

Once his servants are done, he is handed his blade. The nervous harkonnen male avoiding heavy eye contact as he presents them. Feyds hands graze the tip of it and his reflection can be seen in its polished surface. Every time the blade is brought out he thinks of you and how somewhere in the galaxy you posses the missing one from his collection.

Feyd dismisses his servants, at this they all rush out, desperate to leave the presence of the na-baron. Unfortunately for the last servant to leave, the harkonnens blade penetrates her. The sharp object colliding with flesh sounds about 8 times before the sickening sound of a body against the ground follows.

Feyd-rautha walks out of his chamber Hungry for more meaningless gore. He scans the hallway, waiting for the next person to cross his path. Only about 10 seconds pass before a veiled being in all black turns the corner. Their back turned to him as they continue to walk.

The harkonnen smirks and follows quietly in pursuit. His presence going completely unnoticed by the target. Feyd-rautha readies his blade.

He grips onto the persons shoulder and pushes his blade straight to their jugular. Before he makes his next move, the person speaks.

“I thought you’d be here.” Your voice sounds through his ears.

Feyd-rauthas heart skips a beat, His knees almost go weak, and his hands begin to shake. Y/n? Is it really you? But It can’t be you, you left him without any indication of coming back, how could this be you? How could you have come back? The harkonnens mind races rapidly and his grip loosens.

With that, you slip out of it and turn to face him. You unveil yourself. Feyd-Rauthas heart races and his chest rises and falls unsteadily. His eyes stare down at you taking in the features he had missed so much. It really is you.

As Feyd stands awe struck You wonder what to do. It wasn’t like you could act casual ‘hey, I’m back after abandoning you for months and not telling you where I went!’ That would be arrogant and disrespectful. You know you owe him an explanation as to why you left but right now you are at a total loss for words.

His eyes hold hints of desperation and excitement yet his face displays utter disbelief. You wait to see if he’ll say anything but moments go by and he doesn’t. You take it upon yourself to speak first but regret it instantly when the sentences tumble out of your mouth and merge.

“Feyd-rautha-my lord, I’m terribly sorry that I left..-I I do have an explanation-“

You are cut off by his hands gripping you arms and pulling you into him. You look up at him before he connects your lips. His kiss is deep and full his hands are desperate as they go from your arms to your hair to push your face further in. You deepen the kiss too, making Feyds body warmer as you both stand.

After many seconds you both pull away for air. You’re shocked to say the least, as for the harkonnen he stares at you with desire, his eyes roaming you and his hands now feeling your waist, pulling you closer against his muscular torso.

“I’d like that explanation, we shall talk about it in my room. I will cancel my arena fight.” His voice is low and full of contained urgency. His heart hammers in his chest and it’s as if nothing else matters. You have finally come back to him.

He can’t take his eyes away from you as he leads you to his room. Once you two are there your lips meet once again and he’s ready to live out all the things he’s dreamed of knowing that you’re ready too. You love him and that’s all he’s wanted since the second he had met you.

Feyd-rautha is never going to let you leave him again, especially now. Your entire family and their army could come after you and he would be at the front line defending you with his life.

————————————————————————

Tag list: @freyagallileaevans

@saturnhas82moons

@flower-frog

@ruyaas-world

@aoi-targaryen

@gay-mashroom

@lechat-rouge

@alexa4040

#dune part two #dune x you #feyd x reader #x reader #feyd rautha #austin butler #dune #dune imagine #dune x reader #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd fanfiction #fanfic #yay #feyd x you

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hyoriiijiie · 10 days ago

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Hi, I don't know if you're doing any requests at the moment, but if you are, can you do an Alastor x Reader where Reader and Alastor were Ex-lovers from their past life, and then they meet again, when Charlie decides to host a Halloween speed dating event, and the two are paired together?

I loved your request, I hope you like it. ♡

Between masks and shades

Alastor x Reader - Halloween date

Tags Ex-lovers, Speed dating, Halloween decorating, Awkward conversations, memories, masks, Alastor is not good with his feelings, resolutions, a bit of angst.

The darkest season of the year was beginning to make its way into the underworld. The air thick with malice, it seemed to tremble with anticipation, as if even in this corner a rare thrill was allowed with the arrival of Halloween.

Amidst the loosely controlled chaos, Charlie, Princess Morningstar, glimpsed a unique opportunity - what better time than Halloween to unite the hotel's inhabitants in something different? While convincing them would not be easy, she knew she could excite anyone with enough conviction.

So the idea was born; a Halloween party with a twist, something that would allow the damned souls, if only for one night, to rest in peace from their eternal woes. And its main attraction would be a "Speed Dating" event, an opportunity for ghouls, lost souls and other hotel tenants to establish a connection, a spark of humanity, or at least a fleeting distraction in the midst of purgatory.

Festive posters began to appear in every nook and cranny inside and outside the hotel, covered in cobwebs and smiling pumpkin drawings. They said in big, bold letters, "Find your soul mate! Halloween Speed Dating Event." You found yourself standing in front of one of those posters, looking at it with a mixture of curiosity and skepticism. Since your arrival, fitting in had been a painful process.

This place, with its crushing atmosphere, seemed to mock your attempts to live in peace, leaving you mired in frustration. But above all, what kept a spark alive in your heart was the memory of someone special. A love lost in life, a face that kept appearing in your dreams, so clear you could almost feel its presence. That love, irreplaceable and taken away from you, was the only thing that still made you resist in the midst of the gloom. And without realizing how, you were already walking into the hotel lobby, the festive decorations absorbing you in their charm.

Pumpkins glowed with an orange glow, and autumn leaves seemed to float with a life of their own, giving the space an enchanted air. You had the feeling that the hotel itself was breathing. Suddenly, a floating tray glided towards you, with a decorated mask and next to it, a card, it looked like something custom-made. The startling glow called to you, and engraved in incandescent glare could be read, "To know true love, you must know the soul."

You took the mask, feeling the smooth texture under your fingers, and put it on, noticing how it fit your face perfectly, almost transforming who you were into someone else. It was then that a cheerful voice echoed through the room.

—Welcome! — A glowing figure at the front of the room exclaimed. It was Charlie, his hair contrasting dramatically against a golden mask and a red dress that seemed to glow with his enthusiasm. —Thank you all for participating in this event. The dynamic is simple; ten minutes per appointment. As the bell rings, they switch tables and continue to get to know each other.

Some residents looked around with the same mix of skepticism and curiosity as you, but Charlie's energy was contagious, filling the room with unusual anticipation.

The tables were arranged in small circles around the room, each decorated with candles, offering a warm ambiance in the midst of what for many was a rather uncomfortable gathering.

With the mask on your face and a slight tremor in your chest, you approached your first table. Your first encounter was with a demon with an arrogant bearing, who seemed in his element. He wore a flashy outfit, crossing one leg over the other as an arrogant smirk played across his lips.

— I suppose you've already noticed —he said, leaning towards you —that I'm not exactly the discreet type. Eternity is best enjoyed when you don't limit yourself.

He spoke of himself with a confidence that bordered on haughtiness, recounting his exploits with an almost disinterested looseness in your response. His eyes sparkled with a mischievousness that was intended to be seductive, but in reality only generated discomfort that bordered on displeasure. Nevertheless, you listened to him with a polite smile, but your mind was far away from there, wishing the minutes would run out.

This is definitely not my type. you thought.

Finally, the bell rang and you hurried to change tables, letting out a sigh of relief. In front of you, you found a petite, vibrant figure, whose single eye glittered with a mixture of excitement and nervousness. Her voice was quick and high-pitched, almost a torrent of enthusiasm that seemed to overflow from her.

—This is kind of exciting! I can hardly wait to meet you! — she exclaimed, her words flowing with an energy that was hard to follow. — Did you know I love cleaning, I could spend hours organizing things and looking for bugs!

Her enthusiasm was so palpable that, while endearing, it began to overwhelm you. You struggled to keep up with her chatter, but each passing second increased your confusion, caught up in her maelstrom of words.

Despite your good intentions, every second of that conversation felt like a messy whirlwind of words and energy. The bell rang again, releasing you from that strange appointment, you felt an immediate indescribable relief. After just two encounters, you were exhausted and decided you needed a break.

The bustle of the tables, the hurried interactions, and the unusually lively tone of the event were beginning to wear on you. You got up from the table, sketching an apologetic smile, and slipped into the shadows of the lobby hoping to find the restroom or some secluded corner to regain your composure.

However, as you walked down a dimly lit hallway, something caught your eye. A slightly ajar door. Curiosity got the better of you and, without thinking too much, you pushed it, inside, a small room could be glimpsed. And right in the center of the room, a demon was sitting in a velvet armchair.

He held a newspaper and beside him rested a steaming cup of tea on a delicately carved small table. He was elegantly and neatly dressed, accentuated by the red of the dress. Instantly you knew who he was; infamous radio demon. He was such an enveloping and disturbing presence at the same time, he made the air in the room feel charged with a barely contained intensity.

He seemed oblivious to the bustle of the event in the hall, immersed in an absolute tranquility contrasting with the frenetic atmosphere of speed dating. He didn't look up when you walked in, so immersed in his reading or perhaps... as if he had been waiting.

—Well, well... you seem to have found something much more interesting than speed dating —commented a deep, resonant voice, full of strange musicality. He lowered the paper with a smile that had the clear purpose of disarming anyone who confronted him, a sly, calculated smile.

You felt the air in the room grow thicker. Alastor's calmness, his relaxed posture and his gaze that seemed to see beyond appearances, was disconcerting. There was something about his presence that not only unsettled, but created a kind of almost hypnotic fascination.

— I didn't expect to find something like this at the event...—You finally answered, your voice sounding more fragile than you would have liked.

Alastor tilted his head, studying you with a curiosity that was hard to decipher. His smile never disappeared, and there was a spark of amusement in his eyes. Though you had heard of Alastor and knew on good authority of his fearsome reputation, you were unprepared for the intensity of his presence in person. His look...everything about him projected a sweet, veiled menace beneath a layer of impeccable politeness.

All the rumors had not been exaggerated; he was absolutely dangerous. And yet, seeing him at that moment, wrapped in unnerving tranquility, made you feel captivated by the enigmatic atmosphere that surrounded him.

You noticed a soft melody, a jazz that seemed to emanate from the walls. The subtle melody, one that added an unexpected calmness to the space, as if this little corner was protected from the hustle and bustle. Your senses relaxed enough to make you forget, for a moment, where you really were.

Calmly, you decided to sit across from Alastor, in a delicate balance between curiosity and caution. It was then that you noticed that he was not wearing a mask, unlike the attendants, but in his case, he didn't need one. His very presence was shrouded in a mystery that not even a mask could intensify. Subtly, he finally slid the paper away, the amusement on his face was carved in an appraisal, a subtle communication of asking himself what to do with you.

— I don't remember seeing you anywhere, which makes me wonder...are you lost, my dear? — he uttered, his voice further emphasizing the resonance that achieved an electrifying static around him. It was a rich, melodious, enchanting voice.

Despite his question, you still felt you were in the speed dating frame, you forced a polite smile, trying to answer naturally.

—No, I'm not lost, I guess. I just took a break from the main room and, without realizing it, ended up here. I guess it's my turn... right?— You replied with slight doubt settling in your tone. Alastor, on the other hand, raised an eyebrow, amused at your response.

"Your turn?" he repeated, as if he found the very idea extremely hilarious. Curious, he thought, watching you with an intensity that made you feel naked.

—My dear —He continued, with that smile that now seemed to widen just a little more. —Sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not part of that little speed dating show. I don't usually get involved in such... ephemeral activities. —His voice deepened as she uttered that last word, as if reminding him of how insignificant he found such events. Then he paused, allowing you to process his words.

— But I must admit, I was intrigued. How did you get here? —You looked at him carefully.

Now somewhat more alert, you looked at him intently. His every word, his every pause, seemed carefully chosen, like a game in which only he understood the rules. There was something about that controlled calm that you found disconcerting. Still, your polite nature held you steady.

— Well, I wasn't looking for anything in particular. I'm simply following my intuition, and that brought me here...— you said, with a studied but sincere naturalness.— And here we are.

Alastor let out a soft, resonant laugh, one that seemed to drift through the air like the jazz melody that filled the room, enveloping the words in a subtle undercurrent of irony.

— Oh, of course... here we are. — he repeated, settling back in his chair, his interest clearly piqued by your words. His eyes narrowed just slightly, flashing with that teasing sparkle as he continued, —So, what do you think of this evening? I should imagine you've had some... rather memorable encounters.— The mocking tone and innuendo in his voice brought to mind some of the more flamboyant characters you had met that night.

You thought of the arrogant demon and the chaotic Nifty, and a wry smile tugged at your lips.

—Memorable is a good way to describe it. —you admitted sincerely. — Although, to be honest, I'm not sure this kind of event is my thing.

Alastor watched you silently, with a look that, oddly enough, seemed to soften. There was something akin to approval in his eyes, as if your answer had fulfilled some unseen expectation.

—Wise choice,— he commented, leaning a little closer, letting a hint of satisfaction show in his tone. —The true meeting of souls rarely happens in ten minutes... and certainly not in a room full of masks.— Leaning forward, his gaze deepened, as if in that moment he could see beyond your words, into some corner of you that he was barely aware of having shown.

— I'm surprised, then, that you haven't run off yet.— he added, in a kind of subtle challenge that made you raise your chin in intrigue. You looked back at him, searching his expression for some clue beyond his words.

—And why haven't you? —you replied, returning his challenge with the same intensity.Alastor interlaced his fingers calmly, never taking his eyes from yours, as if analyzing every nuance in your expression before answering.

—Ah, my dear,— he replied at last, his voice dark and melodious.—I don't run away from anything. I simply observe, I enjoy myself... and, on occasion, I find something or someone worth a closer look.

Again, the silence became dense and palpable, but far from being uncomfortable, it felt like a space suspended in time, an intangible place where you both lingered in that delicate game of words and glances. The soft music seemed to dissipate, blurring reality and making you feel that, for the first time in the night, you were in front of someone -or something- that really captured your attention, daring you to stay, to discover what else was behind his invisible mask.

—So...— continued Alastor, leaning in a little closer, his eyes like dark mirrors in which you seemed to lose yourself, — What are you really looking for in this little game?

Under the spell of the soft music and the intensity Alastor exuded, you let the moment take hold of you. The atmosphere was a refuge amidst the chaos, a corner of introspection where, for an instant, the frenetic event around you ceased to exist.

You found yourself questioning what you were really looking for, a question so elementary and simple, but which at that very moment felt immense.Without knowing why, you caught yourself reflecting out loud. The words flowed as if they were waiting for that exact moment to be released, loaded with an almost painful honesty.

—I don't know...— you said, with a hesitation that was more real than you had felt in a long time, — I'm not here looking for someone, or love, if that's what you mean. — You hesitated for a second, but in the end you decided to lower your gaze, looking at the texture of the table as if in it you could find answers.— But something, I don't know what, brought me here.

The confession slipped from your lips like a whisper, a secret released as much to yourself as to him. It was a thought you had not articulated before, and as you said it aloud, you were overcome with a sense of relief, yet also uncertainty.

The silence that followed was so palpable that you could almost touch it, but in an unexpectedly comforting way. It was a dense silence, but far from being uncomfortable; it was the kind of pause that, far from filling you with words, seemed to invite you to immerse yourself even more in that unique and sincere exchange. In the semi-darkness, the light barely managed to bring out the gleam in Alastor's eyes, who did not look away from you.

His eyes watched you with an intensity that, for the first time, you did not perceive as a power play or a calculated maneuver. Behind his enigmatic smile there was something deeper, a spark of genuine interest that puzzled you, as if your vulnerability had resonated with something he understood in his innermost being.

You didn't know what it was exactly, but in his silence and the way he looked at you, you sensed an unexpected connection.Alastor barely tilted his head, studying you with that captivating curiosity, as if he was valuing every word, every pause. His eyes, dark and enigmatic, never left yours, and in that moment you felt that he also showed you, perhaps unintentionally, a part of his true self.

—It is not common to find sincerity in the midst of a night of disguises.— he finally commented, his voice low and rich in nuance, each word spoken with a cadence that seemed to carry a special weight.

That calm that surrounded him, that strange peace he exuded, made you feel that he understood, even if he didn't say so explicitly.

For a second, the melody seemed to intensify around you, enveloping you both in an intimate and unreal space, a corner away from the world. The music and the gloom seemed to protect that confession, as if they had shared something sacred and Alastor had received it with a silent but profound respect.

He slid his hand, slowly, toward the center of the table, an implicit invitation, an offer of connection beyond words. He watched you with that same unfathomable intensity, his gaze like an abyss inviting you to enter unreservedly. And then, in that melodious, resonant voice, he spoke again:

— Sometimes, my dear...—he whispered, as if sharing a secret, — what we find is more important than what we seek.

His words hung between you, and you realized that, on that strange night, in that secluded and mysterious corner, you had found something more than a stranger. You had found a dark mirror in which you reflected yourself, and though you found it disturbing, you could not look away.

Now, immersed in the crushing and enveloping atmosphere, you found yourself watching him with a new intensity. Every detail about him, from his suit to the subtlety of his gestures, took you back to buried memories, images of a time that was once yours, but already seemed faded in your memory. There was something about his elegance that, as you looked at him closely, evoked a feeling in you, a sense of familiarity.

That thought, as regretful as it was revealing, made you feel an irresistible impulse, an urge to break the spell and voice aloud the suspicion that was hovering in your mind. With a subtle effort not to appear too intrigued, you muster your courage and allow the words to flow.

—Tell me…—you began, noticing that your voice was soft, almost a whisper— in life, were you… also from the thirties?

The question was direct, but there was a naturalness in the tone that seemed to be that of someone who recognizes a reflection in another person. As you asked it, your eyes remained fixed on him, waiting for some reaction, something that would confirm what, deep down, you already sensed. Because he not only seemed to be out of tune with that modern era; his bearing, his manners, that elegance carefully woven into every gesture... everything about him evoked a time that had been left behind, and that, somehow, you both shared.

Alastor let out a low, resonant laugh, a sound that spread through the room like the echo of an old radio crackling, almost tangible in the gloom around them. The laughter was brief, but in it you sensed something that seemed more than mere amusement: there was a spark of recognition, as if he had been waiting for that question and was pleased that you had taken the first step to ask it.

—Ah, wow...— he replied, without losing his characteristic enigmatic tone.— Very perceptive. Yes, I come from that era, and I must say that it is a pleasure to know that my essence has not been forgotten, even in these... accelerated times.

His words carried with them a kind of covert nostalgia, a hint of melancholy that, though barely perceptible, made you feel that you shared something more than a common era. He too seemed to remember that time with a mixture of disdain and longing, as if what you had both left behind was something unattainable, but indelible.

Alastor would look at you with a renewed intensity, that same spark of genuine interest in his eyes that you had sensed before, but now even sharper. It was as if, in that simple confession, he had allowed you to glimpse a part of his being, a fragment of the person he had been in life. The tension between you became more intimate and meaningful, as if that small revelation had created an unspoken bond, an understanding that transcended time and space.

— And so do you, I see...— He continued, in a tone that seemed to slide like a dark caress.

Alastor did not look away, and in his smile there was a subtle satisfaction, an almost pleased expression.Alastor's statement took you by surprise, shocking your perception and bringing back memories you had long since relegated to oblivion.

Although you had met many personalities in hell, each from different eras, rarely had anyone immediately noticed your origin, especially in a place and at a time like that. Most souls, like you, adapted to the dizzying pace of modern times; but Alastor, on the other hand, seemed absolutely adamant about renouncing his roots, that 1930s essence that permeated his every gesture, his every look.

His revelation awakened in you a torrent of contradictory sensations. You had forgotten what it meant to be recognized by the era that, in life, defined you. You had become so accustomed to the present time that, strange though it was, the past felt distant. But now, in front of him, those memories took shape again, and a part of you recognized yourself in that deliberate nostalgia, in that resistance to the expiration of what once was.

Alastor kept his eyes on you, watching you with an intensity that seemed to scan beyond appearances. His smile, even more enigmatic now, contained a kind of quiet satisfaction, as if the fact that you shared that time had solidified a special bond. He seemed pleased, perhaps because, somehow, seeing in you an ancient essence reaffirmed his own.

—Curious, isn't it?—he commented, leaning slightly towards you, just enough for his words to come through as an intimate whisper.— There's something about those times that's impossible to forget. Although... I guess some people just decide to leave it behind.

His tone was a challenge, an invitation to explore the background of what he had left behind. And though you were tempted to reply, to offer a defense for having adopted the rhythms of the present, deep down you knew that would be an incomplete explanation.

In the reflection of his words there was a truth you could not deny: perhaps you had left that era behind in an attempt to fit into modern eternity. But as you looked at him, so steeped in his original essence, you wondered if, at some point, you had lost something fundamental in the process.

Yourself...

The jazz in the background changed to a slower tempo, as if the atmosphere itself sensed the intimate, melancholy tone of the conversation. The music seemed to envelop them in a cocoon of shadows and dim lights, a refuge where both could exist in the limbo of their own memories.

You decided to break the silence, feeling it was time to accept that truth he seemed to see so clearly.

— I think that, with time, one forgets what was... or, at least, decides to leave it behind so as not to become a prisoner of it.— you said, with a sincerity that surprised both you and him. You watched his face, looking for some sign of disagreement or approval, but Alastor simply looked at you, his expression thoughtful and unperturbed.

His recognition brought with it an unexpected flash: a blurred image of someone you once loved. A man who had shared a life with you before oblivion, someone whose features now seemed to reverberate in Alastor's face. His presence, his gaze, even the echo of his voice, seemed to evoke a strange familiarity, like a distorted reflection of that ancient love. Thoughts fragmented in your mind, mingling with past emotions, buried memories and contradictory feelings that, until then, you had not known still inhabited you.

Alastor, for his part, also sensed that disturbance in the peace he had carefully maintained over the years. Since you entered the room, something about you had captured his attention in a way he could not understand. He felt a persistent murmur, an echo of sensations that he had decided to bury some time ago, and that now seemed to crack the heart of indifference he had built around himself. That voice inside him, faint but constant, seemed to murmur to him that in you there was something more, something that was not limited to this night.

They were both silent, caught in that intangible connection that spoke to them of a past that could not be ignored. The notes seemed lower, deeper, like a whisper from their own unconscious, and the gloom of the room felt like a sanctuary where they could confess truths they had preferred to forget.

Finally, you dared to break the stillness, your voice barely a whisper, a truth torn from your soul without permission.

— You... you remind me of him.— the words escaped before you could stop them, revealing more than you had intended to share. Alastor narrowed his eyes, and for the first time, a spark of vulnerability peeked into his gaze. Not irritating; the sly expression that always disappeared, and in its place appeared something you hadn't seen before, a kind of recognition and an inner struggle that was evident to him.

—Him...?— he repeated, quietly, as if that revelation also disarmed him.The echo of your words seemed to reverberate in the room.

In his mind, Alastor also recognized something eerily familiar about you, something he had overlooked, perhaps deliberately. Memories crowded into his mind: images of someone who had also meant something important in his mortal life, of a time he had left behind, or so he had wanted to believe. But now, in front of you, it was as if that illusion of detachment was beginning to crumble.

Every word, every gesture, every glance seemed to open a small crack in the wall he had built around himself, revealing pieces of a past he had sealed with his own contempt.

Your words, almost whispered, echoed like a forgotten echo, unearthing emotions buried so long ago that you hardly knew they still belonged to you. A flurry of questions and feelings swirled in your mind, confused, uncontrollable. On impulse, your hand moved almost of its own accord, bringing your fingers to your mask. You felt each centimeter revealed expose a part of you that you had learned to hide, as if, in that moment, you were forcing yourself to face the truth you had tried to evade.

Alastor did not look away. Your every move seemed to capture his undivided attention, his eyes burning with an anticipation he could not mask. As you dropped the mask, you could see his face change subtly, reflecting emotions that seemed to find themselves for the first time in his cold, calculating presence. With every millimeter you revealed, you felt him approaching not in distance, but in time, as if you were both about to unveil something shared, a truth that had been waiting in silence.

When the mask finally fell, your eyes met his. You felt naked, exposed, and yet there was a serenity in the connection that formed in that meeting of gazes. Your eyes, now vulnerable, reflected an unfathomable melancholy, the same melancholy you found in his gaze that is only seen between two souls that share the same weight. It was a deep sadness, a mark of time and the lives they had left behind. In those eyes of Alastor, you recognized something more than a simple affinity; you saw a reflection of yourself, a familiar shadow, as if in some corner of the past their destinies had intertwined.

The room hung in a dense silence, filled with an unconfessed understanding, a recognition that both of you could barely hold. Alastor's gaze remained fixed on your naked face, free of masks, vulnerable before him. It seemed as if his eyes devoured every detail, seeking confirmation in every feature that could bring back the fragments of his dormant memory. In a corner of his being, a spark of nostalgia flared, timid flames that threatened to consume him in the storm of what he once was.

You, however, felt a violent bewilderment. Every scattered fragment of memory in your mind began to fit into patterns that were painfully familiar. You stood motionless, caught between disbelief and the bitterness of revelation. This demon before you, this being known for his cruelty and malice, bore in his eyes the reflection of a lost time that, in some corner of your soul, still burned like embers. His eyes, that very specific way with which he looked at you, brought up memories you thought buried, faces and sounds that now emerged with a clarity that stunned you.

Finally, you broke the silence with a broken and fragile voice, holding your head as if the intensity of those memories were tearing you apart.

—It can't be... you... is it really you?—you whispered, your tone full of bewilderment and pain.

Alastor, whose sharp smile seemed to be his trademark, now transformed it into a crooked line, full of bitter irony. There was pain in his face, yes, but also a hint of relief, a tacit acceptance that lent an unusual gravity to his presence.

—Oh, my dear...— he replied, his voice tinged with a mocking sadness, like a joke that only he understood.— In hell, everything is possible, don't you think. Perhaps this reunion was inevitable.

The tone of his words was so soft that the ironic notes seemed to envelop a heartbreaking truth, a confession to the media. That slight mocking smile, a shield against pain, blurred on his lips as he looked at you, and in the silence that followed, you both seemed to sink into the bitter irony of a love that had begun in secret and now, in hell, showed itself naked and without escape.

His fingers approached yours, trembling, but determined. It was a barely perceptible touch, but with the weight of a repressed eternity.

—After so much... is this all? — you murmured in a broken voice, a thread of resentment in your tone.—You were just a shadow in my memory, a love I never fully knew, someone who disappeared just like that, leaving me with nothing... Was that all for you?

Alastor held your gaze, your eyes now charged with a somber intensity, a restrained pain. Still, his fingers closed around yours, and his words came out low, laden with a sincerity that few had ever heard from him.

—You don't know how much I was waiting for this moment,— he whispered, and the confession was so unexpected, so raw, that you felt your own thoughts freeze. That soft voice, free of the radio effect that characterized him, was the same of the man you had loved, the one who spoke to you in whispers when all was silent. For the first time in an eternity, you felt that the man you loved was really in front of you, that the lost love still had a voice.

A sigh escaped your lips as a lone tear slipped down your cheek. The reality of his absence, of his departure, hit you with renewed force.

—And you don't know how much I feared you would come to remember all this.—he added, almost in a whisper, as if the weight of the confession might crumble him. It was a truth wrapped in fear, in years of darkness, in a loss he never admitted.

The room seemed to hold its breath as they were both caught in the echo of a love that had been interrupted by death, by time, by decisions neither could change. The void he left in your life now seemed to have been filled, but not without the scars of the past.

— Everything was so dark...— you whispered, your voice shaky and barely audible.— When I lost you, it was as if everything went out. As if only shadows and cold remained.

Alastor, without looking away, let his fingers caress your face with an almost sacred reverence, as if he still feared to lose you. In a soft, steady whisper, he replied:

—That darkness, that cold... they were the only thing that could have brought us here. Perhaps only from the shadows can I see you again.

His tenderness, so unexpected and genuine, caused your lips to trace a fragile smile, full of sadness and resignation. You both knew that the road had been dark and full of mistakes, and yet, in this strange destiny, you felt you had returned to the place where you had always belonged: together.

— When I lost you... how could I have imagined that I would see you again, and like this? —You confessed in a voice that seemed to contain a lifetime of pain, of unexpressed love.

He stepped back a little, understanding the weight of your resentment, of the doubt that still throbbed in your chest, and held you firmly, with the assurance of someone who was not going to let you go again.

—Cher... in life we didn't know how to escape. But here we are, and this time, no one can force us apart.— The promise in his words was so firm, so absolute, that they both felt in that instant that hell had brought them together as much as it had separated them.

The room, the time and the darkness seemed to vanish in the embrace that followed.

Everything you had lost and searched for over the years now enveloped you in an impossible relief. It was as if the weight of all those moments lived in each other's absence dissolved in a single instant, as if the eternity you shared in hell was the only truth you had been searching for.

And so, in the silence of the infernal night, they found in the silence of their own pain the only possible peace, and reflection of one in the other, the end of a love that had always been eternal.

Their souls had been searching for each other, until the end of eternity.

Night had fallen softly, covering New Orleans with a blanket of melancholy. The cobblestone streets echoed to the sound of dry leaves blown in swirls by the autumn wind. The air smelled of recent rain, a perfume of damp earth that already seemed part of the city's atmosphere of mystery and nostalgia.

In the distance, in a dark and discreet corner, stood a small old library, its facade barely illuminated by the dim glow of the lamps. Its appearance was that of a refuge forgotten in time, a place that few noticed and where those who sought it could find a secret peace. Here, far from the gaze of others, was where you and Alastor used to meet, two souls caught in a strange spell of proximity and distance.

As you entered, your heart beat faster than usual, as if anticipating something your mind could not yet name. You closed the door carefully, letting the silence settle around you, and your eyes roamed the shelves and shadows until you found the familiar figure of Alastor, in the background, by a window.

He was standing with a book in his hands, immersed in a dim light that seemed to accentuate the enigmatic air of his essence. He was dressed, as always, in his elegant, impeccable suit, and as he looked up at the sound of your footsteps, a sharp smile - so his, so full of secrets - illuminated his face. You felt a tingle in your chest, an unconfessable emotion that he always managed to awaken in you.

At first it was his voice that attracted you: that magnetic softness, enveloping, like a whisper full of power. But as time went by, you had been caught by something deeper and less understandable, something that bordered on the spiritual, as if on a hidden level you were irremediably united.

—Ah, finally. I thought you weren't coming today,— he said with that warm tone he used only for you, but there was something else in his voice, a hint of anticipation, as if tonight was different.

You walked towards him with a shy smile and stopped just a breath away. You took the book he was holding and, out of the corner of your eye, you felt his gaze fixed on you, intense, as if he was looking to read something you had not yet said.

—And what would you have done if I hadn't come?—you asked in a playful tone, though with a slight tremor in your voice. Something about him had changed in the last few days, he had become more distant, more elusive, and that aroused in you a growing uneasiness.

Alastor held your gaze, his expression serene but his dark eyes shone with something indecipherable, something that seemed to hold all the words he would never say. Slowly, he slid his hand over yours, removing the book and setting it aside.

—You would have left me here, alone... thinking of you.— he murmured, his voice barely a whisper laden with a weight you didn't understand.

A thick silence settled between the two of you, and before you could react, Alastor wrapped an arm around you, pulling you to him. It was a gesture that on the surface was casual, but deep down, it felt like an anchor, as if he was trying to hold on to something that, somehow, he was already letting go.

At that distance, Alastor's scent surrounded you: a mixture of smoke, mint and something darker, something undefined that filled your senses. In that instant, the world seemed to vanish, leaving only that space between the two of you, like a bubble suspended in time.

—I know almost nothing about you, Alastor...—you whispered, with a mixture of curiosity and sadness. Every time you tried to know something deeper about him, about his secrets, he slipped through your questions like a ghost, like a mystery that never let itself be revealed.— Why don't you ever talk about yourself?—you asked softly, hoping, almost begging, that this time he would let you see the man behind the enigma.

Alastor lowered his gaze, his expression becoming somber, but the smile lingered on his lips, a smile that never reached his eyes, as if behind it lurked shadows that were not yours to understand. She seemed to be torn between the words she wished to say and those she could not allow herself to reveal.

— Perhaps... some secrets are better left that way, my dear. Things are less... charming when they come out in the open.— His tone held an almost imperceptible bitterness, but you noticed the trace of pain she was trying to hide. He turned his gaze to the window, where the reflection of the two of them was projected in the gloom.— Sometimes... I like to think that as long as you're with me, nothing else is needed.

That confession was almost inaudible, but there was a fragility in his words that you had never seen in him before, a crack through which you barely managed to peek. You raised a hand and, with a delicate gesture, touched his cheek, forcing him to look you in the eye.

—No matter what you hide... The only thing that matters... is this moment.—you said with unexpected firmness. It was not so much a truth as a desperate promise, one that protected you from the certainty that someday he would vanish from your life like a dream.

For an instant, Alastor's face softened, and his fingers traced the outline of your face, as if he were trying to etch every detail into his memory. The world, the secrets, the danger... all disappeared in the touch of his lips, in a kiss that felt more like a farewell than a beginning.

You clung to him, feeling the warmth of his body, while he held you with a restrained intensity, as if, at that moment, you were the only thing that really mattered to him. Neither of you spoke of the inevitable, but in the silence of that small library, you both knew that that night would be your last.

Soon after, you said goodbye with a smile, and he, promising to return. You left before he did, but stood on the corner, watching him walk away. His footsteps echoed down the cobblestone street, and with each one, it seemed to you that he was taking a piece of your soul with him.

The next morning, rumors spread like a shadow over New Orleans: the infamous Bayou killer had fallen in a confrontation, felled by a burst of gunfire. You heard the news like a distant echo, never suspecting that the man they spoke of in horror was the very man you had secretly loved, the man who held in his breast darker secrets than you could have imagined.

In time, the memory of him began to fade into the shadows, like a dream you clung to in vain. It was only years later, in another time and another world, that you met him again, in the place where you were both destined: a corner of hell where souls crossed by darkness meet again, united by a cruel and unbreakable bond that not even death could break.

That time, you understood that destiny had sealed them together forever, with no possibility of redemption, no possibility of escape.

Omg.

This story was too sentimental for me, but after all, I loved the ending. I actually thought first of the scene of them being human and then moved to the moment of their reunion at speed dating, and I think it was a good result.

I really had this story ready, but due to time issues I delayed it too much, however, I hope you like it as much as I do. I also wish you a Happy Halloween, Hahahaha, bye ♡

#alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor #hazbin hotel inspired #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel fanfiction #happy halloweeeeeeen #halloween #speed dating #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel

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whorergal · 2 years ago

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SHE'S MINE

summary: you get attacked by ghostface but another ghostface comes in and saves you…

warnings: scream vi spoilers, language (cussing), blood, gore… typical horror stuff lol

pairings: ethan landry x fem!reader

authors note: this is my first ever imagine (and post) on here so i hope u like it >.< i want to write more so i’ll try to be active especially for ethan. also, this is pretty short so i wouldn't mind writing a part two :3

———————————————————————————

You weren't in much of a party mood unlike the rest of your friends. Really, you haven't been in the exact mood in doing much anymore. Ever since Woodsboro, you had lost a part of yourself in the tragedy that haunted you. It was unusual especially since it was nearing Halloween, your favorite holiday, that you didn't want to participate in dressing up and getting drunk as a reward. You decided to stay inside your apartment that you shared with Anika, catching up on homework that you had missed.

Tara had made it her job to text you every so often, casually updating you on the party. After a couple more short texts, they started to become more and more hard to understand which made you laugh. At least someone was having fun.

When you sat aside your phone, trying to keep all your attention on finishing your notes, your phone began to ring. You furrowed your brows when you took a glance and saw it was coming from an unknown caller. Immediately you became paranoid. You let it ring until it ended, shaking it off as a coincidence.

Ghostface was gone. There was no possible way it could've followed you and your friends to New York City. Right?

Your phone began to ring again.

Maybe it was Tara, you thought. You knew she was drunk so maybe something happened and she was borrowing someone's phone. But why wouldn't she just use Mindy's or Anika's? You tried not to think about rational answers because you didn't want to feel stupid for answering the call when you knew you shouldn't have.

"Hello?" You answered.

"Hello, Y/N," the familiar voice said back. "You miss me?"

You should've known. Well, you did know; you were just stupid enough to think otherwise. "Fuck, no," then you hung up.

Instantly, you opened your contacts and went straight for Tara's number. But, then you remembered she was absolutely hammered which meant she probably wouldn't be much help in your situation.

You scrolled mindlessly until you landed on Ethan's contact, clicking on it instantly, seeing as he was someone you confided in the most. Mindy had already told everyone her plan tonight was to get shit-faced so you weren't confident in her being able to aid you in this; neither could you count on Anika as she would be with her.

It rang for a couple short seconds which felt like eternity for you, being panicked and all. You were relying on him answering because you weren't sure how long you had until something happened.

Luckily, he answered in confusion. "Y/N, what's wrong?"

"E, I need you to come to my place now," you let out in a complete rush, the words almost slurred together.

"What?" he questioned. "Y/N/N, I can barely hear you. Are you okay?"

"Ethan, he called me. Ghostface called me."

The line went silent, only the sound of loud music and people hollering. That was until your phone began to vibrate against your cheek, startling you. You brought it down to your line of vision and saw it was the unknown caller. Or, should you say, whatever fucked up person that was behind the mask.

"Y/N, can you hear me?!" His voice came out in distress, worried something happened to you. "Hey, Chad and I heading over right now! Y/N?!"

"They're calling again," you stated simply.

"Don't answer it!" He was practically yelling into his phone at this point because he knew exactly what you were going to do. It was what almost got you killed in Woodsboro.

You didn't listen to him, deciding to hang up on him and use your remaining courage to answer the call. If you survived once, you sure as hell can survive again.

"What the fuck do you want?" You spat in anger.

"You hang up on me again and I'll paint your bedroom walls in your blood," they rushed out. "It would be a shame for your friends to find your mutilated lifeless body, wouldn't it?"

"Fuck you." You held back your wavering because although you weren't afraid, their descriptive threat made you nauseous.

"How about we play a game?"

"How about you fuck off."

"It's an easy game, Y/N," they told you. "You answer correctly and I may consider sparing your life."

You scoffed, getting up from your bed. "Fine. I'll play your stupid game."

"Great." There was a short pause. "Where in your apartment do you think I'm at?"

The confidence crumbled as now you started to feel the rising fear bubbling in your chest. "What?"

"You heard me," they said. "Where. Am. I?"

"Fuck," you mumbled to yourself. "Why don't you just come and get me, asshole? Are you too afraid?"

"The opposite." Their voice came out hushed.

Then, your bedroom door flung open, hitting harshly against your wall that it left an indent. Ghostface came running toward you, knife rose in the air, intending to plant it into your skin but you managed to dodge their attack, shoving them onto your bed as you made your escape.

You didn't get too far as they grabbed ahold of your ankle, making you face-plant into your wooden flooring. If the pain of hitting your head against the hard surface wasn't enough, the sheer agony rippling through your leg at the feeling of their knife digging into your calf was enough to make you scream. When they pulled it out, you grew enough strength to kick them in the face as you struggled to get up, finding all your energy diminishing.

Attempting to make a run for it didn't turn out well as you heard their footsteps catch up to you, causing you to throw yourself out of the way for their knife to go straight through the door.

Your apartment was pretty small. I mean, it only housed you and Anika so there wasn't much room needed which ultimately meant there wasn't anywhere else to go. Your kitchen was connected to your living room which was also connected to your hallway. It was all one open space. So, it was no surprise that they caught up to you again.

They managed to tackle you to the floor, holding you in place by stabbing you right where you had been previously, breaking through the stitches. You screamed so loud, you were concerned at the fact that your neighbors hadn't become suspicious at the sound. Where the hell was Ethan?

Them pulling out the knife hurt much worse, causing you to whine in return. But then they stabbed you in your abdomen once more, causing you to let out a choked sob. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to release the tension as you were physically helpless at this point. You reached down, feeling the blood coat your hand as you forced them to pull the knife out of you. Using whatever energy you had left, you kicked them off of you.

You used your entire arm to hold your wounds in place as you turned to crawl away. You weren't surprised to feel them grabbing your ankle, on the leg that had been injured which made it feel ten times worse, and drag you back to them. They flipped you on your back and stared down at you for a second until they began to raise their knife in the air.

Preparing yourself for the worse, you laid there with not much else to do, waiting to be punctured for what you assumed to be the last time ever. That was until they were thrown off of you by someone smacking them in the head with the wooden cutting board Anika used to cook you two dinner. Your eyes felt heavy but you couldn't help but widen them when you saw a second Ghostface, staring down their accomplice instead of you. The sound of the wooden board clattering against the ground caused you to flinch.

The one who had previously been attacking you was shorter than this new figure. You began to crawl away again, seeing as this short distraction gave you that advantage. You were bleeding out quickly, but you didn't want give up just yet.

You made it toward your counter, glancing at them as it seemed they were having a silent conversation. That was until the shorter one attempted to attack the taller one, using their knife but they easily intercepted the stabbing by grabbing ahold of their wrist. The taller one tossed the other one carelessly against your bookshelf, causing all your shared books with Anika to fall at their collapse.

It was funny to think you were now more worried about your books well being than your own.

You cowered behind your counter, carefully watching them in total confusion. The fact one of them was defending you, which seemed to go against their whole purpose, had rendered you frozen.

There was one last silent mutual conversation until the one with the knife shook their head in what you assumed could've been anger before fleeing the scene. You followed their figure until it was gone with wide eyes.

Your breath hitched when the Ghostface that practically saved your life turned to look at you. They didn't come near you, or really move at all as they stared into your soul. There was noise coming from somewhere in the building which caught their attention, making them turn toward your door and run out as well.

You watched in surprise. What the hell just happened?

#ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #jack champion #scream #ethan landry imagine #ethan landry x you #scream vi imagine #scream imagine

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yuesya · 4 months ago

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Far beneath the royal capital of Leyndell and its myriad splendors, there lies a sprawling maze of darkened waterways and shadowed tunnels; antithesis to all that is good and gold upon the surface. All creatures who are shunned dwell down here, to while away their days within the dark.

Morgott and his twin brother, Mohg, had been cast down here upon birth. Demigod children of Queen Marika the Eternal and Elden Lord Godfrey they may be, even such godly, royal blood did not prevent exile. For they both were born Omen –wretched creatures who were not blessed with the grace of the Erdtree. The blood that ran through their veins was cursed, a quality that manifested upon their physical bodies as monstrous deformities. Hulking figures, and bestial horns.

It is a mercy that they still draw breath. That they are only chained and bound beneath the cavernous depths of the royal city. Other Omen are not so lucky; their horns are forcibly excised at birth, an act that more often than not results in death.

And death is something that Morgott is familiar with, too. There are corpses floating in the sewers, those of Omen and vermin alike. Bloated, deformed, crawling with maggots. It is a common sight, this scenery that is ever-present and ever-constant in the dreary darkness of this world.

(The only world that Morgott knows.)

“Brother!”

The distinct clink of chains is preceded by his twin brother’s booming voice. Loud, and echoing. Rats are sent scattering at his approach, fleeing in a messy wave that rattles Morgott’s own chains. The shackles upon his limbs hang heavy, as does the collar affixed around his neck, but this does not stop Morgott from lifting his head to heed his brother’s call–

–what is that?

… Wading through the foul sewer waters, Mohg’s towering, horned figure does not strike an unusual sight. What is unusual, however, would be the child sitting docilely in the crook of his arm, gathered haphazardly to his chest. No visible signs of any distress, or even any alarm at all.

It is a girl. Pale white hair, standing out starkly against the gloom of her surroundings. Blue eyes, abyssal and ringed with a distinct glow. Her appearance is one that is free of any blemishes and other such deformities –she does not appear to be cursed, so it is utterly baffling that such a child is here.

What madness is this?

“You –what have you done?” Morgott demands.

Mohg smiles. “Nay, ‘tis not I who is to blame for any of this! A little stray seems to have managed to wander down here on her own.”

“‘Fell,’” the girl corrects, tugging at the hem of his brother’s tattered sleeve with no compunctions. “I didn’t wander. I fell.”

“Ah, my apologies,” Mohg promptly acquiesces, readjusting his hold on her for better balance. “She seems to have slipped and fallen through the cracks –is that right?”

The girl nods agreeably.

… Except one does not just fall down into the bowels of glorious Leyndell like that. What is this child? And, more importantly–

Morgott clicks his tongue, “How are we to return her to the surface?”

Benign visitors from above are quite vanishingly rare, and for the most part the denizens of the depths below are simply cast aside and left to their fates. Morgott does not know when, or if their Lord-Father would choose to visit them again, and should this child expire during that time–

“Why?” Mohg asks. “We should just keep her.”

Morgott scowls. “Do not say such things in jest. You cannot just keep a child –surely she has family on the surface who are searching for her!”

Mohg peers down at the girl in his arms, “Do you?”

The white-haired girl shakes her head in clear dismissal of the notion. “Queen-Mother would only search for Godwyn.”

Morgott stares at the girl. So does Mohg, for that matter.

Queen-Mother. Godwyn.

The implications of her words–!

“… Your parents,” Morgott finds himself saying slowly, “You are a daughter of Queen Marika?”

“Yes.”

This strange child –one whom Morgott cannot sense any trace of divinity or his mother’s power from– is their younger sister? Half-sister?

This is… certainly unexpected.

#Writing #zenith of stars au #elden ring au #please not that i have not played elden ring #in fact i'm pretty unfamiliar with the franchise overall #you can thank the discord friends for this one #:3

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blaiddfailcam · 9 months ago

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The left eye of the demigods

A recurring pattern some may have noticed a ways back is the unusual trait of sealed or missing left eyes among some of the demigods—now reiterated once again with the newly revealed Messmer the Impaler, a demigod of yet unknown origin. Eyes in Elden Ring are diegetically symbolic, meaning their hue and other characteristics illustrate to the player and to the characters within the game world their purpose within the setting.

The "lesser" demigods

Among the demigods, several of their lineage possess two gold eyes of varying shades or heterogenous pigmentation (meaning they show two distinct pigments in a single iris). These include:

Godwyn the Golden ("sullied" gold left eye in story trailer, two clouded gold eyes as the Prince of Death)

Morgott the Grace-Given (reddish-gold)

Rykard, Lord of Blasphemy (gold with red "spokes")

Starscourge Radahn (same as Rykard's)

Godrick the Grafted (clouded gold)

Gold eyes are a common sight among the non-Tarnished denizens of the Lands Between, whether their irises are entirely golden or marked with a sort of golden crescent. The red markings within Rykard and Radahn's eyes aren't so unusual given their heritage as the sons of Radagon, and Morgott's peculiar shade of gold likely relates to the Crucible, the primordial being that gives rise to the accursed Omen.

In Godfrey, First Elden Lord's portraits at the Roundtable Hold, his right eye is noticeably golden as well, while his left is obscured. As he was divested of Grace by Queen Marika, this gold hue faded. He is still possessed of both eyes in his boss battle, so he most likely also counts among the above listed demigods.

The Empyreans

Strangely, this only accounts for a small fraction of the greater pantheon. Most notable about each of these demigods, however, is that none of them are Empyreans, a unique class of demigods elected by the Two Fingers to succeed Queen Marika as vessels for the Elden Ring. Among the confirmed Empyreans, only one ia depicted with their eyes showing, and just barely:

Lunar Princess Ranni (right eye of spectral face blue, left eye of spectral face/right eye of doll sealed, left eye of doll pale blue)

Miquella the Unalloyed (face not yet shown)

Malenia, Blade of Miquella (both eyes sealed by rotten scales)

Presumably, to become a god, one must be a chosen Empyrean, so we can likely add Marika, Queen Eternal to this list. Strangely, her eyes are never shown either when we encounter her within the Erdtree (her right eye is tightly shut, and her left eye and socket are carved out by a cavity that encompasses the entire left hemisphere of her cranium), nor within any portraiture or statuary throughout the game.

Other demigods

Radagon of the Golden Order is regarded Marika's other half. Though he was disregarded a mere human champion during the Liurnian Wars, he was elevated to the status of a demigod, along with his direct children, upon marrying Marika, and later become something of a god when the two fractured into one. Like Marika, his appearance within the Erdtree is missing its left eye as a result of fracturing. His right eyelid is open, but in place of eyes, fragments of golden, runic light trace where irises would be.

Strangely enough, Radagon is depicted in the Roundtable Hold within another portrait, but his right eye is entirely black, including even his sclera. This appears again in the Radagon Icon illustration. (The manga adaptation, the Road to the Erdtree, was also careful to maintain this peculiar detail.) It isn't exactly clear whether this waa an artistic choice to obscure his eye, or if he literally had black eyes.

This leaves a handful more of Marika's demigod children unaccounted for:

Mohg, Lord of Blood (gold right eye with faded pupil, left eye gouged by his own horns)

Messmer the Impaler (right eye gold with slit pupil, left eye sealed)

Melina (gold right eye, sealed left eye with three-fingered dragon-like marking; when the left eye opens, the iris is a violet whirl)

Melina's origins are rather hazy even to her own knowledge, owing to her as of yet unexplained amnesia. One thing is certain: she claims to be the direct daughter of Queen Marika, and was addressed a specific duty, but what it was is now forgotten. Upon arriving at the Elden Throne and finding the Erdtree sealed (presumably by Radagon), Melina determines to act as kindling and set the Erdtree ablaze. Whether this was Marika's intention is uncertain, but Melina insists it is her choice, regardless of her mother's designs.

Should the player inherit the Frenzied Flame and usurp Melina's destiny without later curing their affliction, Melina will reappear in a secret ending. Her appearance is eerily altered, her hair now burnt and blackened, and her right eye clouded by pale gold. In swearing to hunt you to the ends of the earth, her left eye opens, revealing the violet whirl...

So what exactly is up with Melina's violet eye?

Shadows of the Empyreans

Oddly enough, Melina's violet eye isn't entirely unique. One other character in particular shares this trait—of all people, Blaidd the Half-Wolf is the only character with not just one, but two violet eyes.

Blaidd is the shadow of Lunar Princess Ranni, tailored by her Two Fingers to serve either as her devout guardian on her path to succeed Queen Marika, or her ruthless killer should she betray the Greater Will. He is one of two shadows encountered in the game, the other being Maliketh, who serves an identical function for Queen Marika. When the player encounters Maliketh under the guise of Gurranq, he bestows upon them the Beast Eye, a half-petrified, violet eyeball seemingly plucked from his own skull to aid them in weeding Deathroot. (One can infer the player is the second recipient of an eye, and that the other was previously gifted to D, Hunter of the Dead.)

Evidently, the violet eyes are likely a symbol of the shadows' nature as retainers for their Empyrean masters. Both Blaidd and Maliketh are regarded honorary brothers to their Empyreans, perhaps indicating the two were not born by any conventional means, but somehow fashioned from an aspect of the Empyreans, and especially designed by the Two Fingers to best fulfill their duty as vassals.

Seeing as Ranni's eye is sealed much like Melina's, one has to wonder... what color was it? Are all Empyreans marked with this violet eye? Why would they all be sealed? Was this some sort of countermeasure to prevent them from rebelling against the Greater Will?

While Maliketh wields the Rune of Death itself in the form of an obsidion blade, the baleful shadows that hunt Ranni in Blaidd's image possess blades infused with Destined Death. When Melina's left eye opens, it is precisely at the moment she vows to "return" Destined Death to the Tarnished. Might it be that shadows are created to withhold the Empyreans' ability to raise Destined Death against the gods...?

The Gloam-Eyed Queen

In the grand history of the Lands Between, one other Empyrean is said to have lived long before the current pantheon. This is, of course, the alluringly mysterious Gloam-Eyed Queen, commander of the Godskins who channeled Destined Death.

Before the Golden Order was founded, this enigmatic matriarch wielded the power of Blackflame to hunt the gods and fashion from their flesh the ghastly accoutrements worn by her mad followers. When Marika arrived in the Lands Between, her loyal shadow was tasked with sealing Destined Death and severing the bloodthirsty Empyrean's ability to slay the gods, at which point she either perished, or vanished into obscurity.

Naturally, the term "Gloam-Eyed Queen" conjurs the image of a violet-eyed matriarch. Her Godskin children bear great amethyst pendants, after all, and it's clear that violet eyes are representative of a unique cosmological function. Perhaps being the first known Empyrean besides Marika, the Gloam-Eyed Queen was directly responsible for the trend of bestowing the chosen candidates for the Elden Ring with their personal shadow? As far as can tell, the Gloam-Eyed Queen never had her own shadowbound knight...

Enter Messmer

Though it's obviously pointless to ponder when his story will be fully presented in a little under four months, it's difficult not to ponder his place in this "rule of eyes." Like Melina and Ranni, Messmer's left eye is sealed or missing. Could this illustrate that he is yet another Empyrean?

In any case, he appears to be a child of Marika as well, but whether directly or indirectly remains unclear. Considering the numerous, soulless demigods of the Wandering Mausoleums are each and all regarded the "unwanted children" of Marika, it's possible that the term "mother" is used rather loosely here.

(Contrary to popular belief, demigods do not need to be the direct offspring of Marika. After all, Enia divulges that Godrick is no more than a distant grandchild, his noble blood diluted over countless generations. Other demigods may include Millicent and the Sisters of Rot, as they are each targeted as potential vessels for the Outer God of Rot in Malenia's stead.)

If it should be revealed that Messmer, like Melina, is marked with a violet left eye in his second phase, or perhaps if we encounter yet another wolf-headed shadow... Well, that's as much as I'll allow myself to overhype my own theories, lol.

Miscellaneous

While obscured left eyes may designate the Empyreans among the demigods, I believe there is one exception: Mohg, Lord of Blood. Though his left eye is technically sealed, this was merely a result of his poor hygiene and allowing a cutaneous horn to drive itself into his eyeball. Nowhere is it ever remotely suggested he is an Empyrean.

Another peculiar case is Malenia, as both of her eyes are welded shut by dense scales of Scarlet Rot, akin to leporosy. This may not have always been the case, however, as with the limbs she lost to illness.

One other peculiar detail: in Melina's secret ending, her gold eye becomes clouded. Fascinatingly, this effect is shared by Vyke's Finger Maiden at the Church of Inhibition, but in both of her eyes. It is not, however, shared by the deceased Finger Maiden at the Church of Anticipation, nor Finger Maiden Therolina, so it seems to be a very deliberate choice. Could this relate to the theme of Frenzied Flame and the usurpation of the kindling maidens' destiny...?

(It's hard to get a clear picture of her, lol.)

#elden ring #my ramblings #shadow of the erdtree #FUCK posted prematurely #but it's mostly done

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