#nix writes

[iseebeautyinwords]

dating the ri’s | shuri udaku, riri williams , shuriri

summery : just some shuriri hc’s!

taglist : @pinkwright @inmyheadimobsessed @zayswriting @quintessencewrites comment to be added :)

shuri udaku : ☆

you guys are dating before you even know it

she loves parading you around as her girl

matches with you subtly, like with nails, outfit colors stuff like that

i alr said this but imma say it again SHE BITES

like for no good reason shell wake you up by biting your nose. you kissing and all of the sudden shes biting your lip.

she thinks she’s sooo funny when she annoys you

loves spoiling you and loves being spoiled too

def uses pet names like “my girl” “mama” “pretty girl” “princess”

if she’s on the phone or doing anything she’ll be like “nope im busy, im gonna hang out with my wife”

she has a separate calendar for any special dates you two have

speaking of dates SHE LOVESS stay at home dates where you guys can just enjoy each other

loves being called “panther” “pretty”

she knows shes in trouble when you call her by her last name so everytime you do

“Udaku.” shuri immediately stopped whatever it was she was doing. you only called her by her last name when she was in trouble. she turned around to see you standing at the door of your shared bedroom. you where holding an empty chocolate wrapper and shuri knew she was doomed. “care to explain why this was in your drawer” she knew it was your chocolate, and you did not play with your chocolate. “baby- i can explain. it was griot!” immediately the AI came to its own defence. “panther i can not consume solids, and if i could i would be lactose intolerant” you looked back at her with a look of disbelief “blaming poor griot, do you have no shame udaku? put your shoes on you’re going to get me some more.” she didn’t bother to argue that it was almost midnight”

“happy wife, happy life i guess”

riri williams : ☆ ☆

riri did not waste a second to make you hers

like she was ON IT, “you feelin me right? ight so we locked in”

shes a huge sneaker head to ofcourse she put you on game

loves being pampered even though she tries to put a tough front abt it

riri will let you pick her outfits so you guys can match

lets you do her lashes and play in her hair

This girl is tenderheaded as FUCKK so everytime you do anything she starts wailing like you stabbed her.

calls you “ma” “mami” “pookie” and has you saved on her phone as “baby mama #2” just to piss you off ( theres not even a baby mama #1 )

she got you guys a build a bear toy and acts like its your child, buying fits for it and shoes

“you neglected our CHILD y/n,” “Im sorry i put him in jordans when we are wearing dunks today”

loves when you call her princess, because she deserves TOP princess treatment

made a shirt that says “i <3 my girl” and wears it ALL THE TIME.

“riri williams, get that shirt off your body and put on something proper.” you two where getting ready to go out on a cute little arcade date, and since only one of you is sane and normal, riri took it to herself to wear one of her goofy “i heart bae” shirts with your face plastered on the front. “This is proper ma, i cant show you off?” she draped her arms around your waist. “you wore it last time, niggas are gonna think i’m holding you captive.” she chuckled and gave you a quick peck. “Let them think that then, im happy with my fit. I’ll see you in the car!” she quickly ran out laughing before you could respond. “This girl is gonna be the death of me.”

shuriri : ☆ ☆ ☆

getting these two together is something you often wonder “why do i do this to myselfl

they are just plain EVIL

they love to prank you and tease you everywhere you go

theres not a single dull moment

when shuri’s stealing your food riri is distracting you

and they betray each other too, riri kissing shuri while you grab her phone to spam pictures, or shuri randomly calling riri a pet name while you too are in a heated debate about your shared child so you can run away with the infant in question

they are honestly the cutest, they love spoiling you and pampering you, and you love pampering them alike

they love to cuddle and have you play with their hair

shuri makes fun of riri’s tenderhead

shuri teaches you both xhosa and you guys love it

shuri picks up on you and riri’s lingo sooo quick its too cute

sometimes you catch them staring at you just admiring you

you guys defend griot everytime shuri gets a smart mouth with the AI

you guys are always matching, sometimes on accident

“you guys wanna be like me so bad” you look up from your shoe laces and notice that both you and shuri where matching with riri, all three of you have a soft pink hoodie and black pants on with white forces. “bitch, you wanna be like US, the blueprint.” you retorted as you stood up walking over to your jewelry cabinet to put on some hoops. “You both are insane, you copied me” “actually panther you kn-“ “griot shut up.” shuri scolded the AI and both you and riri glared at her. “You do not talk to griot like that Udaku,” “Yea nigga, griot my son, you watch yo mouth talking to him”

#nix writes #shuri x reader #shuri udaku #riri wiliams x reader #riri williams #shuriri #shuriri x reader #shuri headcanon #riri headcannons

[nixie-writes-aot]

Reiner Breeding Kink Headcanons

Warnings: nsfw, minors dni, dumbification, breeding kink, cumplay, praise, size kink, creampie

Pairing: Reiner Braun x female reader

Author's Note: I had some thoughts about Reiner today fjfndn

I think we can all agree Reiner has a massive breeding kink. Reiner standing above you, cock slamming into your cunt over and over and over again. He just can't get enough of you, of how tight you are around him, and how responsive you are to his cock, which you're just absolutely struggling to take because this man is too big for anyone to take easily. Reiner is just absolutely massive after all and he can't get enough of your cunt. 

So, naturally, he just wants to give for all you've given to him. Your time, your energy, your love. He wants to give back. What better thing to give to them than his very own time, energy, and love? In the form of his cum, of course. Only the best for you, the love of his life. Which he'll remind you of countless times, slamming into your cunt as he moans and groans in your ear about how pretty you are, how good you feel about his cock, and how much he just loves you. Because he does. More than life itself, driving his cock into you and granting you a brutal orgasm just to show you how much he loves you. 

Reiner growls in your ear as he cums, filling you up and watching as you're much too stupid to lay there and keep his cum in. But that's okay. Reiner will take care of you. He'll push his cum back in with his fingers, fucking it into you. If that doesn't work? Oh well, he'll just have to fill you again and keep it in with his cock. Praising you as he pounds that tight little cunt, railing you again because "it just kept spilling out, it won't take that way, darling". Anyway, yeah. Reiner and breeding just makes sense.

#nix writes #nix sins #attack on titan #aot #snk #shingeki no kyojin #reiner braun #reader insert #female reader #reiner braun x you #reiner braun smut #reiner braun x reader #reiner braun headcanons #attack on titan smut #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan x you #aot smut #aot x you #aot x reader #snk smut #snk x you #snk x reader #shingeki no kyojin smut #shingeki no kyojin x you #shingeki no kyojin x reader

[bandagesandloveletters]

Lilla Thornton (Masters of The Air OFC)

Note: A little introduction to my newest original female character for the Masters of The Air universe. Look out for all her adventures in the weeks to come. Word Count: 895 words.

Glass plasma bottles clicked against each other as they moved inside the chipped wooden crate marked "Medical Supplies". Pyramids of morphine syrettes threatened to spill with every second step heavier than the opposite. In a different setting, desperate hands would be grabbing at the morphine, like kids to a bowl of candy. It was a highly sought-after substance on the frontlines by medics, but in the ghostly quiet hallways of the on-base infirmary, no one dared to steal from what supplies graced the stockroom. 

In the middle of the infirmary's hustle and bustle lay a heavy oak desk, out of place and odd for its surroundings but very fitting for the occupier who worked upon it, hour after hour.

Thud! Rattle! Clunk! The wooden crate came to rest upon the paper-laden desk as dainty hands rifled through its contents, determined to find the item that she so urgently needed.

"Ah-ha!" the gentle rasp with a Texan accent piped up as she grasped what she was looking for in her left hand. "There you are, you little rascal."

"Still talking to the medical supplies, I see."

"You know me, Nora. If a seasick-riddled boat journey across the pond can't change my ways, it will never happen," Second Lieutenant Thornton chirped as she turned to stand before the friendly face.

Lilla Thornton was a petite girl from Fredericksburg, Texas. Although she was small in stature, she had a big personality. As head nurse, the tiny Texan often had to drum up morale as her fellow medics worked tirelessly on wounded men evacuated from the battle-damaged aircraft returning from missions into occupied Europe. It was almost like working on a production line; as soon as a patient was stable, they'd be moved to a more suitable bed within the infirmary, away from all the chaos.

A no-nonsense kind of girl, Lilla was known for throwing herself into her work, placing it on top of her list before pleasure. Her time at Thorpe Abbotts was a perfect example of this practice. As her nurses clung to the men of the 100th every Friday at the Half Moon Inn, the young Lieutenant would spend her night taking stock of supplies and rolling bandages. Even back home, she'd rather spend her weekends studying or helping her father run the family ranch than travel the hour into Austin to go drinking and galavanting with her friends.

Growing up, she had to learn and take responsibility more quickly than most girls. At the age of seven, her dear mother Tabitha passed suddenly of an unknown illness that doctors were trying to grasp a better knowledge and understanding. Lilla was the eldest of three siblings, meaning any extra time she had after her classes were finished was spent working to bring in extra money to aid the family finances.

Her father, a cripple who couldn't work, always encouraged the brunette to follow her heart, and on the 18th of August 1941, Lilla Thornton joined the Army Nurse Corps. With a passion for helping those in need and a hard-working ethic, Army life came as easy as learning to crawl as an infant.

Training started at Brooke General Hospital, San Antonio, Texas, before she was assigned to the Eighth Air Force as a breakaway unit in September of 1942. A single gold bar sat proudly upon the collar of her dress uniform and the new role of head nurse upon her shoulders.

At Kearney Army Airfield, Nebraska, Lilla made friends with a fellow nurse from Louisiana. Like Lilla, Nora was a serious person putting just as much dedication into her role as a nurse as the Texan girl did. Nora and Lilla forged a friendship that would stand the test of time.

Thrusting the two bottles of saline towards the medic, followed by some syrettes of morphine, Lilla raised an eyebrow in question at the female before her.

"This should be more than enough for now. You don't happen to have any chocolate in your magic box, Lieutenant Thornton?" Nora’s Southern drawl emphasized certain words as she asked the smaller female. 

Holding up a finger, Lilla turned and began to search through a heavy oak drawer connected to her desk before producing a foil-covered article. Chocolate had become a rare commodity, especially with all the rationing the Americans faced while living in England, and what they could get a hold of tasted far from what they were used to back home. 

"This is my last ration for this month. It better be for a good reason you’re looking for some. You owe me one, Nora."

"You got my word, Li. If you have the time, can you check on Lieutenant Payne? I think he's coming down with pneumonia."

Looking up from her clipboard at the mention of one of the navigators, Lilla nodded. It was apparent there was some kind of bug going around the base. She’d already treated a few men with similar symptoms.

"I don't have long left until I've finished my shift here, but I'll be round as soon as possible. Just make sure he's kept warm until I get there."

Returning her attention to the crate of supplies, Lilla sat down behind the desk to begin the final stock check of her shift.

#hbo war #masters of the air #rosie rosenthal #original character #original female character #lilla thornton #lilla thornton x rosie rosenthal #masters of the air fanfic #masters of the air original female character #nix writes #OFC #ladies of hbo war #1940s character #women's army nurse corps

[thaliaisalesbian]

i get myself twisted in threads

Chapter 5: sitting as usual

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15

She doesn’t know how Steve manages to stay awake all the way to the Byers’ house. It takes them at least an hour and a half to get there.

It feels so much longer. Maybe it was; even if she had a watch on, Nancy wouldn’t be checking it now. Because they keep stopping to make sure he’s not going to bleed out. They have to. Jonathan uses one of their stops to wrap his jacket around Steve’s torso, pulling it as tight as he can. He ties the sleeves in a knot right above the wound.

Nancy thinks she would have screamed, if someone had done that to her. But Steve is either out of enough that he doesn’t feel the pain, or he doesn’t have the energy to do more than mumble.

Which he’s doing an awful lot of.

The rambling mumble he keeps up is actually calming, in a way. It makes it easier to know he’s still alive, for one, and he’s talking about the kids, everything he knows they like and don’t like.

At least, she’s pretty sure he’s talking about the kids. It’s hard to tell. Half of it is too quiet to hear properly, and slurred on top of that. She’s too terrified, too worried, to pay much attention to what he’s actually saying.

Dustin, Lucas, and Mike are waiting in the yard with the first aid kit when they get there. Joyce and Hopper are just getting out of their cars, parked haphazardly in the yard. Nancy wants to collapse when she sees them; she barely registers that Will, El, and Max are joining the huddle with the others. She does collapse when Hopper lifts Steve up and carries him the rest of the way into the house.

“We’ll come get you when you’re allowed inside. If your parents start calling and asking where you are, you’re going home. I don’t care if you’ve seen him or not.”  Joyce takes the first aid kit from Mike and gets the door for Hopper while he addresses the kids.

“Is he dead?” Dustin asks, staring after them, and, god, she’s too tired for this right now. She can’t handle the kids’ questions and fears when she hasn’t even started to handle her own.

“No, he’s not dead.” She says. “He was still talking to us.” Not coherently by the time they’d gotten here, but he’d been talking.

“Hopper said we shouldn’t be inside for this part.”

“Hopper’s right.” Jonathan sits on the ground, ignoring the blood on his clothes. She’s covered in it, too.

It doesn’t look good.

What if they were too late?

"But we want to see him!"

"Not now." Jonathan glares. "Mom and Hopper have to clean him up first."

"That's a lot of blood." Will points out quietly.

"He'll be fine." Nancy comes far too close to snapping for her comfort; she doesn’t want the kids to catch on just yet that she's not sure Steve will make it this time.

"Nancy, Jonathan? If we could get a little help in here? I'm not exactly big enough to help move Steve." Joyce's voice comes through the door, and they’re both reaching for it before she finishes her sentence.

Jonathan has proof on his clothes, all over his body, of how much blood Steve has lost.

Of how bad the injuries are.

It doesn’t prepare him for how pale Steve is, or the amount of used gauze and bandages on the floor.

How much blood can a person have in their body?

Jonathan tries to remember, but he can’t. But Mom and Hopper’s faces aren’t grim enough for this to be… they’re not going to tell them he’s dead. He’s not dead.

“What do you need?” He asks. The kids are trying to get in, but Nancy is already locking the door behind them.

They don’t need to see Steve like this. Jonathan’s not sure he wants to see Steve like this; bloody and barely-alive. Not when he’s always thought of how he looked on that night, bursting back through the door to save them, swinging the bat like he was planning to hit a grand slam.

Steve’s hand had been warm when Jonathan had grabbed him to pull him away. Since then, he’s had the on-and-off thought that he wants to know if Steve’s hands are always that warm, or if it was just because of the adrenaline rush.

Nancy brushes her hand against his when she turns away from the door. He wants to hold onto her, but they’re both tacky with drying blood.

Of course, a lock won't stop El if she really wants to test it, but something makes Jonathan think that she won't. At least not right away. 

“We really do need help moving him, and I thought you’d both like to change.” Mom manages a half-smile.

“How bad is it?” Nancy’s voice is as steady as she holds her pistols, like she’s prepared to be told Steve will die tomorrow.

(He doesn’t know how she manages it. Right now, his heart is in his throat and he can't get any words out past it.)

“He’s not going to be doing anything for a few weeks.” Hopper says. “If it gets infected, we'll have to take him to a hospital, but Joyce and I did our best. He’s not actively bleeding out anymore. Once we get him into bed, I'm calling Owens.”

A non-answer.

continue reading or finish on ao3

“How bad?” He has to swallow three times before he can repeat Nancy’s question. What if he doesn’t wake up again? “We’re not the kids, Hopper, you can tell us.”

“Honey,” His mom says, softly. “I think he’s lucky to have any flesh left on his right side at all. I don’t know how you got him here alive while walking.”

“He was awake.” Nancy whispers. “The whole time. He kept mumbling, something about the kids. And—Jonathan, you didn’t see the wounds, but he was bitten in the Upside Down too. On his legs. He walked on those for days.”

“He climbed trees, too.” Jonathan adds. “He was sleeping in them.”

“We can rehash that later.” Hopper says. “For now, let’s put him in one of the bedrooms.”

“Mine.” He says immediately. “My bed is big enough.” When he’d outgrown his mom, she’d given him the bigger bed. “And it's the closest.”

His mom—she has the least amount on her of all four of them—goes to change the sheets and clear a path first, while he, Hopper, and Nancy try to figure out how they’re going to carry Steve without bumping him into walls, or waking him up, or dropping him.

Somehow it’s harder than him and Nancy carrying Steve from the lab all the way here.

It takes a few minutes, but they work it out.

“Go shower up, you two.” Hopper says. “Joyce and I will handle the living room mess and the kids.”

“Just don’t take too long, okay?” Mom winks at him, and he knows he’s bright red when they leave the room. He knows she trusts them, and of course they’d never even think about anything like that while Steve is maybe dying on his bed.

“I know she’s joking, but I honestly can’t even think about that right now.” Nancy leans her head on his shoulder. “We have blood everywhere.”

Jonathan feels like scrubbing his skin raw until he doesn’t see Steve’s blood on his hands ever again, but he thinks that’s going to take a while, so he settles for washing Nancy’s back clean for her before she does his.

“Do you think Steve would fit in your clothes?” She asks, pulling on one of his shirts and a pair of pajama pants that she keeps here. “I have a few here, but he certainly doesn’t, and he’s going to need something to wear.”

“It might.” Most of his stuff is a little big on him, it would probably fit Steve. His pants might be a little short, but that will just make checking his ankles easier. “I don’t think putting a shirt on him is a good idea right now though.”

“The kids are going to want to see him.” Nancy takes his desk chair, watching Steve’s chest as he breathes.

They’ll break down his door if they don’t get to, probably. Especially after they locked the door, kept them out.

“Yeah, but what if he starts bleeding again?”

“Just put a blanket over him.” His mom’s in the doorway, holding a trash bag. “We’re not going to be able to save your clothes.”

He tosses their ruined clothes into the bag, trying not to think about how much blood is on them.

“Do we need to take him to a hospital now?” Jonathan’s not sure they can, honestly, because of the nature of the wounds. They don’t have bears around here, and even if they did he doesn’t think this looks like an animal attack.

They also might not be allowed to see him if he's in the hospital. His parents will have to be notified, and then they’ll be in charge, they’ll be free to move him somewhere far away if they want to.

“If things get really bad, we will.” His mom answers. “You know I went to nursing school for a couple of years, and Jim has done field medicine before. He’s trying to get in contact with Owens right now.”

“How much worse is ‘really bad’?” Nancy’s got her arms wrapped around herself. He’d hug her if he thought she’d accept the touch right now.

“I don’t know, honey.”

He looks at Steve, almost as pale as his sheets, torso wrapped in bandages with drying blood still visible on his upper chest.

“What about his ankles?” He can't let himself think about what will happen if Steve dies. He doesn’t think he’d ever be able to sleep in his bed again, knowing his friend had died there. In this room, probably. He’ll have to move in with Will or take the couch. Seal it off, only to come in when he wants to regret everything he never said all over again.

“We took a look at that too; cleaned them up a little and rewrapped them.”

“Why can’t we see him?” He can hear Dustin from here. The kid’s always been the loudest of the bunch, but he’s not sure he’s heard him this distressed in a while.

He doesn’t catch Hopper’s response, too busy staring at the blood and thinking about how close they came to really losing Steve this time.

Because he was willing to sacrifice himself for them. Again.

He'd hardly talked to them, but he’d still been ready to die if it meant they escaped. 

Jonathan had had to practically shove Steve behind him to keep him from using himself as a human shield.

He thinks about Steve’s face, the way he’d pulled that cocky mask back up so quickly when he’d overheard the conversation he and Nancy were having that day.

There’s none of that now, wasn’t any of it in the Upside Down, just a certainty and a protective edge that made the kids feel safe, that made him feel like everything was going to be okay, even if he didn’t know how or when.

It’s not something he’s felt often when dealing with the Upside Down. 

He slides past his mom to the bathroom, soaks a washcloth until it’s dripping, squeezing all the water out multiple times to give himself an extra minute. 

He probably uses too much force to get the blood off. He wishes Steve would complain. He’d be awake, at least. 

When he’s done, Nancy covers Steve with a blanket and sits on the edge of the bed carefully instead of going back to the chair.

“Jon,” she’s staring at Steve still, making sure he’s still alive. “We need to tell him. I can’t—We can’t lose him. Not like this.”

“I know.” He sits opposite her, finds Steve’s wrist under the covers, feeling for his pulse.

It’s there. A little slow, maybe, but it’s there.

“I can’t stop thinking about it.” She admits, “He looked like he was going to cry, and then it was just— gone. He was back to being an asshole and it was like nothing ever changed.”

“He heard the wrong part of that talk,” Jonathan agrees. It’s on a loop in his mind, everything they could have—should have—done differently. He could have caught Steve’s hand again, pulled him in to tell him the truth.

Right now, Steve’s colder than he was the last time Jonathan held his hand.

“Steve?” El’s peeking around the door, eyes wide, and suddenly all he can hear is the way she screamed for him before Nancy had gotten her through the gate.

“Come here, El.” Nancy might be thinking the same thing, because she tucks El into her side. “He’s going to be okay, see? Joyce and Hopper know what they’re doing.”

“I know.” She says. “It is still scary.”

“You’re right, it is.” He knows it’s only a matter of time before the rest of the kids figure out El’s slipped away from them, before they come in demanding to be allowed to sit around him and wait for him to wake up.

For now, they’ll keep this odd, almost grief-like, quiet for just the four three of them.

<- 4 6 ->

#stranger things #st fic #i get myself twisted in threads #steve harrington #nancy wheeler #jonathan byers #el hopper #dustin henderson #the party #stranger things fic #joyce byers #jim hopper #nix writes #ao3 #whump #whump fic #hurt steve harrington #blood tw #steve harrington whump #stoncy #stoncy fic #this chapter is pretty #hurt/no comfort #which is so weird for me yall #whump writing #my work #my fic #stonathan #as in jonathan thinks about steve a lot #and his hands

[nix-nihili]

did good omens october using vanillacreame153 (IG)'s prompt list. gonna post some of my favourites on ao3.

october 15's prompt: cuddles.

Aziraphale never initiates contact.

It’s a thing they do. Crowley reaches out first and Aziraphale doesn’t push him away. But he never reaches out on his own, always keeps them at a distance, shoulders apart, a meter of space between them while they’re standing. And Crowley, like a man starved, reaches and reaches and reaches.

It’s what they do.

Things change after the Apocalypse-That-Wasn’t.

or

Aziraphale initiates touch more often after the averted apocalypse. Crowley doesn't know how to feel.

#good omens #aziracrow #aziraphale x crowley #crowley #aziraphale #nix writes #ineffable husbands

[mazegays]

could've followed my fears all the way down

please do enjoy this sunday offering of angst : ). i've played with this one a bit since i originally wrote it and personally i think it has a lot of great lines. let me know what you think!

Chapter 21

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 22

Harriet falls to her knees at the edge of the ditch, the shock of the impact zinging through her body and pulling something in her lungs taut. She has to force herself to close her eyes so that she can take a breath. 

He’s on his side, wood tied to his chest. 

He’s even still got his bag; if she didn’t know what she was looking for, she wouldn’t have been able to find it.

He—the body—he’s covered in mud, and dirt, and she can’t tell what’s wrong with him. She needs to get someone, needs to move, but she can’t make herself stand up,

One of his arms—oh, that looks bad. His legs look okay, just positioned oddly. He doesn’t have shoes on. How could he have lost them? What happened? Did they wear out that quickly? His feet will be a mess of cuts, for sure. And if they’re infected… what if they have to remove them? Maybe Gally will be able to build him something… 

Harriet shakes herself. She can’t afford to get distracted now. She doesn’t even know… she can’t tell, not while she’s still so far away.

She can’t tell if he’s alive, or if she’s just found his body.

How long has he been here? How close were they to finding him?

If they’d spent just one more day looking, would have they found him in time?

His eyes are open, just halfway, and Harriet unfreezes. She moves as quickly as she can down the side of the ditch without tripping herself, and taps his face lightly.

It’s red, swollen; his lips are dry and cracking. 

She doesn’t know what that means. Dehydration, but that’s a given. She’d be more surprised if he wasn’t dehydrated. She has to find a way to get her fingers under the wood on his chest to get to his neck.

She can’t tell if he’s dead or not. Her heart is racing in her ears, all the way down to  her fingertips; she can’t get a pulse. 

“Thomas, can you look at me? Can you hear me? Thomas, it’s okay, you’re going to be okay. I promise. I’ll get you back.”

Harriet’s strong, but she doesn’t think she should be able to carry Thomas.

He’s lost weight, again, that much is obvious—he’s been out here for a while without food. She doesn’t let herself think about how long it’s been. Too long, probably.

And he was right here… he was so close.

His arm is definitely broken. There’s not a lot she can do out here, but she makes a sling out of her shirt to keep it from getting worse while she carries him.

She’s not sure it even matters, but it makes her feel better, at least. If he is still alive, somehow, she’s helped. She’s helping. 

So she keeps talking to him, narrating what she’s doing like it matters. Like he can hear her.

“Thomas, I’m going to carry you, okay? We’re not far, you almost made it by yourself.” It’s easier if she pretends he can. Anya can tell her later, but for now, she’s pretending. Pretending that it’s possible for him to be alive, and here, and that she’s just saved him.

“We’ll take care of it, Thomas, I promise. It won’t hurt like this for much longer.” Carrying him is awkward, but she manages to keep his broken arm against his chest.

He’s just too tall for her to be able to support his head at this angle, but she can’t worry about that too much right now.

Anya will know what to do. 

She has to know what to do.

They can’t lose Thomas twice.

They can’t.

And if Anya tells her that she’s just found his body, at least she’s brought him back.

They won’t have to leave another friend unburied, with no idea where the body ended up. He won’t be eaten and picked apart by scavengers until only his bones are left.

Harriet can’t do much else now, not if he’s really gone, but she can run, and she can hope.

It’s that hope, faint as it is, that keeps her legs from giving out under her as she tears back out of the woods, directly to the medical cabin.

finish on ao3 or continue reading

Sonya knows something’s up when Harriet doesn’t visit the greenhouse after her morning run. It’s become part of their routine. Harriet runs in the woods, and Sonya pretends she’s working instead of just wishing that she could have another dirt fight with Thomas or something similarly unproductive.

Maybe Harriet tripped on a root or something, and had to go wrap her ankle. Or she could have decided to go on a longer run today. The change in routine itches at her a little; not as much as it would have back in the Glen, she’s more used to changes happening day-to-day now, but it still doesn’t feel right.

Sonya makes herself wait a while before she goes down to the medical cabin, to make sure that Harriet’s really not coming. 

Then she can’t get into the medical cabin, and she knows something is really wrong. Had Harriet broken a bone? Someone should have come to get her. Unless there was no one to come and get her.

She’d be allowed in, though. She would be allowed in if it was just a broken bone, as long as it wasn’t, like, poking through the skin.

Why else would Harriet and Anya be locked in the medical cabin for? The kitchens and the greenhouse are the most injury-prone spots, and she already knows that no one in the greenhouse got hurt. 

Had Harriet found— 

No. She couldn’t have. There’s no way.

Sonya doesn’t let herself think about it. It’s not possible.

Minho’s by Thomas’s tree. Gally’s in the kitchen with Frypan, and Aris, Rosa, and Frankie are working somewhere. Even Jorge is out working this morning.

From what she can see, everyone is where they’re supposed to be. She can’t see everything, not as easily as she could have in the Glen, but she can see enough.

Everyone is working—or playing, in the case of some of the kids—and no one is hurt. They’re all where they’re supposed to be.

Everyone but Harriet and Anya. Well, and herself, since she’s not in the greenhouse. 

Harriet might have gotten hurt, or found an injured animal. She didn’t find— she couldn’t have found him.

Thomas can’t have been that close all this time.

His body can’t have been that close the entire time.

Because that means they almost found him. It means that if they had just looked a little harder, they would have been able to save him.

Feeling lost, she sinks down next to Minho and lets him tell her facts about spruce trees. 

She’s heard them all from Thomas before, but she thinks she could stand to hear them a few more times.

Minho doesn’t watch as Harriet carries Thomas’s  a body into the medical cabin. He can’t.

Gally doesn’t know yet. He’d be rushing over here if he did. Shuck, not even Minho knows yet, not really. He just knows that Harriet was carrying something and rushing. It doesn’t mean she’s found a body. It could be an injured animal.

It’s probably an injured animal.

If it’s Thomas, then Minho’s not going to be the one to tell Gally. Minho hadn’t even been able to tell him the first time around, that they hadn’t found him.

When Sonya sits next to him, he tells her the facts he can remember, the ones he’s been repeating to himself for days like they’ll bring Thomas back.

Nothing will bring Thomas back, not even his body.

Maybe they’ll bury him under this tree, and then Minho can recite Thomas’s spruce facts back to him, over and over again until the roots and trunk have grown their way around him.

Sonya listens, but she’s watching the door.

“Harriet’s okay.” He tells her, realizing she didn’t see what Harriet had been carrying. “She found Thomas’s body.” He hadn’t meant to say that. He doesn’t know that Harriet found Thomas’s body. She found something, but that doesn’t mean it’s Thomas.

“No, she couldn’t have— she doesn’t go that far, he can’t have been that close for all this time. Why didn’t we find him?”

“I don’t know.” If he were less numb, Minho knows he’d be freaking out the way she is.

But he hasn’t felt much of anything since he realized they were never going to find Thomas alive.

“I just want him back.” He whispers, interrupting her. “The tree facts, they’re all from Thomas, and I don’t even remember most of them. I just— I want him back. I want him to tell us this is a stupid place for a tree, especially one that will get as big as a spruce. I want to watch his face when he’s thinking and try to figure it out. I want him to know how much I love him. He didn’t know, Sonya. I never got that chance.”

“Minho, I don’t think he’s dead.” Sonya’s still watching the door. “I don’t think she found a body.”

“What else could she have found, Sonya? He’s dead. It’s…” There are countless reasons.

It’s been too long. He would have run out of food days ago. Probably before they even started looking for him, from what Sonya and Aris have said about how much food he had.  The wind storm could have caused him any number of injuries, he might have been crushed by a tree and actually died under it, because Minho wasn’t fast enough to save him.

He wasn’t fast enough to find him in time. He should have gone ahead sooner, and maybe then he would have found Thomas before the worst could happen. If they ever find him now, it will only be his body.

Minho doesn’t know if he’d rather never see Thomas’s face ever again, or be able to bury him properly.

“I think she found Thomas.” Sonya’s still insisting, but Minho can’t let himself believe it. He can’t think he has Thomas back again, only to find out he’s wrong.

He’s the one who wasn’t there in time. Thomas had always been there to save him, to make sure he was safe.

But Minho hadn’t been… he just… 

He wasn’t good enough. Not this time. Not when it mattered.

Is this how Thomas felt all the time? That he wasn’t enough?

Minho should have told him earlier.

Should have said something one of those nights where they curled into each other to chase away nightmares, told him ‘I love you.’ and asked if he could kiss him.

He’ll never know what that’s like, now.

He and Gally have moved in together, but it’s not the same. They don’t love each other the way they love Thomas, not yet. They’ve been too distant for that.

He wants to.

He wants to have them both, but Thomas is dead, and now he won’t have either of them.

“No, Minho, why would they still be in there if Thomas is dead?” Sonya insists. He tunes her out.

Thomas is dead. He’s accepted that.

(He hasn’t.)

So why is he hoping for more now?

Making this applesauce, something Thomas would have loved— once he’d made the strawberry jam, it’d been his favorite food to eat. He hadn’t shut up about it.

So why now? Why would Frypan have him make this now?

He can barely see Thomas’s tree from this angle; he knows Minho’s sitting under it.

He hardly goes anywhere else these days.

Sometimes, Gally wants to join him.

Usually, he’s too afraid he’ll say or do something he’ll regret. Things have been weird between them.

Worse than before, even though he moved into Minho’s cabin because it’s closer and easier to manage with his leg.

They don’t have Thomas tying them together now, not in the same way he was before. Gally’s not quite sure what to do with that.

So he draws on his anger the way he always used to in the Glade, because it’s easier than having to deal with the sadness and the worry and the numbness that threatens to creep in and weave ivy walls over his heart and mind.

“Fry, what are we going to do with this? How long will it keep for?” Smashing the strawberries up has been vaguely therapeutic, and as much as he hates the thought of making something Thomas would love that he can’t eat, it’s still been… kind of fun.

“Well, it’s only one batch, so it should go pretty quickly.” Frypan seems tense. Like something’s wrong.

Gally can’t see anything wrong, but he knows Thomas was put at this station because it’s pretty hard to see everything.

What does Frypan know?

Why is he not saying anything about it?

Or maybe it’s just that he’s remembering Thomas, too. Whenever they lost someone, Frypan would do this. He’d be tense for a few days, throw himself into cooking and baking almost aggressively, and it’s nothing new.

But Gally desperately  wants for there to be another reason for Fry to be tense.

“What’s going on, Fry?” He can’t leave the applesauce, it’ll burn, but he wants to know.

“I don’t know, Gally. I just saw Harriet running back, is all. I don’t know what’s going on.”

Running back…

Running back from the woods.

Fuck.

She’s found Thomas’s body.

“I want to see him.” He says, moving faster than he thought he could.

“Gally, don’t— ” Frypan takes his spoon and tosses it to one of the other cooks. “If you’re going, you can’t go alone. Your leg is still bad.”

“Mina, you’re in charge. Please make sure nothing burns.”

“Got it, boss.” Frypan takes one of Gally’s arms around his shoulders— it’s faster than the crutches he hasn’t quite gotten the hang of yet.

He can use them fine in the cabin, but he still has a difficult time on the grass.

They go to Thomas’s tree. Sonya, who usually avoids it, is sitting pressed shoulder-to-shoulder with Minho.

Gally sits on Minho’s other side, but not quite as close.

“Do you know what’s going on?” Frypan asks. “I saw Harriet run by, but I wasn’t sure.”

“That’s why you wanted me to make strawberry applesauce. You thought— ” Gally cuts himself off.

Does Frypan think Thomas is alive?

“Would they have been in there this long if he wasn’t?” Sonya counters, softly. She sounds tired. Like they’ve been doing this over and over.

They probably have.

“He’s dead, Sonya. It’s been too long.” Minho sounds tired, like he doesn’t want to hold onto any hope that Thomas is alive, that Harriet found him after all this time.

It’s only been a week and a half since they planted the tree, but it feels like a lot longer.

Most things feel like that. Gally feels like it’s been ten years and also no time at all since they escaped the Glade, since he joined the Right Arm, since they got here.

“She wouldn’t have been running like that if he were dead.” Frypan says. “She was moving pretty quickly. Why would she do that if there was no hope?”

“To keep us from seeing? Because it wasn’t him?”

“No one else has gone missing.”

“Could be an animal.” Gally hears himself say.

He wants to believe it’s Thomas, but— he can’t. He can’t do that to himself. Because if he believes it’s Thomas, lets himself have that, and then it’s not Thomas, it will shatter him.

Minho’s doing the same thing, he realizes.

To protect himself.

Sonya and Frypan were his close friends, but they didn’t know Thomas the way Gally and Minho did. 

They weren’t in love with him.

If it is Thomas, Gally’s never letting him go anywhere alone again.

Not in the near future, anyway. And by near future, he means in the next ten years. 

(He’s still clinging to the faintest thread of hope that it is Thomas, that he’s alive, that he’s safe.

That he’s here.

Somehow.

He knows the truth is probably that Harriet was moving quickly to conceal the body from them, at least until she and Anya could clean it up a little, but Gally can’t force himself to squash that little bit of hope.

It’s going to be what destroys him, in the end.)

<- 20 22 ->

#thomas #minho #gally #tmr #thominho #thomally #sonya #harriet #sonyarriet #thominally #frypan #tmr frypan #tmr fic #maze runner fic #tmr thomas #tmr minho #tmr gally #hurt thomas #thominho fic #thomally fic #thominally fic #hurt gally #whump #whump fic #could've followed my fears all the way down #nix writes #ao3 #ao3 fic #maze runner #post canon

[iknowtheendnatural]

It’s when golden hour starts to turn blue

And the headlights on the highways start to mean a little more

The world is a little brighter in the dim light

And every problem you’ve ever needed solved becomes that much more complex

Intricacies and solutions at your finger tips

You’re thinking of your friends

And how much you love them

Hoping you get to see them this week

You’re driving home from the city

Your first day at a new job

Waiting to see if it’s a safe space

Do you have to hide who you are there?

You’re not sure yet

You miss your mom

And you want to be 7 again

Want the world to make sense in the way only kids know it does

Wishing for time to stop moving so quickly

#poet #poems #was thinking about writing this all night #sometimes I do write poems and I forget how much I like writing poetry #nix writes #nixxie thoughts

[astranix]

kinda want to write a reincarnation fic that connects song of achilles, bbc merlin and heartstopper. in the "we can't help but meet and love each other in every life" sort of way

#im so so weak for parallels #it doesn't even matter if they're there . i Will see them anyway #bbcm #tsoa #the song of achilles #heartstopper #bbc merlin #merlin #things i wanna write #nix writes

[lunxcs]

✎*: ･ﾟLove

It was never a word I liked to throw around, though somehow life almost always finds a way to get out of me so easily—

I love the sunny days,

I love my cats,

I love you.

You who would stay up until 11pm for my endless rambles about a random brainrot I’ve had throughout the day; you who would probably never get tired of keeping up with my broken humor; you who listened to every pointless argument I made without judgement— all of those are just the reasons I continue to love you, because figuring out why I started feeling for you will forever be a challenge for me.

I love you; beyond caring about reciprocation— I love you because loving you helped me love myself.

#cottagecore #writing #love notes to no one #nix writes #fanfiction #anime #fictional men #love #i love you #midnights #haikyuu #bnha #oc #y/n #jjk #csm #i’m sorry for all the random tags lol I just love these fandoms

[nix-writes]

Whump Shorts Series

link to the ao3 series

bled dry (i wish)

"Why did you pick Orlando as your name?"

"Because it was my birthplace."

His birthplace, his childhood home.

His children, taken from him, still screaming.

His only love, dead and buried there. 

His parents. His true siblings.

Anyone he may have called a friend.

Dead. Burned, maybe. 

Staked through the heart. Bled to death.

Certainly if anyone survived he has not been allowed to see them.

He has not been allowed to do much, in his time as a vampire. He doesn't even know if it still exists.

Orlando isn't sure if it's a punishment or a choice, recently.

The world has changed, he is sure.

But he has not moved on.

to break a fence (to kill a man)

Seth knows his former wealth shows in all the little things, things he doesn't tend to think about.

His shoes, for example. The ones he's wearing now are the ones he'd been wearing when his mother had kicked him out; they'd been a 'gift' from her, for a dinner party he hadn't cared about but was required to attend anyway.

He'd learned to be careful about where he wore them very quickly. It had gotten him jumped more than once, his empty wallet stolen.

Not careful enough, apparently.

He's not wearing them today. Or his good coat, which is wearing thin from use. He keeps a hand on his heavy flashlight; it's not quite dark yet, but he doesn't want to be surprised.

If he gets another hospital bill, he'll have to leave behind what little he has built up here.

#original work #original character #oc story #character death #my work #my writing #vampires #major character death #hurt no comfort #whump #series #shorts #short fiction #nix writes #orlando hanson #seth ostler

[iseebeautyinwords]

𝗮𝗹𝘄𝗮𝘆𝘀 𝘁𝗼𝗴𝗲𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 | shuri x reader

wc : 1.6k

summary : being friends with shuri udaku is stressful, fun and romantic?

warnings : i did not reread this bc i am LAZY but this is my first work so please leave some tips!

taglist : @inmyheadimobsessed @zayswriting @pinkwright just some authors who continue to inspire me

the loud sounds of your university cafeteria where comfortably drowned out by the sound of your current favorite song. kehlani’s soft voice paired beautifully with the girls need love in strumental lulled you into a comfortable and less overwhelmed headspace. after finishing your quick and less than satisfactory lunch you made your way to the library. the soft bopping of your head to the song made your tight curls bounce on your shoulders, the cardigan you where wearing protecting you from the cold air that the building seemed to have year round. as you passed through the doors you mentally thanked the gods for the sight of an empty library, settling down in a quiet corner where you began to work on an essay for your differential equations class.

you worked in a comfortable silence, taking small breaks here and there. writing essays was a rigorous task that you did not particularly enjoy, which was well displayed by the bored look you carried on your face. soon enough a familiar scent interrupted your work, along with the pressing of cold hands to your eyelids. “you look like you’re having fun” your scowl quickly turned into a smile at the voice. “hi shuri,” the hands covering your eyes where removed and you heard the tall girl take a seat next to you, long legs spreading into a comfortable pose. you let your eyes rake over her attire. the low hanging pants she had on showing off her strong and well sculpted abs. your eyes made way from her outfit to her face where you found she was already looking at you.

“what’re you looking at?” her playful tease made your roll your eyes, turning back to your laptop before deciding that you were overall done with work for today. you turned around fully to let your friend know she had your full attention. though she always had your full attention.

“I’m sorry your big ass head was distracting me from my assignment.” you replied with the same amount of sarcastic playfulness that she gave you. the other girls dramatically held her head looking at you with shock and pain painted all over her pretty features. she looked too pretty pouting dramatically that you almost forgot to feel bad for your words.

“my mother said i would grow out of it” she tried to defend the obscure size of her large head. “shuri, you are twenty two years old. you’re going to die with that massive head”

“you’re such a mean girl y/n/n” shuri laid a freshly shaved head down onto your lap, the well defined curls on the top of her head landing softly. this act was one you had grown accustomed to, shuri always wanted to be touching you, near you, feeling you. her hand always gound yours or her knee always pressed against your own when sat next to each to each other. you didn’t mind the constant touches, infact you enjoyed the way you could hear her heart beat when she insisted on cuddling after a long study session, or the way her fingers found comfort in tracing intricate shapes on your skin. it was all so normal, so domestic for the two of you.

a few moments of peaceful silence passed before shuri abruptly stood up, grabbing your bag and laptop and shoving the electronic in its compartment . “C’mon pretty, i’m tryna take a nap” you knew this was her small invitation to her apartment, a nice space away from campus. you nodded getting up and tidying up the area before following next to the girl. she was carrying your bag in one hand and the other was linked with yours, fingers clasping together as you walked out into the parking garage, stopping at a black bmw with tinted windows. shuri opened the back seat doors and carefully tossed your bag in there before opening the passenger doors and making sure your situated.

the drive to shuri’s apartment was filled with small talk and comments about each others days. you were rambling about an annoying encounter you had with your roommate earlier that morning when you guys arrived at the large apartment building. “yea, and i kept telling her if she’s gonna leave her shit on my fucking bed im gonna throw it awa-” you were interrupted by the sound of the car door opening anf shuti waiting for you to step out. “you have a shitty roomate, why don’t you just ask to switch?” you two continued the conversation as shuri tapped in codes and buttons that led you guys to her humble abode. the apartment was a well decorated space with afro-futuristic art aligning the walls along with some plants that you brought. shuri set your bag down next to the couch and made her way to the open kitchen.

“want anything to eat?” before you even gave her your answer she had already started washing up some fruit. you took this opportunity to sit and get comfortable. soon enough you felt the couch dip next to you and a cold grape was being pressed to your lips. “open for me, pretty” she spoke so softly almost as if she was whispering. you parted your lips and allowed the grapes to fall into your mouth, closing your eyes contently as you chewed. you reopened your eyes to look at shuri who was suspiciously silent.

“you’re too quiet for me, what’s on your mind” when you voiced your thoughts shuri smiled. she placed the fruits down and leaned bag. when the two of you entered her home shuri had long discarded of her cropped hoodie, now sporting a black sports bra, and you had gotten rid of your cardigan sitting comfortably in your white tank.

“I can’t admire my pretty girl anymore?” my pretty girl these are words you’ve heard from shuri many times before. she constantly threw terms of affection and adoration your way and you always reciprocated those names, but it was times like this were shuri wasn’t just complimenting you, she was claiming you. calling you hers, saying it as if you were together and you wished you were. it would make it so much easier to accept her loving gaze as something more than just platonic. it would make the fleeting butterflied in your stomach every time she let her lips graze your skin make sense. it would make it so much easier. for the both of you.

you simply hummed at her words, your eyes falling closed again. “why?” the question comes out in a whisper, if it wasn’t for shuri’s intent, her need to listen to every word you said, she wouldn’t have caught it, and when she does her eyes brows furrow and her head tilts softly. “why what, mama” she replies to you in that same hushed tone, the term of endearment dripping with emotions you couldn’t understand, that you didn’t want to try understanding. understanding shuri udaku’s feelings was a challenges you weren’t born to take on.

“you keep, you keep calling me these names. calling me yours, holding me like im yours, But im not Shuri, i’m not yours and it hurts when you choose between acting like im your friend or your lover. it hurts” you end with a frustrated sigh. you wanted to be hers, oh so bad, but she made it a challenge, holding you close one moment but putting up a wall the next. The wall didn’t even make sense! it was okay to press kisses to your nape and forehead but asking you to be her girlfriend was too much? you didn’t understand, you couldn’t and you wouldn’t. you had multiple people you could be entertaining and if shuri thought otherwise she would be proven wrong. “I didn’t mean to hurt you y/n, i just i thought we already- i assumed wrong and im sorry” shuri’s words did nothing to soothe you, in-fact they confused you even more. what did she assume? did she think the two of you were already together?

“what did you assume shuri.” your words are quiet and sharp and it feels like if you don’t get an answer your heart might leap out of your chest and slap shuri itself. “I thought we were already, together, a couple. You met my mom, and my brother, we are always together. I thought that was being in a relationship” and this makes you laugh, a thick beautiful laugh. one that catches the panther off guard.

you laugh, and you don’t stop until you notice shuri isn’t laughing with you. “I’m sorry, i’m sorry, shuri you never asked me. you never asked me if i could be your girlfriend” and her lips part into an ‘o’ shape, you can see all the wires in her brain work together to realize that the whole time she thought she was parading around with her girlfriend, you thought she was just toying with your feelings. When she’s done thinking she looks back into your eyes and you think you’ve fallen for her all over again. the gaze she’s giving you is one of pure love and realization.

“Can i be your girlfriend y/n? please?” and you don’t respond, instead you just press your lips to hers and smile, and she does the same back, just kissing you and enjoying you, enjoying her girlfriend. hers. her swells with pride and joy and hours does the same. You guys sit there enjoying each other before you pull away “i mean by your standards we already are girlfriends right? since we are always together.”

#SoundCloud #panther shuri #shuri #shuri udaku #princess shuri #shuri fic #shuri imagine #shuri x reader #nix writes

[nixie-writes-aot]

Reactions to S/O with Abusive Family

Warnings: mentions of abuse and trauma, abuse of power/status, mention of murder, threat of bodily harm, hurt/comfort, fluff

Characters: Levi Ackerman, Erwin Smith, Hange Zoe

Author's Note: The third and last part. Honestly these headcanons were so fun so I might do more hurt/comfort in the future!

Levi Ackerman

Levi, like Mikasa, is also not terribly surprised. I don't think any of the veterans would be honestly

They all are too used to what the world is like and how cruel it can be even to those who don't deserve anything like that. Especially Levi

Now there are two different reactions Levi might have depending on which Levi 

If its Levi from the Underground, sorry but your family is dead

Thug Levi has killed for much much less. Hell, he killed a group of thugs just for getting in Isabel's way and upsetting her. So the chances of actual abusers surviving after you told him what they've done? Not bloody likely

Levi will, of course, hold you close and bury his face in the crook of your neck all to comfort you

He's very emotionally repressed so you shouldn't expect much else 

Now Captain Levi?

Much different story. For example, unless they were an active threat, particularly in s3, he wouldn't kill them. But oh boy 

Levi is someone who can easily, and will without hesitation, calmly rip into someone just for wasting his time. After all, Levi is one hell of a composed and stoic motherfucker

Now, the worst he might do for non-threatening is harsh words and maybe his own threat, albeit empty

But an active threat? Much different story. Levi learned from Kenny and the Underground that active threats must be taken out

Now regardless of him killing your family or just making them hate him, he is dragging you into his office. The one time he doesn't sweat the potential filth on your clothes, simply pulling you into bed with him and burying his face in your chest

"I wanted to kill them."

His statement is meant to be reassuring, that it would always be you and never them in his eyes

But also Levi is one very emotionally repressed bitch 

Erwin Smith 

Honestly Erwin probably already knew you had a rough home life, not many parents would just sit by and let their children become Scouts under Keith Shadis

The Scouting Legion is still viewed poorly when he takes over, don't get me wrong, but we're talking about a man who had a mental breakdown in the middle of the street and in front of not only all his men but the public too

Erwin would never

Now Erwin knowing and being told is two different things. Erwin could probably only think about his own childhood when you told him so he pulls you close, into his lap and starts playing with your hair and massaging your scalp. As he does, Erwin tells you about his dream and the will of his own father way back when

Erwin has accepted what happened by the time he's Commander Erwin but he still doesn't feel great about it, obviously, so its a moment of weakness for both of you

And thats exactly what Erwin wanted you to see. That you opening up and being vulnerable didn't have to be so one sided even if he was your commander

Now Erwin has a lot of power to throw around, especially if your family weren't anyone like the merchants or nobles or the Wall Church

So Erwin uses that power, lets you see how beneficial he can really be with that always so polite smile on his face even if he's currently ruining the lives of those who ruined your own life

"There are some that simply do not know how to behave, those should either keep quiet or have every dirty little secret spread among their peers."

Like I love Erwin but dude lowkey manipulates a lot of things into happening. Especially when it was concerning Levi in the No Regrets OVA

Hange Zoe

Hange is probably the only shocked veteran when you open up

They are appalled 

"But why!? Titans should be the concern, not each other!" 

And you even almost hear them swear but when you only shrug, they pull you close and sigh. They are well and truly refusing to let you go for even a minute. Hange is very clingy during the night you tell them and even the following day

Only Levi, Miche, or Erwin would be able to pry them away. Maybe Moblit 

They just want you to feel reassured and comforted by their presence

Hange probably takes you out to train with the ODM gear just to give you a proper outlet. They know they like training when upset

Dear god if they see your family? It is one of the very very few moments you see them angry. Even Levi seems nicer in comparison. Hange storms right up to your parent, decks them and stands over them 

"If you touch them again, I will personally make sure you don't have a hand to do that with again."

You probably have to pull Hange off your parent actually

And afterwards, Hange is clingy all over again. They're wrapping their arms around you, shoving their face into your back and sighing loudly 

Hange probably spends the next week making sure you know how much they love you and how much they would do just for you

Normally, you're an average soldier but Hange keeps dragging you away from your squad to their own squad, doing science stuff with them and Moblit

#nix writes #nix dreams #attack on titan #aot #snk #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyojin x you #shingeki no kyojin x reader #attack on titan x you #attack on titan x reader #aot x you #aot x reader #snk x you #snk x reader #hange zoe #hange zoe x you #hange zoe x reader #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x reader #erwin smith #erwin smith x reader #erwin smith x you #genderneutral reader #reader insert

[comfortless]

Deep Water

nix! König x fem! reader

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. no.. intentional harm done to reader but there are sporadic mentions of murder (drowning), König is kind of a creep here do you guys forgive me (say yes), implied sex; dubcon everything. König is wearing a fishing net rather than the usual hood because. it made sense to me sorry.

notes: yet again, i have found that i can not manage to write anything except for silly fantasy nonsense… bear with me this will pass (it will not). if you’re uncertain of what a nix is, i recommend skimming over this (or tl;dr— a shapeshifting water spirit).

You’ve always been told to beware of the river, especially on nights like this. When the singing starts up you were to run, as far and as fast as your feet could carry you. It would be the most beautiful sound you had ever heard, as well as the last. Whatever beast lies in wait along the silt of the riverbed luring people in with its haunting song isn’t kind. The drowned bodies resurfacing bloated and paled are enough for the townsfolk to assume that assuredly, a monster lies in wait someplace within the glassy water.

For all of the fear, town myths were just that— myths.

As always, there’s no singing when you seat yourself on smooth, mossy stones by the river’s bank. The moon hangs low, casting its brilliant reflection on calm, dark water. The air is alive with the buzzing of cicadas clinging to the trees at your back and night birds calling out to the wind. Nothing is amiss; it’s only peaceful, and that’s why despite the warnings, you often find yourself here when the temperature is favorable.

There are nights when the river isn’t calm, and currents are the most reliable reasoning for the deaths from past summers. The water is full of large rocks with sharp corners, teeming with plants that could so easily snare an ankle, and when the water is frothing and cruel it’s no surprise that one could be thrashed to unconsciousness if they weren’t careful.

You didn’t come here to take your chances on swimming, anyhow.

If anything, it’s a mere reprieve from the bustle of the town. No one wanders here any more since the myths gained traction, passed from mouth to listening ears time and time again, leaving this place entirely untouched. Occasionally the obnoxious teenager would cross your path on the walk here, declaring loudly to their friends about how they supposedly saw some slimy beast, eyes like moonbeams and scales like razors lying on the bank.

During your little adventures here, you often carry a snack with you, but not for yourself. Tonight, it’s just a small package of vanilla flavored cookies. In truth, they were awful— dry and near flavorless, but you suspect your friend here wouldn’t mind too terribly much, and if it got them out of your pantry without wasting it was a win for the both of you.

When the large dorsal fin crests over the water mere meters from the bank, you gratuitously crush the treats in a closed fist and toss the crumbs into the water. Time and time again, you’ve fed the large animal, watching as it thrashes about just below the surface before disappearing back into its depths. You’ve never gotten a good look at it, either, but you imagine it must stretch out past your height or further; some sort of gar or sturgeon.

Just as many times before, it glides further in, fin entirely out of sight now. The only evidence of it ever appearing at all were the small waves rippling in its wake. All is quieted once more as you embrace the placid bliss, readying your small flashlight and losing yourself into the book perched in your lap.

The next night, you’re greeted by a large snake basking over the rock you typically sat upon. It lies still, coiled into itself as it regards you, forked tongue flicking out for several moments before it simply slithers off, hiding itself away beneath the moss and stone.

“Best to leave you alone, huh?,” you ask to it’s retreating tail, feeling a bit silly for speaking to the reptile at all. It doesn’t respond, of course, nor does it bother to come out of hiding either.

You opt to seat yourself on the hill overlooking the water instead.

You find that after a day occupied by tedious tasks, there truly was no greater place to abandon your woes than here. Everything was peaceful; wild yet simplistic. Even with all of the death that seemed to haunt this place, you never feared the thought of ghosts. You’ve even entertained your imagination a time or two, that if you ever did meet one, you would only ask it not to disturb the wildlife you have grown so fond.

There’s a freedom and a mystery to places like this, places without the foot traffic of other people. It brings with it a sense of whimsy, especially when you glance towards the water and see the surface reflecting every twinkling star above.

The fish doesn’t appear, even as you listen to the water in wait, your head tilted as you lie back on soft grass to watch for ripples, for the swell of a large fin moving beneath. Nothing. You read your book as the night progresses, nearly completing it entirely before you make your way back home.

Weeks pass by like this— work, river, home and repeat. Occasionally it’s the same large snake that greets you when you wander there, more often it’s the large fish circling about waiting for crumbs of whatever treat you choose to bring. The bank and the small hill overlooking it have become a separate home to you, one where you can be away with the fairies, talking to your animal friends that never seem to stick around for long.

When the weather grows warmer, you even dare to take a swim.

You’re stood on the slick stones of the bank, wearing nothing but a t-shirt and a pair of underwear. It’s not proper swimming attire, but you reason that you’re not at the beach, not a soul is around, and it doesn’t really matter at all that you might look a bit silly. The prospect of swimming along that behemoth below is a tad terrifying, but you wouldn’t dare to wander too far in. Maybe the fish would even be intelligent enough to not attempt to eat you after you’ve been so kind to it.

It’s hot, and with a sticky layer of sweat glossing your skin, your worries seem minuscule in light of an easy way of cooling off. You toe at the calm water for a moment, testing its temperature before willing yourself to take a step forward, then another before you seat yourself in the vibrant expanse of darkened blue. Here, you realize, is the best place to stargaze, too; they shimmer all around you, within reach as you tap at the surface of water, watching it undulate beneath the pressure of your fingertips.

You could reach the moon, too, if you swam further out. A few meters from the bank and you would be directly beneath its reflection, bathed in that ethereal glow.

You watch for your friend for a time, trying to prioritize your wariness over your whimsy. When the fish doesn’t tread by you, the water remaining calm, you rise to your feet and take slow, metered steps as the water parts and flows against your shins.

Though the river is disturbed no matter how gently you stride forward, nothing slides out from its depths in pursuit of you. Nothing happens at all when you reach out to splay your hand out against the reflection, the water now gently lapping against your stomach rather than your legs.

You hadn’t expected any sort of shift in your reality, that would be ridiculous, but perhaps some sort of clarity; a further calm for a weary mind. It doesn’t come, and with a disheartened splash you wade your way back towards the shore.

This has been your sanctuary for some time. Excusing the snake, there’s not been any sort of threat to you, not here. A safe water world all your own. Though, that peace is shattered the moment that you make it to the bank and hear the water shift some small distance behind you. Turning your head, you’re met with the sight of a man, the bulky muscular silhouette towering in the patch of moonlight you had just stood in. Bright blue eyes catch the light, reflecting like an animal’s as you scramble back to where you’ve left your shorts.

He stands there, silent and unmoving like an obelisk even as you hastily dress yourself with a thundering heart and breaths that sound more or less like gasps, senses heightened by your panic as you turn tail to run.

No one had been there. You were sure of it when you sunk into the water. There was no sound when this person had swam over to take your place. He was just there, as if he had been the entire time and you somehow failed to notice.

You make your way into the woods framing this place, hurried steps and untied shoelaces. You don’t even bother with your flashlight.

Finding your way back home with aches in every muscle, the desperate rampage you had taken to get away finally coming to a close when the door slams shut behind you, you quickly shower and mull over what’s just happened. A ghost, perhaps. It had to of been. Any other person would have made noise in their approach, especially being that big. The mind could play its tricks; what you had seen was likely not even there at all— a terrifying figment of your imagination. That sets you at ease, somewhat, but not enough.

You don’t sleep well that night, tucked beneath your blanket and staring at the filtered moonlight through your curtains. Work isn’t on your mind at all come morning until your phone chimes with a notification from your manager, questioning your tardiness. A languid crawl out of bed follows, another shower, an unsatisfying breakfast, all before you opt to send a text back to let him know you won’t be in today.

It could be excused, you’re reliable and decent enough at the job; not one to boast, but far more eager to please than the rest of your coworkers. You would be entirely useless if you went in on no sleep, you reason.

You don’t want to go back there, not under the veil of night, but you find yourself horribly curious the longer that you bide your time indoors. You had to know if the thing that you saw was really there, had to calm your nerves. What if he had always been watching each time, and you simply hadn’t noticed? The forest bordering the river is terribly dark at night, anyone could crouch behind the shield of a tree and remain undetected until they willed the courage to drag you in, cup a palm over your mouth to silence your cries.

Maybe it was the monster the people in town rumored about.

The thought of some strange, silent thing living beneath the water waiting for an opportune moment to take you by the neck and drag you down to the silty floor to watch you drown horrified you. Yet, that’s the one conclusion that sticks. Those eyes… so lurid and haunting, no human being had eyes like that.

You inhale sharply, steeling your nerves as reach for a pocket knife for defense, toss it into the bag slung over your shoulder, and storm out the door.

The trek there is nothing short of dull.

No matter where you look, what shadows rise up beneath the dim glow of a falling sun, there’s nothing out in the woods. The river is equally tame. The water babbles over rock, cicadas buzz off in the distance, and not a thing seems amiss. Your search for footprints that don’t belong to the soles of your shoes turns up empty. The only thing that suggests just maybe it wasn’t all in your head is the book you had neglected to retrieve in your fear the night before.

The cover, every page within, now warped as though it had been pulled into the water and spit out to dry. You pick it up, peeling through damp pages, running your fingertips over the smeared ink. It’s possible that a particularly aggressive splash could have sullied it, but something tells you that that isn’t the case. Either way, it’s unreadable now. You sulk a bit as you slip the ruined thing into your bag and step towards the smooth stones to watch the water instead.

Night creeps in slowly with you there, and you’re on high alert for a time before you begin to relax as usual. Even giggle to yourself at how silly it was you believed you saw a ghost at all as you entertain yourself by skipping small stones across the water.

No large snake, no massive fish, no titan of a man appears before you, only a calming crescent moon and a few wandering wood ducks, gliding down from the bank to splash about. A thought comes to mind as the calm emboldens you: what would happen if you got in just one more time?

There’s nothing to suggest that you’re playing with fire as you leave your shoes neatly in the dry sand. If the ducks could swim unbothered by fish or men, then surely you could, too. You watch the little creatures a distance away as they dip their heads beneath the surface and chitter away amongst themselves while you take your first step in.

You don’t dare to go as far this time, stopping when the water brushes over your knees. You wait there while time seems to slow to a crawl, expecting the absolute worst, glancing further down the river, dipping your hand below the glassy surface until your fingertips brush the sand beneath.

It’s horribly hot and you’re still exhausted from the sleepless night before. The water feels nice, and you feel as though you have some sort of claim to it as you’ve been here more often than anyone else would dare to. Ghosts and monsters be damned, you seat yourself and let the water lap over your shoulders, tilting your head back to watch the stars.

When the singing begins it takes a moment to register just what it is that you’re hearing. It’s not beautiful, not like the myths have said. It’s hissed, a low whisper, a mockery of what a human song would sound like. The voice is rasped, lilted yet cold. The realization that it sings words from your book of poetry is what terrifies you the most, the warped pages all making sense now.

Your eyes dart to either side of you, forward, before realizing the voice is coming from behind you. Cold spreads through your veins as you try to force yourself to stand, but in your fear you find yourself petrified, rooted in water that would surely become your grave.

You can’t bring yourself to turn around, to inevitably find your eyes locked onto the shadowy frame of a man far too large, his eyes glistening and pale like the moon hanging above.

The voice pauses when it finds you unmoving, and you can hear the rustle of the creature shifting its weight where it’s stood on the rocks lining the bank. You’ve no clue how deep the river gets, where the opposite side leads, but your only chance of escape seems to be swimming through in the hopes that this thing doesn’t choose to chase after you. A part of you knows that he would, that that is exactly what he expects you to do, goading you to flee deeper with his eerie song so that he can drown you just as he did the others.

You do the opposite as you squeeze your eyes shut and crawl back towards the bank, making sure to keep some distance despite your willful blindness. You wouldn’t look at it, wouldn’t talk to it, you would just go home and never come back.

“Best to leave you alone, hm?”

You still as your fingers brush against wet moss, the voice no longer a whisper but loud, loud as it echoes your words from days past just above you. Beating back your own curiosity proves futile, because you look up at the damned thing then, expecting to see an impossible terror before you, sharp fangs wet with blood and appendages too spindly reaching out for you. Instead, you see only a man.

He’s crouched, only a meter or so away, and you immediately recognize his broad figure. The same as the night before. From this distance you can make out the finer details, the length of net covering his face and neck, the webbing between each finger. Still a scary sight, but only in the way it’s unfamiliar and imposing rather than instilling any sort of primordial fear.

“Excuse me?” You pull yourself fully out of the water, rising to your feet and taking a tentative step back. You’re prepared to run, a coil pulled too tight on the verge of snapping.

The man, creature, whatever he may be just tilts his head, lets the silence hang in the air for a moment before he has the audacity to laugh whether to himself or at the strange, bewildered expression on your face.

His stare is assessing as he sucks in a breath, follows suit in rising to his full height. From the size of him alone, you know you’re not getting away. A mere stride for him would be two or more for you, a deliberate tug of your wrist from him could snap it in an instant.

Yet, he doesn’t reach for you, only gestures toward your bag lying on the ground with a subtle flick of a finger. You give him a quizzical glance in turn, not bothering to retrieve it. You could come back during the day with a friend, gather it and never return. Only, your knife sits somewhere inside, the only protection that you’ve got. The realization spurs you to bend over and toss the strap over your shoulder.

“I’ll… I’ll be going now.”

The stare remains fixed upon you as you take another step back, blinking slowly every now and then as you both remain in some strange stasis.

It takes you a moment to put the pieces together. The reciting of words from the book, the mimicking of the words spoken to the snake, the hint at your bag… he’s expecting something and it’s not to steal away your life, only to be fed and have your company. It’s not charming, it’s awfully strange and eerie, but you find yourself giggling at the prospect of taming some murderous, shapeshifting monster with subpar treats and poetry.

You pull open the bag, searching for anything you may have brought along that he could eat, eventually prying out a small package and offering it out to him.

“Is this what you want?,” you ask, voice hushed and trembling.

He shakes his head, rustling the net cloaking him in the process. So, he understands, he’s just been willfully ignoring every other thing you’ve said prior. You store the package away with a perturbed expression crossing over your face.

“Then what?”

Any relief you had felt seems to dwindle when the giant takes a half-step closer. His skin is cool and wet as the river as he brushes his hand over your forearm, curling a set of fingers around it. The touch is gentle, but there’s a promise of violence lurking somewhere in the depths of his eyes.

“Come with me,” he urges in that harsh whisper from before, delicately squeezing as he pulls you towards him, leading you back to the river with a tight grip and a step back over the stones. Though his touch is passive, there’s a frightening strength lurking someplace beneath his flesh, tacked to bone, and as your gaze trails lower to rest to rest at your feet, the space between you two, the evidence of a life prone to violence and strength is laid bare before you.

You don’t fight the hold as he leads you to water so deep it caresses the base of your neck, right below the milky glow of a waning moon. Deeper still, as you’re pulled below, pressed down to the very bottom with his body lain over you. You can only hold your breath so long before an involuntary gasp leaves you, and a wave is funneled straight into your lungs.

Panic is fleeting, but the adrenaline stays ever-present. You claw, push, kick, to no avail. Pinned down by a hand weighing like an anchor you feel your vision flooding and hazy as his head knocks against your jaw, mouth sealing tightly over yours. It’s not a gentle kiss, the net fashioned into a hood digs into your skin, teeth scrape over your lip until you feel the sting of blood drawn.

All at once, your vision darkens and it’s over.

You find yourself lying back on the shore as the morning sun warms your face, causes your dampened shirt to cling to your skin. Disoriented, but alive, brushing your thumb over your lower lip as you sit up to stare at the subtle waves lapping over moss and rock.

Just a dream, you tell yourself, knowing full well you hadn’t fallen asleep.

Just a dream, even though you avoid the river entirely now. Your route home from work changes too, avoiding even a glimpse of the path that leads down to that place. You don’t even replace the book, you toss what remains of it after fishing through your bag, murmuring something about it surely being cursed and entertain yourself with film at night instead.

Sleep remains tentative, you wake with every sound, and your dreaming is filled with visions of a figure pushing you down into deep water, his weight bearing down upon you so heavily that you can not move until you wake with a start, eyes searching your bedroom.

Several weeks, and the fear does eventually fade.

The morning that the rain begins to fall, you realize you haven’t even thought about the river in days. There’s no monster prowling your nightmares anymore. You lived through what may or may not have occurred, and that was the end of it, simple as it may have been.

A late shift at work has you wandering out into the rain, umbrella in hand. You’re grateful that you live close, that you’re not entirely soaked to the bone when you step inside of the mundane building. Your coworkers notice your change in demeanor immediately, chirping about how glad they are that you’re finally feeling better, looking more yourself as the hours pass you by. It brings a smile to your face, a real one that you haven’t had in place since that last night.

Even in the summer, there’s a chill to the air in the late afternoon as you hurry home from work and make your way inside, stripping out of your wet clothes and setting your umbrella aside. It’s darker outside than it should be, even more so indoors. Reaching for the switch to turn on the lights proves useless— the power’s out.

You light your way with your phone, ignoring the way your pulse quickens and your heart flutters with the fear that something just doesn’t feel right. Your skin prickles with the thought of some unseen pair of eyes watching you, blue and cold. You only relax when you slam your bedroom door shut, locking it and pressing your forehead to the wood as you sigh. The puff of breath that escapes your lips is not the only in the room, you find out when the light of your phone illuminated your bed. Crouched beside it, a towering figure with a face veiled by fishing net. Words don’t come when you open your mouth to speak, and your heart stutters in your chest as you stand shaking but otherwise petrified.

“You didn’t come back.”

Of course you hadn’t.

Most people wouldn’t have.

“No. I’ve been… busy,” you choke out the excuse, hoping to pacify whatever emotion you imagine lurked beneath his tone, undetectable through the hiss of his voice. “I’ll visit soon, promise,” you lie, back pressed against the door as your fingers curl over the knob.

Your fear seems almost unwarranted. He doesn’t move toward you, only stands to wander back to the window where he must have broken in.

“Tonight?,” he asks in a voice so soft, the voice he must use as a lure because tugs at your heartstrings immediately, makes you want to follow despite the threat this thing poses merely by existing, despite everything.

“It’s cold— I’ll get sick,” you murmur. “How did you even find me..?”

“I will keep you warm.” The question goes unanswered.

You find yourself stifled again as he lumbers towards you, brushing cold fingers across the side of your face. It’s not a mockery of a kiss you receive next but a firm bite where your neck meets shoulder, not yet hard enough to draw blood, but enough to make you shiver, to grip at the wall of muscle that makes up his chest.

There’s a desperation to his movements as he herds you towards the window, pushes you toward the path leading back to the river. You’re soaked to the bone in seconds, hardly able to keep your eyes open past the weight of dampened eyelashes. The rain is so heavy it feels as though every step is like the first you took into cursed water, your feet sinking into the mud along the path with each tentative stride. The realization that you’re there doesn’t even hit you until you’re chest-deep in the chill, violent waves pushing against you, each carrying the threat of toppling you over entirely.

The palm splayed out against your bare back keeps you upright, leading you to a smooth rock jutting out in the midst of what seems a sea of frothing white and blue. The sea above is just as dark, angry clouds roaring as you’re pressed down onto your back, shivering terribly.

He keeps his promise though, a tight grip on each thigh as he pries your legs apart, sinks in between them and blankets you from the rain. Even with the cold pressed to your back, you feel the warmth of a summer sun above you, scorching from inside, just as blazing as the look in his wild eyes. The last of any resolve slips when you’re pulled beneath the violent waves, a tangle of limbs and desperate kisses coaxing oxygen into your lungs. Each roll and pull no less tumultuous than the waves overhead. A placid end when the rain comes to an impromptu halt, just as he stills over you. Hands rush to cup your face with one final, desperate and biting kiss.

When the morning sun pulls you from sleep, cool moss against your back and the weight of his head resting over your middle, the shallow water lapping lazily at your figure, you find that you no longer fear drowning.

#könig x reader #konig x reader #könig x you #konig x you #könig #konig #cod fanfiction #cod fanfic #konig fanfiction #i have been mulling over this for an eternity sorry it needed to be extracted from my brain #he is absolutely more lycanthrope coded to me but whoosh whatever nix König be upon ye #also apologies to everyone for not writing much lately and the fact this is hardly a real fic #cursed by the sleepy i just need a 10yr long nap #<- in my ‘in denial about burnout’ era

[thaliaisalesbian]

Fic Masterpost

In chronological order by fandom.

Many of these are whump fics, and not all of the work warnings are mentioned here, read at your own risk.

green = ongoing

orange = nsfw

red = not complete, currently inactive

Maze Runner Masterpost

Percy Jackson

Demigods at Hogwarts

Annabeth/Percy, Jason/Piper, Thalia/Reyna, Hazel/Frank, Caylpso/Leo, Clarisse/Chris, Nico/Will, Hermione/Luna/Ginny, Draco/Harry Ten demigods are going on a quest, this time to Hogwarts. They're going in blind, and have no idea what the place is like or who they'll meet. Hermione and Harry are pursing tentive relationships. Ron is grieving his brother's death, coming to terms with a few things, and helping George with his shop.

dance, dance (the night away)

Annabeth/Percy Percy throws Annabeth a birthday party.

free floating

Annabeth/Percy Annabeth is determined not to let Percy win Capture the Flag tonight. She'll fight him if she has to! She doesn't get that far.

forever (on my lips)

Annabeth/Percy; MCD with an eventual happy ending. Annabeth wants to know, wants to know why. Why now, why him, why them? (she never gets her answers but she does get her peace.)

no more demons (in my head)

Annabeth/Percy, Clarisse & Annabeth, Clarisse & Percy Percy and Annabeth had a good night out, everything was going well. Until it wasn't. And Percy didn't know why.

(don't) pull your stitches

Annabeth/Percy, Thalia & Percy; Hidden Injury. Percy is tired. Why do all of these monsters have to be angry at the same time? Can't they plan a schedule or something?

forever and always

Annabeth/Percy Annabeth is kidnapped, but she's a badass who gets herself out of it.

these monsters (can't keep you)

Annabeth/Percy Percy has been taken by the gods yet again, and this time, he's stuck in a maze, fighting for his life. Annabeth has to watch him as he begins running out of time.

I thought I saw a sign (somewhere between the lines)

Annabeth/Percy, Annabeth & Clarisse, Percy & Clarisse; Emotional Hurt/Comfort Annabeth isn't sure, now, what she'd ever really seen in Percy. Not as a person, but as a boyfriend. After Tartarus, after everything. It's understandable, but she's not going to let him keep treating her this way. She deserves better than a boyfriend who can't seem to stand her presence, even if she might have thought before that they were happy. Annabeth just wants one thing in her life to be good, to be permanent. She thought that might be Percy. Now, she's not so sure. As they near the one-year anniversary of the battle against Gaea, Annabeth has been pulling away. After all that’s happened, it’s understandable. But, because of that, he’s having a harder and harder time squishing down the voice in the back of his head that says she's rethinking their relationship. Percy just wants Annabeth to talk to him, to figure things out. He thought they were past avoidance and pushing each other away. Now, he's not so sure.

Light will guide you home

Annabeth/Percy, Annabeth & Percy & Grover, Annabeth & Percy & Thalia, Annabeth & Clarisse & Percy. Post-HOO, Torture, Hurt/Comfort. You know how sometimes you think a bad day can't get any worse, and then it somehow does? Percy and Annabeth were trying to make a bad day better, only for it all to go wrong.

When It's Dire

Annabeth/Percy, Thalia & Annabeth & Percy; Injury recovery and blood, post-HOO. Percy's got to be tired; he's been doing this all day. Annabeth just has to get to him, and then it'll all be fine.

MCU

explosions got nothing on migraines

Tony/T'Challa Tony and Shuri set off an explosion on accident.

better than you (forever and always)

Tony/T'Challa; Carol & Tony Tony works himself into delirium and doesn't know that Carol's alive, so when she shows up... well, there are some issues with that.

for you (and coffee), a bullet wound is nothing

Tony/T'Challa; No Powers AU T'Challa is just trying to get a coffee, go to a meeting, and then wrap up his day by calling his family. Too bad the man in front of him seems to be a target.

bad ideas

Female!Tony, Tony & Shuri Shuri and Toni get kidnapped and Shuri is awesome.

blood isn't too bad (unless you die)

Tony/T'Challa, Shuri & T'Challa, Tony & Shuri Shuri, Tony, and T'Challa are on a trip and they get kidnapped. Shuri remains awesome.

stay here (in my thoughts)

Tony/T'Challa Of course they had to fight Doom, and of course he had to leave a radiation cloud behind. It would have been too easy for him to just leave them an exit. (How much would have changed, T'Challa will ask himself later, if it hadn't been there?)

as the day bleeds on

Tony/T'Challa; Endgame Fix-it Tony doesn't know how long he's been out for, but he's back now, and he's going to recover, dammit.

over and over and over again, i wake up here

Nick Fury & Tony, Carol & Tony Tony gets kidnapped, again, and has to get himself out, again. There are just some... complications, we'll say, along the way.

Star Wars

chains? they cannot hold you, dear

Poe/Finn, Leia & Finn, Poe & Finn & Rey; Force-sensitive Finn Finn volunteers for an infiltration mission, which somehow proceeds as planned. It's lucky that he has damn good pilot for a boyfriend and an entire Resistance ready to back him up when he needs it most.

she blinks and i'm lost, lost, lost

Poe/Finn; accidental baby acquisition. A normal recruiting mission turns into a special type of rescue mission.

Criminal Minds

seven for a secret

Derek/Spencer, JJ/Will, Will & Derek, Will & Spencer, Derek & Emily & Spencer Will doesn't want to watch JJ's family--his family, his friends, too--fall apart more than they already have. So he takes matters into his own hands, to ensure they won't be going to another funeral this year. Majorly inspired by Butterbeerandbutterknives’s fic One for Sorrow. Actually, it's set in their fic. Highly suggest reading that first; it's fantastic.

bleeding hands and beating hearts

Derek/Spencer This has been a hard case--the unsubs are dropping off videotapes of the victims hours before the bodies are found. They know everything these victims are going though. Spencer's been missing since he left the hotel this morning. Derek doesn't want to think about what's on the tape with his name on it. (see end notes for more detailed trigger warnings)

giant owls: not as good for cuddling as you'd think

Derek/Spencer, Emily & Spencer Emily's exhausted, and worried. They all are. It's been a hard couple of months--nonstop cases, and the LEOs seem to dislike them more than usual lately. It doesn't help that Spencer is already seen as an easy target, and when he's not cleared for field work? Things only get worse. "And there’s Spencer, soaking wet. “Oh, god, Spence!” JJ gasps. Derek’s already moving, wrapping his jacket around his shivering boyfriend and carefully probing at his head. “What happened, Reid?” Hotch asks, moving to help Derek settle Spencer on the couch. Spencer’s eyes are unfocused, and he’s not tracking movement well. Derek can’t fight the sinking feeling in his stomach as he realizes what’s going on."

guns raised (don't fire)

Derek/Spencer "The door opens again, and Spencer abruptly turns and backhands Hotch. Oh, God, this better not be what Derek thinks it is. “Come on, then.” The man in the door grabs Spencer by the shoulder and leads him away. “Hotch, what’s going on?” Derek asks." Being kidnapped? Not fun. Being one of four of your team kidnapped by at least three unsubs? Even worse. All Derek can do is hope that Spencer's plan works.

Original Work

bled dry (i wish)

Vampirism is seen as a curse. Hurt/No Comfort Prompt: Chestnut, short hair slightly covers a lean, menacing face. Dead brown eyes, set dreadfully within their sockets, watch guardedly over the tribes they've safeguarded for so long. A goatee graciously compliments his cheeks and leaves a bittersweet memory of his reckless luck. This is the face of Orlando Hanson, a true dreamer among vampires. He stands oddly among others, despite his tough frame. There's something different about him, perhaps it's his sense of honor or perhaps it's simply his personality. But nonetheless, people tend to socialize with him, while spreading rumors about him behind his back. Or: Orlando Hanson gets a short backstory. And neither he nor Hanson Victor are quite the victims or villains that they each think they are.

to break a fence (to kill a man)

MCD; Hurt/No Comfort. No dialogue. Prompt: Seth Ostler is a man in his late twenties, who is very adventurous. He comes from a wealthy background, lives in a rough neighborhood and tends to a huge collection of potted plants. Seth's adventures these days consist of the walk to work and back. It certainly scares him enough to feel like it could be a dream. Turns out, the walk isn't what he should be afraid of.

Stranger Things

silver lining

Spicy Six Polycule; only Eddie/Steve/Jonathan seen. Scene gone wrong with safeword use. Eddie wants to try tying someone up. Steve volunteers. For all their talks about it, though, he doesn't mention his biggest fear about it. @rememberthatiloveyou for more discussion on this (and any other nsfw fics)

i get myself twisted in threads

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24

Jonathan/Steve/Nancy, Steve & Everyone; Post-Season 2. Blood and injury, hurt/comfort, some fluff mixed in with the angst Jonathan wants to rush after Steve, to explain, but there's no time. Not when the kids have found another gate, not when there's more than his love life at stake. Now he might never get a chance to explain. Or: Steve walks into a conversation between Jonathan and Nancy at just the wrong time, and then everything gets worse (because Steve's just gone and tried to die for them, and this time, they might not get him back.)

loved you never (mourning forever)

Jonathan & Steve; unhappy ending. Steve's fine. He's always fine, he's the one who takes the hits and gets back up. Sure, this might be a harder hit than most, but he'll manage… as long as no one else catches on. (Jonathan might ruin that for him.)

Delicately Intertwined

Jonathan/Steve/Nancy; Post-S4, subdrop, sickfic After so long apart, and with everything that's happened, Jonathan's just eager to see his both of his partners alive and well. The 'well' part turns out to be highly debatable, and not as easily fixable as Jonathan would like it to be.

your presence still lingers here

Robin & Steve; Implied Torture and experimentation. Post-S4, vaguely, Magic AU. Samuel is not sure that this lordling's so-called mission is actually a mission. (all steve had ever wanted was to protect them) Robin just wants Steve back, and now that they're so close, she's not going to let anything stop her from saving him.

#nix writes #fic masterpost #fic writing #my fics #ao3 #ao3 link #fanfic #percy jackson #percabeth #pjo fic #percy jackson fanfic #mcu #mcu fic #star wars #star wars fic #finnpoe #stormpilot #criminal minds #moreid #criminal minds fic #original fiction #stranger things #stoncy #stranger things fic #st fic #whump #whump writing #whump fic #hurt/comfort #whumptober

[nix-nihili]

did good omens october using vanillacreame153 (IG)'s prompt list. gonna post some of my favourites on ao3.

october 2's prompt: The Fall

"Could you tell me about it?"

"About what, angel?"

There was that expression on Aziraphale's face, one Crowley had seen a dozen times; a burning curiosity fighting with the delegations of God-given privacy. He placed one hand over Aziraphale's clenched fist, his unshielded eyes encouraging. Aziraphale sighed.

"Your Fall."

or

A promise made between late-night drinks.

#good omens #aziracrow #aziraphale x crowley #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #nix writes

[mazegays]

Fic Masterpost

compiling all of my fics in one convenient post! chronological order, green are ongoing works, yellow are nsfw.

i never thought they'd lock you in a cage

Thominho; Role Reversal, set mainly during TDC (movie). Minho is the Greenie, Thomas is the experienced Runner who is kidnapped by WICKED.

maze of stars and hearts

Thominho; Star Trek Crossover AU. The whole gang is here as their up-and-coming star captain falls in love with his science officer. And also the admirals are dicks.

the flow of the ocean: a current of change

Thominho; Mermaid AU. Sometimes, a dive into the ocean is the same thing as a dive into love; for Minho, that just happens to mean marrying into ocean royalty.

even birds need to learn how to fly

Thominho; In this world where the Mazes never existed but the Flare does, we get a look into the lives of survivors Minho and Thomas. Also features little!Thomas and caregiver!Minho.

temper the flame, but refuse to let it die

Thominho; Soulmates AU. Minho's grown up with drawings and messages all over his arms, but he's never written back, not even to tell his soulmate his name.

hot coffee, coming through!

Thominho; Modern AU. Thomas is a cute barista who has the terrible misfortune of getting burned (literally) in front of Minho, who was annoying Newt with his non-studious ways and sent for coffee.

suits and swords

Thominho, Nalby, Sonyarriet; Royalty AU. Set vaguely in our Tudor era, this is an A/B/O au that follows young princes - Minho and Thomas, and their many friends - of recently treatied countries over the course of their lives. Includes none of our historical figures. Does include two religions that I made up.

they burned your skin with bloodied ink

Thominho; An alternate take on what could have happened with the individual tests after Scorch Trials. Thomas doesn't come back--and when he does, it's for the worst. Whump and hurt/comfort abound.

if only we'd known

Thominho; Brendesa, Nalby; Magic AU. Thomas is terribly busy when his sister calls to perform a spell she knows nothing about. With Minho, of all people. It's a terrible idea.

He does it anyway.

the bones beneath your skin rattle and crack before they hatch

Thominho; Canon Divergence. WICKED went much, much farther with their experiments--as Thomas is quickly learning in a very painful way.

for you i can do anything but fly

Thominho; Modern AU. Thomas is stressed about work, money, and college; Minho just doesn't understand why Thomas is pulling away.

roses smell oh so sweet when one hasn't a nose

Thominho; Scorch Trials Canon Divergence. Brenda and Thomas are trapped in the tunnels, and maybe this would be a good moment for flirting... if Thomas weren't so obviously in love, that is. Brenda's POV.

i can't read your mind (but you'll share your thoughts anytime)

Thominho; Canon Divergence. Thomas and Minho have telepathy. In some ways, this makes things easier. In others, it makes them more difficult. They manage to fall in love anyway.

what's in the woods? (just thomas and minho)

Thominho; After a year in Paradise, Thomas and Minho take a vacation. It ends up being... less of a vacation than they wanted.

the woods (they want your fear)

Thominho; Modern AU. Minho and Thomas try to take a camping trip. It's all going well, until Thomas goes off on his own.

a shield you are not

Thominho, Sonyarriet; Scorch Trials Canon Divergence. Thomas makes some new friends in Group B. Minho and the others aren't so sure about them, but they can't stop Thomas from doing what he wants.

There is whump but this is mostly a fun fic.

these walls may break you but we will remake you

Thominho, Sonyarriet; Scorch Trials Canon Divergence. Thomas is kept alone, isolated for months on end with only his journals to keep him company. Will he be able to escape WICKED and heal from this experience?

the blues will heal if only you let them

Background Thominho; Very little dialogue. Thomas and Minho are stuck in the Maze--again. And Minho's not responding to anything, so it's up to Thomas to get them out.

rocky falls and rocky scars

Thominho; Set early in Paradise. Thomas hits his head on a rock while trying to play a joke on Minho. Hurt/comfort ensues.

haunted memories (memories, memories, memories)

Thominho, Thomas & Minho & Gally friendship; Set post-Death Cure, in a universe where the Flare never really existed and the survivors of the trials get to return to their families. Thomas, Minho, and Gally go to a haunted house... and in doing so, risk returning to some of their worst memories.

tears (that we don't remember)

Thominho; Thomas and Minho are taking a week off, and things are going well until a storm hits their camping spot in the woods. Whump, hurt/comfort.

scarred hearts (still beat)

Thominho; Minho thinking about his lightning scars in Paradise.

rocks, stones, walls, us

Thominho; Minho has to send his crush the Greenie into the Maze alone. This is a normal level of nervous to be about that, right? Right? Whump, hurt/comfort.

when screams (are the only escape)

Thominho; Minho thinks they're all used to them by now. The nightmares, the screams.

Thomas seems to be the only one unaffected. Hurt/comfort.

bees aren't the only ones with hives

Thominho, Sonyarriet; Minho's drink gets spiked at a party. An allergic reaction and brief terror follows. Whump, hurt/comfort.

bad days (can be almost good, sometimes)

Thominho; Their day off is the day Thomas's brain decides that hallucinations are the way to go. Whump, hurt/comfort.

anywhere, as long as I'm with you

Sonyarriet; Sonya and Harriet want to go... and see if the boys are around, totally, that's it. It's just their luck that Harriet gets hurt along the way.

milkshakes: the cure-all

Thominho; Gally's been bullying Thomas and he's been trying his best to make sure Minho doesn't find out. But now Gally is talking directly to Minho.

i don't breathe (without you)

Thominho; Thomas might be able to find happiness here, someday. Peace, maybe.

If only it was real.

MCD, Hurt/No Comfort

memories (they ache)

Thomas & Sonya, Sonyarriet, Thominho: Thomas doesn't know who this girl is, or why he should trust her. But he does, and that's what gets them out. Whump, hurt/comfort.

the fog rolls away

Thominho; Minho experiences a depressive episode in Paradise. Thomas is there to help.

carved names (crossed out)

Thominho; Post-Death Cure, they've begun housing Immunes in the Glades. This leads to distress in those who were trapped there. Hurt/comfort.

choose three (or we kill them all)

Thominho; based on the individual trials post-Scorch. Minho is forced to pick who lives or dies. Whump, hurt/comfort.

parties (are not for the weak)

Sonyarriet, Thominho; Modern AU. Harriet would like to have a normal birthday party, please. Not one that involves assholes pointing guns at her and her friends. Hurt/comfort.

our songs are ending (but don't cry)

Thominho, Sonyarriet, Minho & Thomas & Sonya & Harriet; No matter how many times they try, they cannot seem to escape WICKED. Each time they do, they only get worse beatings and less food.

But Thomas has to keep trying. They have to get out.

Torture, MCD

as night falls

Thominho; In Paradise, Thomas is having trouble sleeping. Minho notices. Hurt/comfort.

supposed to be

Thominho, Nalby, Sonyarriet; Wingfic + Royalty AU. Thomas is nervous about declaring courtship and officially marking himself as an adult. So of course things go wrong. Whump, hurt/comfort.

just remember those wicked words your mother used to say

Thominho; Fantasy AU set in the Maze. Thomas has powers, but he doesn't know how to use them and he doesn't know how to tell anyone. So he doesn't. Whump, hurt/comfort.

this love came back to me

Thominho; Thomas has chronic pain in Paradise and this is how Minho helps him with it. Hurt/comfort

finding you

Thominho; Fever Code Era. Thomas is quiet, and maybe a little weird. That doesn't stop Minho from getting to know him, and helping him where he can. Hurt/comfort.

(aka: The beginning of the long empath Thomas AU I have plotted out.)

fever dream high

Thominho, Sonyarriet; Soulmate AU. After the Scorch, Groups A and B are placed into a Maze together. Thomas is a dumbass who doesn't know anything about anything, so when he saves Minho's life this time, it really is an accident.

But they don't really care about that part. Hurt/comfort.

following you

Thominho; Minho's first impression of Thomas--Greenies aren't usually of much interest to him, but this one? He's gonna be watching him.

could already feel your kiss

Thominho, Brendesa, Sonyarriet; Enemies to lovers AU, set in a 1950s-inspired setting because Minho racing motorcycles in leather jackets. (You're welcome.)

Thomas visits his sister in her college town, only to find out that she's gone and joined a gang... and that he's not allowed to talk to the rival gang.

Minho, though? He's just got his eye on the new pretty boy in town.

And through it all, Janson and Ava are terrible parents.

Whump, hurt/comfort.

janson is a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad man

Rape/Non-con, Mindbreak, Drugged Sex

Whump, big time. Comfort is slim but there. 18+. If you want to chat about this one, head over to @rememberthatiloveyou.

Thominho; Post-Scorch Trials AU. Janson takes the... opportunity of having Thomas at his mercy to treat him however he pleases. This includes making a deal with the few remaining Gladers in order to leave with Thomas.

saving you (is all that matters)

Thominho, Sonyarriet, Past Nalby; Post-Scorch Trials. Minho's terrified of telling the others that he thinks Thomas might be dead.

Thomas, meanwhile, only knows white.

Whump, hurt/comfort.

falling branches

Thominho, Sonyarriet, Nalby, Brendesa; Modern AU. When Thomas, Minho, Sonya, Newt, and Harriet get stuck in a storm, Minho's fight or flight kicks in--and he chooses flight. Thomas follows him, and this is the journey of getting them back.

Whump, hurt/comfort, check endnotes for more warnings.

for the hope of it all

Thominho; Modern AU. Minho and Thomas have been dating for a few years now. To their friends and family, everything is going great!

... Except for the fact that they're not actually dating. And now Minho doesn't know what to say.

MCD, hurt/comfort.

damn sure never would've danced with the devil

Sequel to janson is a terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad man.

18+. @rememberthatiloveyou if you want to chat.

Thominally; Thomas wants to Minho to treat him differently in bed; Gally steps in to make sure all parties are pleased.

dancing in the starlight

Sonyarriet; Modern AU. Newt is boring. Sonya knows this, but because he's her brother, she decides to spend time with him anyway. And that turns out to be a fantastic way to find something exciting in her life.

Harriet's just trying to do her job, trying to learn everything she can about flowers so she can reach her dreams. It's not her fault there's a pretty girl distracting her.

aka: Watch Sonya and Harriet fall in love.

love is stored in the hand

18+. @rememberthatiloveyou if you want to chat.

Thominally fisting fic.

i'll say "just fine"

Thominho, Sonyarriet, Fry/Gally, past Nalby; Set in a no-Maze world where WICKED decided to take over the world in much less subtle way. Minho, much like everyone else he knows, is just trying to survive. Trying to keep memories of before alive as much as he can while also grieving the loss of far too many loved ones. He goes back to his old house, the last place he saw them alive. Whump, hurt/comfort. Mentions of torture.

could've followed my fears all the way down

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24

Thominally slowburn; Sonyarriet, Thomas & Sonya.

After nearly a year in Paradise, this is how things are going for some of our Gladers:

Thomas is struggling to understand how to piece himself back together, and he's not sure why any of his friends want him around.

Gally doesn't know what the fuck he's doing, especially not when he starts falling for the kid he used to hate.

Minho pretends he's got his shit together, but he's been in love with his best friend for over a year and hasn't said anything.

Whump, suicidal thoughts and actions, self-harm, hurt/comfort. It gets worse before it gets better.

You've Got Mail for @adoresbenho

Thominho slowburn(ish), very background nalby, brendesa, and sonyarriet. Written in epistolary format. Thomas and Minho attend sister boarding schools that require their students to exchange letters with each other. The trick? Their pen pals are selected for them, and they're not allowed to switch or even stop writing until they graduate. It's going to be a long few years.

#nix writes #fic masterlist #thominho #nalby #sonyarriet #brendesa #thominally #thomally #tmr fic #whump #whumptober #thominho week #2018 - 2022 at the time was made actually #hurt/comfort #fanfic #whump writing #minally #longfic