#i might die of this anxiousness before that though

[blue-blue-blooms]

The First Date

Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Your first date with Eddie doesn't go exactly as planned after you and your friends get taken and drugged by Russian spies, making him think that you stood him up.

Warnings: A little bit of angst.

2k words

Eddie Munson.

You'd seen him around school. He was loud, rough, and slightly intimidating. 

The first time you saw him was in the cafeteria, loudly speaking about the throes of capitalism, forced conformity, and the demonization of people whom society deemed 'different'. You mostly tuned people out during lunch, but it was hard to ignore Eddie. He was so captivating. You weren't sure if it was the way he used his entire body when making a point, aggressively gesticulating, or the way his face twisted and turned as he spoke, or just his general demeanor, that made everything he said sound so poignant. He hadn't really been in your orbit before, so outside your social circle. You were friends with people like Steve Harrington and Nancy Wheeler, not necessarily because you were popular but rather through shared trauma. There was something about going through life-altering events and near-death experiences that really bonded people for life. 

The first time you spoke to Eddie was after you saw him taping a poster on a bulletin board outside the auditorium. 

Hellfire Club. D&D. 

"Hey, is that a D&D club?" you asked him.

He turned around, slightly startled, and looked at you with surprise. 

"Oh, hey! Didn't see you there. Yeah, it's a D&D club. I'm trying to recruit new members since we're running a bit low..." He replied, giving you a hesitant smile. 

He seemed a bit nervous, slightly tugging on his hair and anxiously tapping his foot. You're pretty sure you were making him nervous. You'd seen the way people like Steve treated people like Eddie, even though Steve had grown considerably after taking out a Demogorgon and watching his girlfriend nearly die. You'd seen the way Tommy and Carol used to laugh at the 'freaks', shoving them around in the hallways, making fun of their interests, like the time Tommy made someone in the band cry during a pep rally. The realization that Eddie was nervous because he expected you to do the same slightly hurt. 

"That's cool! This kid that I babysit—his name's Dustin, he really likes D&D. He plays it a lot with his other friends. Whenever I used to babysit him, he'd drag me to their games. I never really got it, mostly because any time I asked a question, Dustin would scream at me," you breathlessly ramble, "He's not a huge fan of anyone who doesn't get the point, like, right away."

It seemed that the more you rambled, the more at ease Eddie became, and suddenly he was laughing as you spoke. 

"Well, I promise that we don't yell at anyone in Hellfire. Only when we're excited," Eddie said, a small smile lingering on his lips as he looked at you, "Just in case you ever wanna join in."

"I might take you up on that offer. I've been pegged down the list of 'coolest teens' that Dustin knows, and my ego's taken a hit," you joked. 

You hadn't ended up joining Hellfire. But you and Eddie had become sort of friends. You'd see him around school. You were both in some of the same classes, you'd see him in the hallways and you'd wave at each other. Sometimes you'd see him in the parking lot after school and you'd chat for a bit. But that was the extent of it. You didn't grow closer until summer started and you got a job at Starcourt. You worked at Café Nocturne, right across from Scoops Ahoy where Steve had started working. Most days, you spent your lunch break lounging around Scoops Ahoy, eating free ice cream, and making fun of Steve with his co-worker Robin. Sometimes you wondered what Eddie was up to, not having seen him since summer started, and you found yourself hoping you'd see him around Starcourt. 

It wasn't until the second week of summer that you saw Eddie. The Café had been relatively quiet, only an old couple sitting in the far corner drinking lattes. You were trying to pass the time by making random drinks when you saw Eddie lingering by the cash register. 

"Eddie!" you said, surprising yourself by how loud you were. You cleared your throat awkwardly and shuffled over to him, sending him a shy smile. 

"Y/N? Hey, I didn't know you worked here," Eddie said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, "It's nice to see you again, I was wondering where you went."

"Oh, just been making coffee...hanging out with my friends," you replied, "How's your summer been so far?"

"Erm, yeah, it's been okay. I've just been working, hanging out with Gareth and Jeff, writing some new music," Eddie replied.

"For Corroded Coffin, right?" you asked.

"Yeah, wow, how'd you know about that?" Eddie said, nervously twirling his hair. 

"Oh-um...I heard you talking about it in the cafeteria once," you responded, hoping you didn't sound like a stalker.

"Right, yeah, you should come see us sometime. We play in the Hide Out every Tuesday," Eddie said, as a shy grin crept on his face, "We kinda get a crowd, actually...of about five drunks."

You let out a small giggle, "That sounds nice. Unfortunately, I work every Tuesday. Maybe when school starts?" 

Eddie was slightly deflated at that, nodding his head in understanding. Not wanting to ruin your one chance at spending time with Eddie this summer, you hesitatingly asked, "Maybe we can hang out sometime? You could teach me D&D? I didn't get the chance to learn when you first offered..."

Eddie immediately perked up at that, nodding vigorously as he said, "Yeah! Yeah, that'd be great. I can totally do that. Erm, do you wanna meet here tomorrow at 7? We could grab some food-"

"Oh, I was hoping we could meet somewhere else. Maybe at Patty's diner? It's just that I spend all my time at Starcourt," you responded.

"Yeah, that works. Patty's at 7. It's a date," Eddie replied, before quickly backtracking. "Not like a date-date, I just meant, like, a platonic date. Like just friends hanging out, chilling, y'know? Unless you want it to be a date? It doesn't have to be! But, like-"

You cut him off before he could dig further into the hole he found himself in, giggling a little at how flustered he looked. "It's a date. A non-platonic, hopefully romantic, date."

"That's...that's great, yeah. I will see you then," Eddie said breathlessly, shuffling his way out as he raised a hand to wave goodbye, almost knocking into the table behind him as he left.

God, he's adorable. 

♡♡♡

"I swear to God Dustin, if we die in this elevator, I will strangle you with my bare hands," you grit out, pacing back and forth as everyone tried to reel in their panic, "I have a fucking date in two hours and if I miss it, I will literally end you."

"No one gives a shit about your stupid date," Dustin yelled, throwing his hands around wildly as Erica slammed a bottle of weird-looking fluid on the wall. You weren't even gonna try and deal with that, it looked like Robin had it handled as you watched her snatch the bottle from Erica's hands. 

Things escalated pretty quickly from there and suddenly you were lying on the floor of a bathroom cubicle, trying to make the room stop spinning. 

"Is this what it feels like to do drugs?" you groaned out, stretching on the disgusting tiles and praying that your head stopped pounding. 

"I wouldn't know," Robin replied, "But if it is, this sucks."

"Steve? Are you alive?" you asked, "I don't need you dying on me. You're my ride home." 

"I'm good," you heard him croak.

"Think we puked it all out?" you asked.

"Let's check...interrogate me." Robin said.

"When's the last time you peed your pants?" Steve asked, and you heard Robin let out a cackle, "Today."

"What the fuck, Robin?" you laughed.

"It was when they took out the bone saw. And only a little!" she defended herself, giggling with you. 

"I'm meant to be on a date," you moaned, "He's gonna think I stood him up. How am I meant to explain this shit?" 

"We'll figure it out," Steve replied, "Also, who's this guy anyway? You've been moaning about missing this date for, like, hours?"

"Yeah, it's getting kinda annoying," Robin added. 

"It's Eddie." you replied, crawling into the stall next to you and sitting down in front of Robin. "Eddie Munson. He's a senior. Long, curly, untamed hair. Really loud. Plays D&D."

"Wait, Eddie 'The Freak' Munson? Isn't he a drug dealer?" Steve asked, a little surprised. 

"Don't call him that!" you said, slightly defensive, "And I didn't know that. But if this is what drug consumption is like then he needs to stop."

As the drugs slowly purged out of your systems, and Steve tried to hit on Robin only to get rejected and have a heart-to-heart, the three of you found yourselves giggling hysterically in the dingy bathroom. It wasn't long until Dustin and Erica burst in and dragged you all out. As the night progressed, things only got worse. And soon, all of you were facing off a thirty-feet tall Mind Flayer and reeling from the loss that followed. Then the dust settled, a different story was fabricated, and everyone had to pretend to move on. And you had an apology to give.

♡♡♡

You didn't see Eddie until school started again. It was the first day back, hallways busy and bustling as the freshmen teetered around cluelessly. This year felt different, like there was some cosmic shift in the air. Everything seemed duller, void of any feeling. You weren't sure what it was exactly, but if you had to guess then it was probably the Starcourt 'fire' that had brought on this change. Things weren't the same after. It was like all of Hawkins was reeling from the loss, despite not having known the truth. You wished that you'd been oblivious. Maybe then everything wouldn't hurt this much. 

You didn't see Eddie around school until lunch. You were almost sure he was avoiding you. You finally saw him lingering in the hallway by his locker, putting some books in, and you immediately made a beeline for him. 

"Eddie!" you called, startling him as he looked up. 

You walked over before he could say anything, "I've been looking all over for you! I'm so sorry I couldn't make it to Patty's. I wanted to explain everything over the summer, but my parents grounded me, which was incredibly annoying since I didn't even do anything. But I think they were just super paranoid and didn't know what else to do and I didn't have your number so I couldn't call you and-"

Your rambling was cut off by Eddie as he held up his hands and dismissively waved, "It's cool, it's fine. Honestly, I don't know why I thought you would show up. If it was some joke or whatever, like, it's...whatever."

"What? No! That wasn't some joke. I really wanted to go on that date, but you know what happened at Starcourt, right?" you anxiously spoke.

"The fire? I don't see what that has to do with anything. Doesn't your shift end at 5?" Eddie asked skeptically. 

"Yes, yes it does! But I usually hang out at Scoops Ahoy because Steve's my ride home. I was doing that and then the whole fire thing happened, and I just got caught up in all of that, and then, y'know the house arrest? My parents thought if I stepped outside, I'd die or something," you quickly explained, "I promise I didn't stand you up!"

Eddie looked at you for a while until a small smile crept up on his face, "Relax, I believe you."

You immediately let out a sigh of relief, "I promise I'm not an asshole." 

There were a few moments of silence that stretched between you two until Eddie finally spoke, "I'm sorry about what happened. That must've been horrifying."

You don't know the half of it. 

You let out a nervous chuckle, "Erm, yeah, it was. But I've had some time to recover."

"How about we re-do that date?" Eddie asked, "Except this time I'm gonna pick you up, can't imagine the types of trouble you get into when I'm not around."

"Sounds good, Eds." you smiled, leaning forward to give him a quick peck on the cheek. As you broke away, you could see a small blush settling on his face.

"God, Y/N, buy me dinner first."

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #stranger things 4 #fluff #eddie munson fluff #stranger things fic #eddie munson fanfic #corroded coffin #starcourt #hawkins #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fic #angst #drabble #slow burn #angst with a happy ending #light angst #stranger things oc #stranger things imagine #eddie munson is a sweetheart #eddie munson is shy #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you

[velvetydream]

꒰ :🥀 [ War is over? ] ”♡ᵎ꒱ˀˀ ↷ ⋯

❝ Request! ᵕ̈

Summary : The hotel was in shambles and a certain radio demon was missing from the group. Worried for him, you start your way down to the destroyed radio tower, scared of what might await you.

Pairing : Alastor x Doe! Gn! Reader

Word count : 2962 Words

Genre : Angst, Comfort

Warnings ➵ SPOILERS FOR EP 8!! Crazy Alastor, Out

of character? , Swearing, Blood

a/n : Thank you sm for this request! I love the idea and trope sm for Alastor! Also that scene- oh my, it was insane! I just love what a crazy and complexe chara he is!

Rly going into the crazy Al spectrum here, make him go crazy over almost dying saving his > friends <

Also added the reader being a doe! Hope that was okay! Despite it being a doe reader, I still only used gender neutral prounouns / only used > you < as for describing the reader!♡

Request by : @alastorsdarlingdoe

┌───────────────────────── ·  ·  ·  · ♡

Your eyes wander over the lights of Pentagram City down below, a breeze moves your hair, raising your hand to push a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Sighing, a hand runs over your forehead now, slightly pinching the bridge of your nose while leaning on the railing of the balcony. The music and chatter from inside could be heard, everyone was trying to enjoy this night before the battle, but you couldn't help but worry. Worried something might happen or that someone might die, even though you tried to push these thoughts to the far back of your mind, trying to be positive, trying to see the best, and telling yourself everyone will make it out alive and safe.

"Damn it.." Rubbing your fingers over your eyes softly, trying to remove the tears that were building up. Sniffing a few times, your foot taps the floor anxiously while your ears are slightly pressed back. Body noticeably tense and nervous. To many things going through your head, you loved everyone in this hotel so much, that if anything were to happen to someone you would be devastated. Especially if something were to happen to Alastor.

Alastor was one of the first sinners you got close to in hell after Rosie had introduced him to you years ago. By now you two were a darling little pair, as Rosie liked to call it. It did take a while for both of you to grow close and accept these feelings, but in the end, you did. Even though it was sometimes hard with an Overlord as your partner, he made sure you were safe and taken care of all the time, so you had nothing to worry about. You can still remember the day you met Alastor like it was yesterday. Sitting in Rosie's boutique, sipping on some tea, as she squealed in excitement before pulling the red-haired demon over. Of course you knew who he was before you even met him, no one goes through hell without hearing about the radio demon, who overthrew the old Overlords, sooner or later. Ears straight up and turned to his direction, your ears were slightly wide, visibly alert of the dominating and dangerous presence of Alastor. He though simply smiled at you, took your hand, and pressed a kiss to your knuckles, introducing himself to you. It was a beautiful memory. Not so beautiful was his disappearing for seven years, but you forgave him, which brought you to where you are right now, on the balcony of Charlie Morningstar's hotel. Worrying your head off over the ear against heaven and the exterminators.

"A penny for your thoughts darling?" Shrieking together at the voice behind you, you hadn't noticed Alastor joining you on the balcony, too deep in your thoughts. Quickly rubbing over your eyes, before turning to the man you love with a smile on your face. This caused suspicion to rise in him, were you crying? "Oh, Al! It's nothing important! Why aren't you with the others." Watching him slowly approach you, he softly places his hand on your cheek, watching you close your eyes and nuzzle into the palm of his hand. Alastor could see right through you and you knew that, he always knew when you lied, just like you did right now. "Oh my little doe, how can I be inside when my darling is outside here crying and overthinking all by yourself?" His voice was soft, it was only for your ears, he only used this tone with you. Opening your eyes again, gazing up at him with tearful eyes. He couldn't help but coe at this sight, his little doe darling looking at him all teary-eyed, though he preferred a different time for this sight.

"Now, now~ Why don't you tell me what's bothering this pretty little head of yours?" Wiping away the tears on your face and at your eyes with his fingers now, carefully to not accidentally cut you with his claws. Watching as your teeth sink down on your lip, another habit you had when nervous, making his finger trail softly over your lips, letting your teeth release the lip before you could bite it bloody. "It's just.. I'm.. Ugh.. Worried, what if something happens? What if someone dies? What if.. you die?" Tears were building up in your pretty eyes again, making Alastor chuckle slightly, not that you were crying, but that you were even thinking of him dying. He was the radio demon, no one would kill him, and no one would even get close to killing him. "Oh sweetheart, don't worry your little head over nonsense like this, nothing will happen to any of us and especially not me! Haha! Trust me dearest! Everything will be fine." Fingers softly swipe over your cheek, as he pulls your body closer to your face, leaning down slightly and planting a soft kiss to your forehead, before nuzzling his nose against your hair between your two flickering ears. Not being able to suppress new tears, your arms go around his waist, pressing your face into his chest. Alastor tensed for a second from your touch, but quickly melts into it himself, laying his arms around you, one hand softly playing with your hair.

He was right, everything would be all right, at least that's what you thought..

It was as if everything went by in a flash, the exterminators were flying down to the hotel, and everyone was doing their best while Alastor protected the group with a shield, to make sure no new angels could attack while the first ones were being taken care of. But that was quickly taken care of by Adam himself, breaking the shield which made your eyes grow wide, he was able to do that? This was not good at all. Doing your best to help the others, fighting back to back with Angel, shielding Husk from an attack with your spear, and pulling Charlie down from an attacker just in time.

This was truly hell. And it even got worse when Adam suddenly started targeting the rest of the group, where was Alastor? Looking around wildly you couldn't see him, Charlie speaking your exact thoughts that if Adam is here he must be... "WATCH OUT!" Husk smashes into you, pulling you to the ground to the side, where you stood seconds before now an angelic spear piercing the ground. "Get your shit together! That motherfucker isn't dead! So till this is over get your act together and make sure you're not the one dying, 'cause if you do that fucker will have my head for that!" Husk was shaking your shoulders violently, everything that was a blurry mess before slowly coming back to you. He was right, you need to survive this, if Husk said he wasn't dead, it must be true, he would probably feel it if Alastor died through his soul contract.

The fight continued on, after Sir Pentious brought his sacrifice, Charlie was facing Adam by herself, Vaggie was somewhere in the hotel with that one exterminator fighting, while the rest took care of the angels outside the hotel, keeping Charlie and Vaggie's backs clear. It was exhausting, you got a few injuries on your body too, but nothing too bad, the fight soon ended with Lucifer showing up to save his daughter and Niffty stabbing Adam herself.

After collecting your thoughts and hugging Charlie for a while, you started to look around. The hotel was completely destroyed, but with everyone around, there was new hope, with Lucifer leading the group and especially Charlie to not give up on this. Eyes wandering over the debris the hotel was now, over everyone around, keeping your eyes open for a certain demon. A thought pops into your head, making your way to the cliff, looking down, at the radio tower lying at the bottom of the cliff. Slowly and carefully to not trip, you make your way down, scared of what might or might not await you. Would he be there? Would he be hurt? Alive? Dead? Maybe he had gone again like those seven years ago, leaving everyone and everything behind.

Blood on the floor leading to the radio tower made your eyebrows raise, so someone or something for sure was here and injured. You just hoped it was Alastor and that he wasn't beyond getting stitched up.

Reaching the hatch to his radio tower, you notice it standing open. Reaching your arms out, you carefully pull yourself up and pull your knee up to enter the room. Looking up already while entering, you see Alastor standing at his desk, his back facing you, yet you could see the way his whole body was tense and clawing at the desk with his hands. Finally in the room, on your knees you slowly get up to stand, looking at the man you love worried.

"Alastor..?" His ears turn to you before his head snaps in your direction, making an uncomfortable cracking sound, his body turning to you fully now. His eyes looked like nothing before, blown wide, crazy, crazier than they had ever been. This wasn't Alastor, but the Radio Demon before you. "Darling.. You're hurt.." Looking down at his chest to the gushing wound, crimson red painting his already red clothes. Laughter echoes through the space now. "HURT?! AHAHA! You're funny dearest! I'm not hurt! I cannot be hurt, did you forget who I am?!" Blown red eyes were staring right back at your own wide eyes, your eyes wide out for different reasons than his. "I know darli-" He took a step towards you, making your ears stand alert, you didn't fear Alastor, yet the Radio Demon scared you right now. "OH DEAREST! What a fight that was! Me?! Great Alastor, altruist, dying for his friends?!" His ears were parted, flat to the sides, while his hands were slowly tearing at his hair, pacing in a circle now, before slamming his hands to the desk. Shadows dancing around the two of you in the red light. You didn't dare whisper another word, even your breath stocking in your lungs, not sure if you should even breathe right now.

Alastor was going crazy, the fact of him almost dying being seen as a hero fucked with his mind, did he care about dying? No, he couldn't care less, but being seen as a good person, a redeemed sinner, or a hero?! No.

"You know what?! Now! After all this, it made me hungry! Hungry for the freedom barely out of reach! Never have I felt this before, can you believe this?! I was.. AM! so close!" An insane monologue continuing, he talked as if he was rather talking to himself than to you, did he even register you being there fully yet? He was driven by adrenalin, by a close death. Raising your hand, you were about to reach out for him, trying to pull him out of whatever spiral he was caught inside right now. "I'm so close! These constraints must have a backdoor right?! This deal!" Fingers pulling at his locks again, your own hand stilling in the air, as you watch him pace around, his eyes darting everywhere, when looking at you, they looked through you, he did not even realize you were here.

His whole body was trembling by now, the smile was strained on his face, making you worried to the core. Never had you thought you would ever experience such a side of Alastor, it shocked you. Now that his monologue stopped, you took cautious steps toward your lover, your finger barely grazing his arm, his eyes now snapping to you, his ears following. He was looking at you finally, not over or through you, he realized you were there and that he wasn't alone. "You're fine Al, you didn't die, you proved it." You knew to get to him, you had to reassure him, even if it was probably a bad idea, but for now, this would probably be the only way to get to him. "You're right dearest.." His hands slowly lowered from his hair, a few hairs tangled in them from how hard he was pulling on his poor hair. Eyes trailing down to the wound on his chest now, feeling your own tighten at the sight of Alastor injured. This was something you didn't think was possible to happen till now.

"Let me take care of this.." Pulling him to the desk softly, you make him lean against it, as you push his coat off his shoulders and start to unbutton his dress shirt, laying them to the side carefully. Ears pressing to your head now as you take in the wound on his chest, you knew his eyes were following your every move, so you tried not to keep on that for too long. Gathering everything you would need to somewhat clean and stitch him up, the things you had would have to do. The air was thick when you got to clean his wound, Alastor was watching you with his smiling face, while your own was adorned with a frown. It scared you knowing he could've died if he didn't disappear mid-fight, he would be dead now if he continued. Those thoughts make your hands shake, your view getting blurry as tears fill your eyes. Looking up when his hand softly encloses around the one holding the needle. "My poor little doe, I'm sorry for worrying and scaring you." Lips press softly against the knuckles of your hand. Pulling yourself together, you quickly finish the stitches up, then you would have all the time to get emotional and cry. Helping Alastor put on his dress shirt now, he slumps down to the floor, his back leaning against the wall, he was probably exhausted. It would take a while for him to heal entirely and be the old himself again.

"Come here beloved." Alastor was holding his arms open for you, finding a place between his legs now, your head leaning on his shoulder, opposite of his injury, making sure you wouldn't touch the freshly stitched-up wound. "I'm sorry.. I was just so worried.." And before you knew it, the tears were streaming down your face, while Alastor softly held you in his safe embrace. "I know dearest, I know...But worry not, I'll be back to myself in no time, don't you worry." His hand was rubbing up and down your back, while his chin rested on the crown of your head. His words were true and you knew that, he would be his old self quicker than you would know, still, it scared you to know he wasn't unharmable and could die. Hiding your face in your hands now, your body violently shaking with sobs. "Now, now my darling doe, you know I hate to see you cry." Pulling your hands away from your face, he looks at you for a second, before your arms already go around his neck as you straddle his thighs now, body shaking with sobs while he feels your tears wetting his shirt. His eyes were slightly wide, a silent wince from his wound flashing through his eyes for a second, but he suppressed any sound for your sake. "There, there, it will be all right my little doe." One of his arms was going around your waist now, pulling you even closer to him, did his wound throb from you pressing against him? Yes, yet he couldn't seem to care. The other hand was moving its way into your hair, rubbing to bottom of your ears softly.

The two of you stayed like that for quite a while, the violent and loud sobs, soon subsiding to small whimpers before completely quieting down to soft tears silently running down your cheeks. Alastor shoulder was by now entirely wet from your tears, yet he couldn't care.

"Calmed down now, have been darling?" Feeling Alastor's lips press to your temple, you finally raise your face from his shoulder and look at him. Eye bloodshot from crying for so long, cheeks wet from all the tears and your throat sore from sobbing. "There is my beautiful doe, look at you, even after crying you're beautiful as ever dearest." Nuzzling against his hand that was now resting on your cheek, your eyes look up into his. Your eyes were something Alastor always loved, they looked so innocent and soft, something not often seen down here in hell. His eyes cast down to your lips for a brief second, you noticed and closed your eyes, inviting him. Feeling his soft lips on yours quickly, as his arm around your waist softly presses you against him, while the other hand still cradles your face. The kiss was soft, yet full of passion, it was all the feelings you two felt poured into one kiss. Which lasted longer than you thought. Pulling apart soon, puffs of air falling from both of your lips.

"I love you my beloved and I'm sorry for worrying you so much, but trust me, once this is over and I'll be able to roam free, watch me reach everything for us." Smiling at you, he softly rubs his thumb over your cheek before your head rests on his shoulder again, face in his neck. "I love you too Al.. I can't wait for you to be finally free again.." Pressing a soft kiss to his neck, giggling softly at him slightly tensing up from it before relaxing again.

You two took your sweet time together, was that what both of you needed right now, before eventually getting back and reuniting with the group. A new hotel and new goals waiting for everyone.

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Taglist :

@chewbrry @rinalouu @mysticwitchcraftco

#x reader #imagines #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #imagine #hazbin #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin imagine #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel x you #alastor imagine #hazbin alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor x you

[redeyerhaenyra]

Ain't no sunshine when she's gone

Summary: It's been a month since you've broken up with the moon knight system, and you start to notice someone.. watching you

Warnings: Stalking, breaking and entering, kidnapping, yandere themes, angst, no beta we die like harrow

Notes: So after all the positive responses on this post I just had to create in headcanon form- for those who want to listen to the song that inspired this fic, here :)

Breaking up with the moon boys was the hardest thing you'd ever had to do, but it did need to be done.

With the near constant dissappearing to do Khonshu's bidding, sometimes for weeks on end, with only a note or a text to tell you where they were and then radio silence, it was just too much for you. Your heart couldn't take waiting for them, worrying that they would never return, even if Khonshu was protecting them.

And so, you had begun the process of moving out during the time they were away on a mission.

Marc had come home to find your clothes, trinkets, anything that would indicate your presence gone.

You were there though.

Normally you'd be so happy to see him again, running up to him and kissing him with all your might.

Today, instead, you sadly smiled at him.

"Baby, what's up?" Marc had asked, gently holding your forearms after you had rejected his hug. He could tell you were upset.

"Baby?" "I'm leaving, Marc. I'm sorry."

He had stared at you, dumbfounded. You swallowed down your tears- "I can't do this anymore." You didn't have to explain, you knew what he meant.

You waited anxiously for his response, instead spying his eyes roll back into his head, and now you were faced with Steven and oh god, his eyes, they were already tearing up.

Coward, you thought of Marc, which was admittedly a little harsh but breaking up with them would be so much harder facing Steven's sorrowful gaze.

Steven looked terrified, moving to cup your face in his hands and you had to physically move back to stop him.

"D-darlin', please, what'cha talkin' about?" "I'm sorry steven-" "Please don't leave us love, please, 'can't do it without you please-"

"Stop it." You'd said firmly, Steven sobbed. You couldn't help but take his hands in yours, ever wanting to comfort him.

"Steven.. I will always love you," "Then why'd you have to leave!?" "Because I can't do this anymore!!"

You were both crying now. "I-i can't take waiting for you to never come home to me anymore, Steven, I can't do it."

Steven's gazed was fixed on the ground, his tears dripping onto the floorboards. You gave his hands one final squeeze, before pulling away.

"I will always love you, all of you, but my heart cannot take it anymore.. goodbye."

The strength with which it took to pull yourself away from Steven should have won you a medal, and you couldn't stop yourself from crying even more as you left him.

That was a month ago- with the help of a few friends you'd found yourself a decently priced flat for rent on the other side of London. Far enough away, you hoped.

It wasn't far enough. Jake had found out where you lived within days of you leaving. He knew it was wrong, but the part of him that didn't care grew and grew into something monstrous. At this stage the other boys weren't saying anything to disapprove of his actions, and so he continued to watch you.

He'd drive circles around your block to relearn your new routine, and you hadn't yet realised it was his cab you kept seeing.

The one person you actually hadn't said goodbye to was Jake- he hadn't fronted when you'd left, and you would always wonder if he was there, just choosing not to show himself. But if he wasn't? He'd have woken up to the discovery that you weren't together anymore and you'd always feel guilty for that.

But... you tried to move on with your life, as best you could.

It felt wrong to start dating again, but your friends had urged you to, even if it was a one night thing.

The guy you'd matched with on bumble was nice enough, smart, good looking- he wasn't them though. While he was polite and friendly during your dinner date, he wasn't your boys.

He'd walked you home, and you'd set up a second date. All things considered it was successful- but you just felt.. wrong about the whole thing. Like you were cheating, even though you weren't.

You'd guessed it wasn't all that successful, as he'd ghosted you a day or so after your date.

It was a week or so later that you'd seen the news report of his body having turned up in the Thames. God how awful! He hadn't ghosted you- the poor guy had been murdered.

Jake had really earned a bollocking off of Steven and Marc for that one, but he knew they were relieved you wouldn't be seeing that man again.

You'd decided to halt the dating game after that, for a while at least.

You were lonely though, there was no denying. Having no one to cuddle up to in bed sucked.

And so.. the logical conclusion was a pet, no?

Eventually, you found a young, ginger tomcat named "Franklin" in a nearby animal shelter and you just fell in love, you brought him home the same day.

He was great, not exactly filling the whole in your heart left by three men but you certainly adored him, and who wouldn't say no to curling up in bed with a cat every evening? Certainly not you.

One day, you'd left work for your lunch break only for the horrifying realisation to hit you: You'd forgot to feed Franklin that morning! You rushed home as fast you could- only to discover that, you had fed him, even when you were sure you hadn't.

And yet there he was, munching on his bowl of kibble.

Something squeaked under your foot- you looked down- oh, it was one of Franklin's toys. You threw it across the room for him to play with but- hang on... you didn't remember buying him that toy.

You shook your head free of thoughts that you were going mad- everyone forgets things, even buying specific cat toys. Or maybe one of your friends had left it when they'd been over- it didn't matter.

You moved to leave your flat and return to work- only to find your door lock jammed.

The locksmith you'd hurriedly called in was able to fix it in a jiffy, though advised that the jam was probably due to a break in, and that you should change your locks.

A chill ran down your spine- you checked and double checked, nothing of value had been stolen, but someone had been in your home! Is that who had fed Franklin? Who'd left him the toy?

You changed the locks, and threw out the strange toy.

Jake couldn't stop watching you. It was becoming more and more of a problem.

He was ignoring Khonshu and actively pushing Marc and Steven out when they tried to front, knowing they'd put and end to his antics.

But none of them could deny that they wanted, needed you back. Jake just considered himself the only one with the balls to get you back.

There was no warmth in his life now that you weren't there. Steven's flat no longer felt like home without your t-shirts in the laundry, or the brand of coffee you love but Marc hates in the cupboards.

He knew he ought to leave his little girl alone, but the fact remained you were his little girl. Jake would stop at nothing to have his bebita back.

Now it was two months since you'd broken up with the system. Life wasn't perfect, but you were chugging along.

You turned the lights on in your flat, yawning. Work was tough today, but it was Friday, and you had some left over popcorn in the cupboard. Film night~!

"Franklin? Baby? Mummy's home~!" You cooed, knowing that he always came bounding up and purring whenever you came home.

But.. he didn't. Your flat was silent. No distant meowing or the jingle of the bell on his collar. Nothing.

"Franklin?" You stepped further into your flat, worry seeping through you.

"Franklin..?!" Your tone became more and more erratic with the realisation that Franklin wasn't home- and then someone had covered your eyes with their hand, and pressed a strange scented cloth to your mouth. You kicked and screamed and struggled but it was no use- the chloroform had knocked you out in seconds.

Jake held you tenderly to his chest as you faded into unconsciousness. Steven had earlier expressed his distaste at this plan, but neither him or Marc said anything now, so close to having you again.

You woke the next day, nauseous and tired. The distant meowing you heard gave you comfort- it had all been a bad dream.

But when you opened your eyes, you were met with the horrifying scene of Steven's flat, not your own. So familiar, in any other situation you would have been glad to be here.

You shifted to sit up, eyes working their way down to notice your ankle tied to the bed with the restraint normally reserved for Steven.

You choked back a sob- a hum ripping your gaze to the other end of the room.

There lay Franklin, enjoying some pets from the man who's lap he laid on.

Jake Lockley stared back at you, you could tell it was him, you could always tell between them.

"Buenos dias, hermosa." His voice was rich like coffee, normally so comforting but now? It sent a shudder down your spine.

"You and I have some things to discuss, sí?"

#jake lockley moonknight #jake lockely x reader #jake lockley #jake lockely x you #jake lockely imagine #jake lockley angst #jake lockley headcanon #moon knight x reader #moon knight #moon knight angst

[summerslashers]

Beginning: Thomas Hewitt x Reader

Summary: You meet Tommy for the very first time as his new neighbor. He takes an immediate liking to you. Part Two

Warnings: you may die of cuteness overload

Author’s Note: I decided to make another fic about meeting Tommy and I think I like this one better :) I hope you guys like it too.

You waited anxiously at the front door to the large house, holding a plate of freshly baked, warm cookies and a small bouquet of wildflowers that you found near your home. You were really hoping to make a good first impression with your new neighbors- your only neighbors by the look of it as there wasn’t anyone else around for miles. Just yesterday you moved to the small town in Texas, in a cozy one story ranch right across the street from where you stood. The house before you seemed to be the complete opposite of your little home, unlike anything you expected to find in a quaint town like this. It was practically a mansion, two stories tall with a huge yard and a long dirt driveway.

You heard loud heavy footsteps from behind the door and you took a small step back, hoping that you still looked presentable even after your short walk in the dry Texas heat.

In an instant, the door swung open and slammed loudly against the house, causing you to jump, looking up at the man in the doorway with gentle, yet slightly alarmed eyes. He was big- intimidatingly big. He was taller than anyone you had seen before and incredibly broad. He had longish, dark hair, a half masked face, and oh- the most soft blue eyes you had ever seen despite his furrowed brows.

“Hello,” you offered him a kind smile, your cheeks growing warm. “My name is y/n. I just moved in across the street and wanted to come over and introduce myself.”

The large man didn’t say anything, his fingers twitching anxiously at his sides as though he wasn’t sure what to do. He looked into your eyes for a moment and then glanced down at your hands, his head tilting curiously to the side ever so slightly.

“Oh-“ you remembered the large plate in your hands and smiled, understanding his silent inquiry. “I made cookies if you’d like them. There’s two different kinds. These ones are white chocolate and raspberry, and these are chocolate chip. I wasn’t sure which ones you might like so I decided to make both. I hope that’s okay-”

Thomas’ eyes softened as you spoke, and he couldn’t seem to ignore the warmth that settled in his chest and occasionally worked its way up to his cheeks. You were just too cute, and no one had ever been so kind to him before. Most people who met him would call him cruel names or give him dirty looks, but not you. Instead, you simply spoke to him and looked into his eyes with a certain fondness, smiling up at him so sweetly.

Once again, the man said nothing, and you wondered if perhaps he didn’t speak at all. He wasn’t ignoring you, that much you could tell. He looked into your eyes and listened as you spoke, not once making you feel as though you were bothering him, so you continued.

“Um- these are for you too-” You blushed and held out the neatly arranged bouquet of Texas bluebonnets and purple coneflowers, the stems tied neatly with white ribbon. Now that you were actually gifting them, you worried that it looked silly to be handing over wildflowers that practically grew everywhere. Tommy noticed the way you became even more shy, your hands shaking just slightly as you held out the flowers. He took them carefully, his calloused fingertips brushing gently against your fingers as he did so, making you blush even harder.

“I found them just outside my house and thought they were really pretty. I hope you like them.”

Thomas nodded his head and you smiled brightly. The bouquet looked so small in his large hand, but he held it so delicately, careful not to bend or crush the little flowers. He looked down to admire the purple petals and silky white ribbon for a moment, and then he looked back at you. Though the rest of his face remained expressionless, his eyes were gentle and kind.

Your cheeks grew warm and you felt butterflies in your stomach. He hadn’t even said anything- he didn’t need to say anything. You simply knew that you liked him, that you were captivated by the silent, strong man in front of you.

Suddenly, the man reached into his pocket, pulling out what looked to be a photo. You watched him curiously as he reached out, hesitating for just a moment before handing the photo to you. You accepted it gently, looking at it with a soft smile. It was a little baby with big eyes and dark hair, and some facial deformities around the mouth and nose. You looked up at the man whose hands were once again fidgeting anxiously at his sides.

“Is this you?” You asked him softly. He nodded and reached out for the photo, carefully flipping it over in your hand, and suddenly you realized why he was showing it to you. On the back it read in nice, feminine handwriting, “Thomas Brown Hewitt 1st Birthday”. He was telling you his name.

“Thomas,” you smiled at him, testing out the name. “You were a very cute baby.”

Thomas blushed, his cheeks growing hot and eyes widening. He liked the way you said his name- how you called him cute. He liked you… a lot. He watched you take one last look at the photo before returning it to him with a content smile.

“I wish I could stay, but I should be getting home soon.” You said apologetically. “I’ve still got a lot of unpacking to do. It’s been really nice meeting you, Thomas.”

You handed him the plate of cookies with a smile. “I hope I see you again soon.”

He nodded, the warm feeling never once leaving his chest, not even as you walked away from him and towards your house. Tommy wanted to see you again too- no- needed to see you again. He had only just met you but he already felt so drawn to you. You were kind and caring, and he longed to have you in his life- to see you smile again and listen to your voice as you spoke to him so sweetly. You were special to him. His ray of sunshine in a dark and dreary life. And he would wait as long as he needed to to see his sunshine again.

#Tommy hewitt #thomas hewitt #tommy hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt x reader #leatherface #leatherface x reader #texas chainsaw massacre #Tcm #thomas brown hewitt #thomas brown hewitt x reader

[goosita]

PLEASE WRITE MORE OF THE SINGER!READER X BILLY THAT WAS TOO GOOD <33333333

i love singer!reader she’s so lucy gray (but with an actually sweet man)

billy would talk himself up all week just to see you again at the saloon, knowing you’d be back on that stage friday night. for the last 6 days, his buddies have been teasing him for the way he’d stared at you with eyes as wide as saucers, looking like a lovestruck fool. they weren’t exactly wrong, though.

he sits at a table near the back where he had been last time, but this week he’s by himself. he couldn’t bear the idea of his friends, as much as he liked them, poking fun at him in front of you. he felt nervous, wondering if you’d even notice him tonight. he sat and bounced his leg anxiously, waiting for you to take the stage.

and when you finally do, by god, you steal the boy’s breath away.

billy watches in complete awe, your voice ringing out loud and clear through the whole place. he watches you swish your pretty dress around, a different one this week, and how your hair bounces and glitters under the oil lamp lights. everyone cheers you on, and his heart flutters at the giant grin it brings to your face. and then your eyes meet his, way at the back of the house.

it feels like he can’t breathe for those tiny little seconds it takes for you to recognize him, but when you smile brightly, he feels like the entire sun has embedded itself in the center of his chest. he grins back, cheeks flushed pink and eyes glittery. once you know he’s here and where he’s sitting, your eyes trail back to him constantly while you sing.

he watches for you what feels like both hours and only seconds, until you take a bow and skip off the small makeshift stage. and then you’re making your way through the crowd, stopping right in front of him.

“howdy, stranger,” you say, beaming. billy can’t hide the stupid smile that takes over his face.

“hi there.”

you giggle and he feels like he might float away, he feels like he’s in a dream that he never wants to wake up from.

“i could watch you sing for hours,” he blurts out, unable to stop himself. thank god it only makes you light up more, or else he’s certain he would die of embarrassment.

“i don’t think i’d mind pretty blue eyes like that on me, for however long you want,” you flirt, making his heart beat even faster. is he dreaming? he might be.

billy swallows hard as subtly as he can before asking, “maybe you’d like to sit and have a drink with me then?”

wordlessly, you plop down right beside him and peer into his glass. whiskey. he watches in wonder as you pluck it from the table and take a sip, humming. he watches you with a smile, completely enamored.

“i’ll have what you’re having, billy.”

#billy bonney x singer!reader #billy the kid fluff #billy the kid x you #billy the kid x reader #tom blyth billy the kid #billy the kid #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth #anon

[evieelyzabethh]

Love your work. <3 Could you write something with reader x spike where they're kinda' pining for one another, but one night he gets injured and has to stay over at her house? She patches him up and maybe offers him a bite? Doesn't have to be nsfw but +5 cool points if it is. <3

Hello, my loves, long time no see!!! I hope this is to your liking <3

Spike is so incredibly reckless. You knew this, he knew, everybody knew that Spike was a walking accident waiting to happen'. He likes to think he can handle himself. "I'm bad, baby," he'd tell you, "M' the big bad slayer killer. I can handle a few scratches." But you were never worried about what he could handle, you were worried about the fact that his blood was always staining your couch. That and the fact that his lack of self-preservation kept you up at night.

Usually, he has some decorum. He doesn't come to you with every scrape and bruise, even though you handled him with much more care than he was capable of extending to himself. It was his way of punishing himself, depriving himself of your head scratches and soft hands for bothering you too much. You scolded him for this, of course. It seems like its every other week (more like every other day) when you and he argue, most often in front of the Scoobies who waited anxiously for you take your arguments to the bedroom, about him leaving you to worry about whether or not he was ash.

"I mean, fuck Spike. Is it really that hard to just give me a call if you plan on bleeding at your place. A little 'Hi, yeah, I don't think I need my wounds treated with modern medicine, I'm gonna take my chances with old whisky and tetanus like the good ol' days'." And every time he takes his well-earned lecture with a smirk and a bowed head.

"Yes, mother, next time I'll break your door down at three in the morning for some pretty pink bandages."

"If you were so ashamed of the pretty pink bandages, maybe you should think before you run into knives!"

Spike has maybe told the truth a grand total of two times in his whole life, so his word means absolutely nothing. He continues to ignore your street like the plague unless it's an absolute emergency.

Now was an emergency.

You barely heard the faint knocks on your door from your bedroom, where you sat on your bed, music blasting from your stereo and some reality court show droning on in the background, catching your attention when someone decided to be particularly messy. You had thought it was your neighbors blind dog scratching at your door again until something large and loud hit it. Quickly arming yourself with a frying pan, you crept to your door, tearing it open for a very injured Spike to nearly fall flat on your floor before he caught himself using your doorframe.

His left hand clutched at his bleeding side and he walked with a limp over to his couch which now had a plastic cover. His dead heart was touched.

"Aw, you were waiting for me, " he croaked out. He fell on his back, one of his hands falling over the side and his eyes closing as soon as his head at the pillow. His shirt had claw marks that were lined with blood and his duster had barely escaped the carnage, a few holes separate from the preexisting moth holes sticky with some supernatural substance.

"Have to be prepared when it comes to you." You patted his cheek, thumbing over his cheekbones to try and arouse some consciousness. "Can't have you fallin' asleep on me. You might not wake up." You weren't going to leave his side until you were sure he wasn't going to die in your absence.

He babbled unintelligently, his mouth moving but having no connection to his brain to form any sort of actual thought. His eyes flit between closed and aware, his head moving to catch up with the spinning room, his mouth impossibly dry, and his head pounding. In his head, he insisted he was fine, but the words wouldn't come out right. He spat them out garbled and messy until he was too choked up to even try anymore.

He was barely conscious when he felt your wrist at his mouth. He had enough sense to shake his head and nudge away your wrist with his nose, but his lack of strength made his attempts futile. "No," he mumbled.

"You'll feel better," your voice swam around in his head until the words lost meaning and he just smiled at the sound of your voice. You swiped your thumb across one of his canines, the red contrasting with the pearly whites of his teeth swiftly wiped away by the pink of his tongue. After the taste of your blood was on his tongue, his sense was surrendered to instinct as he brought your wrist to his lips.

You didn't know what you were getting into. Vampires get their life force from blood, so it just made sense to have him feed from you to expedite the healing process. The more he drank, the louder your heartbeat grew in your ear and the closer he pulled you to him. You had only done this once before, when you were both drink and dizzy and jokes being whispered in your ear turned into tiny nips from your neck that Buffy nearly walked in on.

In complete shock of what had happened then, you never brought it up, halfway convincing yourself that it never happened in the first place. If it did happen, he had enough sense to pull away then and you hoped he had the sense the pull away now, but now was much different. Now, there was a newfound hunger. A desperation. Like he had been starving himself for years and you were the first bite of food he had eaten. Had to have been good food to, with the way he inhaled you, indulged in you like you were some ambrosia or golden mead.

"Spike," you moaned. "I'm getting a bit light-headed." Your voice was high and thin, fearful as you made attempts to pull your arm from his lips. Through his haze, his fangs contracted back, and his tongue swiped whatever lingered on your skin.

"I'm sorry." Sorry for going too far, sorry for almost turning you into an empty Capri Sun pouch, sorry for being reckless again.

" 's ok."

You wobbled a bit as you stood, fingers wrapped around your wound as you shuffled into your kitchen in pursuit of your first aid kit. "You gonna tell me what happened?" He only groaned from the couch.

"Maybe tomorrow. I'm tired." You laughed on your way over to him, wrist already covered in gauze with an all too familiar needle and thread in hand.

"You're tired?" The smell of your blood was all too pungent, still. He turned his head towards the wall, studying the numerous music posters and paintings you had hanging.

"Going out to fight evil is a very hard job." You chuckled.

"I know. That's why I stay in here to patch you up." Your fingers were like magic. They always had a way of calming him down. Especially the way you hummed to yourself while you worked. You were never content with just silence. "I expect an answer in the morning." He smiled.

"Yes, ma'am." He fell asleep before you even finished and by the time you were done, you were too tired to walk the down the hall to your bed. You laid your head down on his chest, with no heartbeat to thrum and no breath to rock you, you still fell asleep just like that. Who knew cold bodies were so comfortable.

#btvs #btvs imagine #btvs x reader #buffy the vampire slayer #buffy the vampire slayer fanfiction #spike btvs fanfiction #spike x reader #spike btvs #buffy the vampire slayer x reader #spike btvs x reader #spike btvs imagine

[vampiretendencies]

Could I request lyric viii with JJ Maybank?

“if you get a minute call me back, im so lonely and you’re the only one that knows me”

— call me back by chase atlantic

IDCNTLIKEDARKNESS MILESTONE EVENT ★

pairing; jj maybank x fem!reader

warnings; fluff, mentions of death, tiny bit angsty, maybe suggestive if you take it that way.

authors note; hello! welcome to the first blurb of this event! hope you all enjoy. the event lasts today up until sunday! any rules are linked in the event title. i will also be making mood boards for every blurb, but tumblr tends to ruin the quality of them. doesn’t have to be my lyrics either you may send in fully your own idea to be apart of this <3

masterlist — jj maybank masterlist

JJ bit down so anxiously on his tongue that he felt the familiar metallic taste of blood.

He’d forgotten to pick you up from work, and he knows it’s such a minuscule task but, it did slip his mind. Though he fears he won’t hear from you again, because every mistake might make you slip through his fingertips so quickly that he won’t be able to catch you.

That you’ll abandon him, and leave him for dead like everyone else in his lousy life. In this town full of stupidity, his only remnant of hope was you. And he couldn’t— he just couldn’t have that sensational feeling ripped away from him before he fully got to experience it.

Any moment he got to spend with you, he’d be elated if it was his last.

He’d die a happy man.

Though right now all he wants you to do is pick up the damn phone before he actually goes into full cardiac arrest.

You were on the other end, glaring at the phone that lit up beside you whilst toy with the corners of the sheets on your bed. You weren’t even displeased with him, you were merely proving a point— do not be late to pick late to pick you up from work, having already stayed at the shitty establish long enough.

To be quite fair though, you did have your own way of transportation. JJ just always insisted on sporting his girl in his pick up truck— showing you off to the world with a desiring kiss to his lips.

“Fuck,” he whimpered into the palm of his hand, dialing your number for the umpteenth time.

1 new voicemail.

He never leaves voicemails, you thought.

Must’ve been urgent enough for him to declare his apology to you. So you resonate with the voicemail having craved to hear his raspy, lulling voice all day.

“Baby … look okay I know you’re mad. I don’t even have an excuse this time, but I fuckin’ miss you,” and you hear his somber sentence flail at you heart, already swooning. “Shit, just don’t go okay? If you get a minute call me back, I’m so lonely and you’re the only one that knows me.”

And you did, you stored things about JJ that he wouldn’t tell a soul— not even the Pogues. He’s so adamant in saying such things because, if you leave him he vowed to not let anyone get that close to him again. Fearing to handle such deep rooted pain.

If it wasn’t you, it wasn’t anyone.

Rolling your eyes lovingly— if that was even possible, you dial the insatiable number back. Awaiting to hear his voice, you chew down on your bottom lip.

All it took was one ring.

And he’s jumping off of the couch, a half smile adorning his features.

“Wanna’ tell me why you didn’t pick me up from work?”

“Wanna’ tell me why you can’t answer the damn phone?”

Shared breathy laughter was formed, and then JJ honed in on the fact that maybe he was being overdramatic and so were you.

“Don’t don’t do that shit again, baby.”

“Then remember to pick me up next time, J.”

He huffs on the other end, but you know he doesn’t fully mean it. Stomach soaring at the weakness he felt in his knees, by the sudden and welcoming comfort surging throughout him.

“You weren’t even there to give me a kiss.”

“Tell you what, come here and we can work something out pretty girl.”

#outer banks #jj maybank #obx3 #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank x you #jj maybank angst #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank x routledge!reader #jj maybank x sister reader #jj maybank x pogue!reader #jj maybank x kook!reader #jj maybank x oc #jj maybank x kiara carrera #jj maybank oneshot #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank blurb #jj maybank smut #jj maybank headcanons #jj maybank outer banks #jj maybank imagines

[002yb]

I just want Dick to softly hold Jason's face and kiss his checks

Despite Dick's best efforts to be gentle, Jason flinches - pulling back so violently that he hits the wall behind him. He feels like a fucking animal, wounded and cornered and violent in his desperation. While Dick tries not to spook him, Jason is already beyond that point. He's disturbed; he's scared.

Fucking fear toxins - fuck.

But Dick is persistent and patient, calling out to Jason in a voice that soothes while everything else seems to fall apart.

There's a cackle in the distance that echoes off of alley walls, the drag of metal on concrete that draws chills down his spine. Jason swallows thickly and tells himself it's not real (only it was; it is).

A shadow shifts and something horrid gets caught in his throat - panicked and hurt and young. It tears violently from his chest when Dick grabs hold of him, a hand around the back of Jason's neck to draw him close, fingers grazing a still-tender scar and Jason can't even scream because he's bleeding out again, cut at the throat and left to die as the world burns red around him.

The antidote is administered efficiently despite how Jason thrashes and fights. He thinks Dick might apologize for being rough with him, but it's Dick who will leave with all the bruises Jason gives him. Even still, Dick holds him. Grunting when Jason pounds at his back, hissing when Jason scratches his nails into the weave of Nightwing's costume. Holding firm until Jason yields, weak in Dick's hold because all of the adrenaline falls away and leaves Jason raw.

'Get the fuck off of me,' Jason should say, but his body still trembles and Dick still keeps him tucked away in the cradle of his arms, his chin rested over Jason's head and keeping him small like he hasn't been in too long. It feels safe; it makes Jason's eyes burn with frustration and resentment and with hope he doesn't want.

That sound from before tries to escape him again when Dick pulls away. Jason bites it back, jaw clenched and teeth aching as he swallows down his own vulnerability. He's given away too much; no more.

But then Dick's hands are holding Jason on either side of his face, cupping his jaw and pressed to his cheeks. His thumbs stroke gently beneath Jason's eyes and Jason feels dazed by the tender affection.

When he searches Dick's expression, Jason sees a lingering concern. Dick got Jason the antidote though - they both know that Jason is fine, his hurt pride aside. Despite this, Dick wipes away tear tracks and speaks to Jason in a low and steady voice, a hush of sound to help bring Jason down. Foreheads pressed together, so close that their lashes give one another butterfly kisses as they flutter close.

And Jason still shakes. Fine tremors that wrack his body and wrecks the rest of him. A part of him wants to push Dick away or start a fight; he reaches up and holds onto Dick's wrists, instead.

There's blood on Jason's hands. It smears over the black and blue of Dick's suit - staining him, tainting him. Marred. Jason lets go in an instant, shrinking away when he realizes.

Only Dick won’t have that. He takes Jason's hands and rests them along the cut of Dick's jaw - held in a way that lets Jason feel Dick's pulse and the steady breaths he takes. Dick brushes his fingers over Jason's split knuckles and the points of contact bring Jason down; breathing even, heart calm.

"Why didn't it get to you?" Jason asks, his hands dropping from Dick's face to Dick's collarbone, smearing Jason's blood across him in a haunting way. Jason takes his hands back, anxiously reaching up to his own neck, just to be certain that he isn't dying - isn't dead.

(He looks at Dick, too. A careful inspection. Beneath the blood is a bruise along his jaw and Jason winces at how it swells).

"Exposure, maybe." Dick says. Reasonable as that sounds, Jason can't shake that it's a lie. Because Dick's eyes are dilated and though he tries to fight it, he's shaking. When Jason catches his gaze, Dick's smile is crooked - aware that he's been caught out. The bastard is still dosed. Before Jason can ask a question they both know the answer to, Dick assures him, "It burns out of my system faster than you guys."

This, Jason believes. Even still, he feels miserable that Dick would put Jason first. They're not anything to each other, not really. Dick should have left Jason to his demons; it's what Jason deserves.

When Jason insists on getting Dick an antidote of his own, Dick refuses him. Hand wrapping tight around Jason's wrist - a bruising grip.

"Don't-" Dick pleads with him and Jason flushes because Dick lays his fears out bare for Jason to see; vulnerable and consuming. "Just...stay. Don't go anywhere, okay?"

Not again.

Please.

#dickjay #jaydick #prerelationship vibes #sad vibes #fear toxin shenanigans #words

[saint-siren]

A World For Her Alone | A child of ill omen

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12

cw (chapter specific): emotional infidelity, abuse, illness, murder, self harm, suicide, childbirth, vomiting

pairing: claude x fem!reader

summary: in which Claude tries again.

author's note: oh boy.

When he opened his eyes he was in his bedroom. He jolted from the sudden change, looking about him and trying to make sense of what he saw. He was lying on a soft bed instead of the hard, splintery wood he remembered from before. Just a second ago he had been sure to die and now he was home and unharmed. He felt for a wound in his chest, believing that perhaps he’d been saved from his fate, the knights who tried to stop your knight from killing him had taken him back home. But there was no pain there, not even a scar. He had felt the pain searing him for a few beats, the blood drowning him and then there was nothing, there was only this. But it couldn’t have been a dream. He did not dream like this, not so prophetic and pained.

A knock at the door made him jump, every ounce of stimulation made him feel as though he were going insane, as if any moment he would find himself back on the ground. “Come in” He said, in a voice that did not even sound like his own. It wavered with uncertainty very much unlike him, it sounded weak even to his own ears and he resented it. As soon as the butler greeted him with a measuring gaze, concerned he might be ill from the distress on his face and in his voice, he was asking about you.

“You are due to see the lady today. The preparations have been made as you commanded.” 

A broken, relieved sound fell from his lips at the words. You were alive. This life he’d arrived in was new, unblemished from the faults of his past and you were the proof. He lived again, you lived again. The day was miserably overcast, the light was a dull gray and much of the room was cast in shadows. This realization of his second life felt like fool’s gold and yet he wanted it badly enough that he reached for it anyway.

“I see…” He murmured “Nevermind that, prepare a carriage now. I will visit her early.”

“My lord, are you feeling alright?” The butler asked anxiously, clearly baffled by the unusually emotional state of him.

“Do I have to tell you again?” He asked sharply, impatient. He sounded like himself again. 

The butler looked mortified and had the sense to chasten himself before responding. “No, my lord. I will prepare it right away, I apologize.” He excused himself quickly but not so much so that Claude did not catch a sliver of remaining worry on his face as he looked up at him. 

It didn’t matter how he looked, it couldn’t wait. He needed to see you. He needed something to tether him to this bleary new life, to confirm it was all more than a dream, more than a hell made for him where he’d be forever in waiting. He remembered what Felix said. “Do you even know how she died? How long she was held in that filthy, inhumane place?” Had you waited for him then? 

This time, without fail, he’d show up for you. Even if it could not change the fact that he hadn’t before.

When he arrived, he was greeted by your parents who were surprised that he was there early but instead of meeting him with an edge of reproach, they apologized profusely for the tea party not being prepared yet. It was ridiculous how much reverence they showed, it was well past courtesy. Claude couldn’t help but notice the way their faces changed when he asked for you, when they told him you’d hurry along and be down in a minute. It was almost as though your name was unsavory gossip, existing only to be whispered and grimaced at.

Nevertheless, they directed him outside to wait for you at the table. His body had never been so wrought with anxiety as then, he thought he might truly go insane with the waiting, the desire to see you again and the fear that in his deserved punishment, he might never. 

A sense of foreboding came over him, an insistence this was a doomed desire. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he believed something awful was about to happen. What he didn’t know was whether to trust in it or in his hope, his intention and need. He chose neither and merely observed the beautiful and wretched day he’d come back to, trying to hold fast to the feeling of relief he’d felt when he realized you were still alive but wielding his wariness as a weapon in front of him.

When he set eyes on you, finally, he might’ve flinched. For, even though he wished so desperately that you were here, part of him didn’t expect it to ever really happen. He expected some divine punishment, perhaps it was wishful thinking on par with wishing you would alive and safe. But it couldn’t be a punishment, not if you were here. Not if you were really alive again as he was.

He didn’t want to wait for you to reach him, he wanted to meet you halfway and take you into his arms so that he could feel your heart beating, your breathing, the little sounds of surprise you’d let slip. But he remained seated, somehow, and he was able to ignore the tendrils of doubt creeping into his always so cynical mind. Shortly after you, a figure in red. He could not yet take his eyes from you but his lips could not form words. What could he say to you that would make any sense? And how did he speak without falling apart?

When you reached the table, you stalled a moment, eyes unfocused and dead. You greeted him as you always did but somehow you felt far away from him, from everything. There was a murky look in your eyes, like something waiting to emerge from a great depth. He stood, mercifully his body obeyed, he came closer to you. It hadn’t been like this before. Did something happen to you? It unnerved him see you see you look so dead; even in the sunlight your eyes looked so flat and dark to him that they reflected nothing, conveyed nothing. Unreal, like an ink drawing.

His hand had begun to tremble. Something dark was hanging over this day, over him, over you. Ah, would he wake up now? Would he wake up to the true nature of what he believed was his second chance? 

“Are you alright? This isn’t like you.” He heard himself speak, but not from the horror that ruminated in his mind, words that seemed to be at a slight disconnect with his intentions. No…what was this?

Your body was trembling, swaying like a tree in the wind. All of the sudden, life poured into your eyes, something fragile took the place of the shadows. He might’ve been glad for it, for a moment at the least, but he realized that the look in your eyes was utter ruin. Those were not the eyes of his fiancée, not steadfast or bashful and avoidant, these were the eyes of someone who had seen it, the sword falling over her head. Those eyes, he was certain, were his condemnation. 

Did you know that he had killed you before? Had the you from his past lent you the view from below?

Lady Diana, whom he had not even considered until that exact moment, finally reached the table. The tightness in his chest immediately unwound. The rose red dress, her golden hair on the wind, these were images he hadn’t known he’d held to until he saw them again. The unwitting euphoria flooded his body yet again, reaching deeply inside his mind and caressing every anxiety. Diana was here. She lived just as you did. That thought was not cause for anything really, it shouldn’t be but…he felt that he wanted to cry when he set eyes on her again alive. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her and she, under his attention, looked bright and curious. Alive. Such a contrast from her before, already cold and dressed in a thin, bloodied gown. Her throat had been slit but from the struggle there were many bruises on her pale skin, along the whole of her body. He ached to see her unharmed like this, the bright girl he had loved well before. He couldn’t help himself, even with the nauseous feeling that accompanied, he longed for her. It was the only thing he could hold on to for the turning of this strange new life. That familiar and far reaching feeling drove itself past flesh, bone, blood, into something immaterial. 

It wanted him back.

You dropped a teacup onto the grass, freeing him from the hold momentarily as he turned back to you. His stomach sank to see you, your jaw was clenched and your eyes were glassy with unshed tears. Had you been shadowed by something as he had?

“Are you alright?” He was desperate to know. He felt like he was speaking in a rush,  something was creeping up on him as sudden as the clouds blocking the sunlight. Something cloyingly familiar and unwanted. Were you specter or human? Retribution or revision? And what was she, then? What was Diana?

You were the little ghost of something he had killed. You would not respond and he wanted to touch you, so much that his mouth went dry. When had he ever wanted something this badly? He needed to take you by the shoulders, to look into your eyes, maybe his could communicate something to you. Some sincerity that his lips refused to muster. Perhaps if he could only touch you, you’d understand. 

“What happened? You’re not yourself today.” He heard it from outside his own body, automatic like breathing. He could not reach you; he was, in all reality, quite far away from you despite the closeness of your bodies.

“I’m sorry…” A wavering voice that sounded as if on the verge of tears. It made him ache inside when you showed him the same smile you always did, the smile that seemed to always be at the verge of collapse. It was as though he could feel the reverberation of the pain he felt when Felix’s sword broke his skin. It was a burning pain, the breaching of his heart. He smiled back at you and soothed a hand over your back. 

This was what it meant to be ghost. He understood finally, you were not the ghost, he was. He was immaterial, unable to affect anything around him.

Interestingly, you were different this life in more than the bleakness trapped behind your eyes. You worked with a ferocity and you became a much more cunning lady than you’d ever been before. You were more involved in politics and court, willing to shake hands with twice as many people who before you would not have paid any mind to. When had you ever had any desire to be so congenial to everyone? Had you ever had such ambition in the past life? Your intelligence had always been impressive but now it was frighteningly astounding. It seemed in this life that you had somehow become more proactive in amplifying the position of the marquisate, you were fortifying it against its enemies.

It was just another way in which you were looking after him and he appreciated it but inside, there was a certain hurt that came from seeing you work that hard and be condemned by others for it. They called you a “horrible woman” and rumors swirled around high society about you more so than before when you were merely a “jealous, fearsome lady.” He could only stand beside you and your actions, he couldn’t dispel the notions about you that seemed incessant no matter how ubiquitous your goals were among nobles. He wanted to hunt those who would harm your reputation further, to hold their deeds up to the light and make them see they were not, would never be, in any position to act scandalized over what you did.

He meant what he said, he was lucky to have you for a wife. Even more than that, he was lucky that he was able to make himself express it outwardly. That was a good omen, he thought. This time, things would be different. He was no longer a ghost, he had just needed to see you to come alive. His feelings for Diana, compulsive as they were, would not win him over this time. He would not let them. Maybe he had not been saved completely by god but he had been given the chance to save himself. And he would, he would save you too.

He had all the arrogance befitting of his station.

You had become very protective of your little sister, it was a good thing, he tried to tell himself. If Diana could avoid her death, you would not be a suspect. He knew you hadn’t killed her before but the moment it was murmured into his ear that you might be the culprit, it was decided. And for how many others was that the case – considering how badly everyone wanted you to be a villainess? There hadn’t been a single voice that rose in doubt of you being capable of murdering your sister, the voice had been his and that was buried under the weight of something unmovable. 

That was why he agreed when you asked him to look after her one day. He didn’t want to, he hated how his affection for her defiled what convictions he held. He tried to keep in mind that it was for your sake more than anyone’s, to guard himself. But it didn’t work, at the mere suggestion, his heart leaped. He was inundated with a joy that smothered the him that lived beneath. The sweetest of any happiness he’d ever held was to be found at her side, he could not deny that truth but it came with a horrible remorse, a violation of the self that a greater part of him wished to kill.

Diana was glad to have a visitor, no, glad to have him. The thought thrilled his dulled senses. Your parents gave no sense of wariness about having a man alone with their unwed daughter which baffled him, he knew he practically had hearts in his eyes when he arrived, overflowing with anticipation of her. He couldn’t have been more obvious and yet, all your mother did was smile. “It’ll be nice for Diana. She’s really fond of you, my lord.” Her voice was so soft and teeming with the affection she had for Diana, as if she was truly glad for her. Diana was not even her child, born to her or adopted, she came from an affair. At first, he’d thought your mother only showed courtesy out of your father’s desire. But this…it was the smile, the happiness of a mother. And she did not show it for you. 

How it felt to be in her room. It was indescribable, what being surrounded by her scent, her books, her things, did to him. Her room to him was like a secret cave, shielded from society. The pink painted walls were not walls at all but barriers from the world itself. All of hell could rage outside and what would they know of it? In that room only, they could get lost inside each other. Diana was feeling better that day, so the two of them were able to have tea together. She showed him some of the books she kept, she would read her favorite parts in her airy voice that always, always betrayed her feelings. She was bursting with happiness at having someone to show them to.

He stayed for hours, captivated by every little detail he learned from her and greedy for even more. She was nothing like a wonderful hostess should be but he liked her that way, she was innocently impolite and honest, unrestrained by the graces of high society. It made her easy to talk to, easy to tease and laugh with. Had he ever laughed so much as he did with her? He felt delirious from the contrast of his headiness and his dread, the heavy stone weighing on his stomach. His body and the greater part of his soul belonged here but his mind was with you. He wondered what you’d think, knowing he promised to be home by dark. You were probably worried and that bothered him, he wanted to be the sort of husband you wouldn’t have to fuss over. He wanted to be dependable and yet it was decided now that he could not.

Diana felt like the center of the earth, a small divot in the earth for him to rest his tired body. Diana felt like a noose around his neck at the gallows, sure and wrested around his neck tightly. The inevitable she. A veritable stranger no matter how he felt he knew her. All he knew was you. You were not important, another part of him argued. You were his wife. You were not Diana. 

And so raged his thoughts until he could bring himself to come home to you. He’d been told you’d gone to bed and his stomach dropped with disappointment. He’d at least wanted to bid your goodnight, tell you that he’d come home safely so that you didn’t wonder. He wanted to sleep in bed next to you but his feet led him to another room. He justified it in his mind – you needed to sleep and he would only disturb you. Because he could not control his actions, he made up flimsy justifications for them. Though, he was not sure from which voice they came from. He wasn’t sure which he hoped they came from.

The months that came after were as he imagined they would be, still he could not help but hope, he was yet unused to the kind of weakness he displayed. He was born to be strong, to be responsible for many lives, many fates and yet when was the last time he had felt in control? He needed this dichotomy of his two selves to be a war, he needed it to be something he could fight.

Even in his failure, he treated it as if it were his own fault. When he sent a letter to Lady Diana, feeling as if he had only watched somebody else’s hands write the words, he cursed himself for not trying hard enough to resist. The next time was to be different, he would gather his strength. He told himself this even knowing it wasn’t true, even when the steward gave him Diana’s response and he felt relief soothe every tense muscle in his body. He told himself the next time would be different even when he responded to that letter.

He needed to believe in this second chance. This time around, things were actually going quite smoothly with your relationship. To a certain extent, he’d been able to praise you for your efforts as he hadn't before. He’d made you happy when he told you he was lucky to have you, you looked up at him shyly with a genuine smile on your face, a very rare sight which had only grown increasingly rare over time. It was only in that moment that he was able to feel unconflicted. It was only in that moment that things were simple.

They didn’t stay that way. 

A letter arrived to the manor, it was placed directly in his hands rather than yours both because he was the only one who ever received anything from your home and because it was specifically from Diana herself. The steward had whispered the urgency of the matter so he read it at the table before you, even though the him within cringed at the shamelessness of such an act. The larger part of him refused to show such inhibition and as he read the words, his heart only dropped for their contents and not for his wife watching him warily from across the table.

With a shaky breath, he announced to you that Diana’s condition had worsened significantly. He only managed the words because he had to, because it concerned you. The darkness was spreading through his body again, rotting even the reasonable part of himself he’d held above it. He could think of nothing but Diana. Her condition was such that she felt she was going to die, she couldn’t even leave bed without fainting and couldn’t keep down food. The fact that she’d been able to write him would have been a comfort, except that she’d included that she’d had to have her maid write the letter for her. 

It shouldn’t have struck him so, Diana had always been ill, this outcome was not a surprising one but he felt as though he might lose his hold on everything if she died. What would he do if he never again saw that smile? He tried to stifle the ache rising in his body, his inner self had not stayed hidden, it objected and raged against the grief. He commanded himself to come together, to grin and bear it if he couldn’t make it go away. But his body did not listen, how could it when his voice was only a whisper?

Claude stood up and announced his departure, he rallied what strength he had to stop himself but it was entirely futile. His body moved regardless of his objections, just as it had the last time. Even so, he strained himself against the almost autonomous machine he’d become, until the very end, he tried to make his body stop. Even the sound of that pleading voice behind him did not give him what he needed. You were begging him to take you along and he kept finding reasons to deny you. It was vile. He knew she was your sister before he was your anything but inside him, woven around his throat was a pressing need to see her. A selfishness that demanded to be alone with her.

The thoughts were stirred up to the surface of his mind easily and they lashed against each other. You didn’t care about Diana, why should you be there? She had asked for him, not for you. You were only trying to cling to him. But why shouldn’t you? He was your husband and he was leaving you behind in matters that concerned your family. No – Diana was hardly your family, if he wasn’t going, would you have even bothered? Of course you would have, he refuted within his mind, you were a dutiful sister even if you weren’t close to Diana. How vile you are, wouldn’t Diana be able to see how little you care for her? Would she have to die knowing her sister curses her for having his affection?

Even though all his eyes saw was the picture of a woman desperate to get to her sister, he was quickly growing agitated with you. Whatever the cost, he simply did not want to be with his wife while he was falling apart over her sister. He thought his face should be the one Diana saw, he wanted to see himself reflected in her eyes. He wanted to be the one to give her hope. No, you couldn’t be there, hovering over his shoulder and serving as the cruel reminder of all that had been robbed of Diana. It didn’t matter if you were her sister or not, he wouldn’t let Diana be unhappy on top of what she was already going through. Why did you insist on being a burden so much?

He shuddered when he felt himself grab you harder than he ever would have and put you from his body. He caught a sliver of your expression and his misery only grew, suddenly stricken by the thought that he might hurt you worse and be unable to stop it again. Would he yet again be helpless? This time, would he be aware and powerless to watch himself harm you? Would he have to watch himself kill you, beat you, betray you — knowing that the difference between himself and this darkness scarcely mattered anymore?

For once, he surrendered and did not try to rebel when his body moved away from you, out the door.

Through the balmy night air, he moved like arrow darting through the sky. He reached Diana, his princess in her tower. Yet again, your parents showed him reverence and did not so much as ask about their other daughter. It was as if they were only expecting him in the first place, no — that they only wanted him in the first place. In consideration of his status, they were courteous and asked about him, congratulating him on a promotion given to him as a knight. He wanted to tell them to shut up, to stop with the small talk if they couldn’t be bothered to ask about you. He was curt with his answers, he didn’t know whether that was by his design or something else’s.

The instant they caught him up on Diana’s condition, however, he was alert. He was fully consumed by the doomed desire for her life to be spared. Every word that came from your mother’s mouth broke him. When he went into her room, finally, he was left alone with her. She was pale, thin, the light had been siphoned from her. When he went over and brushed the hair from her sweaty face, murmuring sweet words of comfort that he’d never been given himself, she opened her eyes and a little glimmer returned to them. Since when had he known of such romantic words when he was a pitiful man who could not even tell his wife once that he loved her? Since when did he have such power that he could return life to this girl?

Diana nearly exhausted herself trying to sit up to talk to him. He’d had to lay her back down as tears rolled down her ivory cheeks from the frustration of her body giving up. It broke his heart, he felt as though he might really bleed to see her cry so hopelessly. She, with her body and her beauty such a temporal, fragile thing, knew that she was withering and could do nothing to stop it. She cried as she squeezed his hand and he could bear it no longer. He leaned over, taking her face in his hands and kissed her until she calmed, until she thought of nothing but him. Her lips tasted like bitter medicine.

When he pulled away, Diana looked at him, docile and sparkling with an ill fated hope. His love for her in that moment caught in every cavern of his heart, it blanketed all else. It was a gentle intrusion like rain seeping in through his clothes. It quieted his better self for the moment. For the time being, he knew nothing but his desire to comfort her. And so he did.

His inner self was already quite tired after a few days, longing for home, for mercy from this place that seemed to revolve around Diana. She’d become the object of his misery and he’d held to the hope that you’d show up soon but you hadn’t thus far. Where were you to save him from this? It was a pathetic thought but it was true that he wanted to be at your side if his body would not allow him to come home. He knew that as long as he lacked control, it was much better to stay away from you and yet he could not deny himself the simplest desire for the sight of you.

He got his wish months later when he needed to return home for work. He saw you in the foyer waiting for him to stop, even though he kept walking as if he didn’t. He raged at himself in that moment, full of righteous fury against his own body. He wanted to hurt himself, to break his bones, to bruise and bleed his frustration, his anguish. But the moment you blurted out the news: “I’m with child!” He was able to stop, everything stopped, his vengeful thoughts and the anger churning inside his heart. 

On one hand, Claude felt soft at the thought of a child between you two. You had asked him to start trying for a baby and it was the one time the greater force inside was forced to do something that his inner self was more than approving of. It was satisfying, to finally have some piece of a real marriage to you. It was more than needing an heir, it was wanting to have a family with you who would definitely make a great mother and could teach him to be a good father. His heart was satisfied in that regard.

On another…he was terrified to have a child while he was like this. He was already afraid of hurting you, of the disdain he felt for you. What would he feel for this child? There was no promise that he’d never hurt he child that would be born from you, no promise he wouldn’t be resentful that it wasn’t born from Diana. The fear was like a vice, strangling what joy he’d had about the prospect. This voice inside was like a curse.

And even still, there was another front on which he was conflicted. The greater voice inside made the other conflicts seem like drops of water in the sea. The most pressing issue was that you were pregnant and Diana was about to die. You and this child would force him from her. Why now? Why did you have to be pregnant at a time where his greatest responsibility should be comforting her? How could he tell Diana he would have to leave her for the sake of his child knowing that she could never have the family she desired? Agony filtered through his body, sapping away what warmth he felt before and leaving him empty. 

In the end, with such things inhabiting his mind, he could not even express a perfunctory “That’s wonderful” or even tell you that he was thankful to you. He only left, disappearing like a coward with his poorly concealed tears to feel sorry yet again for Diana, for himself. To feel a need to break his own body.

He went back to cheer up Diana, to keep her happy even while you lay at the back of his mind. He knew that he should be there for you while you underwent something so stressful and important but the rest of him didn’t seem to mind ignoring that fact. It was glad to surrender you to thoughts of Diana. He trembled with each sign that she might recover, he died inside at every indication that she would not. He fell up and down the sliding scale of her health and all the while, whispered his love in her ears to reassure her. He felt more justified with every day he spent, that a dying woman needed him more than his wife who had always had robust health and was surrounded by servants and doctors. He strengthened this lie even as a voice of doubt tried to gain his attention. You hadn’t had robust health, not according to Felix who knew you best. Perhaps things would be different in this life but he mourned every single day he spent away from you, he wanted to crawl back home to you. He wanted you to be well, he wanted to make sure you were well.

He could not. His place was with Diana. What pleasure he took in the center of that tragedy, in living in his fantasy of being unburdened and free to love her. It was consolation he felt that he deserved. Soon, Diana did ask to see you and he had to put his greed aside. 

Although he did not desire to break the immersion of him living with her functionally as if they were the last lovers alive, her wishes were more important and she was not long for this world. She, who loved you even despite your coldness, had to leave you with something.

When you came, he could not help but notice the difficulty with which you walked. Your skin was wan and you wore a grave expression, the one he’d have been wearing if he had the choice not to smile for Diana’s sake. You were heavily pregnant, he wanted to ask about your health but his mouth would not open. Your parents also did not inquire, although he had hoped with all his might that they would so that his worries would be soothed. He could only translate Diana’s wish to you.

You left nearly as quick as you came once she required nothing else from you, he wanted to catch your arm as you walked by and tell you to stay here the remainder of your pregnancy. It was dangerous to travel, especially looking as sickly as you did. In his stead, who had been looking after you? What was being done for you? He was forced to watch you leave, not even waiting to see you walk through the door before turning back to Diana’s room. His own consciousness screamed for the loss, for the feeling of impending tragedy. The darkness inside relieved the tension in his body and thought only of Diana.

He went into Diana’s room again to find her crying. She refused to tell him why even as he begged for the reason. “Is it because the lady has gone back? She’ll come back soon, it won’t be long at all before I can call her back.” He was scrambling for something to put an end to her tears when his sweet nothings wouldn’t. “No, don’t send for her. It’s nothing” Diana said as she tried to hold back sobs. “What did the two of you talk about?” He murmured as he held her, trying to bring her back to the sated girl she had been. However, his question only seemed to further upset Diana. “I told her that I loved you. How can I confess something like that to my own sister? How can I be in love with you like this? I should have kept it inside until the day that I die.” She sobbed into his shirt. It took hours to calm her to sleep. 

He was soft with Diana, reassuring her that it was alright, that you would never blame her for falling in love, that you would forgive her. But when he came home, he was nearing madness with indignation. He was certain that you had lashed out at her in jealousy, if Diana had told him what she was planning to say, he would have talked her out of it. She shouldn’t need to confess to you, who already hated her.

It didn’t matter that his own voice spoke up and refuted, desperately citing that you had every right to be angry with her. What an awful girl she was, stealing away her own sister’s husband when she needed him most and then begging like a dog for her forgiveness, using her illness to force her to be graceful about a situation she should be allowed to have anger about. That denial was thin, it evaporated easily. It was insignificant amongst louder, greater ones that favored Diana.

He took his anger out on you, even though his inner self trusted that you wouldn’t have said anything to Diana. He said awful things to you, feeling like her knight, feeling as though he was seeking retribution for her. He watched you grow smaller before him, your eyes go bleak like they had the first time he saw you. He knew what he was doing to you and he hated himself for it but it was if he were only a player in a story who could not diverge from the role he’d be cast in.

Stop, please, stop. 

“Everything you’ve done so far to other people”

Bile rose in his throat as each word left his lips. He tried to stop with all the desperation as one trying to save his own life. 

“How can I believe you? You used that same face while scheming against others without a thought”

He knew what his next words would be, he knew they would kill you. And he could see that there was no end. He surrendered to the darkness, he wanted to escape what came next, what he knew would be another sword through his chest.

“That child you’re carrying, is it even mine?”

He left you reeling, with a visceral disgust for his wife whose jealousy knew no limit. To think that she would even choose to attack her sister as she lay in bed dying. He had no doubts that the child had to be his but it didn’t matter to him, he felt that you deserved to be humbled that way. This was the consequence of your actions. If you behaved as an untrustworthy, nasty woman, wouldn’t it make sense to treat you as such?

He went back to Diana, he wanted to be at her side before she woke up.

Diana’s room felt like a place constantly in stasis, the world was on pause when he was there and she was never to die. In his own misery, he had begun to wish that she would finally die. He knew that he would be there until she did so he prayed that she would set him free. Let her die, he thought, Please. Undoubtedly, his eyes must show it. His gaze must be casting the blame he felt she deserved. Why was she still alive, monopolizing his time? If she could only see it. No, if he could only free his body to smother her and end it. 

A messenger arrived with news from the mansion. His heart dropped in anticipation. In the halls and safely away from Diana’s ears, the steward told him that you had gone into labor. He saw the fright in the steward’s eyes and knew he absolutely had to be there, regardless of what Diana needed. You mattered more. He said that it was a tumultuous birth and encouraged Claude to be there in more reverent language befitting a servant. Despite the screams from inside, he heard himself brush off the request, citing Diana’s condition even as the steward spluttered objections in shock. He himself was shocked at the extent of his helplessness even though he had no right to be. When he could not win the right to control his own body, when he watched the messenger leave, all hope abandoned him. He was a ghost and this home was his only domain as the world kept turning around him.

Diana finally passed the day after that, as he held her in his arms. Something broke apart and allowed him finally, to vent the anguish he had been feeling for months on end. He cried, he let his fingers dig into his hands so hard they bled. It didn’t matter that he knew the tears were not brought forth out of sadness for his wife, he gave them to you anyway. The only thing worth considering anymore was that he would finally return to you. Those tears were his relief, his daybreak. They were his grief and regret.

However, he was again visited with more news. He was told that you had died giving birth. The situation was further explained to him but he did not hear, all sound negated as he seemed to detach from his worthless body. He had let you die alone. Was he only brought back so that he could watch you waste before his eyes? Why, this time, could he not save you? He had let you die, weak and helpless to even do so much as be there with you as you did. 

He’d likely been holding onto Diana as you died. The darkness receded and gave way to grief which weighed his body down, it left him gasping for air as his body returned to his control. He was no longer floating, he was painfully aware of himself, of his failure and what it cost. He reached for his dagger, it was the only thing he could think to do — if this was his punishment, he’d learned his lesson and he would gladly move on to the nothing which surely awaited him. But the steward stopped his hand. “My Lord!” He cried, wrenching the dagger from him and cutting his own hand in the process.

“I’ve already prepared a carriage, please, the daughter Madame left behind still needs you” He was bleeding quite a lot, but he kept his eyes on Claude as he used a handkerchief to wrap it.

The daughter. His child. He’d accused you of being unfaithful, he had said such things knowing they couldn’t be true simply because he knew they’d hurt a fragile woman already in a desolate state. And now she was dead from trying to deliver that child. His child lived same as he did. It was the same as before, same as if he’d killed you himself. Was this all that he lived for?

He allowed the steward to lead him to the carriage, made docile by the numbness that preceded. He came home to the wailing of an infant who, the steward had anxiously explained, had not stopped crying since her mother died. He was urged to rest but refused, he only wanted to see your body, to punish himself further. He wanted to commit it to memory this time, where before he’d abandoned you to a prison far away, he needed now to make himself see.

He wielded the image of your body against himself like a dagger, like his nails digging into his hands. He ripped open his wounds with it, he retched at the sight of you, bloodied and still. He was disgusted at himself, at knowing you had been torn apart for his weakness, as if presented with life he’d taken with his own hands.

He made himself look at his daughter. This pitiful, small thing who resembled him so closely…he’d used her to hurt his wife. He couldn’t bear to hold her and look down into eyes that seemed to damn him with their resemblance. It was as if god had given him his copy to say “You, who would condemn a good woman as an adulterer, have your proof of her fidelity.” When he had demanded an explanation from the doctor, even knowing it was unfair of him, the frail and weeping old man managed to confess that she had declined to save her own life by giving up the child’s. 

He wished that reality would break open, would fracture and crumble. He wished that he would lose his sanity so that all that occurred would be rendered nothing to a mind who could no longer comprehend the definite nature of reality. But there was only one way toward even the sliver of a chance for mercy. It would not be given to him as a gift. He held the dagger up to his throat. In the moment before it bit into his skin, he thought of the perverse escape the darkness had offered. 

Next

tags: @kage-tobiuo @kreishin @rosephantomhive@yeahdrarry@splaterparty0-0 @dear-dairiesss @qluvrv @hafsuhhh @eissaaaa @ayolk @doan-19 @fourcefulcupid@ariachaos@cerisearan@irisspade@yaesflorist@jcrml@xiaosprettygf@yevenly@amaris08atoshi012022 @obsessed-with-a-fictional-man @softbummiee @cassanderasblog

#claude x reader #wmmap x reader #claude de alger x reader #claude de alger obelia x reader #wmmap fanfic #x reader

[petrichor-idyllic]

aaaa this might be a really lame request, but would it be possible for a minho x reader where she splits up with him when brenda and thomas go back and instead of brenda getting bitten by a crank it was the reader (maybe she got bitten saving brenda) and how he reacts to seeing her get ill / recover? 🥲 seeing an active tmr blog the delivers such good content in 2023 actually made me gasp so like even if you don’t write this, i will be actively reading anything you write!

Oooo I actually really like this idea, of course I'll write it :))

Also I appreciate your continued support, you guys are the best.

Inaccurate dialogue to the films because I'm too busy to watch the movies for reference, but you get the jist.

IN ADVANCE OF GRIEF

MASTERLIST | MINHO MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: See above. Fem! Reader x Minho. Movie based fic. You came up with Teresa.

WARNINGS: Inappropriate language, you nearly die (again)(there's becoming a theme with my Minho fics)(I'm really putting this man through it), the Flare works differently in the movie vers. and all we get are the visual symptoms so I'm making this shit up, WICKED being WCKD because movie.

This wasn't meant to happen.

You just went after Thomas when he ran after Brenda - you couldn't leave him alone with a stranger.

And look where your kindness has gotten you. Biten by a Crank.

You're not really sure how it happened, but when that psycho tried to attack Brenda, you were the one to dive to her rescue. It's a blur, but once that glass broke and Thomas managed to catch Brenda, and you narrowly avoided death- you didn't even notice the pain in your leg.

It's fine.

It's no big deal.

You're probably immune.

You were in the Maze, after all.

The memories of waking up with an unconscious Teresa next to you are only from a few days ago, but now it feels like an eternity.

Though, you thought you were all immune. And look what happened to Winston.

You managed to hide it from your companions, only checking the injury when they weren't looking. But Brenda seemed to catch onto something not being quite right.

You lose Thomas and Brenda in the daze of a party you accidentally got dragged into, though you're pretty sure you see them kiss, (and Brenda get rejected,) before your body hits the floor.

"Rise and shine, shank," Minho gently pushes you awake as your eyes flicker up to meet his. He smiles at you.

Minho.

Minho.

You don't really know when your feelings for him started, especially since you don't think you've ever actually stood still. But whilst Teresa was unconscious and you were having some kind of mental breakdown, Minho made time to make sure you were alright - even with his ventures into the Maze.

Newt had his hands full running the place with Alby out of commission and Gally was throwing a paddy because Thomas had achieved the impossible. So, Minho and the Medjacks were the only ones around to keep you sane.

Maybe if you arrived at a different point, things would be different.

But they're not.

Thomas and Brenda are already awake. Brenda is sitting in a chair, looking forlorn and anxiously glancing at you. Thomas is talking to Teresa, which is also a bitter sight for Brenda.

"What happened?" You grumble, pushing yourself up on your elbows. You've been lying on a pile of cushions on the floor.

"You got wasted at some Crank party, passed out - the klunk you took was stronger than Gally's special brew," he snickers, offering you a hand to pull yourself up. Your eyes flicker up to his face and you smile.

He yanks you up and you stumble slightly. "Woah, easy, girly," he chuckles, placing his hand on the small of your back, stabilising you.

Your head feels foggy from the drugs, but your main concern is the throbbing sensation in your ankle. It stings and pulses, like something is living under your skin.

Minho notices your hesitance as your stomach drops.

You're not immune.

If you were, your whole leg would feel like it's covered in cobwebs and on fire.

Shit. What do you do now?

You don't want to worry your friends, they have enough on their plate. And maybe your body will take more time to fight the infection. Maybe it's too soon to tell.

You're lying to yourself, but it's all you can do.

"Hey, you feeling okay?" You force yourself to smile at him.

"Yeah, yeah, just a bit shucked up - where are we?" You look around the room as Minho lets go of you. There's a man tied to a chair in the middle of the room as Jorge yells at him.

"We found Marcus," Minho says simply.

"That's Marcus?" You and Thomas say in unison.

It's the same guy that spiked you earlier.

You step forward, a jolt of pain slicing you in two, making your leg twist awkwardly and your stomach flip.

"Shuck-! Christ, (Y/N)," Minho jumps to catch you before you manage to catch yourself. "Are you sure you're good?"

"Y-yeah," you try to push out a chuckle, but it comes out as pained. "Think I twisted my ankle before - nothin' I can't handle."

Minho looks unsure, his eyes flickering to your leg and then back up to your face. He can't show how much he cares.

How much he wants to say fuck this and just figure out a way to survive in the Scorch with you. You were gone for one night and now something's wrong - he knows it's wrong but he can't quite put his finger on what.

He's tired of fighting, of running, of everything.

But he figured things would be alright because he had you now.

Brenda moves to let you sit down in the armchair. She's seen it before, and if it were her in your situation, she wouldn't want everyone knowing either. And you proceed to completely zone out.

Too many thoughts swarm your head. Minho. The Flare. The state of your immunity. Who this guy is and how the fuck you're going to actually find the Right Arm.

That's a lot of ground to cover.

So, obviously, you steal a car. Marcus' car, to be more precise.

Bastard deserved it.

You all squeeze in the car, and you're stuck between Minho and Aris. Normally, being this close to Minho would send your brain foggy and have you blushing, but your body is literally rotting from the inside out.

The sickness set in pretty early into the car ride. Then the sweating and fever followed. You're struggling to keep your head up, which is less than ideal when you're trying to act completely normal.

But at least you're not walking.

So, you're less than pleased when you have to stop due to a pile of cars in the road.

You try your best to keep going, but everything everyone's saying is like static in your ears. Everything hurts, and it's a good thing Minho is paying attention when the gunshots start.

He yanks you behind a car with him and Newt - and he's not the only one noticing your state as Newt looks at you.

"What's wrong with her?" Newt asks, like you're not even there despite the current circumstances of being shot at.

"I don't know." Minho says bluntly, eyes scanning you as you lean back against the vehicle.

"You don't think-"

"Slim it, Newt," Minho snaps, "I don't wanna think."

"I'm fine," you say, adjusting yourself. "Just shucked up my ankle, that's all."

"Come on, get up! Up!" You jump out of your skin at the voices of two girls breaking your static state.

Who apparently knows Aris.

Small world, I guess.

Sonya and Harriet lead you through the mountains, shoving you into another set of vehicles and leading you to the Right Arm base camp.

By this point, the world is a blur and direction doesn't matter to you. You're just absent mindedly stumbling in the direction of sound and blurred images of your friends.

You hear Minho say something, touching your wrist but you yank yourself away as it feels like you've been burnt.

Harriet and Sonya introduce you to Vince, whose name you don't even catch.

He gives some speech about checking for infection and how he doesn't trust you all.

And that's when your body caves in and you hit the floor.

"Shit! (Y/N)!" Minho snaps, diving forward to catch you. His knees hit the floor, pulling your upper half onto his lap. He moves strands of hair out of your face - your eyes are sunken, and your face is sweaty, your eyes involuntarily rolling back into their sockets repeatedly as you desperately try to regain soke kind of control.

His heart sinks into his stomach. He knew. He knew something was wrong, and he just let it slide because you said so. And now look at you, crumpled on the floor, unable to breathe. You're seriously ill, and he did nothing to help.

"What's wrong with her?" Vince asks as the Gladers swarm you.

"What's wrong?" Frypan asks. "Minho? What happened?"

"I-I, I don't know," Minho stutters out, "I don't know."

The Gladers repeat your name and the world spirals around you. You look up at the boy who's cradling you.

This is it. This is how you die.

Minho's looking at someone else, his blurred face trying to make sense of everything. You reach out, your fingers brushing against his face - which is easier said than done with the awkward angle and your weak arms.

"Thanks, Minho," you whisper as he looks down at you. "You were always my favourite."

"Shit!" Vince snaps, making Minho jump out of his skin. Vince has moved the piece of cloth from your ankle, revealing the bite in your leg. "She's infected!"

The crowd swarms away as Vince pulls a gun out. Minho tries to shield you, shouting something you can't make out.

He's yanked away by some Right Arm members, fanatically trying to break free.

The Gladers, along with Brenda and Jorge beg for your life.

"Please," Thomas begs, "we can do something- can't you help her?"

"Yeah, I can put her out of her misery," Vince points the gun at your dying body.

"No!" Minho screeches. "Don't! Please! Don't!"

"Stop!" An unfamiliar voice says. "Let him go! Now. What's going on here?"

A woman, Mary, walks over, forcing the men to let Minho free.

"She's infected - we can't help her." Vince explains.

"No, but he can," she smiles at the boy, "hello, Thomas."

Everyone is left confused, but Minho is too busy on the floor by your body again.

Mary explains how she knows Thomas, and that he can make you better again, even just for a little while.

"Get your girlfriend up," she says to Minho, "come on, we'll help her."

"She's not my girlfriend," Minho huffs, slipping his arms under yours and pulling you up, before picking you up bridle style.

Mary looks at him, smirking. "Are you sure?"

He looks at Thomas who simply shrugs.

They follow Mary into the medical tent, Minho lays you on the bed, taking a seat on the far side as he gently plays with your hand. She sets up her equipment and takes blood from Thomas.

"Minho's also from the Maze - couldn't you take his blood?" The boy asks.

Mary sighs. "Well, I'm sure you know by now that not everyone from the Mazes was immune. And I don't know the status of your friends. But I know you are because we used to work closely. Minho's blood might work, but I'm not willing to risk waiting."

It makes sense, and Minho doesn't care about that.

She injects your arm with the serum. She rubs Minho's shoulder. "She should be awake soon. We'll leave you be." She gives him a reassuring smile. "Come on, Thomas. Let's give them some space."

She walks out the tent, but Thomas lingers for a second.

"Did you know?" Minho asks. "Did you know she got bit?"

Thomas simply shakes his head. "No, but I think Brenda did. She didn't seem as shocked." Minho doesn't bother looking at his friend, he just stares at you. "She's gonna be alright, yanno."

"Yeah, but for how long? It doesn't last forever." (Little does he know)

Thomas settles into a silence before sucking in a deep breath. "You love her."

"What?" Minho snaps to finally look at his friend.

"You love her, don't you?"

Minho's jaw tightens, his eyelids fluttering. He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out, so he rubs his face with his hands instead.

"You love Teresa," Minho retorts, taking the pressure off himself.

Thomas scoffs. "Yeah - but at least I can admit it."

Minho presses his lips into a thin line. He doesn't exactly like being called out like that.

Thomas exits the tent, leaving him with you.

He looks at you. "He's right, yanno," he mumbles to himself. "I do shuckin' love you. How shucked is that? I've known you for less than a week, and I..." He trails off, not really sure how to put it into words, even just to himself.

So, instead, he leans forward, placing a kiss to your forehead.

Though, he did not expect your eyes to be open when he pulled back. Your eyes flutter, looking up at him. You smile.

"Hi."

"Hey," he chuckles, sitting back in his seat. "You scared the klunk outta me, yanno that?"

"I didn't mean to." You groan, trying to sit up. Your body still feels messed up and groggy, but it's still a massive relief.

"Woah, hey," he shakes his head, pushing you back down. "Take it easy, shank. You nearly died today."

"Yeah, well, it's not like that's anything new."

He glares at you, and you chuckle.

"What did you mean earlier?" He asks after a brief pause.

"Hm?"

"You said I was your favourite," you cringe at that detail. "And you said thank you. For what?"

"For everything," you respond simply. "You looked out for me, so..."

"That wasn't anything special."

"It was to me."

You turn on your side, resting on your arm as you look at him. There's something behind Minho's expression that you can't quite read as be stares at you. It fades as quickly as it came though when he resorts back to his sarcastic ways.

"So, am I really your favourite? Because you seem to like Frypan's food a bit too much."

"What? Fry's cooking is good - you shanks just act too high-and-mighty to appreciate his hard work." Minho fiegns offence, dramatically gasping and putting his hand to his chest.

"Hm, I don't know, there's definitely some favouritism going on there-"

"Slim it," you snort, before dropping your gaze and suddenly becoming serious. "You're my favourite, Minho. You always have been."

He struggles to fight the smirk that crosses his face. "But, I guess I'm yours too, eh?" You grin. "Since you love me, and all."

Minho freezes completely, his face dropping. He blankly stares at you for a good few seconds.

"Ah, shuck," you burst out laughing as his face turns red, his hands coming to cover himself and his embarrassment. "So, you heard me..?"

"Yep, I heard."

"Right, yep, cool - shucking brilliant."

You smile. You've just had a near death experience, so an accidental love confession really isn't fazing you at all. Sitting up, it hurts but you don't care as you throw your legs over the side so you're sitting directly in front of him.

You pull his hands away from his face, taking them in your own. His eyes meet yours and you smile at him. Leaning in, you kiss him on the cheek.

"I love you, too," you mutter, almost into him as you only pull away a bit. He scoffs, and it looks like he's about to say something but his words fail him.

So, he decides to do something else instead. He presses his lips to yours and you immediately kiss him back.

It's short and sweet, and you're both smiling as you part.

"I'm so relieved you're okay," he mumbles.

"I'm always gonna be okay," you kiss the tip of his nose. "I've got you looking after me."

Another cute piece for my main boy.

Requests might be lacking for a bit since I'm away for the next few days but I'm gonna see what I can do.

I hope you enjoyed :))

#🌿 petri writes tmr #🌿 petri writes #🍃 petri tmr #🌿 petri tmr minho #tmr fanfiction #tmr imagines #tmr minho #minho the maze runner #minho tmr #minho maze runner #minho tmr x reader #the maze runner

[magiccath]

It had to be you

tenth doctor x GN!reader

summary: what if it had been you in the radiation cell instead of Wilf?

A/N: sorry not sorry for this one

You really didn’t mean to get trapped. 

There were two glass cells. At least one of them needed to be operated at all times for the alien machinery to work. To open one door, you had to press a button in the opposite cell. 

There had been a man, a terrified civilian, stuck in one of the boxes. So you did what you always did - saved the civilian without really thinking. Now, you were stuck.

You supposed it was all fine now, though. The Time Lords had left, pushed back into the time vortex by the Doctor. All was well, right?

“Doctor?” you asked, your voice shaky “If you could let me out.” 

He turned his attention to you, his face riddled with sadness. You didn’t understand why he was so upset. All he needed to do was use the Sonic to unlock the door. 

“Yeah,” he said, smiling sadly. 

“There’s… well there’s a bit of a noise going on in here. Can you please get me out?” you asked, worry seeping into your voice. You didn’t want to seem too scared, but you were.

“The Master left the nuclear bolt running. It’s gone into overload,” He explained, but not like he usually did. There was no childish excitement, and his words were slow and simple. He never explained things like this to you, and it worried you. 

“Is that bad?” 

“No, ‘cause all the excess radiation gets ventilated inside there,” he gestured to the cell next to you. “Vinvocci glass contains it.” You didn’t completely understand the mechanics of it, but his tone suggested it wasn’t the best thing. 

“All 500,000 rads about to flood that thing,” he continued 

“Oh,” you laughed anxiously, “you better let me out then.” 

“Except it’s gone critical. Touch one control and it floods,” he pulled the sonic screwdriver out of his pocket, “even this would set it off.” He twisted the tool in his hands, staring at it with a disappointment you had never seen before. 

That’s when it occurred to you. To open the door, he would have to step into the radiated cell. If he tried to use the sonic, it would flood your own cell with radiation. He couldn’t get you out without killing himself in the process. 

Of course, this is how you would die. Helping someone else. The universe was incredibly cruel at times. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “Just leave me.” 

“Ok, right then, I will.” He laughed and began to walk away and for a minute you really believed he might leave you there. You weren't even mad. After a few steps, he spun back around.

“You just had to go in there didn’t you?” He laughed, but it didn’t seem funny to you. 

“You had to go and get stuck!” He shouted, voice cracking with pain. He was sad, and he was angry, and those things made him cruel. You knew this, but that didn’t make it hurt any less for you. 

“There was a man in here, he was scared,” you gasped, “I couldn’t just leave him.” 

“Cause that’s who you are!” The Doctor cried, throwing his hands up. He was right - that’s who you were. Something that only a few hours ago he had loved you for. Now, he seemed to resent it.

“Really,” you said, “just leave me. We’ve had our times. I can be done now.” You meant it. It had been a good run, but all things ended.

“No,” He laughed, “we could do so much more,” He screamed, tears gathering in his eyes. 

“So much more!” He shouted, looking up at the ceiling in agony.

“But this is what I get,” He sneered, “My reward.” 

“Well, it’s not fair!” He screamed, throwing a bunch of nearby objects off a desk. You had never seen him this distraught. He was such a peaceful, happy man. 

He was panting now, tears streaming down his face. The worst part was, you were stuck. There was nothing you could do to help him. Nothing you could do to calm him down. You were helpless.

“Doctor,” you begged, fighting back your own tears. 

He ignored you and started walking towards the cell. He had made up his mind, it was better to lose himself than lose you. He could never lose you. Ever. You were the most important thing in his life. “No! No!” you shouted, throwing your hands out, “Please! Please don’t!” you cried. He continued to ignore you, facing forward in a stoic manner. 

You sobbed, no longer caring about staying strong. You couldn’t let him do this. Not for you. 

“It’s been an honor,” he whispered sadly, hand resting on the opposing cell door. You shook your head, tears staining your cheeks as you silently begged him to stop. 

“Better make it quick,” he said before throwing the door open and stepping inside. 

You rushed out of the cell, knowing it would be all kinds of foolish to stay inside. You were mad at him, so incredibly mad for choosing your life over his own. 

Almost immediately, the Doctor began groaning in pain. He clutched the walls of the cell, scraping for any kind of support as the radiation coursed through his body. His knees gave out, causing him to fall to the floor. His hand dragged along the glass as he fell. 

You couldn’t take it, you rushed over to the cell. You placed your hands on the glass, desperately wanting to do something. Anything that could take the pain and suffering away. 

“No!” you shouted, banging against the glass as hard as you could. It wasn’t a pretty picture. In fact, it was far from it. Tears streamed down your face, and not in an elegant way. You screamed at the top of your lungs, guttural sounds that were painful to hear coming from your own mouth. Your hands banged against the glass. You knew it was futile, but that didn’t stop you from doing it. 

You couldn’t bear to see him like this. 

He curled up in a ball on the floor, gripping his hair in excruciating pain.

At that moment, you would have done anything to stop it. It could play out a thousand different ways, and in every scenario, you would much rather be the one in pain. 

Just as soon as it had started, it all stopped. The system shut down, and the Doctor’s body began to relax. You stopped your banging, stunned by the sudden calm. The room was painfully silent, your screams replaced with nothingness. The silence was deafening. 

Slowly, the Doctor got up from the floor and looked around at the controls in the cell. You couldn’t bring yourself to stand up.

“Systems dead. I absorbed it all. Whole things kaput,” he said, like it meant nothing. 

You sniffled the rest of your tears down, using the rest of your strength to pull yourself up from the floor. You didn’t know how to react. 

He pushed the door open with ease, “Oh, now it opens,” he laughed. 

He looked the same. He hadn’t regenerated or died. He looked… fine. 

“Are you ok?” you asked. The Doctor didn’t respond, he didn’t really know how to. 

You couldn’t believe it. He was fine, he was really, truly, fine. You threw your arms around him, holding him as tightly as you could. He allowed one of his arms to gently wrap around your waist to support you. 

You kissed him, and then you did it again. And again. And when you had exhausted that, you leaned your forehead against his, gasping for breath. 

“You’re fine,” you whispered, closing your eyes. He was fine. Your Doctor, safe in your arms. The two of you would be ok. It was going to be ok.

You pulled back to examine him, to make sure he really still was your Doctor. A part of you still didn’t believe that it was ok. That he was ok.

“Only a few battle scars to show for it,” you laughed, running your fingers gently over his cheekbone, careful not to touch his cuts.

When you pulled your hand away the Doctor grunted and ran his own hand over his face. When it pulled away, all of his wounds were gone. 

“Doctor?” you gasped, horrified. You slipped out of his arms, your feet planting themselves back on the floor. 

It didn’t take long for the Doctor to realize why you were upset. He looked down at his hand, all signs of injury erased. 

He took a deep, shaky breath, “it’s started.”

#10th doctor x reader #10th doctor/reader #tenth doctor x reader #tenth doctor/reader #the tenth doctor #10th doctor #the doctor #doctor who #david tennant #fanfic #doctor who fanfiction #fanfiction #tenth doctor #episode rewrite #angst #hurt no comfort

[florsial]

Spreading my 2 headed lamb Regulus animagus agenda with Black Brother angst!!!

word: 820

someone give Sirius a hug or something like damn he rlly going through it

WWE WERE BORN TO DIEEEEEEEEEEE ( i love ldr music)

As he walks, the crunching of the branches underneath his feet calms the harsh beating of his heart. It hadn't been a good day. He felt like he was constantly being watched by his parents. The entire day was spent anxiously looking over his shoulders, expecting his mother to turn a corner with a wand in hand or his father to yank his shoulder with a bruising grip when his back was turned.

He really needed his walk, at least that was what James insisted on.

For a couple of minutes, he manages to clear his head, the grip of his parents loosened, leaving his mind to heal from the harsh and bruising touch. His feet soon stopped near the edge of the Forbidden Forest, and he was able to see Hagrid's hut, he figured he might as well stop by to say hi.

Sirius takes a couple of steps before he promptly stops. With widened eyes, he takes a step back from the disfigured animal. A two-headed black lamb, a baby, but not exactly a newborn, nowhere near a sheep. Its two heads conjoined by the side of their faces, the eyes wide and watching Sirius' movement with unsettling attention. The animal was creepy and yet he could not look away.

It made a noise, from one of its heads, and its legs wobbled a bit. A small movement that makes Sirius' heart ache pitifully. Remus had a farm back in Wale. He told Sirius of animals, sometimes humans, born with more than one head and dying not much sooner because they simply were born to die, doomed from the very beginning. They wouldn't have been able to survive the harsh world with the disability, nor would their bodies be able to continue the demands of life. And looking at the lamb, he thinks of how this might be the last time he sees it.

With slow steps to not scare the animal, he approaches with an outstretched hand. A comforting gesture. He manages to close enough where he can sit down and pet its soft fleece. The animal reciprocates the action, settling down to the ground beside Sirius.

"Hey there little guy," He hums.

The lamb doesn't reply, only closing its eyes. So Sirius continues to talk, "How have ya been? Well I hope, you look tired."

"I am too you know?" He runs his fingers through the soft black fleece. The animal shifts its position, slowly maneuvering itself to Sirius' lap.

"Looks like both of us are worn out, huh?"

The lamb never replies, Sirius guesses it takes too much out of the animal. So he fills the silence with his chatter about his friends, his academics, pranks, and Remus, but soon it shifts to a bit of his parents, and some of Regulus, which leaves his eyes watery. Despite never getting a baa in reply, he feels heard and comforted by the lamb.

When he finishes, he finds his face damp. The lamb leans closer and Sirius begins to sob into the black fleece. He admits in his tears, that he misses his family. He misses the times when their mother didn't scold them for minor things and gave them a cold shoulder, when their father wasn't locked up in his office or shouting at their mother, and the times he played with Regulus while the little boy was still oblivious to the world and giggled at every little thing.

At that, the lamb finally replied in its soft baaa from one of its heads. A sound that draws a wet chuckle from Sirius.

"Thank you," he mumbles softly against the fleece, "Lulu would like you, he's always been fond of lambs."

Another baa in response that makes Sirius smile.

He isn't able to stay with the lamb for long though, because he hears the familiar calls of, "Padfoot! Padfoot!" And he knows that his friends must be looking for him. Sirius turns to the lamb who is now slowly moving off of Sirius. A clear sign that he is about to leave. He wants to tell it to stay but before his mouth can form the words, the lamb makes a sound and turns around to leave. He watches the lamb move further but isn't able to stay long enough to see it fully leave his sight before his friends jump him with a group hug. Dragging his eyes away from the leaving lamb.

For the rest of his time in Hogwarts, he doesn't see the two-headed lamb again. It's only when he takes another walk to clear his head during the war in 1979, does he see it again. Black fleece and two heads conjoined standing on wobbly legs, staring directly at him, but it didn't feel like a visit, it felt like a goodbye. A permanent one.

The next day, Regulus is declared dead and Sirius never sees the two-headed black lamb again.

#lol reggie was the lamb #if yall couldn't tell idk #cuz sirius couldn't #marauders #marauders era #regulus black #regulus arcturus black #sirius black #sirius orion black #florsial's microfics #the black brothers #sirius and regulus #regulus and sirius #sirius o black #regulus a black #black brothers #black brothers angst #angst #the marauders #the marauders era #sirius black angst #regulus black angst #regulus black and sirius black #the black brothers both need a hug for that shit #marauders microfic #marauders fanfiction #angsttt

[matsukaah]

☆°•a.n - This fanfic was my first finished since 2018, so maybe it's not a big deal, but I'm proud of it and I hope you like it If there is any coherence error, it is due to English not being my native language (but it was reviewed by @icecreamonstrawberrypie 🩷 and I am very grateful!!)

☆°•warnings - 3.5k words, some swearing, just a relaxing experience

☆°•context - In this short story, you prepare to spend the next three days at your boyfriend's house. Gyutaro is a man who wants to give you the best days of your life, even if in a clumsy way, he wants to try the things he always wanted to do, Gyutaro wants to show that you are worth everything the world can offer

Gyutaro – Slumberparty

Today is very cold, but you can’t help but take quick steps, your luck is not to be far from the Shabana brothers’ residence, where you intend to spend the night. Your backpack is a “little” heavy, as you ended up filling it with necessary and unnecessary things, just in case. Due to both of their busy schedules, it is difficult to have the opportunity to spend quality time with their boyfriend, but they planned these three days together meticulously.

You can’t imagine how nervous he is, Gyutaro wanted to make sure that his days with him were perfect down to the smallest detail, making a point of tidying up the house from start to finish, almost as if he had committed a crime in that apartment and had to be clean. We also talked to Ume, as she is used to having girls’ nights out with her friends, sometimes with you, so if there’s a master on the subject, it’s her, getting lots of tips on games, games, movies that should be watched and foods that should be purchased. Like a butler he bought everything he thought he might like, even scented lemon-scented candles, but he wasn’t nervous, it was just a precaution (he was).

Hearing the knock on the door caused adrenaline to circulate throughout his entire body, almost crashing his brain, running desperately to the door, like a dog anxiously waiting for its owner. Seeing your face after so long alone made me sure I was about to die if I didn’t see you again, hugging your body with affection, burying my nose in your hair, smelling the fragrance of your shampoo, rolling my eyes in pleasure He pressed a little more, until he heard you complain, you know? Of not being able to breathe.

“I missed you too, sweetie, but shall we go inside? The backpack is heavy” you said modestly, since it was really fat.

“S-Sorry darling, let’s go in..” Gyutaro mentally cursed himself for not having noticed this before, taking your backpack in a gentlemanly manner, guiding you into the apartment.

The atmosphere was pleasant with the light acidic and bittersweet smell of lemon, you knew that Gyutaro had turned this house inside out for your arrival, it makes your cheeks heat up as you can’t help but smile. The sofa had been rearranged to be in front of the television, with some games purchased from the online store open on the screen, and even some DVDs of old games that Gyutaro had a certain passion for, and that he loved to share with you, from classics like castlevania, horror like Resident Evil is his passion, but he really loves games with nice graphics, especially if they are co-op, so he can share them with you. Gyutaro may have spent a lot of money on several consoles, even though he doesn’t use them all, he likes having them, and as they are the small luxuries he allows himself to have, he doesn’t mind spending so much. He recently bought Overcoocked2 for the two of you, he thinks it would be romantic to play a game like that with you, besides, he has seen several reports of people close to him who play together, some funny videos of people freaking out over the game itself, but it can’t be that bad, can it?

On the small table in front of the sofa there were several snacks, sweets and snacks that looked juicy, several sheets, pillows and stuffed animals that you shared as if they were your children. He will never admit it, but he hugs them while sleeping alone, as some of them are permeated with his scent, making him comfortable. But you know the truth, you’ve already come to see him as a surprise seeing him cling to the stuffed animals, it’s a rare and lovely sight.

On the floor you can also see some board games, and even a twister, you feel loved, for all the effort that Gyutaro showed in just a three-day date, it’s not easy to find a guy who is that passionate, or who has already If you’ve done half of what Gyutaro has already done for you, it would be foolish to let him slip through your fingers. He made sure to put your things near the couch, in case you needed to get something, and even though Gyutaro had rehearsed in his mind all kinds of things he wanted to do to you, now that you’re here he feels anxious, doing his thing. Breathing becomes deep and unregulated.

“Where.. I-I mean, do you want to do something darling?” The stumble in his words makes your face heat up, even though they’ve been dating for so long he still acts like a teenager in love.

“how about we play? You already got everything ready anyway, I’m sorry I didn’t arrive sooner, I would have helped you” her sweet words made Gyutaro feel proud, after all, his efforts had been recognized by the most incredible person in the world in his eyes.

“Ah yes.. I bought some new ones.. I also have a gift for you..” he guided you to sit on the couch next to him.

Looking forward to the surprise, his heart was beating fast, Gyutaro signaled with his hands, telling you to close your eyes, which he did without hesitation. He felt a light weight being placed on his thighs.

“you can open it...” he said nervously due to the tone of his voice.

Looking at it, it was a box, which glittered in dark purple wrapping paper, with some bows, undoing them with regret, since they were beautiful, he could appreciate the contents. With a plush pinkish interior, with a video game controller themed on the character Kuromi from Sanrio, with personalized buttons, all made to order and some by hand, you can see through small errors in the painting and deformities that only make it special, feeling a smile form, making your cheeks hurt. You looked at Gyutaro with eyes full of gratitude, until you looked at his hands, which had similar control to yours but the character Badtz-maru, you knew which character it was because it also belongs to Sanrio, but of course, also because it is the romantic couple and Kuromi. His control seemed to have been done more sloppily, making it obvious that his priority was to make his being more pleasant.

“If you don’t like it, I can do it again” he said nervously, even if he had tried hard, for you he would do it again until he died.

“Did I like it? I loved Gyu.. you the best I could ever dream of..” your sweet words made Gyutaro’s sleepless nights and a ton of tutorial videos worth it.

Seeing the crooked smile and red cheeks on his face made her heart beat faster, basically grabbing him at this opportunity, giving him little kisses on the cheeks, until she reached his mouth, where she stayed for a while. Gyutaro could spend all day glued to yours, honestly, but there’s still a lot to be done, he hugs your waist as he enjoys the moment. When they separate he can’t resist putting his face in your neck, his face is probably red, it would be shameful for you to look at him in that state, and you can’t hide it, his body is hot and sweaty, that always happens.

“We have to debut them, don’t we? I wanted to test a game that I bought, for both of us... I thought it would be cool, Overcoocked2, what do you think?” he said slyly, sincerely embarrassed, sinking deeper into your neck, squeezing your body in a sweet embrace.

“No matter what we do.. if we do it together I’ll like it” you said in a sweet voice, your smile was remarkable, as you stroked his hair.

—

“I’M GOING TO ASK YOU JUST ONCE, is the oven fucking your fucking brain?” Gyutaro spoke like a madman as thin veins protruded from his forehead, furrowing his eyebrows.

“I’m the one asking you, I say “cut the fucking tomato” and tell me you brainless person, what do you do besides throw them on the floor???” you said back in irritation, pointing at his face, it was the third time they had remade the same level involving pizza, always having different problems.

“HOW IT IS? DON’T COME WITH THIS! I’ve been cleaning up the shit you do since the beginning, and I’m the brainless one here?” he said, placing his finger on your forehead and pressing it.

“my sister has more cooking skills than you” he spat in your face in a rude tone, smiling cynically.

“you? I cleaned the plates, cut the cheese, put it in and took it out of the oven, because SOMEONE HERE doesn’t know how to cook without burning it, you knew you can’t sell charcoal, right? Or do I have to explain this to you too?”

The discussions to see who was to blame didn’t result in much, in the end they knew that both were to blame, especially since the game was in na already difficult phase. In the end, they were slightly sullen with each other, in a trivial way, moving on to another game that was less stressful, in Gyutaro’s words. “Love in dangerous spacetime” super cute and basically made to play with your partner, except that he didn’t notice that the game requires the couple to use their brains, something you two are not in a position to do, causing more fights between the two, seeing whoever was doing most of the work protecting your ship still managed to complete much of the game. Seeing you get easily irritated even over little things made Gyutaro laugh, after all you two were arguing over such a silly thing, to make things better he decided it was time to eat some of the snacks he had bought, inviting you to join in. He, of course, did not deny it.

Gyutaro wanted you to feel amazing, he thought of several romantic things to do together, even if he was embarrassed to say and do it. He really wanted to feed you in his mouth, like in the movies he’s seen, he started eating some of the spicy snacks he bought, they’re really tasty, despite being fiery and even sour, for him it just makes them tastier. He wanted to share the experience with the person in his life so he held one between his fingers shyly guiding it to her face. Initially she didn’t understand, but his shy face made her heart melt, even though she had never tried the snack, to know if it was to her taste, having this first experience with him seemed magical, eating from his hand, that if Gyutaro could, I would jump with happiness.

Of course, until you start coughing and watering from the burn and acidity, wrinkling your forehead, the salt in question was really crumbly, releasing several crumbs into your throat, making your cough worse. Gyutaro felt desperate, getting up quickly, stumbling over his steps to get water, quickly bringing it in a glass. As soon as you managed to take it, you took a deep breath, giving small coughs, your chest hurting a little.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have given that..” he lowered his face in shame, since he wanted to try that idea.

“no, no, my dear.. it was na accident, I liked it, only the crumbs went into my throat” she used her hand to signal him to return to her side.

Gyutaro bent down, approaching you shyly, feeling horrible for having caused this problem “try again darling.. but this time, use some sauce, it will ease it for me”

You didn’t understand why he wanted to practice this type of romantic interactions, since they weren’t that common for him, but if he wanted to do it, you were willing to do what was necessary to make it happen. And also because if you don’t support him now, he may not try new things with you again for fear of your negative reactions. He nervously held out another one, it wasn’t like him to upset you, so if you wanted to try again, he would. He used a light peach-colored sauce, bringing it to his lips and biting it slowly. Finally being able to enjoy the flavor, and it really is delicious, the burning isn’t bad, it’s even good once you get used to it. Gyutaro felt good, having managed, even though it wasn’t the first time, to see your eyes light up from the taste, and literally eating out of his hand is pleasurable. To reciprocate you did the same, you opened a package of snacks with a well-seasoned flavor, with a meat flavor, the smell was enchanting, having your hands approaching him made his face burn, he was almost in a state of hypnosis as he enjoyed you, as if you were a painting, he bit the snack from your hand, lightly biting the tips of your fingers.

Even though Gyutaro isn’t a big fan of sweet things in general, he loved exchanging treats with you, taking advantage of the size of the gummies to pass them between your lips, and feel how soft they were. When you did the same to him, Gyutaro felt like he could eat out of your hand like a pigeon for the rest of his life without getting tired, but of course, at some point you stopped eating to get some rest. He looked at the floor with the intention of continuing to entertain you, in no way did he want you to be bored, he chose a simple, “barrel pirate”, the tension of each of the small swords being implanted into the barrel, he was eager to see the little pirate jumping, seeing his nervous look, and light drops of sweat on his temple, so much so that he didn’t notice that as soon as he stabbed one of the small swords, the little pirate flew violently, scaring Gyutaro, giving na outrageous scream, as his mouth trembled in disbelief, and seeing you laugh at him made him feel embarrassed.

—

“if I feel that foot on my face, I swear I’ll bite” Gyutaro said distorting his body, now with both of them playing twister, he had inhuman flexibility, almost bending his entire body, he looked like a towel being squeezed.

“if you bite me, I’ll kick you, I’ll break what you call a face” you said nervously, moving your foot over a red circle, indicated by the word that comes with the game.

It was kind of difficult to know the position you were in, the two of you looked like two snakes stuck together, moving was challenge enough. Until Gyutaro tried to make a complicated movement, passing his arm directly over his body, he fell over his torso, causing his body to hit the ground violently.

“YOU SON OF A BITCH” you grabbed his stomach tightly, as if he had sunk, Gyutaro’s bones had beaten aggressively against his flesh, you mentally asked yourself, how someone as thin as Gyutaro could be so heavy.

“HONEY I’M SORRY” to say he was desperate was na understatement, heheld your body and placed you on the couch, looking for hot water to ease your pain.

He felt bad, but at the same time, he liked that you were so needy, after calming you down, Gyutaro did what he could to make your moment comfortable, even though he had his ups and downs, and lowest, he loved every second, and if he could he would live them again, but it’s already two in the morning, if they don’t rest they won’t be able to enjoy the next few days. He scratched his own neck, trying to remember something he felt he had forgotten. He gets up hurriedly, going to the bathroom without giving much explanation, leaving you watching television, which doesn’t have anything very interesting to watch, that is, a documentary about praying mantises, they are graceful and with their unique way of living, strangely reminiscent Gyutaro.

Gyutaro returned to the room, his body surrounded by a towel, but still dry, he signaled for you to follow him, you in turn opened your backpack, taking yours and following him, as soon as you entered the bathroom you saw the bathtub full, with lots of water. Foam, and some rubber things, and candles. Your boyfriend looked at your face looking for your approval, even though he told himself that you would like it, he needs you to confirm it, his eyes sparkled with appreciation.

“When did you have time to do this? You’re amazing Gyu..” you couldn’t stop smiling, you could almost feel your eyelashes getting wet.

“so... I had left the bathtub filling before you arrived... I wanted it to be perfect so, I came to finish arranging things here..” he was really looking forward to that day, Gyutaro just won’t admit that he had forgotten the tap running for too long, so the floor is wet.

“Don’t you get tired of being amazing? So strong, affectionate.. handsome..” it was really difficult to praise Gyutaro without him disdaining himself, or silently denying it. But you made a point of showing him that he deserved the praise, the good things he has are his own merit.

“don’t say that.. for you this is just the basics that I can offer..” he loved it when you said sweet things to him, it makes his heart beat like crazy.

“you’ve done much more than any man I’ve ever seen in my life... if you want to know what I think... you’re perfect” showing that he is everything to you is the least you can do.

To make sure Gyutaro wouldn’t start his anxious daydreams and intrusive thoughts, you corner him near the bathtub, signaling him to get in while you undress. Instantly he does so, and turns his face so that you feel more comfortable taking off your clothes, even though you’re going to take a shower anyway, he feels unworthy of looking at your body, just by wishing he imagines you I would feel sick.

He stares at his own reflection in the water between the bubbles, even with the banner with quality products, aromatic candles, he feels dirty, as if he were covered in dirt, and that his presence contaminates the water like a toxin. His heavy sighs make it clear to you the kind of things he already has in mind, knowing him well enough for that was difficult, since he closed himself off from the world.

Without warning him, you enter the water, approaching him immediately, placing yourself between his legs, allowing him the view of your face lying on his chest. The water feels so good surrounding your bodies, relaxing you both, you take the opportunity to show the love your boy deserves. Investing your lips against his collarbone and neck, his mouth, you love how his lips tremble when you get closer, you almost feel like you’re going to devour him, and if you could, you would, a smile forms on your face, the which makes Gyutaro feel nervous, in a good way.

“If we were praying mantises, would you let me eat your head?” You said mischievously.

“I would beg you so” he wasn’t lying.

—

To end your first night, the surprise was now on your part, you had some orders in your backpack, it was great that they arrived at the promised time. You showed Gyutaro two pajamas, a big one with a shark for him, and a seal one for you, you know very well that he is passionate about marine life, he especially loves sharks, especially when you compared him to one. To say he liked it is na understatement, he loved it, it almost flew into his hands when he had it, it’s soft inside, as if it were surrounded by a warm, fuzzy throw.

“What would a slumber party be without pajamas? I have one for Ume too, it’s also a shark, when we make the three of us she will have one too” Gyutaro felt warm inside, and it wasn’t just because of the clothes, you had thought about his sister too, that was more than enough. Enough to make sure he keeps you by his side.

“Thank you.. I know she will like it.. I love you” he said nervously, it was obvious that he loved you, but saying it was difficult, a sudden fear of being rejected stuck in his throat, but now it seemed ideal.

“I love you too... someone perfect like that deserves the whole world” decided to share the sofa to sleep together, you push him slightly so that you can lie down on top of him.

“I would give you the world” he whispers, feeling his eyes getting heavy with each blink, he doesn’t want to sleep, he still wants to have more fun.

“I know so... I will only accept this world if you are with me” your sweet words made him cling to your body, getting drunk on your scent, while caressing your back, watching your breathing gradually become quieter, as the few falling into their deep sleep.

#demon slayer #gyutaro #gyutaro shabana #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #gyutaro x reader #gyuutarou #fanfic #fanfiction

[timotey]

Ficlet: Cruel Fate

The Sign. Tharn & Yai (Wansarut & Yingyai). Death story. Unbeta'd.

Five meetings and the end. Or, the story of Wansarut and Yingyai.

(In the book, Yai was a guard in Chalothon's palace in the past, his name wasn't mentioned, though. Tharn kept his name, Wansa, so I decided to let Yai keep his name, Yingyai, too. Hand-wave all inaccuracies.)

***

I.

“Going somewhere?”

Wansarut jumps a foot in the air when that voice echoes behind her. She whirls around, heart in her throat, and… “Oh, it’s just you.”

Yingyai, Captain of the Palace Guard, pushes away from the wall and places his hand over his chest in a very dramatic gesture. “You wound me, my lady.”

“Hush you,” Wansarut grumbles, slapping his arm lightly. “You frightened me to death!”

“I wouldn’t have frightened you, if you hadn’t been sneaking around like a thief!” Yingyai admonishes her. “So. Going somewhere?”

“No…?” she tries.

He crosses his arms on his chest. “Are you asking me?”

Wansarut glares at him and huffs. “You know I just want to go and see…” She doesn’t finish, just waves her hand at the little garden gate and the World Outside.

Yingyai sighs. “Lord Chalothon won’t like it.”

She smiles at him hopefully. “What Lord Chalothon doesn’t know…” 

Yingyai sighs again. “They will draw and quarter me for this one day, you know?”

Wansarut flutters her eyelashes at him.

He throws his hands up in the air. “Fine. Just can you… not look like you when you do all the sneaking around and stuff?”

Wansarut looks down at herself. “What’s wrong with me?”

Yet another sigh. “You’re Lord Chalothon’s lady? Everybody knows you? Do you want to be recognized?”

She nods. “Right. You are right.” Wansarut closes her eyes and lets her magic wash over her, changing her appearance. Now, instead of a short young girl, a short young man stands there. “Well?”

Yingyai circles around her, studying her. “Hm. Still too pretty, if you ask me, but better.”

Wansarut grins at him.

“Just…” He takes a deep, resigned breath. He seems to do that a lot around her. “Be back before sunrise? Because I’m not lying for you.”

Standing on tiptoes, Wansarut leans over and kisses him on the cheek. “Thank you!”

And she runs off.

II.

Yingyai’s men are running around, patrolling the grounds. He heard there was a big battle on the outskirts of their realm, Lord Chalothon himself even joined the fight. Now everybody is nervous and expecting trouble and…

“Lady Wansarut?” Yingyai calls out softly, noticing the familiar silhouette slipping through the shadows.

She freezes.

Yingyai quickly looks around, making sure they’re alone, then he hurries up to her. She looks… spooked, rattled.

His eyes widen. “Were you outside again? There was a battle! You could’ve been hurt!”

Wansarut swallows and rubs her arms. “I know. I… saw.”

“You–!”

“Yingyai,” she cuts him off quietly and there’s something in her voice. “Yingyai, I… I think I did something bad. I mean, not bad bad,” she corrects herself quickly, “just something that… Lord Chalothon won’t like. Probably. If he finds out.”

“What did you do?” he asks anxiously.

“I helped someone,” Wansarut admits, lowering her eyes. “A soldier. An… enemy soldier. A Garuda.”

“What?!” Yingyai snaps, then looks around nervously.

“I found him by the river and he was hurt and I couldn’t just let him die, I couldn’t do that because all life is precious, you know that, and so I healed him and then I just… I left,” she finishes very quietly.

“You just left,” Yingyai repeats slowly.

“Yes.”

“And that’s all?”

Wansarut pauses. “I asked him… I asked him if they could stop killing us,” she admits.

Yingyai's face softens. She might be his lady but she's so very dear to him. “Oh, lady Wansarut…” he whispers sadly.

“Because it’s wrong, Yingyai. Killing is wrong. War… is wrong.”

III.

“He kissed me,” Wansaurt admits.

They are sitting in the garden, on the soft grass under a tree, she and Yingyai, her confidante, her best friend. It's still night though the birds are already starting to wake up and sing.

No one knows they are here. No one can see them. Wansarut is still in her male form, knees pulled up to her chest. She’s starting to like this, being a man. She’s starting to feel as free in this body as in her Nagini form.

Yingyai turns to her and stares. “What?”

She doesn’t look at him, she’s too mortified. “The Garuda soldier, the one I helped. I met him again. And then… again. And then he… kissed me.”

Yingyai stares for so long thatshe cannot but look at him. “Some... Garuda kissed you.” It’s not a question.

Wansarut nods, wrapping her arms around her knees.

“Okay, let’s forget about him being a Garuda for the moment,” Yingyai says, then he shakes his head a little, as if he can’t believe he’s actually saying that. “You are meant to marry Lord Chalothon! Don’t you like him?”

She sighs. “I do, he’s my Lord, after all. I’ve been by his side since I was little. And I know he likes me but… I’m not sure if he actually… loves me.”

Yingyai raises his eyebrows. “And this Garuda does?”

Wansarut pauses, then she says, “Yes. Yes, I think he does. He knows who I am, that I’m a woman, that I’m a Nagini and he still…”

“Maybe he’s just using you, to spy on us or something,” Yingyaoi points out.

She shakes her head. “He wouldn’t need to.”

Yingyai narrows his eyes suspiciously at her but when she doesn’t elaborate, he sighs. “And do you love him, my lady?”

Wansarut is quiet for a very long time. Then she says in a very small voice, “I do.”

IV.

Yingyai is waiting for her when she sneaks back in through the garden gate. “Where were you, my lady?!” he berates her harshly but quietly, so as not to be overheard. “Lord Chalothon has been looking for you. You missed the whole worship ceremony.”

But her eyes are shining and she still hasn’t changed back to her female form when she says, “I had to show him.”

“What?” Yingyai’s eyes widen in dismay. “You took a Garuda to our worship ceremony?!”

“Yes! I had to show him the beauty of it. I had to make him understand that we aren’t so different, that there’s good in all of us.”

Yingyai throws his hands up in the air. “What for? What was the point? You’re risking so much and for what?” He’s angry, frustrated. He’s so afraid for her.

“Maybe it can help stop the killing,” she whispers hopefully.

“How?” Yingyai snaps. “How can one enemy soldier stop a war?”

Wansarut doesn’t answer. She just looks at him.

Yingyai tries to swallow but his throat is suddenly too tight. Dread is starting to seep through him. “My lady… Wansarut, who’s the Garuda you’ve been meeting, the one you claim to love. Who is he?” He should’ve asked sooner, so much sooner!

Her answer confirms his worst fear. “King Sakuna.”

“By all that’s holy…” whispers Yingyai.

None of them notices the shadowy silhouette slithering through the shadows. But now Wanwisa knows.

V.

“My lady, no!” Yingyai calls out, grabbing her by the arm. “You can’t go. Not in the middle of the day. He will know!”

But Wansarut, already a man, more and more often a man these days, slips out of his grasp. “I have to. I have to go! I can hear King Sakuna calling me. He sounds so desperate. Something must’ve happened, I’m sure of it.”

Yingyai blocks her way, he doesn’t allow her to open the gate, he’s adamant. He has a very bad feeling about it. “Then wait till night, at least. If you go to him now–”

“If I don’t, I’m afraid he’ll storm the palace!” she exclaims softly.

Yingyai’s eyes widen. “He wouldn’t do that. He’s no fool!” 

She grips his hand pleadingly. “But he is. He is when it comes to me. If he thinks something happened to me, he will do something foolish. He will risk his life for me. And I can’t let him do that. I have to protect him, Yingyai. Please!”

Yingyai feels like crying. The sense of impending doom is getting stronger and stronger, like dark clouds gathering on the horizon. This isn’t right. Something is wrong. Something’s very wrong. “My lady,” he whispers, taking her hands in his. “Please, please, don’t do this.”

But she just shakes her head. “I have to. Please, let me go.”

For a long moment, Yingyai wars with himself - then, with a heavy heart he steps aside and opens the gate. “Alright, go. But return quickly. I’ll be waiting for you here.”

Wansarut smiles at him. She reaches up to cup his face and standing on tiptoes she kisses his forehead gently. “It will be alright, Yingyai. Everything will be alright.”

Then she slips out of the gate.

It’s the last time Yingyai sees Wansarut alive.

His heart never heals.

I. 

Three weeks later, Yingyai dies.

He is killed in a savage battle, one of many in a senseless war that his lady Wansarut so dearly wished to stop. If she knew that it was her death what ultimately set the world aflame, she would weep.

The cruelty of fate.

#the sign #the sign the series #my fics #my the sign fics #mé

[taizi]

all that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing

wild heart au

read on ao3

x

Sanji has known Sabo for much less than a month, but he’s already become one of the very last people on earth that Sanji could imagine crying. He’s too big for that, too tough—the kind of boy Sanji’s brothers would admire, probably, one who isn’t afraid to dig in with his heels and fight dirty and use his teeth to win. Nothing like the weak-willed, tender-hearted, soft-skinned failure of the Germas. 

But Sabo’s eyes are red and puffy, for the split second Sanji gets a glimpse of them, and it’s shocking. The older boy turns his back on the rest of them, crouching by the fire and prodding it viciously with a stick. Ace, who saw where Sanji’s gaze got stuck, folds his face into an impressive scowl. 

“Don’t ask,” he says, in a tone that implies it is not a suggestion. 

“I won’t,” Sanji says quickly, hands clutching on the strap of his bag anxiously. Ace clocks it with a flick of his dark eyes and scoffs, but before Sanji can decide how he feels about it one way or another, Luffy’s arm stretches past him to give Ace a solid shove.

“We can only have one sad brother at a time!” Luffy declares. It seems like he can’t decide if he should whisper or shout, but Sanji secretly doesn’t think Luffy would know how to keep his voice down if someone held a gun to his head, so the result is a normal talking voice in a weird pitch. “Don’t make Sanji feel bad, too, or I’ll hit you!”

“You wanna die?” Ace grumps back, bearing his teeth like one of the animals they hunt for dinner, but he capitulates surprisingly easily. Sabo’s mood seems to have knocked him off-kilter. That’s probably why he doesn’t argue the brother comment. 

Sanji is pretty sure the older boys don’t like him very much, but Luffy makes up for it. Luffy isn’t quiet or shy about the things he hates or the things he likes, and Sanji would have to be deaf and blind to miss how much Luffy likes him. 

It makes him willing to put up with Ace and Sabo’s bad attitudes—willing to spend his free time climbing a mountain, picking his way carefully to the edge of the dense, looming rainforest, and cook meals for a group that is two-thirds suspicious and ungrateful—because then he’ll get to see Luffy’s big, silly smile. 

Sanji is quickly learning that he would do almost anything to see that. 

“His family is stupid,” Luffy pipes up. “They have all these weird ideas that Sabo should be like them , even though he’s already like somebody—he’s like Sabo. And they do mean things when he doesn’t pretend the way they want him to—today they forgot his birthday on purpose.”

He’s not being quiet enough; Sanji can see Sabo hearing every word. But Ace doesn’t shut him up, and Sanji can guess why. The tension in Sabo’s shoulders is unwinding, until he doesn’t look so much like a creature curled up to defend itself against a kick. Suddenly he’s just Luffy’s smart-aleck big brother again, who’s sitting slouched by the fire because he’s a little tired, or a little sad. And he’s listening to the inane ramblings of a scrawny seven-year-old boy as if they mean something very important to him. 

Luffy lifts his hand to cup the side of his mouth, inviting Sanji in on a secret, because he still thinks he’s being sneaky. Sanji feels a burst of fondness in his chest that he can’t help, like his insides are nestled in a warm stove, and leans in agreeably. 

“I don’t know why anybody who was lucky enough to have a Sabo would want him to be anything but Sabo. Sabo’s the best! Don’t tell Ace, though.”

Ace’s hackles go up. He doesn’t actually have porcupine quills but he might as well since he bristles just like one and makes it painful for anybody who sticks their hand too close to him. But then Sabo makes a smothered sound, shoulders shaking with laughter that he’s trying to keep behind his hand, and it defangs Ace instantly. 

He still calls Luffy a brat and cuffs him on the head as he walks by. It’s gentle by their standards, and Luffy’s skull just bounces with the motion like a volleyball, but Sanji pats him gently in the same spot just to be sure. 

Luffy reaches up to cling to his hand and beams up at him, this little pocket-sized star. 

“What are you going to cook for us today?” he asks enthusiastically, and the mention of food has his brothers looking over, too. Sabo is still a little pale and quiet, but his icy blue eyes aren’t flinching away from the rest of them anymore. 

Sanji can’t help but think about it, though, when he’s lying awake in his bunk on The Orbit later that night. And he thinks about it when he gets up and makes his way down into the kitchen. There is usually still one or two people milling about even at this hour, and the baker gives him permission to use the oven as long as he promises to clean up after himself, and that’s how, at something like two o’clock in the morning, Sanji finds himself looking at a birthday cake that got away from him.

It’s three tiers, the sponge infused with pineapple, with a spread of filling between each layer that’s as thick and tart as a jam, and the whole of it is covered evenly in white buttercream frosting with a fluffy blue border piped around the top and bottom. He doesn’t add any extra embellishments, because he’s certain the boy it’s for won’t appreciate it, but he wants Sabo to know it’s for him and not something extra Sanji just took off a shelf. So he pipes that signature crossed-out S on the top and then boxes the whole thing up and sticks it in the fridge before he can second-guess himself anymore. 

The next morning, after a few fitful hours of sleep, he drops the cake off at the Party Bar, red-faced and embarrassed. The owner of the bar is a kind woman Luffy took Sanji to meet once in his chaotic, haphazard way that feels more like he’s just showing off his favorite things than introducing people. Makino seems to be the brothers’ point of contact for things like fresh milk and shoes without holes, and takes their rude comings and goings with the patience of a saint. 

She looks a little confused to have a big pastry box shoved into her hands by a relative stranger, but kindly promises to pass it along when Sanji is able to mumble out who it’s for, and at that point Sanji bolts out the door. 

He almost gets away with it. Maybe. He probably should have just stayed on the ship all day if he really wanted to hide, but his seniors on the staff are still adamant about keeping him away from the clientele for his own safety. 

So he’s crouched by the tidepools, watching colorful, spiny creatures living without a clue or a care how big the world is outside their tiny little place in it, when he’s tackled to the ground. 

Sanji gets a mouthful of sand and coughs and hacks and yells without looking, “Luffy!” Because there’s only one insane rubber boy who would rocket himself across the beach in an affectionate full-body slam for no other reason than to get to his hug faster. 

“You made Sabo a cake!” he shouts, like he’s trying to let the whole island know about it. “He won’t say it, but thank you, thank you! We ate the whole thing!” 

When Sanji is finally able to squint his eyes open, past the grit on his face and the sun pointing down on top of him, he’s able to make out Luffy’s blond brother standing over them. Sabo’s staring down at Sanji like he’s never seen anyone like him before. He doesn’t look unhappy or annoyed, he looks like he hasn’t decided how to look at him at all. 

Sanji shoves at Luffy until he gets the hint and lets him up. Only he gets the hint in his overly-enthusiastic Luffy way, and hauls Sanji to his feet with gusto, both his hands wrapped tight around one of Sanji’s arms. He’s very quick to grab onto people. Sanji isn’t sure he knows the first thing about how to let go. 

“Why?” Sabo demands. 

Because Sanji used to get birthday cake. He remembers being very little, lifted up into mama’s warm arms when she was still strong enough to lift him. He remembers the fragrant smell of her hair as she cuddled him close and carried him over to a beautiful little dessert.

“Make a wish,” she would tell him. “Keep it a secret so it comes true.”

Sanji is grown up now and knows those things are for children. And he knows that Sabo is so much stronger than Sanji is, and braver, and rebels against his family right to their faces in a way that Sanji would never, ever be brave enough to copy even if he lived for a million years. Sabo almost definitely doesn’t miss birthday cakes, of all things. 

But Sanji remembers how loved he felt when mama held him up to blow out the candles. The absence of that feeling carved a hole inside him that never went away. He isn’t anyone important to Sabo, but he’s someone who can give him a cake. 

He doesn’t know how to say any of that. All he says, more to the scars on his hands than to anyone else, is, “My family was mean, too.”

For a brief moment, neither of the brothers say anything. Then two skinny arms latch themselves around his waist—wrapping twice, then three times more than human arms are capable of. Luffy’s frowning up at him with that petulant expression he wears when he’s been wronged. 

But Sabo is the one who says, “Take me to them someday and I’ll beat them up.”

Sanji’s knee-jerk reaction is one of anxiety. “No, um, that’s okay. My brothers are really strong. And my dad is really scary.”

“I’ll be stronger and scarier,” Sabo announces unremarkably, folding his arms. “And I’ll have Ace,” he adds, like that’s his trump card. It’s not a bad trump card. Fighting Ace is like fighting a force of nature, or a rabid coyote. Most sensible people turn and run. 

“And me!” Luffy announces. 

“You aren’t going anywhere near my dad,” Sanji is quick to shoot him down, heart racing just thinking about Judge putting his hands on sunny, smiling Luffy. He would—he doesn’t know what he would do. But he would do something. He would go crazy. 

Luffy swells like an offended little toad, with probably plenty to say at being left out of this make-believe conflict that’s never actually going to happen in real life. 

Before he can burst with whatever silliness he’s got to say, Sanji cuts in with, “So you liked the pineapple filling in the cake?”

It cuts the wind right out of Luffy’s sails. Food always distracts him. He blinks a few times, absorbing the question, then says, “Yes! It was the best cake I’ve ever had! Ace said so, too!”

Sabo looks like he’s decided how he wants to look at Sanji now. It’s the way Luffy’s brothers both look at him. It’s the way people watch stupid puppies too clumsy for their big ideas tumble enthusiastically into trouble—funny for a few seconds, and then it’s your responsibility to pick them up and put them back on their feet, and they’re lucky they’re worth all the trouble. 

Sabo looks like he’s decided Sanji is worth the trouble.

#one piece #opfic #black leg sanji #revolutionary sabo #monkey d luffy #my writing #op #asl bros #wild heart

[rachi-roo]

AAAAAHFINALLY SOMONE WHO DOES ANGELS OF DEATH

breathes

Anyway could I request a ler issac fic cause god him being a mean a sadistic ler and teaser brain go brrrrrr where he chases a reader, their worse spots being their ribs and hips

-------------{ ☆°•○•°☆ }--------------

Angels Of Death: Tickly Terror

Uh oooooh! I've been found by a fellow AOD fan 🫣 Greetings, I think I love you! XD Thanks so much for the request and your patience! Zack is such a MONSTER! I luv it 🤩

Summary: Reader is attacked by a certain serial killer who has a soft spot for people in your line of work. He won't kill you now, but he has other plans to make you suffer.

Ler!Issac, Lee!Reader

Tw: Knifes, Swearing, Cruel tiggles

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Well, this was not what you had in mind for a nice Friday out on the town.

Running for your life, that is.

It all happened so fast. You knew taking that shortcut down the backstreets might be a bad idea, but you thought the worst might be some bum asking for a lighter, not a crazed maniac to start chasing after you with a knife.

You glanced over your shoulder, heart pounding in your chest. He was still there. Hot on your heels and gaining. The sound of his boots and insane laughter growing louder and louder. Chills running down the back of your neck.

He's coming! He's right on you!

You feel your stomach drop as you trip, tumbling to the concrete with a thud. You spin your head round, suddenly face to face with your pursuer.

His bandage covered face inches from yours as he smiled an unsettling smile. You can smell blood on his clothes. That coppery scent was dried onto his dirty hoodie.

It felt like an eternity of staring at each other before he finally spoke.

"Not gonna beg for your life?" He asked, standing over your body with a chuckle as he toyed with the knife in his hand, feeling the blade from handle to point. "I'll make this quick if you do." He continued, lowering himself onto your waist and placing a hand over your throat, holding you in place.

Petrified, you just lay there, staring at him. Your chest heaving, heart about to jump from your ribs.

A squeak left your lips as his knife suddenly slashed towards your throat. You clench your eyes shut. Waiting for the impact-!

...Impact?

You anxiously open one eye, looking up at the attacker who now held your ID card from work as it had fallen from your pocket. He narrowed his eyes as the words.

"... Does this say nurse?" He asked, showing you the card.

You gulp, trembling as you speak. "Y-Yes... I'm a c-childrens hospice nurse... I work with orphans."

The attackers face sank as he tossed your ID aside with an aggrivated groan. "Damn it. I can't kill ya' now I know that... Damn, Ray. She made me soft!" He cursed himself as you watched on, wondering who 'Ray' was.

Though, that didn't really matter. What mattered was the fact you weren't going to die! A small sigh of relief passing your jittering lips. The feeling didn't last long though.

"However, I'm still going to have to make you scream. I went through the trouble of chasing you down after all. I've earned it." The boy nodded as he leaned closer, softly tracing the dull side of his knife up and down your side.

The feeling of the dull point dragging across your side, through your thin shirt, sent a tingling sensation across your torso. You bit your lip, biting back a smile as your fingers curled up reflexively. What if a smiling pisses him off?!

But, it tickles! So bad! The cold tone of your attacker reminded you of the situation you're in.

"Your tag said y/n... So tell me, y/n, where should I start? Don't worry, I'll keep the injuries hidden. I don't want to worry the kiddies or-... Are you fucking smiling right now?" He asked with a dumbfounded glare.

"N-No! No, I'm not! I'm really not!" You blubbered, your hands shooting up defensively as you fought down a giggle.

"Yes you are! I saw it! You we're so smiling! You think this is funny? You got some kind of pain kink or something? Youd better tell me cus' I aint here for that noise."

"No! No, I-I swear it's not that! Your knife! It- It just- Eek!" You squeal as he traced the length of your stomach with the dull blade again.

The boy smirked, a sadistic glint in his eyes as he finally put all the pieces together.

"Oooh." He chuckled.

"No! No, it's not what you think!"

"Haha, I think it's exactly what I think." He shifted his weight, trapping your arms by your side, beneath his knees. He knacked his knuckles, grinning a fanged grin as he prepared himself for the fun he was going to have with your helpless body.

He held his limber didgets out, flexing them close to your stomach to start with, revelling in the way you squeaked and tried to suck your belly in to avoid the fingers.

"I'd say sorry, but I'm really not." He chuckled before diving into your soft skin, vibrating and clawing at your tummy.

"Gh-! Haha! N-Noho! H-Hehey! Wait! WAIT! PleheEEEHE-!"

You giggle, legs kicking out behind your attacker as he dug into your tummy, chuckling with you.

"Hmm, I think you can beg better than that." He smirked, his hands shifting to ruthlessly claw at your sides. Even rolling up your shirt to attack the bare skin directly.

"WAH! S-Stahap! Please! Pleheheee-! Aha!" You yelp, twisting and turning, doing anything you can to escape.

This just eggs your attacker on. The hood of his hoodie shrouding his expression in a shadow, but you can feel him grinning at you, enjoying your suffering.

"Haha, poor little thing. Look at you, so helpless. And I'm not even hurting you! You're just too ticklish for your own good, huh?" He sneered, pinching up and down your sides, until he inched juuust too far upwards, finding your lowest ribs.

"FUHUCK! Wait!" You yelp, curling in on yourself to the best of your ability in your trapped state.

"Hm? Ooohohooo. Is that your sweet spot?" He jeered, latching onto your ribs with deadly precision, vibrating his fingertips into the sensitive dips and bumps that made up your ribcage.

A scream ripped from your mouth as he tickled you there. It really was the worst! This whole situation was a nightmare!

"NOHO! ShihiIIIIHIT! AHAAA-!... gasp AHA! Noho! NNNAAAHA!" No amount of kicking and squirming was working. This sadistic stranger had you trapped and completely at his mercy. Something he definitely wasn't going to give you.

"Take that! And that! Haha! Bet you're regretting coming out tonight now, hah? Tickle, tickle, tickle! Weak, ticklish little looser, aren't ya?" He teased, cruelly insulting you in a childish manner. Not letting up from your sensitive ribs yet.

"Pleheheee-!... gasp GAHAHAAAD!"

"I ain't no God, call me Zack." He chuckled.

"Zahack! Plehehease! Stop! Stop! Stop! StahAHAHA!" The more you begged, the more he tickled. He was truly an evil being.

Zack grinned, shifting his hands and drilling his thumbs into your hips as he spoke.

"Ooh, look at that expression. So much suffering under such a bright smile. Haha! So silly looking~ Coochie, coochie, coo~"

"NYAAHAHA! ZAAAHACK!" You arch your back, desperately trying to dislodge his vicious thumbs from your protruding hips. "Fuhuck! NnnOHO-!... *gasp* AHAHA!"

Nothing worked! Nothing was going to work! You were completely at his mercy.

Hearing your pleas, he laughed, mocking your attempts to make him stop. "Oooh, Zaaack! Please! Don't tickle me! Oh nooo! Haha! You sound so pathetic! Tickle, tickle, tickle~! How about here? Or here? Nah, back to the ribs!"

He teased and taunted, his hands dancing between various different areas of your torso before latching back onto your ribs.

As the tears pooled in your eyes, and the laughter became breathy and full of hiccups, you wondered if he would ever stop.

"HEHELP! Help-! Ahaha! H-HeheaaaAAAHA! Help mehehe! Please!"

"Calling for help now? Pff, you really are completely helpless, aren't ya?" His cruel smile sent a shiver down your spine, realising just how right he was.

"NOHO! S-ShihihahaAHA-! AH!" A yelp passed your lips as the crook buried his face into your neck, blowing a raspberry into your skin, making you shrill in ticklish delight.

He loved the sounds you were making. So pained, yet so happy! It's weird, even this killer knows that. "Haha, I wonder how long you can take this. An hour? Several hours? A day maybe?! PfffAHAHA! Let's find our, shall weeee? Yyyyy/nnnn~?"

You weren't sure how long this torture had gone on for, but the awful tickling sensations on your hips suddenly stopped. You blinked the tears from your eyes, realising that Zack was no longer sitting upon your waist.

He stood, yawning and stretching his arms as if he was the one who was tuckered out. "Aaah... Bored now. You can go." He chuckled, nudging your shoe with his.

".... Oooor you can stay on the floor? If that's what you want?" When he realised just how tired you were, he scoffed, standing over your head and grinning down at you.

"Let's put it this way, if you stay there too long, I might get all worked up and start tickling you again."

"I'M UP! I'm going!" You scramble to your feet with a sudden burst of energy. The thought of another round of tickles made you feel ill. You dashed a few feet out of his range before turning back to see... No-one.

The Tickly Terror was still out there somewhere. He's probably looking his next victim...

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Thank you for reading! 😚❤️

#rachi roo #sfw tickles #satsuriku no tenshi #angels of death #AOD #issac foster #Zack Foster #Ler!Zack #Ler!IssacFoster #lee!reader #lee!y/n #x reader #sfw tickling community #mean tickles #rough tickles