#ever sit like a corpse in your own body?

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

#ever sit like a corpse in your own body? #im doing a job i wasnt designed for. theres this funny thing we do in academia where we beg for money. write in consise phrasing why we #deserve funding. what it is about our project what it is about our personhood that makes us deserving. what we're doing in our present to #give back and ensure a better future. and i can pull together a description of a nervous kid who couldn't read but loved to learn anyway. #who didnt kno how to hold proper a conversation until college and so tried and got better at ppl. who wouldnt let a language problem get in #the way of information gain. who cares about making complicated info visually digestible. and that's a nice story. but it falls apart when #projected into the future. what r u doing for the future? im just trying to continue existing #dont u want to help other ppl like u? sure but i dont have anything nice to say to them. does it ever get easier? no. it probably never will #ur brain was not built for reading. sometimes things r just terrible and u have to accept that. develop a crippling mental disorder or do #something where u dont have to read. see. not helpful. bad attitude. im just too full of blood and broken glass. all my achievements r #stained red and it hurts to look at them. to get myself to function i have to squeeze so tight i can feel the strain in my head. and even #then its not enough. do u kno what its like to spend ur whole life building something only to watch it burn to ashes in front of u? just a #broken machine rotting away underground where no one will see it. but dont let things fester. speak up if somethings wrong. and say what? #lmao i wrote this last night and then today when my advisor was like: hows it going? do u feel like u have enough time to get everything #done? and i had the gall to be like *voice strained high to prevent crying* its alright i think ive got enough time. bc yea technically i #think there r enough hours in yhr day that if i really tried i could get it all done. but that doesn't count the time i spend laying with #thr absolute desolation of my mind. so no. there isnt enough time bc im not doing well. but there's nothing he can do abt it so ya kno #whats the point in talking abt it except to say ya sorry im such a wretched miserable person. i dont kno how to fix it. my enthusiasm is #hidden under layer upon layer of pain. i burnef out before even getting here and im only making it worse #but whatever ill see my therapist Tuesday #unrelated

[faeriekit]

"Okay." Danny slowly laid the already cold body back onto the table, ready to slide back it into the refuge of cold storage. "Okay. Dead guy. Stay there."

The body didn't move.

"Fantastic. Now. Hang out while I pour the embalming fluid into the pump, alright? It should only be a minute."

And it usually did; working in a funeral home wasn't extremely glamorous, but it paid the bills, and Danny had already been used to the rhyme and rhythm of negotiating death with the public by the time he sent in his mortuary school application. It had been a transition that made sense. And in the end, the degree had only cost him a few extra years post-graduation and a little dig into student loans, and now Danny had a stable 12-8 job and health insurance valid in the state of new jersey.

Today, though, the pump had that decided enough was enough. With a bang and a boom, the pump spat out a cloud of smoke and clunked uncomfortably.

The dead body sat up.

Danny scrambled over to push it back down. "No. We talked about this. Dead people don't move. If you want to stay here and have me put you back together all the time, you have to stay put. Got it?"

Whatever the weird gold-eye corpses were on in Gotham, they at least listened to him on occasion. They weren't ghosts, per se— they never pinged on any of the ghost detection devices Mom and Dad had packed in his going-away-to-college bag— but they were, despite being occasionally animate, perfectly deceased.

Weird. Danny had never gotten used to it. Still, they came in droves, too eager to sit on the top of the basement stairwell and lurk in the corners and stare endlessly at them with their weird, avian eyes, and sometimes they heralded the arrival similarly weird-ass bodies that had lost their heads or their arms or their limbs through the more conventional channels.

"I'm losing too much thread to all y'all coming in all the time," Danny complained to the dead body, who, at the moment, was the only person present to blame. "Stop getting your limbs cut off. This stuff is expensive, you know. It's a specialty order."

The body didn't even have the courtesy to blink. Rude.

"At least let them bury you this time. Every time one of you darts off when my back's turned, my boss thinks I'm stealing corpses. My coworkers think I'm building my own Frankenstein or something."

The corpse neither verbalized nor blinked, but Danny hadn't expected it to; with a sigh, he rolled the corpse back into cold storage, locked its little door (not that locking it in had ever stopped it) and called it quits for the night.

It's not like anyone was paying him for the extra hours anyway.

#I'm very pro Danny accidentally adopts a whole bunch of Talons #people have definitely done it before but this scene came to me in a vision #a horrible caffeinated vision #could absolutely be an excuse for #talon!dick #talons #dp x dc #faer fic #dpxdc #dcxdp #talon!au #dcu crossover #death tw #well. the funeral industry anyway #medical tw #just in case #corpse tw #¯\_(ツ)_/¯ #free to a good home

[yanderefarm]

Can we please have more of yandere housewife the first one was so good 😭💜

yandere housewife part 2

cw; horror, possessive, creepy wife, cheating (implied from last time) a/n; haha sorry if u expected something cute or really sexy this is a direct follow up from the last one. maybe it'll get spicy again ;)

everyday seems to stretch, it feels like every movement takes a year. how did it become like this? how did you end up in this situation? everyday you sleep in his bed. you bathe in his shower. you eat at his table.

everyday you face the blood red eyes of that killer. the one you helped in disposing of a body, the one you slept with, the one you prompted to leave his husband. you stare at him as you eat food. you stare at him as he washes your back. you stare at him while you sleep.

its been a week of living like a corpse. a week of shambling from location to location with the ever adoring man right behind you. you never noticed before how muscular he was and now it felt like it was all you could see. sometimes you would see him in the kitchen cutting up food for you and you would run to the bathroom to empty your stomach. the horrific sight you saw that night seemed burned into your eyes and was willing to remind you at a moments notice.

but he didn't change. that sweet man you came to love was still pampering you. he let you lay in bed all day, cooked you dinner, helped you shower, washed your clothes. he took care of you. somehow it was even scarier that nothing changed. but still sometimes you could feel yourself fall into his sweet trap. you would lay your head in his lap and his fingers would run through your hair until every worry faded away. until it returned and you went back to being the living dead.

and then one night he asked. "why don't you ever touch me anymore?"

you looked at him sitting across the table from you and for the first time all night your eyes actually focused on him. he looked hurt. you looked at him and then down at your food, your mouth falling open with a thousand words left unspoken.

"why did you do it?" you finally managed to say.

"I thought you liked my chicken parm?"

"I-- I do."

"thats why i made it. because you like it."

despite being a nothing conversation it seemed to spark something in you. you looked at him again.

"would you cook me anything? even if you hated it?"

"of course i would."

"what if you were allergic?"

"I would eat it if you asked."

"what if I wanted to eat people?"

he paused and his head tilted, his lovely hair falling over his shoulder. "do you want to?"

you reached for your glass of water and took a drink, your heart was pounding in your chest. it seemed like you let that question hang in the air too long because he was once again speaking as he poked at his own food with a fork.

"so why don't you?"

"ah-? sorry?"

"why don't you touch me anymore?"

you took another drink, you felt like you had walked in the desert for 40 years.

"i'm not feeling well."

"do you not like me anymore?"

"i didn't say that. really, i don't feel well-"

"you sound like my ex-husband."

#top male reader #dom male reader #male reader #sub yandere #yandere ideas #yandere x male reader #yandere housewife #yandere oc

[milksnake-tea]

━━ duty calls.

Created around the same time and having trained with one another, you and Casper have always butted heads. You'd compete over seemingly anything - how many souls one could reap, the days one could go without catching soul sickness, and the list goes on. Casper has always found you to be obnoxious, but when he sees you crying by yourself, he finds himself torn.

grim x gn!reaper!reader

contains: fluff, hurt/comfort, set before the main storyline, reader is NOT the mc, brief mentions of child death, USAGE OF GRIM'S REAL NAME, reader is a little shit

word count: 4.2k

a/n: FORGIVE ME IF THE WORLDBUILDING IS OFF I WAS TRYING MY BEST and ive only done one ending oops (finals hurts okay :((( ) also ... im not sure if reapers names are classified just to mortals and not other reapers but ykw imma take my liberties

"Seriously, do you ever get tired?"

Casper groaned irritatedly, running a hand through his snow-like hair. Blood like rust coated his scythe, spoils from his most recent hunt. The corpse still lay fresh in front of him, but their skin was cold and their eyes dead.

Boisterous laughter erupted above him. Sitting on the balcony of some person’s apartment, you grinned down at him - that infuriating, shit-eating grin that never failed to tick him off.

You kicked your legs childishly as you leaned back over the railing. Nestled against the crook of your arm was a scythe similar to his own, save for the more detailed design and color palette. Unlike him, you would constantly say, you liked to live a little.

Bold words coming from a bringer of death.

“Don’t blame me for you being slow,” you called down to him. Casper rolled his eyes, crossing his arms as he glared up at you.

“I am not ‘slow’,” he grumbled. “You’re too eager. And get down from there, you’ll be spotted.”

You tilted your head. “It’s like, 3 A.M. What kind of idiot’s gonna be awake at this hour?”

“You’d be surprised. Humans will do anything but take care of themselves.”

“I guess,” you sighed, jumping down. You twirled your scythe absentmindedly, Casper leaning back to avoid getting hacked to pieces.

“Be careful with that,” he scolded. You, of course, ignored him.

“So are these the last of the guys?” you wondered, kicking at a corpse with your foot.

The alleyway was practically lined with bodies, so many that management had called upon both you and Casper to deal with the remnants of the massacre. Gang fights were a pain to deal with, second only to pandemics and war.

“It would seem so.” Casper gave you a look, to which you responded by sticking out your tongue. You were very mature, after all.

You stretched thankfully, rolling out your shoulder. “Thank God, I was starting to get depressed from all the dead people.”

“If you’re getting depressed from just this, perhaps you should consider a different career choice.”

“Nah.” You smiled. “If I left, who would I bully? You’d get all sad and lonely without me.”

“Hardly,” Casper scoffed. “If anything, I’d be relieved.”

“You wound me.”

“Good.”

“So mean,” you pouted. Casper paid you no attention, as per usual. It didn’t matter, though, since you immediately perked back up. “Hey, boo?”

“I told you not to call me that.”

“I have an idea.” And just like that, your cheshire grin returned. Casper sighed, already beginning to walk off.

“How wonderful,” he said sarcastically. “Share it with someone else.”

“Uh-uh, no.” As quick as a flash, your scythe was out, the blade curving in front of Casper to prevent his escape. “This one’s good, I swear.”

“Your definition of what is and isn’t a good idea needs some desperate fixing.” Still, he made no move to escape, instead turning around to face you.

“Let’s race.”

Casper raised a brow. “Race?”

You nodded eagerly, your eyes shining like jewels. In the darkness of the alleyway, the two of you were illuminated only by the neon blue lights of the city. Yet, as that same blue was captured in your eyes, Casper was reminded of a kaleidoscope, changing and turning in a multitude of different colors.

It was… captivating.

“If I win, you have to buy me a drink.” 

Casper snapped out of his daze, a light flush blooming across his fair skin. Thankfully, though, you didn’t seem to notice, too entranced by another one of your ridiculous competitions. Seriously, there had to be a limit to how unprofessional you could be.

“You assume I have the time to buy you one,” he said with faux calmness, grateful for the night’s shadows hiding his complexion. You huffed.

“You could do it while you’re rebalancing yourself,” you said, as though it was obvious. “Besides, it doesn’t have to be anything big, just a coffee or a tea would be nice.”

“Fine, let’s say I stoop down to your level and agree to this… race,” said Casper. “What do I get if I win?”

You shrugged. “Then I'll just buy you a drink.”

Casper shook his head. “I’m not like you. I don’t drink on the job.”

“But you do cuddle an axolotl plushie when you sleep,” you pointed out. Instantly, Casper flushed red.

“Wha- What does that have to do with anything?!” he protested.

"I just thought about it randomly," you shrugged. "But seriously, that thing is huge, where did you get it?"

“Never mind how I got it," Casper crossed his arms and averted his eyes, his bottom lip turning up in a pout. “We’re getting off track.”

“Oh, so now you care about my games,” you teased. “Anyways, on how I’ll reward you…”

You spun your scythe back to your side, tapping its staff against the ground as you thought of a fitting reward.

“Oh! How about this?” You snapped your fingers, a figurative light bulb lighting up next to you. “You get to cash in one favor from me.”

“Any favor?” A smirk creeped onto Casper’s face, his interest finally piqued. “That’s a dangerous game you’re playing, [Name].”

“As long as it’s within reason and isn’t embarrassing,” you snapped, crossing your arms. “If you make me kiss your feet or something like that, I’ll kick your ass.”

“Of course,” Casper chuckled knowingly. “So, where to and when are we racing?”

“Hey, if you weren’t paying attention to the rules, then that's your fault. As for when the race starts, how about… now.”

“Wha- Hey!” Casper barely dodged as you shot past him in a blur of black. Hooking your scythe into the walls, you stuck out your tongue at him as you propelled yourself through the night.

“So long, Casp!”

Casper cursed under his breath. Quickly, he made haste to follow you. He flew through the air like a bird, twisting around light poles, skyscrapers, and billboards alike.

You weren’t as elegant, instead jumping from building to building like a modern superhero. You’d catapult yourself through the sky using your scythe as leverage, your laughter echoing in the slumbering city - free like the wind.

Casper didn’t have to follow you long to know where you were heading towards. Invisible to the mortal eye, yet painfully obvious to the eyes of reapers, was an entrance to the Underworld, a whirlpool of black and red that led straight down to your home.

As you launched yourself into the air once again, Casper came up next to you, his hair billowing in the cold night wind like smoke.

“Nice of you to join me,” you teased, elbowing him in the side. Casper rolled his eyes once again, speeding up. “Hey!”

Smoky tendrils of crimson and ink curled around your figures as the two of you neared the portal. The center of the whirlpool was a void seemingly leading to the abyss itself, but you’ve worked in this job long enough to know just what lay beneath.

True to his character, Casper wasted no time and shot straight into the thick of it. You, on the other hand, were a little more dramatic with your landing.

You spun in a backflip off of the last of the skyscrapers before letting gravity take you for a ride. Wind whistled past your ears as you fell, yet all you could hear was the rapid thump of your own heart. Adrenaline filled your veins. Soon, black and red lined your vision as the Underworld engulfed you.

The second you saw the tips of red-stained towers, you flipped yourself to face the ground. Closer and closer, you could practically taste it. If you delayed any longer, your life as a grim reaper could end prematurely.

Like the eyes of a devil, your pupils glowed in delight, activating your abilities. But rather than slowing your descent, you sped it up, shooting towards the ground like a missile.

Black blobs, the fuzzy images of your coworkers, scrambled to move out of your way. Turning your body, you landed hard on your heels, narrowly missing a fellow reaper.

For a moment, all you could see was dust. Before the clouds could disappear, you shook off the sting in your ankles and stretched.

“Woo!” you cheered, kicking your leg. “That’s what I’m talking about!”

“Quiet down.” Casper grabbed your shoulder and pulled you back. “Honestly, is there ever a quiet moment with you?”

You giggled. “Boo, you’ve known me long enough to know the answer to that. Oh, by the way, I’m craving some-”

“Hold it.” Casper bonked your head. “I only agreed to buy you something if you won.”

“Didn’t I?”

“No you didn’t,” Casper retorted. “Anyone with working eyes could see that I reached the ground before you did. Therefore, I won.”

“Uh, no.” You crossed your arms. “Are you gaslighting me? You’re gaslighting me. That's not very nice of you, Casp.”

“I am not gaslighting you.” Your white-haired coworker rolled his eyes. “As grim reapers, we cannot lie. Someone of your caliber should know this.”

You blinked innocently. “Did you just compliment me?”

Casper spluttered. “What in the world made you come to that conclusion?”

Taking a step forward, you leaned towards the reaper, a cheeky smile growing on your face. “You said ‘Someone of your caliber’. That means you think I’m capable.”

“You’d have to be a special kind of stupid to be incompetent after working as a reaper for so long,” Casper crossed his arms, fighting down the blush rising onto his cheeks. You were close, way too close. “Then again, I wouldn’t be surprised, seeing as how that was the only thing you heard from what I said.”

Heaving a sigh, he pushed you away with his finger.

“But don’t distract yourself from the fact that I won the race,” he said, a smug smirk replacing his exasperation.

“I was honestly trying to forget.”

Casper huffed, a pout forming on his lips. But the moment wouldn’t last long, as a ding sounded from both of your phones. When you checked it, you groaned when you saw a notification of unexpected emergency.

“Seriously?” you complained. “Overtime? Did a bunch of reapers die off or something? My soul’s going to get tainted at this rate.”

“Don’t complain.” Casper nudged you, but even you could see the irritation on his face. “It’s our job as reapers to reap souls on time, no matter what.”

“I guess. Still doesn’t make it any less annoying.”

“Agreed.” With a sigh, Casper summoned his scythe. “I must be off, now. See you on the other side, [Name].”

As he made his way back to the opening of the portal, his feet lifting off from the ground, a gloved hand reached out to grasp your chin. Gently, he guided you to look at him as he ascended.

“I look forward to cashing in on that favor.”

━

For as long as you could remember, things have always been this way.

Your earliest memory was of waking up to the crimson skies of the Underworld. Unaware and unknowing, you allowed yourself to be dragged around by older reapers, their voices blurring together in a droning buzz. Everything had gone by so quickly, and you struggled to keep up with it all.

If you were to say it bluntly, your first day felt like a fever dream.

But amidst the chaos, the tutorials, and the gifting of your first scythe, there was one thing that you remembered clearly.

“...Snow.”

Your mentor’s lecture halted at your voice, barely audible. They followed your gaze to a white-haired man, looking to be around the same age as you. Like a drowsy child, you lifted your finger and pointed at him, looking back to your mentor.

“He’s like snow.”

Their eyes softened by the tiniest bit, having seemingly realized that you were still disorientated. After all, in a sense, you had just been born.

“I suppose he is.” Putting a hand on your shoulder, they guided you away from the man. “Now, as I was saying…”

Their voice faded away into the background as the white-haired man noticed your gaze. He turned to look at you, his ruby-like eyes like blood speckles against the winter landscape. You stared at each other for only a few seconds before you turned to follow your mentor.

You quickly forgot the pretty stranger, but you would stay in his memories for quite a while before you’d cross paths again. In the darkness of the Underworld, you were like a lantern - radiating warmth and familiarity.

You were beautiful, like a flower in summer. That was, until he met you for the second time.

Swiftly and ruthlessly, holding true to your occupation as a reaper, you cut apart any premonitions he had had about you. When you were put against him to spar by your mentors, the drowsiness had worn off - instead replaced by insufferable audacity.

As your scythes clashed, sparks flying between the two of you and burning him in the process, your mouth just wouldn’t stop moving, stop talking. The innocently sleepy look on your face was replaced with a shit-eating grin as you blocked his attacks, trapping him in a frenzied dance.

“What’s wrong, boo?” you laughed, twirling your scythe to drive him back. “Don’t tell me you’re getting tired already.”

Casper’s eyebrow twitched at the nickname; you wouldn’t stop calling him that ever since you learned his real name. He didn’t understand where it came from, but just the way you said it was enough to annoy him.

“Hardly,” he scoffed, his boots kicking up dust as they skidded against the ground. He was quick to lunge back at you, his movements precise as he swung his blade. “If anything, I’d wager that you’re the one tiring out.”

“Ha!” You ducked under his attack and sprung forward, Casper’s hair tickling at your face as you came nose to nose with him. Startled, Casper had no time to react as you slammed the end of your scythe’s staff into his chest.

Before he knew it, Casper’s back was against the ground, your boot on his chest, and your scythe at his neck.

Your breaths were heavy as you looked down on him, but your eyes glowed with triumphant victory. The fight may have been more exhausting than you’d like to admit, but the view you had was well worth the effort.

Beneath you, Casper struggled to catch his own breath, his chest heaving under the soles of your foot. His white hair splayed around him like a halo, and his face was tickled pink from the fight.

Even in defeat, he was beautiful.

You leaned forward, putting your weight on your knee. Casper grunted as you pressed harder on him. Just for the fun of it, you pressed your scythe’s blade against his chin and guided him to look up at you and your grin.

“I win,” you sang mockingly.

Casper groaned, letting his head fall against the floor. You laughed heartily, stepping off of him and instead extending your hand to him. Without a second thought, Casper took it, allowing you to pull him to his feet and dust him off.

“That’s what, victory number twenty-one?” you asked, stretching. “That means I’m in the lead now, Casp.”

“Whatever,” Casper scoffed, dusting off his chest where your foot had been. “I’m sure the score will even out in no time.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you squinted at him. Casper stuck his tongue out at you.

“I don’t know, what does it mean?”

You hit his chest playfully. Casper grunted, glaring at you from the corner of his eye.

That’s how it had always been, after all. You and Casper would go back and forth in this tantalizing dance, exchanging jabs and jokes at the same time. 

To Casper, you were insufferable, but annoyingly capable. To you, Casper was way too serious and stuck up, yet had that charm about him that made you want to tease him at every possible opportunity.

But for many, many years, your relationship never went further than mere friends - if Casper even wanted to call you that.

━

The day Casper’s view of you changed was like a stormy sky - dark, yet light still managed to peek through.

You’d come back to headquarters with a solemn look upon your face. For someone who had just come back from a mission, you were oddly… clean. There wasn’t a trace of blood on your clothes, yet your eyes were dark, haunted. Even your scythe’s shine seemed dull.

For the reapers, to have someone normally so loud and full of life be reduced to this, was frightening. They’d grown used to your smile, your voice, your light. You parted crowds with your uncharacteristically serious aura; if there was anything a sensible reaper feared, it was the wrath of a joyous soul.

Immediately after turning in your report to headquarters, you disappeared from the public eye.

When Casper first heard the news, he had brushed it off. You were probably just having a bad day, he tried to assure himself. Maybe you’d finally realized the grimness that came with your profession. Maybe the soul you’d reaped was especially troublesome and gave you a run for your money.

Despite his attempts to make up explanations for your behavior, he couldn’t stop the worry from gnawing at his heart. It twisted in his chest like soul sickness, an ailment that he wasn’t used to nor did he understand. It even followed him into his work, plaguing his mind and distracting him as he reaped soul after soul.

He’d made haste to return home, knowing that this illness would only worsen if he stayed out.

The Underworld was always dark, but that day, the sky was pitch black. Eager to return to the comfort of his bed, he quickly made his way to one of the many apartment complexes in which reapers resided.

However, just before he opened the door to his room, his hand stilled at the sound of crying.

Now, sadness wasn’t an uncommon emotion in the Underworld. Ghosts, sinners, and demons alike wailed and screamed their woes into the night. Their cries were as common as the sound of rushing cars in a human city.

But not for reapers, especially in their home. Reapers, at their core, were cold, emotionless, and ruthless - they needed to be, in order to do their jobs properly. A reaper’s tears were rare, almost taboo.

The more Casper listened, he soon recognized a familiar voice among those sniffles: yours.

Could it be? He looked up to the rooftop, his hand wavering. His soul pulsed in his chest, warning him to ignore you and focus on himself. But his heart argued back.

Casper glanced once more at the doorknob to his room. Cursing himself, he heaved a sigh and walked away - moving towards the staircase leading to the rooftop.

As he emerged onto the rooftop, the first thing he noticed was how clear the sky was. Its crimson blanket was more like that of a rose’s rather than bloodstains, and if he squinted, he could perhaps delude himself into seeing a few stars.

Then came you.

Casper’s heart plummeted in his chest when he saw your form curled into itself. You sat at the edge of the rooftop, your knees pulled up to your chest and your face buried in your arms. Your back was to him, but Casper saw the way your shoulders trembled.

He tried to take a step towards you, tried to reach to you with his hand, but hesitated. What would he even say? What could he say? What could he do?

His thoughts halted when you took a deep, shuddered breath, your voice raw from cry.

“What do you want, Casper.”

Casper. Not Casp, not boo, not any of the annoying nicknames that you called him by.

“I…”

He stepped back, feeling fear for perhaps the first time in his life. For the first time, he was unsure of what to do.

You couldn’t see him, but you heard him walk away and descend the staircase. You laughed hollowly, wiping at your face with your hand.

“What was I even expecting…” you muttered bitterly, gripping at your own arms for support. “Why would he of all people…”

You shut your eyes tighter. Without the company of the sky and the city, you were left alone with your thoughts. Memories of what you had witnessed laughed in your mind, latching onto you like a parasite and refusing to let go.

You were never afraid of blood, nor of death, but today, just the thought of it made you nauseous.

Something soft nudged at your elbow. Blinking your eyes open, you warily looked to your side.

However, instead of seeing a person, you came face to face with a bright pink axolotl plushie.

You and the plushie stared at each other for a good minute, neither of you knowing what to make of the other. It wasn’t until you heard a familiar, exasperated sigh from behind the plushie that you realized what it was.

“Don’t just stare at him,” Casper mumbled, pushing the plushie against you. You blinked owlishly, before hesitantly taking the plushie into your arms.

Hugging it against your chest, you rested your chin on top of its head. The plushie was oddly warm, yet comforting. Casper sat beside you, silent and gazing up towards the sky. For a while, the two of you simply sat in this silence, with the only thing breaking it being your quiet sniffles.

“...She was just a kid,” you finally spoke, catching Casper’s attention and making him look at you. You, however, kept your gaze straight ahead to the city lines, refusing to meet his gaze. “She was just a little girl, and yet they… they…”

You hugged the plushie a little tighter.

“I just can’t understand how humans can be so cruel to each other.”

Casper’s gaze turned downcast. “That’s how they’ve always been. Life is cruel, even to the purest of souls.”

“It’s not fair.”

“Hardly anything is.”

“It shouldn’t have been her. It should’ve been that bastard that murdered her.”

“He’ll get what he deserves. Karma will catch up to him.”

“But what if it doesn’t? What if he gets let off?”

“He won’t.”

Unexpectedly, you let out a snort at Casper’s deadpanned voice - so assured and serious. Casper raised a brow, looking at you inquisitively.

“You know,” you said, raising your head. “You’re somehow really bad and really good at comforting people.”

“What?” Casper wrinkled his nose. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” you said softly. “I didn’t mean it as an insult. Actually, that’s one of the things I like about you.”

“That I’m apparently a bad comforter?”

“No, silly.” You leaned your head on the plushie again, only this time you were looking at your coworker. “Your seriousness. How you’re always so confident in yourself. How even if you don’t know what you’re doing, you still try.”

Red bloomed across Casper’s face like a flowering blossom, reaching from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. He rubbed the back of his neck, averting his gaze.

“It’s not fair when you start saying things like that,” he mumbled. You giggled a little, leaning onto his shoulder with his plushie still in your arms.

“I’m just being honest,” you hummed. “Or maybe I’m coping. I dunno.”

Casper chuckled, but made no move to push you off him. You closed your eyes. The turmoil in your heart was still there, of course, but with Casper against you, it eased up just a little.

“Seriously though, thank you,” you said. “For coming up here for me and, well, everything.”

“It was nothing,” Casper replied. “You were looking pretty pathetic, all depressed and all.”

You huffed. “Just admit you care about me, Casp. Is that so hard?”

Casper grumbled something unintelligible, before lifting his arm. You squeaked as he wrapped it around your shoulders, pulling you closer against him. With your head laid against his collarbone, you could feel every breath he took as well as the rapid beat of his heart.

“[Name],” he said quietly. “Remember the favor you promised me? For winning the race?”

“Mm… yeah. What about it?”

“I’d like to cash it in right now.”

“Oh lord,” you chuckled. “Alright, what do you want?”

“Whatever happens next, don’t tell anyone,” Casper whispered.

Your lips curled into a smile. “You know, Casp, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were about to do something weird.”

You couldn’t see him, but you knew he was rolling his eyes.

“Be quiet for a moment, will you?”

You grinned. “Ah, but that’s two favors, not-”

Casper shut you up with a soft kiss to your head. It was brief, so quick that for a second you almost thought you had dreamed it.

In your stunned silence, Casper spoke again.

“Forgive me if I’m being greedy, but I’ll ask for a third favor,” he said. “No matter what happens, promise me you won’t deal with it by yourself.”

His grip around you tightened.

“Please.”

You nuzzled closer into the crook of his neck.

“...I promise.”

reblogs w comments are appreciated !!

#a date with death #a date with death x reader #adwd #adwd x reader #adwd casper #adwd casper x reader #casper x reader #casper #x reader #y/n #reader insert #grim reaper #grim reaper x reader #archives 🏵️

[yourheart-inmyhands]

My brain is acting up again 😭

Yan! Diluc, Zhongli (I swear I love this man) and Dottore having a conversation with their darling and out of nowhere they spill facts about how to hide a body or make it decompose faster.

If they ask how they know they just chuckle and continue their conversation.

They got it from Reddit fr 💀

- Weird anon ✨

ah i am also obsessed with death and decomposition, with a good mix of anatomy, though i try to avoid just finding random facts, i buy textbooks and research books about the topics to further my knowledge on the subjects :3c

Warning: this post contains yandere-themes, including obsessive behaviors, mentions of violence, lots of talk about death and facts about death, creepy behavior, as well as other potential topics. Please read at your own risk!

Diluc:

He finds it amusing at first, not really commenting on it and simply letting it be. Soon enough though he starts sharing facts of his own, making minor corrections or suggestions to the ones you bring up. Sometimes he even adds on to what you already have, changing the course of the conversation momentarily.

It’s not talked about often but Diluc is no longer allowed in Snezhnaya for a reason, he’s seen more than his fair share of bloodshed and has no problem offering you better suggestions than what you previously thought to be best. 

He makes a little game out of it, even going as far as to offer to test your claims. Diluc doesn’t see the harm in it, if anything he’s merely indulging in your interests, bonding with you over it. Strange as it is, he thinks it’s fun.

“Did you know the main reason why corpses smell so bad is because when people die, their bladder empties out?” Diluc chuckles at your question, the conversation shifting from possible dinner options to that of death was nothing new to him, yet it never failed to amuse him. “I did. Did you know it’s because when you die every muscle in your body relaxes, which means anything in your bowels is emptied out, no longer held back?” A bit of a tangent never hurts, especially not when it comes to a topic you seem so sporadically fascinated with. Diluc could sit here and watch you talk about this endlessly, the way your face suddenly lights up as you blurt out a random, off-topic fact. It was like seeing a kid walk into a candy store.

Zhongli:

Zhongli takes it a bit too seriously, often correcting you on common misconceptions or myths. He’s still lighthearted about it, but he doesn’t want his beloved darling to be in the wrong about this kind of thing.

He’d hate to see your spirit crushed by someone else, their offense to the sudden topic change springing up as a rebuttal. He’s simply protecting you this way, making sure that no one can challenge anything you say.

All his knowledge doesn’t come from nowhere though, so do keep that in mind should you ever try to challenge him on anything. Not only has he lived far longer than you, but he and his spear have seen, and done, many things

“Zhongli! Did you know that after death, your hair and fingers still grow for a short period of time?” Pausing mid-explanation, Zhongli processes what you said before smiling fondly at you. “No, my gem, they do not. It is actually the skin shrinking back from loss of moisture. That movement of the skin gives the appearance of the nails and hair growing.” Zhongli doesn’t falter even the slightest in his correction, merely stating it as if it were common knowledge, which it ought to be. This is a fairly common occurrence, with your little interruptions being met with either encouragement from Zhongli, or simply corrections.

Dottore:

He’s probably the worst to bring this up around as he likes to make a competition out of it, going back and forth about gruesome facts until one or the other caves.

Not only has Dottore learned a lot about death, but he’s been responsible for just as many. His knowledge far extends past the random facts you collect.

It’s not surprising that Dottore knows more than you, he never holds it against you though. Every time he wins a little bit of the banter between the two of you he sees it as a win for both of you. You get more facts and he gets to assert his position of higher power over you.

“Rigor mortis occurs 6-12 hours after a death but can last 18-36 hours before the body returns to being soft and floppy.” Dottore doesn’t even falter as you shift the conversation, easily following your lead. “Suffocation is more than just a painful way to die. Oftentimes victims of suffocations will try to free or save themselves to no avail as their limbs will cease function, this is because their brain is trying to preserve oxygen which leads to them being unable to free themself and dying.” The smile on his face is only a few inches wider than normal, his eyes twinkling with the same challenging shine that always comes through when you bring up death. If you weren’t well aware of his affections for you, you’d almost believe he loved talking about death more than he loved you.

#yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin x male reader #genshin x reader #genshin x male reader #diluc x reader #diluc x male reader #yandere diluc x reader #yandere diluc x male reader #zhongli x reader #zhongli x male reader #yandere zhongli x reader #yandere zhongli x male reader #dottore x reader #dottore x male reader #yandere dottore x reader #yandere dottore x male reader #yandere genshin #yandere diluc #yandere dottore #yandere zhongli

[silence-burns]

The Death of Me //part 2

Fandom: Aquaman

Summary: (very small spoilers for the movie) Finding Orm on your doorstep was not something you expected. Having him move in was even worse. But the effect he still had on every part of your life would be the death of you.

Even though you learned early on the world was an unjust and cruel place, it still managed to surprise you occasionally. The last bits of hope clung to your cloudy mind, snatched away from you once you pried your eyes open to see your nightmare incarnate sitting by the kitchen table.

The fever knocked you out for a few blissful hours; earlier events fading into a half-remembered dream. But there was no denying the truth once you noticed the suspiciously clean counters and sudden lack of accumulated trash laying around. And, worst of all, your new roommate.

Or caregiver. Or pain in the ass. Or man that made your heart twitch in a way signaling either a crush or a heart attack. Who cared about semantics?

Orm Marius, former Ocean Master and currently just some guy, sat in the middle of the kitchen, making his way through a book. The seaside house was home to many books, although you doubted the original owner ever had the time to browse through them.

A small mercy had been granted to you and Orm didn't notice you had woken up. You couldn't help but observe him. Even though he was no stranger to you, and quite recently you'd helped break him out of prison and even somehow saved the world together, you still felt mesmerized by the way he moved and looked.

Even now, the dying evening light entering through the window painted the room in deep shadows, and softened the planes of Orm's face. He had positioned himself close to the window to read in the dimming light. It allowed you to see the softened curve of his shoulders and the way he tilted his head, studying the book just as carefully as you studied him.

“Glad to see you're doing better,” Orm said, without moving.

You jumped a little, making your injuries flare up in a wave of pain. A startled whine escaped your lips when your body reminded you how sore it actually was.

Orm put the book down and stepped over to the couch. Before you managed to say anything, he pressed his hand to your forehead. Whatever words rose in your throat, scattered.

“You're still burning,” Orm muttered with concern and furrowed brows. “Are you sure your medicine is working?”

“...it just needs some time.”

Your voice came out weaker than you expected. You felt fuzzy, and the room around you was definitely moving a little.

Orm was not convinced, and disappeared from your line of sight for a while.

Your fever was probably on the rise again, which was to be expected. For the past few days you'd been in and out of it, drowning in sweat and fighting off the urge to scratch underneath your bandages.

You kicked off the thin blanket, hoping Orm wouldn't touch you again. You were dreadfully aware of how wet Orm's hand must've come off and of the old sweat stench surrounding you. In your defense, you didn't expect any visitors, so for the past few days you focused on passively surviving rather than dragging your corpse to the shower once a day.

You heard Orm's steps before he entered your vision. “Man, just leave me alone. I'm seriously fine on my own—”

A wet towel slapped onto your face, splashing cold water around. What a simple, yet effective way of both shutting you up and providing relief. You'd be impressed if it didn't piss you off so much.

You dragged it off your eyes and came face to face with Orm, suddenly crouching way too close to your liking. He looked at you intensely and then raised an eyebrow.

“If you want me gone, then you should be perfectly capable of throwing me out. You didn't have any trouble last time we sparred.”

“That would be so rude of me. It would crush your ego.”

“As if you ever bothered being polite.”

“I am the nicest person that has ever graced this Earth.”

“You look like a corpse on its way to the afterlife. Unless your state improves, I'm not leaving. The only choice you have is finally dying or getting better and kicking me out. And since I'd rather see the outcome of option number two, I think we have to start with these bandages.”

“They’re in place.”

“The wounds need to be cleaned and dressed again. I can smell that from back here.”

With a hiss through clenched teeth, you dragged yourself into a sitting position, as far away from Orm as was possible on the couch.

“...look who's impolite now.”

Orm moved closer to you with a darkened expression. It made you shiver and put one bare foot on his chest in the only defense you could muster. He wrapped his fingers around your ankle, but didn't move any closer.

“It's not about politeness or pride,” he explained slowly, not taking his eyes off you. “I want you to feel better, regardless of what it takes.”

The way your cheeks heated had very little to do with the fever. In a kinder world, Orm wouldn't have noticed it.

But in this one, he was too observant to miss something like that. His lips curled in the faintest of smiles just as his hand moved further up your leg, slowly dragging his fingers over your scorching skin. Your heart was in your throat and wanted out.

You slapped the wet towel onto his arm and freed your leg.

“Such profound words for someone so annoying.”

“Whatever gets you moving. These wounds really do need cleaning, and I will not back down from that one.”

“I can do it myself.”

“If you could, you would've done it days ago—when it was actually due. That's enough waiting, take them off.”

You thought back to how far your injuries went under your shirt. It provided you with a surprisingly effective burst of motivation to heave yourself off the couch and onto semi-steady legs.

You wobbled off in the general direction of the bathroom, wishing for your torment to finally end.

“Please do avoid any further injuries,” Orm called after you, watching your unsteady search for clean clothes and a towel. There was painful stiffness to your joints, but you were extremely motivated to overcome it.

“I promise to graciously call for your aid right before I break my neck on these marvelous tiles.”

There was not much dignity left in you, but you did your best to protect it by switching the bathroom lock rather than slamming the door.

You could've sworn you heard Orm chuckle.

#orm marius #orm marius x reader #orm x reader #orm x you #aquaman imagine #aquaman orm #Aquaman orm marius #the death of me #orm marius x you

[imtotallyokandnormal]

I would kill for some hurt/comfort headcannons about what John Doe does when he realizes that stabbing humans does in fact kill them. I assume he probably panicked real bad when he figures that out, and frantically resets the timeline. Probably would be really careful with You after that.

UGH NO YOU'RE SO RIGHT THOUGH OK OK I'M ON IT ANON I'M RIDING THE HURT COMFORT TRAIN LET'S GO

This ended up being way more sad than comforting but I hope you like it anyway I did my best

Reader: gn reader

Warnings: stabbing, death, angst, description of a corpse and blood, it gets pretty fucked up and sad actually

Image link: howdy!

》☆John Doe After Killing You☆《

- It was the moments after that made him realize. An accumulating number of seconds where you laid limp, staring up at him with those eyes. Those horribly glassy eyes, once full of emotion and now hollow of anything at all.

- After his frantic breathing slowed enough, he would grab your shoulders again, starting on a second wind of manic praise before he noticed something.

- You weren't moving.

- At first they thought you were playing some kind of human joke they didn't understand, chuckling and sitting you up as your lifeless body flopped over. "Oh you are funny, dearest! I may not understand the joke- but you're very good at staying still!"

- When you didn't respond, they tilted their head like a confused puppy. "Dearest? Could you explain the joke to me? I don't really understand."

- The silence was deafening. All you did was lay there, head flopped over with your neck bent at a weird angle. In the silence John took notice to something else; you haven't taken a breath this entire time.

- That's when the panic set in. At first they were in denial, trying to shake you awake as your limbs only swayed under their own gravity. More blood spills from your gaping maw and John's heartbeat quickens again, not from excitement but from fear, a primal fear erupting in him as he continues to shake and grab and plead for you to please wake up.

- But you don't. All you do is lay there. Cold, bloody and dead.

- The guilt ravaged him, all he could do was hold your bloody corpse close and howl in pain as he squeezed you. Or what you used to be, rather.

- He had promised himself to love you, to cherish you. He didn't think his actions were that of harm, he thought they were of love. To be able to see the inside of you, to be close enough that their hands can feel your blood pumping out from your heart, to feel your life force in their hands, becoming one in a way. But they found out too late that humans can only take so much.

- They could only sob violently as they cradled you, tugging at their hair and vowing over and over and over again that they can't let this happen again, not ever again.

- The reset was different.

- Seeing you, moving, breathing...it was different now. A hesitancy came when he stalked you at work, scared that he might hurt you again. Showing his love unbridled and uncontrolled led to the scene that flashes in front of him whenever he sees your face now. The smile he loves only to be interrupted by a vision of blood. So, so much blood.

- It took many resets for them to even let themselves touch you again. Eventually the loneliness became too much. Once you got home one day, there was suddenly a pair of arms wrapped tightly around you, squeezing as if you might slip away as easily as the wind.

- John didn't say anything to you then. They didn't need to. The vow they had made was apparent.

- John would never, never see you that way again.

#normal headcanons! #john doe x you #john doe x reader #john doe #john doe visual novel #house hunted visual novel #house hunted game #x reader #f/o community #f/o imagines #imagine your f/o #f/o #tw death #angst #tw angst #gn reader

[bittersweetorpheus]

☆ LIFE, DEATH, AND REBIRTH ☆

☆ AUTHORS NOTES ☆

(This ended up getting written from Dottore’s POV. The God featured here is reader.)

😋 SACRILEGIOUS DOTTORE X DEITY!READER ???!!!!

I know I’ve been going for M.O.N.T.H.S but I came back to drop this and leave again. I was chatting with a dottore bot on character.ai which got my brain juices flowinggg so I had to open my computer and write this!

P.S: a certain part of this fic was inspired by one of hoyoverses other games *cough* HONKAI STAR RAIL *cough* 🤭. The real ones know which part it is ‼️💪

☆ CONTENT WARNINGS ☆

Death, gore, corpse, body horror aspects, sumeru archon quest spoilers

Dottore would admit that he wasn’t the least bit religious. Unlike the families that would give thanks before each meal and the Tsaritsa who believed Celestia should be struck down for trying to gain authority while You were absent, he couldn’t care less.

Afterall, however powerful they were, Archons could still die, so what was the difference between them when they all succumbed to the hands of death in the end? Was it power? No, he, himself, had created a being powerful enough to host the Gnosis of Kusanali, the Dendro Archon. Was it their life span? No, he, himself, had managed to create doubles of himself, all from different points in his life.

So in short, he didn’t spare a thought for the Archons, left alone The Creator. This, of course, did not help his nefarious reputation by any means, but he spared it no thoughts.

He did however grow curious about the abilities about this so called Creator when rumors about their descent started. Now, he finds himself in his main laboratory in the Tsaritsa’s palace with The Creator sitting on the examination table across from him- mind you, the cot that he had stained with blood just a week or two ago.

Now that he thinks about it, he never got around to cleaning it.

“Well?” The voice snaps him out of his thoughts. He turns to look at them.

They wear a veil made out of a material he’s never seen before. Its sheer enough for him to make out the outline of Their face if he squints, but not more than that. Their clothes are made of the same material and seem to flow and move on their own, as if gusts of wind are constantly blowing at their garments.

Even if They aren’t The Creator, they’re definitely something far from mortal.

“Your blood is certainly unlike any I’ve ever seen before. It’s as if you melted cor lapis and combined it with crushed star sliver, but it glows like lumenstone. I wonder if it has any affect on organisms of this world, or if it just looks like this and nothing else.” He observes.

They chuckle dryly, “why don’t you drink it and find out?”

He grimaces beneath his mask, he’d rather not chug down a nefarious bodily liquid at 2 in the morning from someone who he dosen’t care much for.

Not that They were unattractive, of course. He would go far enough to say They were probably the only one who made him take more than a few glances at. No hard feelings, he just dosen’t care much for The Creator… or fakers.

They seem to pick up his feelings about what They just said and glide down from the examination table.

“Or would you rather I show you some properties of my blood myself?” They ask, pointing their intricate fan towards the corpse of his previous patient across the lab from them.

That fan had gotten Pantalone and Ningguang into an amusing biding war against each other, each hoping to gift it to The Creator. In the end, The Creator caught wind of it and ended up setting up a business meeting to stop the nonsensical month-long biding war. They left with a blush on their face and both several times richer. Apparently The Creator had managed to get them to get along and turn the business meeting from about one about a fan to an important business meeting that helped both of them build important business connections with each other.

“Give me the vial,” They command.

He’s already walken over to Them and given Them the vial before he realizes what he did.

They pour the vial of their ichor over the corpse and it springs to life in an instant, screaming and moving away from Dottore.

It seems like the people they revive retain their memories, Dottore notes.

“Are you satisfied now? Or is there something more that you’re expecting?” They ask him. He can’t see their face through the veil but he gets the uncanny feeling that they’re staring straight through his very soul.

“I’ll admit that this is quite fascinating, however, it’s… unexpected, to say the least.” He admits.

“Oh? Why is that?” They drawl.

He gets the feeling that they’re probably smirking right now.

“While some legends do say that The Creator’s ichor heals and even resuscitates people, most them say that even a drop of The Creator’s ichor could bring about the cataclysm.

Once, he had wondered if that had been the start of the cataclysm, or if it was just another fabrication.

“Hm, is that how this world sees my ichor?” They hum, “well, every universe has different theories about me.”

“Oh? Then is it true? Can a drop of your ichor cause the end of this universe?” He says, teasingly, or mockingly- he dosen’t really know either.

“It depends on the mood I’m in,” They reply.

Yeah, They’re definitely smirking right now.

“But I suppose with the type of person you are, you wouldn’t believe me unless you saw it with your own eyes,” They say, snapping their fingers, “come, my darling Zandik.”

He raises his eyebrow at that. That definitely caught him off guard, all right, however, what catches him more off guard is the portal that appears in his lab.

He takes one last glance at his laboratory. This chance only comes once in a life time, after all. Even if They aren’t what They say They are, at least he’s getting some entertainment out of this.

He steps into the portal after them. Curiosity killed the cat, or whatever ridiculous saying there is, but he’s in one piece when he steps out of the portal.

He gives himself a quick glance over. No new limbs sprouting from his body.

He takes in his surroundings. He seems to be in a universe with buildings that look similar to Liyue’s but with flying ships and surrounded by more advanced technology than he can take in.

“Look.” The Creator commands, pointing to guards dresses in what he would assume is this world’s armor.

On a side note, they’ve arrived on a huge tree overlooking the middle of a battle.

Some soldiers crouch with their hands over their heads. Looking closer, Dottore can see branches sprouting from inside their armor, (their bodies?), and growing outwards. Slowly, they all collapse and become afflicted with the same condition as them, sprouting foliage from their bodies with a grotesque scream.

Sensing his confusion, The Creator launches into a story.

“Not many people know this, but I don’t create the universes and worlds all by myself. This world was a case where I got bored and decided to create another god, or Archon, as you call them in your world, to have them shape this world instead. Whilst they was shaping this world, they grew more and more attached to the mortals in this world. They approached me and told me that everytime a mortal that he loved past away, their heart grew heavier and heavier. They begged me for a sample of my ichor, believing that if the mortals started drinking my ichor in place of water, they would remain immortal and everlasting, just like me. I warned them of the risk but he stayed adamant. I loved them, so I gave them my blood.” The Creator seemed to wilt in sadness. “Instead of being ‘gifted’ eternal life like they thought the mortals would be, the mortals became struck with a curse where, when they died, their body would start decomposing like it would a normal dead one, but they were still alive. In a last ditch attempt to save their people, the god sacrificied themself to me, hoping that their sacrifice would convince me to help their people. I buried the god in the earth we’re on right now, and the power imbued in the earth was the cause of the foliage growing from the mortals… or immortals now, I suppose.”

“Dottore stayed silent for a few beats after their story, “then if you’re The Creator, will you ever die?”

“It depends on what your definition of ‘death’ is,” The Creator replied, “I’ve died millions of times, over and over again and will continue to do so, but then again, I’ve also never died a single time and will never die. I am not the god of life, death, and rebirth, I am the concept itself. Everything comes from me and everything will return to me in the end because I am everything.”

The Creator slowly removed their veil, and reality itself seemed to break the more of Their face that They revealed. They looked him in the eyes, and it felt like he was looking at everything and nothing at the same time. He could see the void in their eyes, a place of nothingness, but also everything that was happening in the universe at the same time.

They put their veil back on. “Well, did that satisfy your curiosity, my darling mad scientist?”

Dottore could feel his heart speed up, an unfamiliar feeling filling his chest- Oh Creator, is he religious now? Well, whatever he might be now, he thinks hes not so against drinking nefarious bodily liquid after all.

#sagau #genshin impact sagau #sagau x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #il dottore #il dottore x reader #dottore x reader #zandik #fatui harbingers #genshin impact fatui #fatui x reader #genshin x gender neutral reader #pantalone #ninnguang

[hollybell51]

can you post newt x female reader smut? i had a look at your wattpad and noticed that you already had some but it's in the old style (i'm assuming it's your old style) and i really like how you write now (the stuff you post on here). obv only if you're comfortable with it, btw i love your work!

First of all, I'm glad you like my stuff! Secondly, I sure can! I've got some brand new things I cooked up a while back, and I would be delighted to share the love xxx

Just like that

Series masterlist, masterpost

Newt x fem!Reader

Maze Runner (2009 novel - James Dashner, 2014 film - Wes Ball)

Word count: 2318

Summary: shameless Newt smut. Enjoy.  

Content: smut. Porn with like the tiniest hint of a plot. Friends with benefits type beat. Making out, blowjobs, hickeys, light praise kink (kind of), light dirty talk, masturbation (kind of), hair pulling (reader is the puller), cowgirl position (sort of??? Idk??), al fresco lol 

Notes: I’m so sorry I have no idea how to tag this stuff. Literally what’s in “content” is in it, there might be stuff that I forgot so I apologise but it’s basically just what you’d expect from smut (I’m pretty basic)

You were kissing Newt. Or maybe Newt was kissing you, since he’d started the whole thing when he had put down the now empty cup of hot tea the two of you had been sharing, sheltered behind the partially rotted corpse of a massive tree, and taken your chin between his strong fingers, turned you to face him, then very deliberately pressed his lips against your own. You’d just smiled and let him, giving as good as you got. He still tasted like the drink, the sweetness of the honey you’d insisted on adding coating his mouth. And so it was that you came to be locked in a soft embrace now, with your movements lazy and relaxed as you took your sweet time exploring each other. 

It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence; you liked Newt and he liked you, and both knew it. It was nice to have a sort of outlet every now and then, someone who you didn’t have to pretend to be anything other than yourself around, and who didn’t pretend around you. And that’s what Newt was, and what he had been for some time, ever since a few months ago when the two of you had found yourself drunkenly making out behind the homestead while the other Gladers enjoyed a bonfire. 

Now, Newt’s hand had found its way to your breast, tracing circles over the material of your shirt and making your skin prickle. You traced a line along his jaw, your finger trailing down his neck to rest on his shoulder. You shifted yourself slightly, angling your body further towards him to ease the suggestion of a stiffness threatening to grow in your neck if you kept up your current position much longer. Newt’s mouth was still soft on yours, his tongue stroking your own lazily, but something about him was saying that he wanted more – or would soon. 

“Do you want me to suck you off?” you asked, breaking the kiss. The two of you had decided a while back that being open and up front was the way to go – “candid,” Newt had stated solemnly, and you’d agreed. 

He seemed to consider for a moment, then glanced around to check for anyone in the immediate vicinity. The fallen tree trunk you were sitting against wasn’t all that deep into the deadheads, and while it was huge and had served as an excellent shelter numerous times before, it never hurt to be careful. It wasn’t that either of you were ashamed of your standing with the other – your “situationship” you jokingly called it – it was just that it would be awkward to get caught. 

Now, Newt smiled at you and nodded. “Yeah,” he said, placing another gentle kiss on your lips. 

You returned the smile, slipping your hand under the waistband of his pants, massaging his cock gently. You felt him grow hard, and when you were satisfied, you deftly unzipped his pants. You smiled again, spitting into your palm and resuming your light ministrations. 

Newt raised his eyebrows, clearing his throat. “Love, that’s wonderful, but quit teasing.” 

“Magic word?” you grinned. 

Your friend sighed, rolling his eyes. “Please,” he huffed. 

You nodded, licking your lips before gently kissing the tip of his dick and lowering your mouth over the head. Newt gave a tiny moan – well, something between a sigh and a moan – and moved his hand to your hair, his fingers tracing patterns gently over your scalp. You really liked giving blowjobs to Newt; he was always so gentle and considerate, and it never even felt like you were “giving” him anything. Sure, his dick was in your mouth, but it was more like something you were doing with him, something nice and fun and extremely gratifying. Especially when he talked to you, which he was doing now. 

“That’s it love,” he murmured as you swirled your tongue around him, your hands working what wasn’t already in your mouth. “God, you’re good at this.” 

The praise lit a warm glow inside you, and you sank your head lower. Newt’s breath caught in his throat as you hollowed your cheeks, the tip of his dick now almost touching the back of your throat with every bob of your head, your hand still taking care of the base. It was as slow and laid back as your kisses had been just minutes before, and you loved every second. 

You continued like that, basking in Newt’s grunts of “yes” and “fuck” and the occasional “God, (Y/N)” before his fingers slid from your hair to under your chin, prompting you to stop. You released him with a wet sort of “pop” sound, licking your lips delicately while still holding his throbbing cock in one hand. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes bright as he looked at you. Your own face was warm, matching the not entirely unpleasant heat you’d felt building between your legs. 

“Take your pants off and come here.” He patted his lap, kicking his own pants further down his legs. 

You grinned. “Is that an order or an invitation?” 

“An invitation, since you never do anything I order.” 

“It’s cause you never say please,” you deadpanned as you shuffled out of your pants, discarding them and your underwear to one side. You swung a leg over Newt’s hips, straddling him, and placed your hands either side of his face. “How’s this?” 

“Yeah, not bad,” he nodded, his own hands easing your shirt upwards. You let him, lifting your arms obediently as he slipped the piece of fabric over your head and sent it the way of your pants. He kissed along the line of your bra, then, watching your face carefully, reached around and undid the clasp. He caressed your breasts softly, sweetly, and slowly. That really did seem to be the theme of the day. 

“Hey,” you said after a moment when he made no move to take his own shirt off, your hand coming to rest over his. “How come I’m naked and you’re not?” 

He shrugged, twisting his hand to entwine his fingers with yours. 

“Hardly seems fair,” you breathed, sliding your hips over his. 

Newt’s breath caught in his throat once more, and he rolled his eyes at you. “If you insist.” 

“I certainly do.” You pushed his shirt up, pulling it deftly over his head and tossing it to the side before laying your palms against his warm skin. You knew there were things Newt liked more than his own body, but you’d never really understood why. Sure, he was skinnier than some of the other boys, and his leg was a continuous chip on his shoulder, but you thought he was hotter than anyone you could name off the top of your head and you made sure he was aware of the fact. 

In fact, the first time he’d expressed anything resembling insecurity, you’d been watching him get dressed after a night well spent, idly pondering how perfectly formed he was, how smooth and seamless every movement was even with the addition of his limp. You’d been so caught up in watching the dance of his lithe muscles under his skin that you hadn’t even noticed the apprehensive look on his face as he turned away from you. 

“Can you… not watch me?” he’d asked hesitantly as he pulled on his shirt. 

“Huh?” you’d frowned, sitting up. 

“You were staring, can you not do it?” 

“Oh.” You’d felt your face colour and had looked away, embarrassed. “Sorry.” 

“‘Sfine,” he’d said. 

You’d asked why, hesitantly and as politely as you could. You just couldn’t work out why this boy, who was totally comfortable making you plead his name as your thighs squeezed around his shoulders and your fingers pulled his hair enough to make him moan (which was how you’d found out he liked his hair being pulled, but that was a story for another time), couldn’t deal with you watching him get dressed. 

He’d shrugged, then turned around and spoken directly to the wall beside your head. “I don’t really like how I look.” 

You were baffled to say the least, and had very nearly burst out laughing. “But you’re so…” you’d said instead, stumbling for the right words. “You’re so hot,” you’d blurted at last. 

Newt had shrugged again, bending to lace up his boots. “Maybe to you.” 

After that, you’d taken every opportunity – ones that weren’t too obvious, of course – to subtly express just how attractive you thought he was. From outright whispers of “fuck, you’re hot” mid tryst to casually proclaiming him gorgeous in the middle of a conversation, you really did take any chance that presented itself. And now was no different. 

“Damn,” you smiled, bending to place a kiss on his collar bone. “You’re fucking sexy, you know that?” 

“Look who’s talking,” he scoffed, but you caught the tiny upward twitch of his mouth. He brought your hand to his face, gently kissing your knuckles. You let a sigh escape you, rocking your hips over his once more. He was hot against you and the sun, now beginning to sink below the walls, caught in his hair, lighting it up in gold like some kind of halo. You’d hardly have been surprised if he sprouted wings right then and there. 

“Quit teasing, (Y/N),” he half laughed, half growled. Then added “please” almost as an afterthought. 

“Since you asked so nicely,” you smiled, the hand that wasn’t being held by him sliding down over his chest, his stomach, finally coming to rest on his dick once more. You carefully lined him up, and at his nod, sank gently onto his length. 

You didn’t move right away, shifting your hands to the log either side of Newt’s head to steady yourself as you let yourself adjust. You rocked experimentally, earning a soft sigh and whispered “yes” from the boy under you. 

“Just like that,” he murmured as you moved again. Another thing about Newt that you’d learnt was that he liked when you rode him like this, liked guiding your hips over his while showering you with kisses – and the odd hickey. He was doing it now, his hands gentle yet firm where they slid over the skin of your thighs and hips and waist, his mouth warm and silken where it roamed your chest and neck. 

“Fuck, Newt,” you breathed, letting your fingers tangle in his hair. You didn’t pull it as such, just hinted at it. Still, Newt’s breath hissed between his teeth and he looked up at you from a particularly dark hickey at the curve where your neck met your shoulder, his eyes dark. You gave his hair the gentlest tug, tipping his head back and kissing his lips, his jaw, and down his throat. 

Newt’s eyes were closed now, his breath shallow as you ran one hand down over his front, fingers skimming the subtle planes of muscle as a leaf skims the surface of a puddle. You kissed him again, slowly, your mouths melding perfectly together. 

“Touch yourself,” he murmured against your lips. “I want you to cum.” 

“I wanna make you cum,” you replied. It was true, you loved nothing more than watching Newt unravel because of you and only you, even if it was both of you doing the work. 

He shrugged. “And I want you to get yourself off riding my dick, I want to watch you.” 

“Ok.” You kissed him again, then slid the hand that wasn’t still tangled his hair down your own body to the heat between your legs. You bit your lip as your fingertips grazed your clit, stifling a moan. 

“Don’t keep quiet,” Newt urged. “I wanna hear you too.” 

God, this boy, you thought as you let yourself whisper a curse. Did he have any idea what he was doing to you? He probably did, actually, you reflected as your fingers rubbed tiny circles over your clit. You leant forwards to get a better angle, your chest brushing against Newt’s and your face inches from his own. He was watching you, his attention fixed only on you. You felt yourself twitch and your muscles began to tense as you found the perfect spot, the moans you let escape growing in frequency and volume. 

“Move me,” you choked as you felt yourself teetering on the brink of your climax, every fibre of your being pulled taught. 

Newt nodded, rocking your hips over his as your fingers continued their motion and you hung, suspended for a second before everything came crashing in on you. 

“Fuck, Newt, oh my god,” you groaned as the orgasm flooded over you. You were dimly aware of him moaning your name and realised that your hand had tightened in his hair and that he was still moving you. “Keep going,” you sighed, cupping his face with one hand while the other continued to card through his hair, pulling occasionally. 

“Mm, (Y/N) oh–” he broke off and you gave the handful of hair you had a firm pull, now taking over your own movements as he released inside you, bliss flooding his face. 

You continued to slide your hips over his until your legs had ceased to shake and a little of the haziness had gone from Newt’s face, settling comfortably onto his lap. Wordlessly, you placed a soft kiss on his forehead, brushing the hair from his face and tracing patterns over his cheeks and neck, all the way down to his chest. He smiled at you, bending to sooth the dark marks he’d left on your skin with kisses of his own, holding you close against him. 

“I love this,” he said at last. 

You tilted your head to the side, nonplussed. “Having sex with me?” 

He considered, nodded, then, “being with you.” 

“I love being with you too,” you whispered as you kissed him again. 

#Maze Runner #the maze runner #newt maze runner #tmr #tmr fanfiction #tmr fic #newt #newt x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #self insert fanfiction #maze runner fanfiction #reader insert #fem!reader #smut #maze runner smut

[sanemisstalker]

!spoiler!

hey, I saw your requests are open, so here we go...

imagine rengoku and y/n had a 'friends with benefit' relationship before he passed away, but then he comes back 2 years after his 'dead'.

as half demon.

he's sitting in front of your bedroom window one night and you can't believe your eyes...

he tells you how much he missed you and that his love for you grew stronger every day (soft human ren) but when he smelled that you let giyuu touch your body... oh dear

he shows y/n who she belongs to..(rough demon ren) his other half taking over and fucks y/n so hard and good to make it clear that she belongs to him. only him.

👉👈 hf <3

You deserve the most INSANE head for this concept oh ym fucking god. Oh my fucking g o d. I went delusional when I saw this last night.

CW/ Fem reader, AFAB genitalia, Breasted /Rengoku briefly mentions Suicide/ SPOILERS FOR THE MANGA......../ Giyu's life is on a clock/ Possessiveness/ BDSM Dynamics (mutual ownership)

-I can imagine how the news would've stricken you in specific. How muted it must have been. Day in and day out of hearing the cries of people much closer to the flame pillar than you could ever hope to be.

-You weren't his brother, you weren't his father- You weren't any of the young men that watched him pass- That had to stare at his, apparently, mangled corpse for hours, awaiting help in the uncomfortably hot air he left in his death.

-Hell, you weren't even a hashira yet. You just... knew the guy a little too intimately. Just enough for it to hurt more than you felt you deserved.

-It's not like he was going to marry you, or even ask for a partnership. They hadn't found a ring on his body in some grand last appeal-

-He wasn't even thinking about coming back for you-

-and it had felt that way for a while, now. You weren't counting the days, but you knew his birthday had passed twice. You hadn't quite remembered yours, but his had come and gone.

-Rengoku always remembered those kinds of details though. He was pretty big on the little things, so much so that he considered no thing too little.

-When the ex-water hashira had dropped off a small gift, courtesy of himself, you were partially confused. You hadn't known Giyu inherently well, nor did you think he paid you any mind.

-'I've been looking for your home for a while.' He'd hand you the gift. 'It was... hard to find.'

-'What is this for?'

-'Your birthday.'

-'It's my birthday?' The question came out more pathic than you'd hoped.

-'I- this may seem invasive... but... before his death, Rengoku had mentioned the date to me in passing. I had to ask around to see what was so important about it.'

-'He mentioned my birthday?' God, you were just full of pathetic questions, it seemed.

-'The... anniversary was just last week...' He was clearly stumbling.

-'I- maybe it's because my years are... numbered... but I- I wanted to put forward his kindness. I was too in my own head to do so while he was alive. Please open it before I say anything else.'

-It was a button. The top one of the demon slayer uniform.

-'I don't want to make any... assumptions about you and Rengoku, but I know, at the bare minimum, he was fond of you. I think he would've wanted you to have something of his... He left most of his clothes to his younge-'

-He'd begin apologizing profusely when you'd start sobbing. You'd collapse into his arms, clutching the box to your sternum and just wailing- A wail you hadn't known Kyojuro would even think you'd be worthy of.

-But Giyu thought you were worthy of it, and Giyu was the only one here right now. You cried in his arms for what felt like hours. You couldn't remember the last time you'd let somebody hold you- let a lone a man.

-His smell was cathartic. Like rain.

-His kiss meant nothing. Neither did the tear filled sex. Giyu was a dying man who'd done an inexplicable kindness. You got to pretend he was there, Giyu got to experience a warmth he'd never been rewarded for throwing a life away.

-You did not want Giyu to stay over in your bed, and thanked that button on your nightstand for his absence when you awoke in the dead of night.

-but Kyojuro remembers the little things.

-And you remember those loud eyes. They were perched at your window seal.

-You blinked once, twice-

-and then his face started to form in the darkness, and you were sure Giyu must have brought some ailment with him, because no. Not your Kyojuro, it must've been a delusion. Or maybe the original wasn't really dead-

-The way he said your name was undeniable. Past the buzz of the cicadas, and the huff of the wind.

-'Y/N.' The man said.

-'K-Kyojuro?'

-'Y/N!' There was palpable glee in the air, radiating from the man that claimed to be Kyojuro Rengoku.

-'W-who are you?' You'd croak.

-'...I'm Rengoku Kyojuro?' He'd respond softly. 'It is dark in here, I suppose. I'd meet you in the daylight if I could. I'm... not able, though.'

-How love stricken you must've been. At the mere chance that it was even partially him, you were bounding into his arms. You ignored the clear horns on his head, and bizarre markings along his neck. The undeniable smell of fear wafting from him-

-It was him. You knew even God or the devil himself couldn't recreate his warmth.

-It would take everything to remind Rengoku of his enhanced strength. The feeling of your body in his arms was heavenly- He'd only felt this elated maybe once before, in his mother's arms.

-'I missed you so much. Y/N, you will... Oh no, you're crying. You can't, or I'll cry too.' But he's already crying, afraid of his new found strength, and far too happy to see your face in the moonlight. Even if it's full of tears.

-'Sweet, and beautiful. You're just as striking as when I left. You look so tired... you've slept, right? Please don't tell me you've laid awake for me?' His heart ached at your nod.

-'I-I didn't deserve-'

-'Shshsh-' His hands would run through your hair. It was the first time in so long you'd felt the weight of your body- how slow you moved. 'I should never keep you so restless- come, sleep- sleep-'

-As the high of the night wore down, and Rengoku lulled you to bed with 'I love You's and the like, he felt at peace-

-But the smell of rain on such a dry night was aggravating his nose. He'd know that smell anywhere.

-Rengoku had formed a rather unfortunate temper since his supposed death. Not that he wasn't the same, fiery man at his core, calm, booming voice and all, but something he had never struggled with was the trade marked Rengoku male hot-headedness. (He'd always found his fathers decline in pride more than a little unsightly.)

-And he now struggled with it. Kyojuro had spent the last two years burning every unprompted shred of anger away so he could stand before you now as the same emotionally intact and strong man he'd died as.

-The one he hoped you loved.

-He'd sooner take his own life than take something out on you-

-but that smell.

-When you woke up, he questioned you as gently as he could.

-'Why do you smell like... water?'

-Your admission wouldn't be easy, but you couldn't lie to the man. You'd begin crying again, begging for forgiveness. He'd pull away to look at you with pity.

-'No, no- I'm the one that left you alone for so long. Don't apologize for my faults-' His hands would begin a slow decline down your body, tugging you closer by your ass. Your face would land squarely against his bare chest...

-And his hands- those big, all encompassing hands would move up your spine, to the nape of your neck.

-'Y/N, I'd like to address the elephant in the room.' He'd mumble against your temple as his hands wandered along your frame.

-'You're... You're not entirely human. I understand that.'

-'I... am not entirely right, anymore, Y/N. I want to warn you of that...'

-'I would...' hope, the thought briefly flitted in your head. Though clearly a travesty, Kyojuro had often waited for you to make the first move. The sudden interest on his behalf was more than nice. 'I would... assume.'

-'I don't want to harm, or scare you. Please don't let me do either. If I ever even- begin to... Behead me where I stand.'

-'I-I couldn't-' You'd shudder.

-'You can.' Rengoku would assure. 'I've developed an awful habit.' He'd be squeezing your hip, massaging just rough enough to rock you. He'd pull your leg up and over his own... Slotting himself between your thighs.

-'Y/N, did you let him cum inside you?' The word felt foreign on his tongue. How crude of him.

-'N-no!' You rushed.

-'Did he make you cum?'

-'....No.'

-'Mmm.' Rengoku hummed, his large hand running up your thigh. You quivered as he made contact with your sex. 'You haven't had one in a long time, then.' His fingers would slip past your gown, and pull your garments to the side-

-'I- I haven't. It didnt..didn't... feel right-'

-'Nobody can make you cum like I can, right, Y/N?'

-'Nobody.' You rushed. Your body was reeling from his touch. The mere possibility of his cock once again battering your insides was--

-'And this...' One of his fingers would slid into you, your insides still mushy from Giyu's use. 'This is still mine, right?'

-'It's- It's a yours. It always will be.'

-'Even in death?' Rengoku whispered against your temple.

-'For forever- For as long as you want it-'

-'You're my strong girl, right?' You'd nod. You'd be his anything. 'And this,' He'd add another finger, curling them inside of you.

-Part of him was pleased, you were all stretched out and ready. Giyu must have done you well....

-Giyu had no right to do anything with you.

-'This wants your cock?' He'd ask. You didn't even think before nodding. You'd never heard such words from his mouth.

-How daunting

-You'd cling to his bare chest, trying to just get closer. 'Say you want it.'

-'Give me my cock.' You'd slur. 'I need you. I've needed you. Please- please- I need you to let me.... Use me- I-' He'd already done you in, and he hadn't even tried.

-He could never turn you down. Especially not now that he was so much weaker.

-You stayed laying down, your body pressed against his broad chest- And Rengoku slipped his cock beneath your gown. He didn't bother removing your panties.

-He didn't even let you adjust before he wrapped his arms around you tight and just began pumping.

-How cruel, but it was the least you deserved for allowing another man so close. Rengoku would never punish you for it. He was too kind. He was too good, even when a demons blood crept through his veins. Rengoku was just too fucking good-

-'You're-' a hiccup would interrupt your sob. Words were lost on your poor, over fucked mind. You'd never experienced such speed, or such a grind. 'So- good- Kyo-kyojuro---!'

-His hand swiping at your clit was quick enough for it almost feel like vibrations. Climax after climax while your creaming cunt just begged for his seed.

-You felt like you were being consumed. He didnt break eye contact with you once- Not even allowing you the reprieve to look away from him.

-'Open your eyes.' He cooed, still thrusting up and into your pussy with a roughness that seemed almost impossible with such a tone. 'Look at whose loving you while you cum. Look at whose making you cum.'

-He wanted your eyes on him, and him alone. He wasn't sure what animal he'd become if they drifted away. You wouldn't. You can't.

-He'd never been so possessive. Had never claimed you- He had never really wanted to. Marry you, definitely. Kyojuro had never planned to bed you and not dedicate his romantic life to you-

-but you were always supposed to be able to leave, if you really wanted. He wasn't sure he was strong enough to let you do that, now.

-'Say my name again. Remember whose you are, Y/N. Burn it in your head.' He hissed, an unusual quiet to his voice. It made you hang on every word.

-You were his. He was yours.

-'Kyojuro! Kyojuro!' It was all you could manage. Every question he posed, every time he hummed, or thrust, or made you cum- You'd let him seer in across your stomach if he found fit-

-Rengoku had never loved his name so much. He'd make sure to burn it in your head again, if need be.

#rengoku x y/n #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer smut #rengoku x reader #rengoku smut #demon rengoku #hashira x reader

[yandereunsolved]

Dissect Me, Doctor - ,, yandere JPM with a psychologist reader

cw(s): yandere themes, dismemberment, suggestive themes, (James) necrophilia, noncon touching, cannibalism, mention of reader having breakdowns & panic attacks

✧ James found you by God's hand one fateful day. You could say it was more than a mere coincidence, eh? He had just finished killing one of the hotel guests. He was about to call Miss Evers in to clean up the mess when he spotted something sticking out of the dead gentleman's breast pocket. He plucked the card out of your pocket and read it allowed, 'Doctor...' His curiosity was the least bit piqued. Psychologists weren't exactly popular in the 1930s. The true study of the mind hadn't emerged, but James had always lived to study humans. To study their fight or flight instinct, how their bodies react to various torture methods, and how fear affects the human psyche. Perhaps he has found someone who shares his fondness for such things. It would be a great way to meet someone new. Considering Elizabeth refuses to speak with him, he has grown desperate. Not even defiling his killings tapered his already suppressed desires. 

✧ He got Sally to teach him how to use this magic witch named 'Wi-fi' who owns the internet—or something like that. Most new technology is just rubbish used to get people to make inauthentic connections. Although perhaps just this once, it can be used for the betterment of his temperament. He has Sally schedule an initial appointment at the hotel. Sally uses the excuse that James is bedridden and terribly ill (non-contagious), but he hates telehealth and just wants someone to talk to in person. You were skeptical because of the rumors surrounding The Cortez, but you were in desperate need of another client, and he was willing to pay extra—a lot extra.

✧ You had your first session in his room, and you immediately got strange vibes from him. He wasn't ill, that was for sure. Perhaps he was a little pale, but he probably hasn't gotten enough sun or vitamin D lately. He was even smoking! He was sitting all relaxed on a couch, dressed up in 1930s-esque attire, with a cane leaning against his lap. He introduced himself as James Patrick March, and you immediately understood why you were called. He either has a personality disorder or is a compulsive liar. Perhaps both. You asked him simple questions, such as his real name and when he was born. You were only getting nonsensical answers. He could not have been born in the late 1800's or early 1900's; that is ridiculous! 

James only felt himself grow hotter with each question you asked. It was like a fire had been lit beneath his skin, and he needed to put it out. Then you asked the question that really got him going.

"Since you refuse to use your real name, I'll just call you Mr. March. How is your personal life going? Are you currently sexually active?"

"I have peculiar interests and refined tastes. How do you modern people phrase it? 'Where there is a hole there is a goal'?"

✧ With that astounded expression on your face, he feels his urges compell him to end this lovely conversation early. That look would look perfect on your dead corpse. He takes the sabre out of his cane and tries to slit your throat; he narrowly misses. Somehow, you unlock his room door and bolt through the hallways. How promising. He walks through the winding hallways slowly. You scramble to find the exit, and he struggles with not just outright chasing you through the maze. No, he must preserve the hunt. After what feels like an eternity to you—only eleven minutes in real time—you finally trip over a stair and hit your head on the railing. Talented fox. You nearly escaped to the lobby. You are too much of a challenge to let go so easily. He's going to keep you to get his release. In more ways than one. 

✧ You wake up in the middle of the night in the same room as before. It's freezing, and your clothes are nowhere to be found. Your head is pounding, and you are barely able to breathe. James drugged you with some cocktail of drugs—some legal, most not. You feel blades ghosting your body. You feel them just barely slicing into your skin. It must be sleep paralysis, you rationalize. Something whispers sweet nothings into your ears. You are barely able to discern what those words are. 

"You taste... a dream."

"Never leave."

"The best prey— never leave me."

✧ You drift off once again before groggily waking up in a different room. You are still in the Cortez, now in room seventy-four. You feel much different today, weighed down and yet free. You don't have any marks on you that would indicate you were harmed last night. You feel the need to escape, but you are also incredibly confused. A maid is in your room, setting down a new set of clothes. She explains that you passed out after you tripped on a stair while leaving the session early. You accuse her of helping the strange man you interviewed who tried to kill you. She chuckles and says that you aren't his type. Her voice has a little bit of spite in it. That was the moment that you were introduced to Miss Evers. Quite possibly the only person who simultaneously envies you for getting all of James attention and pities you for your lack of self-awareness and intelligence in the situation.

✧ Before you are even able to shoo her off this JPM impersonator comes in your room and greets you. You are naturally apprehensive. He is naturally enthralled to see that his trophy prey has awoken. He cannot wait to just see how you react today. You try to leave and he explains that you never finished your session. You accuse him now of trying to murder you. He brushes it off and insists that you at least have breakfast with him before you leave. You are about to answer firmly when Miss Evers folding of a towel loudly snaps together. This 'James' scolds her and she gives him a doe-eyed look. Before you are even able to say no he is ushering you down the hallway in silken pajamas someone put on you while you were passed. The thought makes you shudder.

✧ You both were served a hearty and delicious breakfast. It isn't very filling to you, no matter how much you eat. It must be how queasy you are from yesterday. If it happened. Perhaps you had a mental break due to all the stress you have been through lately. You don't get a lot of time to think because you are snapped from your thoughts. This James speaks about your future together and how you will have a long and fufilling relationship. He asks you to give him a psyche evaluation. When you say no, he subtly threatens you with the thought of not paying because you didn't actually fill his full session. You reluctantly agree.

✧ He's both incredibly frustrated and intrigued by your persistence. How many times must he explain to you that he isn't a 'cosplayer' or someone with a personality disorder. He is simply the great James Patrick March. No matter. It will make you even more fun to play with.

"Your delusions, doctor, are clouding your mind. So I suppose I will have to make you see the truth—one way or another."

He sets up small 'challenges' to see if you can pass them. He wants to test how long your mental fortitude will hold up. 

✧ The first of those was dismembering himself in front of your very eyes. He does it multiple times, and they are all random. He will pluck his eye out and stir it in his tea. He will cut open his chest and stuff his organs into your suitcase. He will remove whatever is covering his neck and finger from his suicide wound. He asks if you would like to feel it, stroke it, touch it, or play with it.

"Doctor, I understand you only deal with the human mind, but would you like to feel this and assess if it is real? Do you believe me now?"

He will stab himself in the heart during one of your sessions and tell you that this is what you do to him. In the most extreme cases, if he isn't getting your coveted attention, he will take himself apart limb by limb and place them on your bed like a cross.

✧ You begin to come to terms with the fact that, at least, this man is psychotic. Perhaps not a ghost, but definitely a killer and wickedly sadistic. You try so many of the phones in the hotel, but so many seem not to work. You try to find your way out once again, but you seem to be trapped within these walls. Which comes to one of his many other tactics: trapping you in The Cortez's hallway maze. He is able to distort the minds of his guests and make sure that they never get out. Like a rat trying to find an escape from a box maze that has no exit. He enjoys just slowly walking behind you and taking in your panic and your quick breaths when your clothing rides up on you. He is able to take a respectful peek at what he will inevitably see time and time again.

✧ He keeps you trapped in the hotel. You never even have a chance to get to the lobby. He has a nice breakfast, lunch, and dinner with you. He has his daily sessions with you. Outside of that? His torture. All of his torture. All of it. He threatens you with it subtly if you do something that he is displeased with. He'll even lock you in that death closet of his and make you stand right near the spike. Sometimes you prefer to be in there because you can hide from him. He likes it when you hide in his death traps. So he totally leaves you alone and totally just doesn't sit right outside your ability to view him.

You are coming to the point where those times when he is cordial are the times you crave. All part of his plan, of course. Although—he hopes that you will keep up the chase, he likes that fiery spirit of yours.

✧ You often find him getting release from his dead victims. You know because your relentless cycle of agony and pleasure stops. At least he doesn't force himself on you when you are awake. You end up doing your best to stay as far away as possible from him during that time. Only you always end up stumbling into the same room as him. You avert your eyes, yet he always has something cheeky to say to you.

"Ngh—darling, darling, wait! This.... this could be us. This could be me. You and me. Nothing could be a replacement for how your flesh feels against mine."

He always turns around and gives you one of those godforsaken winks of his.

✧ That isn't the only time his victims come into play. You are always suspicious of the food he serves you. It's either drugged or the meat could be made from his victims. You first learned that the hard way. You were served meatloaf, and James called in manloaf. He stated that it was made in this very hotel by the very guest who was trying to help you leave. You wanted them so bad, you can have them—in your stomach.

✧ Not even the Countess is able to help. Not that she tries. She is too busy luring more men in. She's forgotten about James mostly, except for the betrayal. She gives you a few warnings and some caution when she can. You are almost like one of her children. Perhaps she would help you if you really were in need. Maybe.

✧ You still get those sensations in your sleep. The feeling of fingertips ghosting on your figure. How the sheets seem to slip off your body. A warm presence keeps you close throughout the night. It often manifests in such strange dreams. It feels like James's thoughts are being injected into your own mind. You dream of him against you—sometimes he is brutally murdering you, and in others he is sensually caressing you. He always seems to tease and taunt you with those tantalizing images in your mind.

✧ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ — You often have panic attacks and breakdowns because of him. Your heart rate quickens as sweat rolls down your body. Your legs shake and give in. The entire hotel seems to spin around you. You have to seek him out for your own comfort. It's so twisted and vile. You can feel bile rising in the back of your throat when it happens. You almost have to crawl on your hands and knees to reach him. Yet, it feels like heaven. His skin is so soft and supple. His suit is always made of the most comfortable materials. His body is always so cool to the touch. In those moments, your body melts into his. That is, until your mind stops its dissociation long enough to realize the trauma you were going through. You are falling for him—a classic case of Stockholm syndrome. You couldn't stand for this. You need to fight against this, against him.

✧ Unfortunately, your non-belief in ghosts stops when you see multiple people you thought were dead trying to warn you. You see your patient, who was killed in this very hotel. They tell you that they're so happy to see you. They are so happy you are here with them. You have to put on your therapist hat again and calm them down. It all clicks. Other people you thought were guests here were warning you. You are being oddly welcomed into the space. The others are cautious of your presence and afraid to upset the owner, the one who holds so much power over them. That strange being that seemed to flicker in and out of your peripheral occasionally. You finally make peace with the fact that James Patrick March is indeed a ghost. You really do need to escape here.

✧ You steal the hotel's shipping schedule for their toiletries and linens. You make a plan to escape. You think you are so clever, and it really makes James hot under his white buttoned collar. He lets you think that you are so much more astute than him. It makes him a little desperate, but he won't show it. He needs your touch so badly. He needs you to love him so badly. He needs you to be his little trophy victim. He needs you to help him chase his highs. He needs you. He needs you. He needs you. You, only you.

✧ He confesses his undying adoration for you and clings to your waist as you try to walk out. He sighs and tries one more tactic before you step out the door. He promises to tell you the entire truth. You are caught off guard by this, and your hand slips off the door. He leads you to his trophy room and shows you his 10 Commandment killings. He directs you to the corner, where your body lies. You are covered in wounds that have long since dried out. Your eyes are lifeless. You have his name etched across your naked chest. You scream, shout, and sob. James gently holds you and soothes you even as you thrash, kick, and gnaw at him.

"You've been trapped here the entire time. Since that night."

As if that makes it any better. You aren't that stupid. You could connect the dots—lack of appetite, coldness, the odd sensations, everything. You are stuck with this monster for all eternity.

"Hmm, yes! I saw you and just knew that I had to have you. Have you gotten my diagnosis yet, my love? It's lovesickness, and your body is the cure."

.ೃ࿐ -ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ- .ೃ࿐

⟿ taglist: @coentinim @bluerthanvelvet444 @cxndiedvi0lets @doll3tt33 @lacucarachapisser @etheral-moon @fear-is-truth @marchsfreakshow @girlyfart @nahoyasboyfriend

.ೃ࿐ -ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ- .ೃ࿐

#american horror story #yandere #ahs #ahs hotel #yandere american horror story #yandere american horror story x reader #james patrick march #jpm #yandere jpm x reader #yandere james patrick march #yandere james patrick march x reader #yandere headcanons #ahs yandere headcanons #ahs headcanons #ahs fanfiction #jpm x reader #james patrick march x reader #headcanon

[cozage]

The Daughter's Return: Part 3

Chapter 1: Sick with Dread

Part One | Next Chapter | Table of Contents | Read on AO3

There are a lot of new people here who may not know I have an ongoing series, so here's a little info about it. It started as a request and quickly grew into a multichapter fic (the longest one I've ever created!) The reader is Whitebeard's Daughter, who has a volcano devil fruit ability and who has been away for two years, only to return and meet a familiar spunky fire user. There's nineteen chapters before this, so you might want to go read those first for some background information, but we've just entered the start of what leads to the Marineford arc, so things are about to get real. It's a commitment, but I believe it's worth it if you're looking for a character-centric in-depth story!

If you're keeping up with the story, releases will be on Monday and Thursday unless I say otherwise!

Characters: female reader x Portgas D. Ace Word Count: 1.5k

You were fairly certain you were about to die. Jinx hadn’t left you alone for days. Jinx, who couldn’t stand you or your presence. Jinx, who only saw you as competition from the moment Ace saved her from that stupid box and she claimed him as her own. 

That cat had hated you from the moment it saw you. But now she was curled up on your chest, sleeping soundly. You could’ve sworn she was just waiting for the moment your heart stopped, so she could boastfully sit atop your corpse. That’s just how Jinx was. 

You couldn’t blame her; you were an easy target right now. The Spring ecosystem you were in had completely messed with your allergies. It was only a matter of time before she would be able to smother you and completely get away with murder. Some days you were so sick, you couldn’t even get out of bed to go throw up. Today was one of those days. 

You were sick from allergies and sick with worry. It was one day past due for Thatch to report back to the ship before the crew would have to send in a second team. He could’ve been caught, or killed, or tied up and made a mockery of. You had plenty of time to think about it, since you were basically bedridden at this point. 

You were certain the commanders and strategists were all thinking of a plan to go find out what had occurred, but it would take at least two days to mobilize them. And in that time, Thatch could be taken away or sunk to the bottom of the ocean. It hurt to breathe just thinking about it.

The door opened quietly, and you heard Ace’s voice from the doorframe. “Are you awake?” he whispered. “I have someone here for you.”

“I’m awake,” you said, your voice scratchy and raw. You almost got your hopes up about the visitor, but Ace sounded solemn, which was a good indicator that the visitor wasn’t Thatch.

Marco stepped inside instead, and you groaned at his appearance. “Just let me die, Marco. Leave me alone.”

He hummed, frowning over your body as you laid in bed. “I’d really like to run some tests,” Marco said. “The concept of fever and colds are completely foreign to your body, and yet something is clearly off. You shouldn’t be this sick for so long.”

“Or maybe the substitute cook has been cooking so badly he gave me food poisoning that’s lasted the past two weeks,” you shot back. “I want Thatch back.”

“I know.” Marco sat down on the bed next to you. “He’ll be home soon. In the meantime, let me get some bloodwork to check out.”

“No,” you hissed, pulling your arm away from him. “I told you, it’s just allergies.”

Marco looked at you with skepticism. He knew that it wasn’t just allergies, and you did too. 

“Allergies don’t make people throw up,” he reminded you gently. 

“Worry does,” you argued. “And so does food poisoning. So leave me alone.”

“If you’re not better by tomorrow, I’m taking your blood by force,” Marco said, getting up and heading for the door. He gave Ace a knowing look, as if to say “Good luck!” and then left you two alone. 

Marco had dealt with your varieties of illnesses over the years, and he knew you were too stubborn and whiny to listen to any of his advice. But for Ace, this was relatively new territory. You had been sick a few times over the past few months, but it had never been anything serious. Not like this. But you had been sick with worry ever since Thatch left. Something just didn’t feel right about this mission. 

Ace laid down next to you and began to brush your matted hair from your face, but instantly pulled back. 

He scowled at you. “I know you’re upset and want to be alone, but you don’t have to burn me.”

“I’m tired and I want to rest,” you groaned, turning away from him in bed. “Just let me sleep for a little bit, please?”

Ace sighed and got up from the bed. It was clear Marco must’ve given him some pointers. 

“I’ll let you know if I hear any news about Thatch, okay?”

“Thank you,” you whispered, trying your best to sound normal. 

The door opened and with a soft click of the door handle, he was gone. 

You hadn’t meant to burn him, but you couldn’t let him know that. Your powers had been a little haywire recently. You were overloaded on stress and high emotions, and though you had thought you had gotten that mostly under control, it seemed that your powers sometimes had a mind of their own. 

You’d be more concerned about it, but you were so damn tired that you fell asleep before you had time to think too hard. 

You weren’t sure how long you were asleep, but you woke again to Ace’s voice, jostling you awake.

“Y/N,” he whispered, shaking you lightly. “Thatch is back.”

You sat up immediately, looking around the room. The sudden motion made Jinx hiss and bolt away from you, but you didn’t care. At least she was acting normal again.

“Where?” you asked. 

“Out on the deck.”

You jumped up, ignoring the queasy feeling in your gut, and took off towards the deck. As you emerged, the setting sun illuminated the ship in a golden glow. You scanned the ship, desperately searching for him. He was here, somewhere. He had to be. 

And then you found him, his pompadour hair making him stand out from the crowd. 

“Thatch!” You screamed, running towards him. 

His eyes moved over to you and he broke out into a massive grin, holding his arms open to catch you. 

You slammed into him with such force, the two of you almost fell to the ground. But he kept you steady, like he always did. You did your best to keep the tears out of your eyes, but you were so relieved that he was okay. 

“I told you I’d be back,” he said, rubbing your back.

“You’re late,” you sobbed into his chest. “You promised two weeks.”

“Will you forgive me?”

You pulled away from him, wiping the tears from your eyes. “I guess I can this time. Just don’t do it again.”

He smiled and gave you a nod. “Yes ma’am. You have my word.”

You had been so happy to see him, you hadn’t realized he had come back with a prize. 

“You found a devil fruit?” you asked, looking at it skeptically.

“I did!” Thatch grinned, holding it out for you to see. “Take a look!”

You took the fruit from him and examined it. It was a small purple fruit that looked relatively unimpressive. There was no real indication of what it did exactly. But still, finding a devil fruit was a great feat, even on the Grand Line. 

“What are you going to do with it?” you asked, still checking it over for any indication of what it could be. 

“Not sure yet,” Thatch admitted. “I’m not sure I want to lose my ability to swim, especially if it’s a lame power. I might just sell it.”

You nodded. “There’s no good way to tell what it does, really. Probably better selling it than taking a risk for a lame power.”

“Pretty cool though, huh?!” He stood proud and tall. 

“You’ve got color again!” Marco called, walking over to the two of you. “She was sick with worry, you know.”

Thatch laughed and pulled you in for another hug. “It was definitely a challenge. You were right, we were better off taking a few members from Division Two. But we made it work.”

“I knew you would,” you said, giving him a tight squeeze. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

“Alright,” he said, pulling away from you and addressing the crowd. “Let’s eat!”

He took his devil fruit back from you and headed for the kitchen. Your appetite was back now that your cook was back. All felt right with the world. 

“You look better,” Ace said, grabbing your hand with his own. 

“I feel better,” you admitted. “God, I was so nervous. It feels so silly looking back on it.”

Ace pulled you in, dropping a sweet kiss on your lips that tasted like cinnamon. 

You pulled away from him, grinning giddily. “Did the commanders do Welcome Back shots?”

Ace gave a nervous laugh. “Maybe two or three,” he admitted. “You weren’t the only one who was nervous today.”

That was a little bit of a relief. Everyone else had kept such cool demeanors, you were worried you had been overreacting. But everyone had been nervous, they were all just better at hiding it. But now the anxiety that had covered the ship was nothing but a fading memory.

“Let's go eat,” you said, pulling him along with you. You were excited to finally have food that agreed with your stomach again, and finally felt like you could eat in peace.

--

Tag list! @taeyoge @teiza @tojislawyer @trafalgardnami @bloopbopsblog @dancingnewcat @dxestyi @flooofity @nyxthedragon01 @deadsnothere @h-rhodes1598  @morgyyyyyyy @trafalgardvivi  @fiestynatureweeb @frogpogjoghurt @beepboopcowboy @ms-portgas @luvyallbabes @aikochan4859 @zuchkaa @saybeyonce @stray-npc @kitsunechan707 

(if you'd like to be included in the tag list, just comment or send me a message!)

#one piece #one piece imagine #one piece scenario #one piece x reader #one piece x you #portgas ace x you #portgas ace x reader #portgas d ace x reader #ace x y/n #ace x reader #portgas d ace #portgas d. ace #cozage #✧˚ace✧˚

[lost-in-lamentation]

hiii! i loved the way you wrote hearts, released, and was wondering if you could do the same concept but with barbatos, solomon, and satan? thank you!! your writing is so good btw hehe

a/n: oh anon you have my entire heart thank you so much ㅠㅠ

i've got another request for a continuation, so i'll probably do another two parts for this particular series!

a continuation of: hearts, released.

warnings: there is blood and injuries, MC dies. references lesson 16 of og obey me in barbatos' part. references to the great celestial war + lilith in satan's part.

important! this story is hurt/no comfort. make sure you're okay with that before reading on.

barbatos, solomon, satan × gen!reader. (separate.)

he thought he was seeing things when he found you in the clearing. battered, bleeding, bruised, as you struggled to stay conscious after what had just happened. the world around you flickered in and out of existence, and the only thing tethering you to reality was the pain that shot through your body. your head fell to the side where he stood, and with what limited strength you had left, you beckoned him over to you.

═  ˎˊ˗

barbatos.

barbatos slowly walked towards you, uncharacteristically hesitant in the way he carried himself to your side. usually so poised, back straightened and all, barbatos was curled in on himself, jaw tightening as he moved closer.

"barbatos, you don't look so good," you said as you tapped the spot next to you weakly. "come sit here." maybe it was the fact that you were dying, but a part of you expected him to reject the request. instead, he graced you with a smile, crossing his legs and settling himself at your side. "answering my final requests, are we?"

barbatos blinked at you, hoping to hide away the tears that had collected in the corners of his eyes. "still making jokes at a time like this?" he nearly whimpered the question out, composure wavering as you coughed out blood.

"of course. you know what i'm like." you grinned at the demon, meeting his gaze; it was empty. you held it for a while, listening to the breeze blow through the trees before speaking again. "did you know this would happen?"

his expression fell ever so subtly, fists clenching as he tried to think of a way to answer. "i was... aware that it would happen."

"did you know it would happen today?"

"... no."

your hand stretched out towards barbatos, finding a place to rest on his knee. "if you did know, would you have stopped it?"

tentatively, he placed his hand on top of yours, fingers curling around your palm gently. "i can only change your fate so many times, MC."

a broken laugh echoed out from you, your own grip strengthening around his fingers. "yeah, that sounds like something you would say." you shuddered against the wind, feeling the blood trickle down your side slowly. "i'm sorry, barbatos," you whispered into the air, hand falling away from his.

barbatos' head drooped, his shadow blanketing the sorrow that made its way onto his face. "it's me who has to apologise," he whispered out, silent tears dripping onto your corpse.

═  ˎˊ˗

solomon.

solomon moved urgently, steps heavy on the ground as he ran towards you. as soon as he reached you, he fell to his knees by your side, trembling while his hand tried to grasp at yours. it wasn't often you saw solomon so panicked. lightly, you touched at his wrist, causing the sorcerer to look at you.

"it's okay, solomon," you hummed softly.

solomon shook his head at you. "whatever hurt you just now; it counters my spells. i can't do anything," he snapped at thin air, his words strangled as they fought to be spoken. his chest began heaving, fear settling in his body before his mind could process it. "i can't heal you."

a strange mixture of guilt and dread washed over you; not being able to be saved, and also knowing solomon would be the only one to see you like this made your heart ache more than your wounds did. "that's okay, solomon," you exhaled, wincing as you turned onto your side to try and face him. "just stay with me for now."

solomon slumped unceremoniously closer to the ground, leaning over you to palm at your bleeding side. his breaths caught in his throat repeatedly, quiet sobs filling the air as he sat next to you. "you didn't strike me as someone who would cry at someone's end," you chuckled as best you could.

the white haired man huffed at you, wiping away his tears with his sleeve. "very bold of you to make that statement to an immortal." he spoke coldly through gritted teeth, no longer bothering to look you in the eye. you gave him a forlorn smile in return, trying not to wince at the increasing pain in your nerves.

solomon felt the thread keeping him together unravel when he looked at your expression. "i can't heal you, but i think i can still help," he said, pulling out his wand from his coat. encantations you had never heard before spilled out of his mouth, wispy trails of light dancing around the two of you until you finally felt his magic working. eventually, the pain in your side dulled, leaving you numb to everything other than the fact that you didn't have long left.

"are you in pain?" solomon asked against his own will.

"... no, not so much." you tilted your head to look at him. "are you?"

"... i am."

weakly, you squeezed his wrist one more time before closing your eyes. "i'm sorry about that."

"it's okay, MC." solomon watched as your hand fell away from his, heart shattering at the sight. "it's okay," he said again, taking your hand back in his to wait for the warmth to fully disappear.

═  ˎˊ˗

satan.

the fourth born didn't dare take a step closer. his vision was clouded with red, his anger and your blood swirling together to stain his thoughts. his own blood, boiling, pounded inside his head, drowning out your voice as you tried to call to him.

in a desperate attempt, you shouted his name one more time, tears springing to your eyes when the effort made it feel like there were talons digging into your lungs. satan finally made eye contact with you, fear dancing in his irises. "satan," you coughed out, trying to reach for him. "come."

he followed the order immediately, but unlike usual, remained meek. with his face downcast and his fists balled up tightly as his side, satan walked over to you. if you had the ability to sit up, you would. instead, you had to settle for a frail attempt to catch his hand in yours. your fingers brushed against his leg in the process, and you felt satan stiffen at the contact. "satan," you pleaded with him, now tugging weakly at his clothing. "come here."

satan eventually obliged, bending down so that he could settle back onto his heels, all while pointedly avoiding your line of sight he kept his eyes trained on the ground, too afraid that the image of you dying would cause him to rampage. "i'm here," he spat out, lower lip quivering as he spoke.

"you can look at me, you know." immediately, his green eyes disappeared from sight as he turned away from you. "nothing will happen, satan. i just wanna see your face," you said, words slurring together as you started to lose your consciousness.

satan's gaze flickered to yours, sorrow etching itself into his features, and guilt carving a place in his eyes. "what now, MC?"

your expression softened. "make sure you ask your brothers for help, okay?"

satan immediately growled at the idea, slapping your hand away from him. "with what?"

"you'll know soon enough." you stifled a sob, understanding that satan didn't know any better. saying nothing more, you allowed yourself peace, falling further away from the light until there was no return.

satan wrestled against the thoughts that constricted his chest, feeling every heartbeat slam harder and harder against his ribcage. he hated himself for only knowing wrath; for not being able to show you something else in your final moments. a loud screech tore itself out of his throat, splitting through the devildom and shattering the skies.

for the first time, satan understood how his brothers felt all those years ago. he understood why they went to war for her. because he too, would have gone through war if it meant saving you.

a/n: satan who doesn't know how to process emotions on top !!! also don't ask why solomon can't heal you but can take away pain okay let's all ignore that :)

#obey me #obey me swd #omswd #obey me barbatos #obey me solomon #obey me satan #barbatos x reader #barbatos x you #solomon x reader #solomon x you #satan x reader #satan x you #obey me angst #aris writes 🐈‍⬛ #aris answers 🐈‍⬛

[pinkypromisepascal]

𝙰𝚜 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 (𝚃𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚜 𝚂𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚋𝚢 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛)

Summary: Tommy finds your diaries after you passed away

content warnings: angst, emotional Tommy, mention of character’s death

word count: 2.2k

/// this piece has only been proofread by myself, so forgive me for possible mistakes ///

It had been one month since Thomas Shelby had lost you, his beloved partner. Killed by one of Major Campbell’s minions during the Epsom races which you had accompanied him to to make sure the assassination of the Field Marshal went according to plan.

Although the plan had worked out like Thomas had imagined it with Lizzie luring the Field Marshal to a secret place, away from the busy race tracks, Thomas had been kidnapped by The Red Right Hand, leaving you on your own. While he had been busy fearing his own death, he would have never thought his significant other could be another target on Campbell’s list, he wasn’t even sure if The Red Right Hand had known about the sniper that had been hiding in the bushes near the wide and lonely field.

You had watched Tommy being dragged away by the three men. You had found a way to follow those men, unnoticed by them, and had hidden behind their car to listen to them.

After taking deep breaths, you had reached for the gun Tommy had given you and tucked behind your pants on that day. “Only for when you’re in danger, eh?”

Thomas had been ready to let go of his life right then and there, as he was taking the last drag of his supposedly last cigarette in his life. He had gotten pushed to his knees and had just sat there, eyes closed, taking a final deep breath. “In the bleak midwinter…”, he had mumbled.

At that point, his memories got foggy and confusing, and definitely one of the most haunting memories he had ever collected in his life. He only remembered being pushed into the grave that had been dug out for him, guns firing, but none of the bullets hitting him. And he remembered one very distinct sound. Despite his state in that moment, he had heard someone run across the field, the dirt scattering away beneath their shoes, and two final shots, more silent than the others.

Tommy had needed a few seconds before finally pushing himself up, taking in the scene in front of him. All three men that had kidnapped him were laying dead around the grave. A few steps behind, the other body had caught his eye. A wave of shock had run through him, his heart immediately sinking at the sight of you. He had slowly walked up to your corpse, as if he could have scared you if he was too loud.

He had knelt down next to you and pulled you onto his lap. The bullet had went straight through your forehead, just a few inches over your beautiful eyes that were still open. “I’m so sorry, love. I’m so sorry I took you with me.”, he had mumbled as he pressed your against his chest, tears streaming down his face.

It still pained Thomas to think of that day. Most of the days he felt like he was alright, but on some days your face flashed in front of his eyes, blood dripping down from the bullet’s exit wound and staining his clothes as he had held you against him. He still blamed himself for what happened, despite Pol telling him several times that it had been your own decision to risk your life and that you been aware it could go wrong.

Since your death, Thomas had avoided your room in Arrow House, the desire to find you there, sitting at your desk or on your bed and reading was too strong to be confronted with the harsh truth again.

But today, he felt like he needed to take in everything that was left of you. He wanted to feel as if you were still around, felt like it could clear his mind.

As soon as he entered your room, his heart started beating faster, a feeling of nausea started spreading. He could usually keep his emotions under control, but this time was different.

When Tommy had decided he wanted to have you around at his house to spend as much time as possible with you, you had talked him into turning one of the many bedrooms into your very own, where you could keep more personal things and where you could go to when Tommy was too much to handle. It had taken some convincing, but Tommy felt like he was falling for you all over again as he had watched you decorate your room, happily sorting your books into the shelves. “Should I order them by genre or by author, what do you think, Tommy?”

Standing in your room now, it still felt so alive to him. A scarf he had gotten you as a birthday present hung over the bed frame. He ran his hand over the soft, silky material. He knew it would still smell like you, but that didn’t stop him from grabbing and wrapping it around his neck. He took in your scent that immediately hung in the air.

Memories flooded his mind again and flashed in front of his eyes, your voices nothing more than just an echo bouncing of the walls of his mind. The first conversation with you at the garrison, your first time making him laugh after blurting out a nasty joke, your first kiss in your apartment where you had taken care of a wound on his chest. “It’s just a cut, you don’t have to-”

“Shut up, Tommy, I just don’t want to hear you whining when this gets infected”, you had insisted with a smirk.

Thomas smiled at the memories and thought about how your laugh would fill the room if you saw him wearing your scarf. He liked the idea of carrying something from you on him. “God, I miss the sound of your laugh so much…”, he breathed into the silence and ran a hand over his face as his feelings started to be too much again. He kept looking through your room, his eyes falling on the numerous bookshelves. He had never really been into reading, he always said he was too busy for that. Yet, he had adored the look on your face when he had bought you another pile of books.

Regret filled him now, realizing he should’ve taken the chance to read with you together and just enjoy a peaceful day. He regretted so much. He regretted taking you to Epsom with him, he regretted thinking you would be safe. And he abhorred the ugly truth that he didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye, you had died right after impact.

Thomas’ whole body tightened, a pressure built in his throat that made him want to scream. He clenched his fists at his side, his nostrils flared and his emotions cut off his air to breathe. He closed his eyes and focused on taking deep breaths. He turned his face towards the sun falling through the big window and let the warmth run through his body, giving him a sense of safety for now.

When he opened his eyes again, he noticed the big desk standing in front of the window. It always looked like you had just gotten up from it. You had never really had the urge to keep that desk neat and tidy, it was meant for getting lost in your own thoughts anyway, and not for work.

Tommy stepped closer and saw the notebooks scattered on the desk. He grabbed the nearest one and sat down on the floor, his back resting against the bed frame.

“Hope there’s nothing too private in here… If I find a dirty little secret of yours I can’t even confront you about it.”, he joked to make himself feel a little better. As he opened the book, several loose sheets of folded paper slipped out and fell into his lap.

He picked up one paper and unfolded it, discovering a drawing of himself, looking to the side and smiling with a cigarette in his hand. He couldn’t exactly make out the background of the drawing, but he assumed it was his private booth at the garrison. Thomas grabbed the other sheets of paper, finding another drawing of him and less detailed sketches of Aunt Pol, Arthur and Ada. “It’s a shame none of us were talented enough to draw you, love”

Another sheet happened to be a letter Thomas had written to you. He chuckled in disbelief. He remembered writing the letter after you told him that you loved his handwriting and suggested he’d try to put his feelings into written words instead of spoken ones, as he had always had trouble with that.

Tommy didn’t need to read the letter, he knew every word on that piece of paper by heart, he knew the feelings he had expressed on it. Instead, he turned to the journal again and started reading.

You had written about Tommy’s family and how they treated you. Arthur and John hadn’t been sure about you at first, Aunt Pol on the other hand didn’t need much time to accept you as part of the Shelby family, as well as Ada as soon as she saw how well you were taking care of her son Karl one night. Tommy was the last one to trust you. He had liked you from the beginning, he couldn’t deny that, but it had taken a lot of time to open up to you.

Another entry was just about him, and Tommy almost felt overwhelmed at the love that shined through your words. He read about how you thought he was one of the most interesting persons you had ever met and how you adored his soft, caring side he barely showed. Tommy remembered seeing your adoration for him in your eyes. Of course there had been times where you were mad at him for overworking or getting his family into trouble, but when he had a day off and took some time to relax, he was the best company you could wish for.

At the end of that entry, Thomas’ eyes widened and his heartbeat increased again.

𝐼 𝒹ℴ𝓃’𝓉 𝓀𝓃ℴ𝓌 𝒾𝒻 𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 ℯ𝓋ℯ𝓇 𝓇ℯ𝒶𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈, 𝒯ℴ𝓂𝓂𝓎, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝒾𝒻 𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝒹ℴ:

𝐼 𝓁ℴ𝓋ℯ 𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝓈ℴ 𝓂𝓊𝒸𝒽, 𝒯𝒽ℴ𝓂𝒶𝓈 𝒮𝒽ℯ𝓁𝒷𝓎, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐼 𝒽ℴ𝓅ℯ 𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝓀𝓃ℴ𝓌 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉. 𝒴ℴ𝓊 𝒽𝒶𝓋ℯ 𝒷ℯℯ𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝓇ℴ𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝒶 𝓁ℴ𝓉, 𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝒽𝒶𝓋ℯ ℯ𝓍𝓅ℯ𝓇𝒾ℯ𝓃𝒸ℯ𝒹 𝓈ℴ 𝓂𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓃 𝒾𝓃 𝓎ℴ𝓊𝓇 𝓁𝒾𝒻ℯ, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓎ℯ𝓉, 𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝓉𝓇𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝓂ℯ ℯ𝓃ℴ𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝓉ℴ 𝓁ℯ𝓉 𝓂ℯ 𝓈ℯℯ 𝓎ℴ𝓊𝓇 𝓋𝓊𝓁𝓃ℯ𝓇𝒶𝒷𝓁ℯ 𝓈𝒾𝒹ℯ.

𝐼 𝒶𝓂 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃𝓀𝒻𝓊𝓁 𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝓁ℯ𝓉 𝓂ℯ 𝒷ℯ𝒸ℴ𝓂ℯ 𝒶 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉 ℴ𝒻 𝓎ℴ𝓊𝓇 𝓁𝒾𝒻ℯ 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓎ℴ𝓊𝓇 𝒻𝒶𝓂𝒾𝓁𝓎. 𝐼 𝓅𝓇ℴ𝓂𝒾𝓈ℯ 𝐼 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒽ℯ𝓁𝓅 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 ℯ𝓋ℯ𝓇𝓎𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝓈 𝓂𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝒶𝓈 𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝑔𝒾𝓋ℯ 𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝓈𝓊𝓅𝓅ℴ𝓇𝓉 𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝓃ℯℯ𝒹. 𝐼𝒻 𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝓃ℯℯ𝒹 𝓂ℯ 𝒶𝓈 𝓎ℴ𝓊𝓇 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉𝓃ℯ𝓇 𝒾𝓃 𝒸𝓇𝒾𝓂ℯ, 𝐼 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒷ℯ 𝓉𝒽ℯ𝓇ℯ. 𝐼𝒻 𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝓃ℯℯ𝒹 𝓂ℯ 𝒶𝓈 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝓎ℴ𝓊𝓇 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉𝓃ℯ𝓇, 𝐼 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒷ℯ 𝓉𝒽ℯ𝓇ℯ. 𝐼𝒻 𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝓃ℯℯ𝒹 𝓂ℯ 𝒶𝓈 𝒶 𝓈𝒽ℴ𝓊𝓁𝒹ℯ𝓇 𝓉ℴ 𝒸𝓇𝓎 ℴ𝓃, 𝐼 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒹ℯ𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒾𝓉ℯ𝓁𝓎 𝒷ℯ 𝓉𝒽ℯ𝓇ℯ. 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓃𝓀 𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝒻ℴ𝓇 𝓉𝓇𝓊𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓂ℯ, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃𝓀 𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝒻ℴ𝓇 𝓁ℴ𝓋𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓂ℯ.

That little note was what broke Tommy. He felt his throat close up, his eyes starting to burn. His breath hitched and he decided to just let it happen, to let the tears stream down his face. He covered his mouth with one hand to muffle his sobbing.

His emotions were rushing through his body like flashes, paralyzing him and stopping him from exiting this state. All the bottled up guilt suddenly pressed against his skin from the insides, making his limbs ache and burn.

How could he let this happen to you? Why had he been so naive? Thinking you would be safe from Campbell?

Tommy’s head started throbbing, his throat still closed up and his stomach turned. He wanted to scream, to cry out loud and exhaust his body until he’d fall unconscious. Sorrow slowly turned into panic and fear, his stomach turned and Tommy felt like throwing up.

Tommy pushed the diary away and laid down on the floor, trying to get as much sun shining on his frame as possible. His eyes closed, he took deep breaths and stretched his arms to the side. “You’re gonna be ok, Thomas. Deep, controlled breaths.”, he whispered to himself.

A few breaths later, Tommy slowly calmed down, and acceptance started to set in. He knew he had to accept your death one day instead of internally denying it the whole time. He needed to accept that all that was left of you was this room, his memories of you, and of course the scarf around his neck that he would never take off again. He needed to cherish those things before his sadness kicked him off the edge for good. You were gone, and there was no way of bringing you back.

Thomas knew he wouldn’t be alone in this, he knew that his family would help him wherever they could, that they would help him clear his mind of the heavy fog that kept him from moving on.

After a few more minutes, Thomas felt like he could feel you laying on top him, your fingers softly caressing his face. He imagined you humming the melody of your favorite song to him and he slowly drifted into a much needed sleep.

__________________________________________________________

author’s note: as promised in my previous post, my first story on here! I originally wrote this about a year ago, but I did rewrite it today in one go and my god, the time it took me to finish this, but I’m happy with how it turned out. I do kinda have a second part planned for this with kinda supernatural elements, but I haven’t really figured out how to put it into a good story yet, but I do like writing a very emotional and torn Thomas Shelby, so I might as well write that damn second part. 

Anyhow, I hope you liked reading this piece, feel free to give me some feedback, criticism is welcome, as long as it’s constructive lol. 

Have a great day!

#tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby angst #tommy shelby angst #emotional tommy shelby

[daisyrb-gvf]

Cruising Into Love

d.r.w. x f!reader

My first post on tumblr, but definitely not my first fic. Danny's cruise picture had this story pouring out of me, so I hope you all like it! I thought this first chapter would be longer than it is, but the next part of the story deserves its' own chapter.

Words: 3.2k

Summary: After 3 mundane months of working on a cruise ship, you're met with the most gorgeous man you've ever seen.

Warnings: plenty of swooning, language and brief mentions of f masturbation.

You sigh as you zip up the back of your fitted black dress. Another night, another performance. You love being an entertainer, and sitting behind the keys is as close to home as you can get on this ship, but after 3 months of your 8 month stretch, it is starting to feel so redundant, and there are only so many songs that are approved to perform at the piano bar. The boss wasn’t too pleased with your medley of LL Cool J songs with an audience consisting of mainly 50-80 year olds. Tight ass. 

“Just three more nights and you get a break,” you reassure yourself as you touch up your makeup in the pathetically tiny mirror that looks huge in this shoebox of a bathroom. 

“Alright girl, I’m off,” you say to your slightly-less-than-pleasant bunk mate. It could be worse, but it would have been nice to bunk with someone who actually seemed to give even half a fuck about you. At least she wasn’t mean. Just…distant. 

“Kay,” she replied with enthusiasm akin to a corpse, not bothering to look up from the sketch she was working on. You sighed again, feeling like you’ll never be able to chip away at that wall. You didn’t come here to make friends, but damn, a little human connection would be nice sometimes. 

– – –

Your body shuddered as you threw back a shot of tequila at the bar. “Thanks, Chris,” you said to the bartender-one of the few people who will have an actual conversation with you. He winked before flicking his eyes over to a young, classically hot dude. Boyish features, blue eyes, sandy blonde hair…you get it, but definitely not your type. 

“Down boy,” you say with a chuckle as you wink back at him. 

Settling down at the keys, the audience gives you a small applause as the chatting dies down. 

“How’s everyone feeling tonight?” you ask the small crowd, mustering up as much enthusiasm as you can. You get a small cheer, and a few whoops from the more inebriated folks. “You mind if I play a few songs for you?” A louder cheer encourages you as your hands start to dance across the ivory keys. 

Ooh you can dance

You can jive

Having the time of your life

Ooh, see that girl

Watch that scene

Digging the dancing queen

The crowd sings along with you-definitely one of the more tone-deaf groups you’ve played for, but at least they seem to be having fun. Dancing Queen is always a good opener, and one of your favorites, so you prefer to start the shows this way. 

The crowd cheers as you segue into your next number. People are getting tipsier with each song, and you have to admit, it is pretty entertaining. Drunk crowds are typically great audiences unless they get belligerent. 

“Alright, it’s been a blast playing for you all tonight,” you say as you start the intro to your final song.

I needed the shelter of someone’s arms

And there you were

I needed someone to understand my ups and downs

And there you were

WIth sweet love and devotion–

Holy shit. Who is that guy? A tall, dark, and handsome man emerged into your view after an elderly couple left the table in front of his. You miss a note and snap back into focus through the chorus. What the hell? Why is some random-admittedly gorgeous-dude throwing you off? That’s new. You make it through the second verse, but after that it’s impossible to not steal another glance. Your knees get a little shaky as you drink him in, thankfully keeping your shit together in your performance. You watch him sing along as he drums his fingers on the little bistro table. You realize you glanced a little too long once he smirks at you, locking eyes. You blush red and avoid the entire corner of the room where he is sitting for the rest of the song. Oh God, how embarrassing.  

The crowd cheers as the song ends and you take a bow before immediately walking back over to the bar…which, unfortunately, is far too near the gorgeous man in the corner. 

“One more tequila, please, Chris,” you say anxiously as he chuckles. 

“Little flustered there, aren’t you? Wouldn’t have anything to do with that yummy Greek statue of a man there in the corner would it?”

“Shut up, Chris,” you whisper, your face turning redder by the second. 

“Mmhmm, okay. Whatever you say,” he says with a smirk before walking to the other end of the bar serving the influx of post-performance guests. 

Walking out of the room, you make it maybe ten feet before realizing you left your phone behind the bar. 

“Shit,” you mutter to yourself, debating on walking back now or waiting until the crowd clears in hopes of avoiding the gorgeous creature who made you pathetically weak in the knees. 

“Oh, come on, he is just a man. Get the fuck over it,” you mutter again, rolling your eyes at yourself. You turn around and make it one step before slamming straight into someone. 

“I’m so sorry!” you both say in unison as large, warm hands wrap around your shoulders, steadying you. Of-fucking-course. 

“Oh, no worries!” the insanely beautiful man replies, dropping his hands from your shoulders. The summer breeze feels colder than it had before as your whole body flushes. 

“Oh-um-yeah, okay,” you sputter out with a nervous smile. Good God, get your shit together. 

He chuckles, “Your performance was great. We loved it,” he says warmly as a beautiful, tall, brunette woman walks up next to him. Of course. There’s no way this man could be single. It only makes sense that he would have one of the most staggeringly gorgeous women on his arm. 

“Yes, it was lovely!” she chimes in, hooking her arm through his as she reaches out a hand to shake yours. 

“Oh, thank you!” trying to stay as cool as possible and not show your disappointment, you shake her hand and flash a smile. 

“I’m Josie, and this is my brother, Danny,” she introduces. 

Oh. Brother. He’s her brother. The relief you feel is embarrassing and you hope it doesn’t show on your face. You sense it does, based on the tiny smirk Josie is clearly trying to hold back. 

“Nice to run into you,” Danny says with a chuckle, reaching his hand out to shake yours as well. He holds your gaze for just a moment longer than you expected. Just long enough for your breath to catch as you get lost in his dark hazel eyes…flecks of gold, brown, and green-the warmest eyes you’ve ever seen. He flashes a bright white smile that makes your chest tighten. 

“Yeah, uh, you too,” you reply with a nervous giggle, your voice barely shaky. Oh my God, you are so fucking embarrassing. 

“Come on, Dan. We’re late meeting mom and dad,” Josie says, leading Danny down the hallway. “Nice meeting you!” 

“Yeah, you too!” You stay glued in place for a moment, watching them walk away. Damn, the back looks just as good as the front. Danny turns around at that moment, catching you staring. He smirks and winks before turning back around, disappearing as they turn a corner. 

“Real smooth, you idiot,” you sigh, tossing your head back before walking back into the bar. 

– – –

You got almost no sleep that night, and it infuriated you. Losing sleep over a man you barely met. Get a grip…but, those eyes-such a warm hue, long lashes, smooth, tan skin, he had a little dusting of freckles on his cheeks and angular, almost avian, nose. His features were masculine and sharp, with a jaw that could probably cut glass, but his kind eyes and heart-melting smile made him seem so…soft. You could tell he was a man who wasn’t afraid to do some grooming and pampering. With skin like that and shiny, dark brown, perfect ringlets of hair long enough to barely brush his shoulders…yeah, he put some effort into his appearance. His demeanor didn’t seem cocky or vain, though. Confident, sure, but not full of himself. Ugh, and then that body. 

“Oh, come on,” you say exasperatedly to yourself as you roll over for what was probably the 20th time, trying to relax. “You’re not 13 years old. For God’s sake, you are 25. Act like it.” 

You take a deep breath and relax one muscle at a time, feeling the gentle rocking of the ship lulling you to sleep. You start to drift off and the image of Danny turning around to wink at you jolts you awake again. 

“What the hell? May as well just stop fighting it,” you say defeatedly, letting your mind drift off to Danny with no resistance. You close your eyes again as you try to remember every detail. His sun-kissed skin, broad shoulders, slender hips and legs, but you could definitely see the muscle definition under those tight black jeans. You let out a little giggle as you remember the cheesy little shark tooth necklace dangling on his collarbone, just above a small patch of black hair dusted on his sternum. His short-sleeved top was unbuttoned just below his pecs, leaving the rest of his torso up to your imagination. You find yourself imagining how it would feel to run your hands over his warm, undoubtedly hard, stomach before smoothing them around to his back, running up to his sturdy, broad shoulders. You know what would help you sleep, but even alone in your bunk, you’re embarrassed that seeing this man for a few moments would cause you to slip your hand into your shorts. You wonder if you had met him earlier in the day it would have given you time to shake it off. Maybe take a run around the 7th floor track that wraps around the ship on the deck. But for now, you need sleep, so you do what needs to be done. Thank God your bunkmate is working the overnight shift. It only takes a few minutes before you finish with a soft sigh, drifting off to sleep seconds later. 

– – –

Hard as you tried, you can’t help but feel a slight pang of disappointment when Danny doesn’t show up at the next night’s performance, and you feel pathetic for that. This is a huge ship. It’s impossible to do even half of the activities offered, so why would he come to the same show twice? To see you? Come on, girl. Get real. The self-loathing is bubbling up inside you as you attempt to exhaust yourself by running seven miles. Does it work? Absolutely not. You’ve never felt so electric and energized. Any other time you would have been grateful, but not now. Not when, despite your exhaustive efforts, you still find yourself relieving that ache in your core before drifting off to sleep. 

Rolling out of bed the next morning, you feel a bit better. The exhaustion from your run the day before caught up to you, and your legs feel like they are on fire. Thank God. Despite the pain, you brush your teeth, throw your hair in a bun, and slip on a tank top, shorts and running shoes, making your way to the 7th floor. Maybe after today’s run you won’t even think about him when you fall into bed tonight. 

A small smile forms on your face as you close your eyes, feeling the sea breeze enveloping you as you step through the double glass doors onto the deck. Most people you know prefer to run out on forest trails, feeling the crunch of leaves and soft dirt under their feet, seeing the sun filter through quaking aspens, hearing songs from morning birds harmonizing together. You love it too, but the power and energy that the ocean offers can’t be beat. You start off with a slow jog, warming up your aching muscles, before finding your stride. You feel as if the ocean is running alongside you, the waves matching your pace. You finally start to feel like you’ve found your footing again-literally and figuratively. After your first lap you see a few more people making their way onto the deck. Most come out for a nice walk, just enjoying the view they don’t get to see often. You see a sweet old couple, moseying along hand-in-hand. Just walking silently. Comfortably together. This is a common sight around here, but you feel a bittersweet sort of heartache for just a moment before someone whizzes right past you. 

Long legs, narrow hips, mess of dark chocolate curls tickling those broad, tanned shoulders with each step, the navy blue muscle tee giving you a much better view of those shoulders as they flex and move in tandem with his strong, lean legs. Legs that he clearly enjoys showing off based on the yellow shortie-shorts he’s sporting. You increase your pace with a surge of adrenaline, but also so you can get as close as you can to the view. As he reaches the curve of the track at the front of the ship, he looks over his shoulder at you, grinning before picking up his pace. Is he…challenging you? Oh, it is so on. You weren’t an all-state track star for nothing. You grin and take a deep breath, pushing yourself faster, the excitement dulling the burning pain in your thighs. Danny hears you round the corner as you catch up to him, chuckling through his steady, heavy breaths. You’re not letting those long, sculpted legs have an advantage over you. Ignoring the burn in your chest, you surge forward faster, eventually passing him. Looking over your shoulder you catch him staring at your ass. He quickly looks away and out at the ocean. If you weren’t puffing and panting so hard, you’d probably giggle, but it’s all you can do to stay focused and not let him catch up to you. You both run another lap, taking turns being in the lead before you both give up and just run at a steady pace next to one another. 

“Okay, I give up,” he says, holding his hands up in surrender. “You’re good! How long were you running before I came out?” You couldn’t help but shiver slightly hearing the deep timbre of his voice between his panting breaths. 

“Oh, just barely over a lap,” you reply, doing your best to not sound like you’re dying, and failing miserably. 

“Safe to say this is something you do often?” He runs the back of his hand down his neck, wiping off a bead of sweat that rolled from his chin down over his prominent Adam’s apple. 

Taking a big gulp of air that had nothing to do with your exhaustive run, you wipe sweat from your brow and try not to stare at his neck and shoulders glistening in the sunlight. “No, this is my first time,” you say as seriously as you can manage. 

“Are you joking?!” he asks incredulously. 

A laugh bubbles up at the sight of his adorably confused and surprised expression. “Absolutely. I’ve been running basically my whole life.” Your breathing is finally starting to slow along with his, the rise and fall of his chest and shoulders still exaggerated, but not as fast. 

“Oh, thank God,” he replied, flashing that bright smile, your breathing picking up again ever so slightly. 

“Bit competitive, huh?” You walk over and grab a couple of towels and water bottles from the recently restocked shelf. 

He chuckles, “Yeah, I guess you could say that.” You hand him a towel and bottle and he immediately chugs half of the water, a tiny bit of it running down his chin, the small stream of cool liquid mixing with the sweat on his neck, traveling down his protruding Adam’s apple again. “Thank you,” he says, wiping his brow with the slightly scratchy fabric of the generic beach towel. 

“Oh, yeah..uh, you’re welcome,” you awkwardly sputter, yet again embarrassed by the reaction this man is getting from you for basically just existing. 

He drops his head, clearly trying to be a gentleman and hide his knowing smirk. After a brief awkward moment he looks out at the water. “Bet this never gets old, does it-getting to run with the waves every day?” 

“Never,” you reply, with a contented sigh. “The ocean is the best running buddy I’ve ever had, no offense,” you giggle. 

He chuckles back at you, “None taken. I totally understand. I wish I could do this every day.”

You both saunter over to the railing and lazily lean over the smooth, wooden bar. 

“Well, they’re basically always hiring here. Want a job?” you ask with a chuckle. 

“Don’t tempt me,” he replies, his large hands gripping the rail as he leans back slightly, enjoying the breeze. His damp curls already drying from the salty air. 

“This sea breeze is really the only thing that could do any tempting. Cruise life behind the scenes isn’t very glamorous. I’m sure whatever you’re doing now is better than this.” 

“Maybe so. Depends on the day.” 

“So, what do you do?” you ask, turning around to lean your back against the railing as you take another sip of water. 

“Danny! I thought you said you were going to wait for me?” Josie bursts through the glass doors, looking irritated. “Oh hi!” she says, flashing a bright smile-very similar to her brother’s-at you. “It’s good to see you again. You want to join us on our jog?” 

Josie is so bubbly and bright. She has that magnetic energy that people are just naturally drawn to. Matched with her staggering beauty (that clearly runs in the family), you imagine that there are plenty of unsuspecting people out there who have been left in a haze by her presence. You find yourself just a bit jealous of whatever genes run in that family.

“Oh, thank you for asking, but I actually just finished up here. I don’t think I have another lap left in me,” you chuckle, finishing off what’s left of your water. “Not after kicking this guy’s butt,” you giggle nodding your head in Danny’s direction. 

“Excuse me?” he retorts, “I do believe that it was a tie,” he laughs. My God, he has the most adorable laugh you’ve ever heard-kinda dorky, actually, and you are so glad this Greecian god has been humanized a bit, even if it did make your heart ache more for him. 

“I believe you,” Josie loudly whispered to you with a wink, “and thank you for tiring him out a bit. Now I can outrun him,” she laughed before bolting down the track. 

“Oh come on, sis! That’s not fair!” he called out, running after her. After a few strides he slowed down and turned around, running backward, “It was good to see you again!” 

You watched him run down the track, frozen in place again, until he turned the corner. 

“Guess I’ll be losing more sleep tonight,” you mutter with a sigh before walking inside to take an ice cold shower.

LOTS more Danny in the next chapter, I promise. I'm a slow-burner.

Go to Chapter 2

@spark-my-nature

#danny wagner #daniel wagner #danny wagner gvf #daniel wagner gvf #danny wagner fic #danny gvf #greta van fleet #greta van fic #greta van fleet fic #Spotify

[fl3shm4id3n]

ₛᵢᵣₑₙ

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐤𝐲 𝐏𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞, 𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐝 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ʙᴀʙʏɢɪʀʟ! ᴊᴀᴋᴇ ꜱᴜʟʟʏ x ꜱɪʀᴇɴ! ɴᴀ'ᴠɪ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Tw: death by drowning, dancing to the death, near death experience.

Masterlist

There was a legend in the na'vi, about a woman who was covered in gold and riches, that lived in a lake. She was beautiful but also deadly. Anyone that comes near her territory will die. When the RDA knew of this legend, they had decided to try and capture the woman, to take her gold. But no matter how many men they sent, they never returned. It was obvious that the men were killed. They had discovered that the woman's screams would turn them insane and dance until they'd go further into the water and drown to death. Since then they had decided to leave the woman alone, forget about the gold and riches that were on her body, they had better things to look for in this planet.

Just like normal you were in the lake, sitting on a huge rock. Examining a mask the RDA used. You were curious on why they needed these masks, there was plenty of them at the bottom of the lake. As well as rotting corpses and other things. You hated the Sky People, ever since they had arrived to Pandora. They had been killing the planet for their own selfish needs, you were living peacefully until they came to try and take the thing that the great mother had gifted you. You didn't allow it to happen. So you had decided to use your scream to kill them. After many attempts to try and catch you, they never did. Why should you care if they died horrible deaths? They had been doing harm to your home for many years, and they needed to pay.

While you were still distracted, you heard a loud splash. This made you turn to look, then you looked up and saw the giant Palulukan roaring towards the water. You looked over and saw what it was roaring at, then you saw it was a na'vi, but not a na'vi, but one of those fakes. You watched him struggle to hold onto a branch, but the water falls was stronger then him. Then the water manage to pull him away from the branch and take him down the water fall. You were curious on whether he'd die or not, so you threw the mask away and jumped into the water to follow him.

You watched him struggle, trying to hold onto something under the water. You knew how to swim when it came to this harsh waters, you practically owned this lakes and waterfall. Finally he had ended at the lake, your lake. You stayed behind, watching him trying to swim up, but he was exhausted and you could tell. He tried to swim up as much as possible, but he couldn't. Eventually he stopped, you watched how his eyes closed and began to sink down slowly, he was close to going down to join the rotting Sky People, but something had changed inside.

So you moved out from your hiding spot and swam towards him. Wrapping your arms around his waist from behind and began to swim up to the surface. Once up, you laid his head back on your shoulder, then proceeded to take him out of the water. When he was out, you also stepped out, dragging his body away from the lake. You moved him as far as you could, so that he wasn't able to wake up near the lake. The you stopped at an open area, he was laying on his back. You examined him, he was very handsome, for a Sky Person. You touched his face, he had soft skin, you've never felt another being's skin. You then moved your hand near his nose and mouth, feeling his hot breath on your hand. He was alive.

He then began to move, you flinched away from him. Ready to defend yourself, but all he manage to do was move on his side. He was passed out asleep. You crawled towards him, looking over, seen the side of his handsome face. He looked beautiful asleep. Then the night came in, but instead of going back to the lake, you had decided to stay with him, for some odd reason. So you laid behind him wrapping on leg over his waist and snuggled close to him, feeling his damp clothes and body warmth.

When Jake woke up from his link pod, Grace had bombarded him with questions on where the Avatar was. Jake couldn't really answer her since he doesn't really know where he ended up, this angered Grace. She knew it was a bad idea bringing Jake along the mission, but she was reified knowing that the Avatar wasn't dead. She instructed Jake to get proper rest and eat, then bring the Avatar back before he does something stupid. After he got proper sleep and food in his body, he got back on the link pod. Grace had warned him again, to bring back the Avatar to base and not do something stupid, he didn't like being scolded over something that was mainly an accident or a wrong place, wrong time situation, but he just shut up and did what he was told.

He had woken up in his Avatar body, but he saw that he wasn't alone. He saw a woman, but not just any woman. This woman looked like an avatar, except her skin is the color of gold, not only that but she seemed to be covered in scales of gold, along with other kinds of jewels that any one would dream off. He saw she had pearl beads, emeralds, rubies, and more gold chains as well as beads.

Then you opened your eyes, they both sat up fast. Jake got a good look at your face. You were beautiful, you wore a kind of head piece with gold coins and more chains that hung, had short black hair with bangs, she had had red colored jeweled like lips. Before he could say anything, you got up from the flood, Jake attempted to get a hold of you by grabbing your wrist, he wanted to asked you who you were and to thank you for saving him, but you yanked your arm away. Making Jake hiss and let go of you. He watched you run away, he heard how your gold and jewels jingle as you ran, until he no longer could. He looked down at his palm, seen the cut that you had provoked, was bleeding. Not only that, but there was a small peace of gold on his palm. He looked back to where you ran off to, he was now curious on who you were.

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