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#what if doctor strange lost his heart
ambermation · 1 year
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Hey! May I have a Yandere Strange Supreme oneshot? Strange is still in the stalking phase. Darling is sleeping and he decides to sneak in for a cuddle. Reader moves and he's scared he woke them up, but they just snuggle with him in their sleep. Strange absolutely melts cause he's so touch-starved 🥺💓
Hi! I’m so sorry this took so long, I was in a slump for a while. I freaking love this scenario so much 🥰 He’s so totally touch-starved baby boy doesn’t even remember the sensation of snuggling 😓
Warnings: Stalking, Soft!Yandere Behavior, Unintentional/Unaware Cuddling (does this count as a warning?) The behavior shown by Stephen here is completely unhealthy and should not be viewed as ideal for real life nor romantic in real life.
Word Count: 1075
If there’s one thing Stephen has plenty of, it’s time. Time to do nothing but watch over Ultron and Killmonger for all eternity. But it’s only fair. It might seem like a cruel fate, but Stephen thinks that he’s cemented his extended (frankly, let’s be real here, nearly immortal) lifespan to this. This atonement, to pay for destroying his universe for his selfish desires. It seemed as though he were doomed to live out this fate, nothing of any joy to accompany him during any of it.
But then came along you. You, with your bright smile and enchanting personality that rivals the stormiest of days. Now Stephen has never officially met you, not yet, at least, (he plans to introduce himself some day, but that time has not yet come), but he’s been watching you for a while now. A few times he’s even stayed in the same room with you, quite literally the fly on the wall. But he never came forth. Why would he, when he's entirely content (as of right now) merely watch you? Just the sight of you was enough to satisfy Stephen. You were both a distraction from the tedious task he’s been resigned to as well as a great recreation from said duty. He’s not sure how he first caught sight of you, when there were endless universes flying through the magic portal he conjured, but miraculously he did. And he has never looked back since.
Quite literally too. He never wants to take his eyes off of you, no matter the number of eyes the form he was in had, he didn’t want to take a single one off of you unless absolutely necessary. Even if he had to, he would find a way to keep at least one eye on you, his pride and joy in this grand multiverse.
Tonight- or was it day? It was impossible to tell in his universe- Stephen was once again observing you. (One could argue that it was also night time in Stephen’s universe since he was constantly peering into yours.) He saw you do your nightly routine before you climbed into bed. And after several minutes, you were fast asleep. Your breathing was steady and calm. Lying there, on your bed, with soft, pale moonlight gently caressing your form, in Stephen’s mind, you looked just like a royal. No, not a royal, something more… ethereal. He pondered over this for a moment before the answer came.
An angel. A regal angel, at that. You were his regal angel.
A mere glimpse of you was enough to take his breath away. And tonight that rang especially true. Maybe if he was a better man, he could be with you. He could be with you physically, not just spiritually. If he wasn’t such a monster, maybe he could be worthy of you. Of your sweet embrace. Of your compassionate reassurance.
His mind began to wander. What would it be like to talk to you? Would your voice be as lovely as it sounds from his universe? What would it be like to hold you? Or even, what would it be like to be held by you? These thoughts, along with a vivid reel of images showcasing said thoughts, swam through his head. Before he was fully aware of what he was doing, Stephen was already inside your room, having stepped through a portal he conjured. Just a few feet in front of him there you lay. A content, almost blank, expression on your face as you dreamed. Stephen, emboldened by your peaceful presence, quietly made his way over to you. The scent of you only encouraged Stephen more.
With movement as swift as a bunny and as gentle as a feather, Stephen was now in bed with you. Actually with you. Not some illusion he cast, nor some dream of his own. This was real, very much so.
It was just as Stepehn had always dreamed of. It was a type of magic that even he himself was unable to replicate on his own.
His arms were snaked around your waist, his head just beside yours. Seeing you up close granted him to see all these minor features of yours he could not pick up before. He devoured every new detail he discovered. As if you couldn’t be even more lovely, there you were again, proving the sorcerer wrong once again. Usually, he’d be very disappointed to be wrong, but for you he’ll make an exception. You kept solidifying your position as an angelic royal gracing him with your presence.
Just as Stephen was getting comfortable, you shifted. He froze. Did he wake you up? He held his breath, fearing the worst. You were gonna wake up, realize that someone was in bed with you, and scream. He was a fool to think that he could deserve anything as wonderful as this. That he could come even close to being worthy of someone like you. A monstrous entity such as himself deserves no such pity from the multiverse. In an existence as vast as this, there’s nothing one could truly hope for without ultimately being crushed by the soulless, contemptuously demeaning reality.
Stephen’s mind was plagued with these thoughts until suddenly, he felt your body shift; he felt you lean into him rather than recoil away. You… you were actually enjoying his touch. As if to dispel any more negative thoughts of his, you gave a sigh of content. The sound made Stephen freeze once again. This time, however, it was out of a happily surprised and shocked kind of frozen. How could someone like you treat a being like him so nicely?
By now you were completely wrapped up in Stephen’s arms with no hint of fear whatsoever on your face. It almost felt like the two of you were a couple. The thought made his heart swoon. He smiled. With his eyes closed, he once again imagined what life would be like by your side in a normal life. Hell, even with how he is now. If you were like this in your sleep, and if you truly were the person he thought you were based on how long he’s been watching you, then there was hardly a doubt in Stephen’s mind that being together wouldn’t work out.
Because if his darling can (subconsciously) recognize the good in him, then maybe he isn’t the monster he thought he was.
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purpledragongifs · 8 months
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Doctor Strange in What If...? Doctor Strange Lost His Heart Instead of His Hands - Marvel Studios
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fanartka · 23 days
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mrsstrangewinter · 10 days
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What If... Doctor Strange Lost His Heart Instead of His Hands?
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geezhigoquae · 8 months
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Reaching
Stephen Strange x Christine Palmer
Word count: 696
A/N: Found this in the notes app on my phone from when What If was on air back in September 2021. I remember there was meant to be three chapters so I'll write the others if I remember the plan.
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Christine.
He groaned, twisting his body on the cold concrete. Power - power stolen over centuries - stirred in him, like a throbbing ache, the dull beat of an anvil.
It was wrong. It was so, so wrong.
Christine.
The sky was darkened by his grief, his madness and pain. The city, cars, buildings, people, streets were fading away, being stripped from existence.
Christine!
His heart was not gone - not entirely, but it was hardened beyond recognition. Like a wilted flower, poisoned by grief. His mind was inflicted too, and was driven to a blinding madness blocking out everything but what he chose to see.
He did not hear the words of the Ancient One, when she pleaded him to stop, when the echo of her soul from another universe reached out to help his.
The words did not reach his heart.
Christine.
Nothing could have convinced him to pull back. Not even himself. He’d come too far, sacrificed his everything, for one more chance. One more chance to touch her again and not watch her die in his arms, as he had so many times. One more chance to hear her voice, hear her laugh, and to watch their lives pan out without ending so abruptly on that night.
He was not a god. He had reached too far, taken too much, twisted the laws of physics and reality to such an extreme that it destroyed him. Only now did he see his arrogance.
“Is she worth it?”
Stephen turned around to her.
There was a disappointment in her eyes that broke him more than all his grief, multiplied over and over and over again, than years upon years of reaching for power, of a sadness that could end all this existence; all to have her again. His own reflection stared back at him through her eyes. And it was terrifying.
There was also fear in her eyes.
He now knew what a monster was made of. Heartache, and pain. Grief and regret, sadness and an utter desperation that grips the soul. It is the hammer that beats upon the broken, shattering a creature to none more than the most terrible of sorrows. A wound that never seems to heal. It is the illusion that you can do anything to reverse your pains, when all that is really needed is to heal. It is the madness, the terrible bending of the human heart and the refusal to change or accept what is.
Not all the broken become monsters. Some become heroes, as many have.
“Stephen,” the Ancient One had said ages past, “oftentimes one’s grief can lead them to save others.”
“Well what if I don’t want to save others? I just want to save her.”
He could have been better, in another universe, another time. But instead he lay here, on the pavement of an old city block, in a universe threatening to collapse, beside the woman he’s lost it all for.
“Strange is meant to be the best of us,” words uttered in a distant universe.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
The world was breaking around him, physics and reality was breaking as the universe tumbled inward. I can fix this. I can fix this.
I’m so sorry, Christine.
He let go, purging the power from him. He tried to set it back. He tried to keep it open.
On the edge of it, he saw the Watcher.
“Fix this!” he screamed. “You can fix this!”
The Watcher fixed his sight on Stephen. “If I could fix this, I would.” His words echoed into the dying universe.
“No, no! I didn't mean for this to happen!”
“Stephen?” Christine looked up at him. “What did you do?” It seemed as though she could finally recognize him.
“No, no, no, no, no!”
He cradled her as she began to fade away, as with everything else. It felt wrong to touch her with so much darkness within him.
“I’m sorry, Christine. I am so, so sorry,” his cries left his lungs as he clung to her.
“Stephen?”
In that moment, the Watcher reached out and took one thing, before that universe died out like a briefly burning flame.
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thingsasbarcodes · 5 months
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What If...? 1x04 - What If... Doctor Strange Lost His Heart Instead of His Hands?
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crystallinestars · 5 months
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How They React to Your Death
My HCs about how I think the Genshin boys would react to your death. I wanted to write Kaeya too, but ran out of steam.
This month has been terrible to me, so I was in the mood for angst. I don't know how well these turned out, but they were fun to think about.
Characters: Alhaitham, Childe, Heizou, Kaveh, Lyney, Neuvillette, Venti, Wanderer/Scaramouche, and Wriothesley
WARNING:
Reader has death descriptions. Some are more graphic than others, but I don't get into the nitty gritty details.
Spoilers for the backstories of all the mentioned boys.
MAJOR SPOILERS for Act V of the Fontaine Archon quest in Neuvillette's part.
Childe's part contains mention of suicidal thoughts.
Kaveh's and Venti's parts contain alcoholism
🎧 Alhaitham
Despite Alhaitham’s considerable wealth, no amount of money could cure your Eleazar sickness. His money could only buy treatment that prolonged your life a little bit, but ultimately your many years of battling the illness ended when he got news from the doctors that you had passed away in your sleep.
Alhaitham had accepted the news fairly quickly. He knew your death was inevitable, could see you slowly wasting away each time he visited you in the hospital over the past few months. So it was no surprise to him when the day finally came. The other patients and staff thought it strange how Alhaitham had no visible reaction to the news, but some chalked it up to shock when in truth the Scribe was simply accepting of that fact. There was no use denying something that already happened.
When Alhaitham came home that day, the house felt silent and empty. It reminded him of how the house felt when his grandmother passed away when he was younger. The sensations were similar. However, he did not cry over your death. Instead, he carried on his life as normal, or as close to it as he could now that you were no longer a part of what he considered ‘normal’.
At first glance, people thought that Haitham was unaffected by your death. Nothing about him changed. Not his mannerisms, his quality of work, or his expression. He remained the same reserved, stoic Scribe who had no time for trivial nonsense or extra work. He also never talked about you to others aside from confirming their question if you were truly gone. Alhaitham was like a well-oiled machine that worked efficiently like clockwork, keeping up the same even rhythm.
What they don’t see is how he comes home with the expectation of hearing your voice greet him upon entering, only to be faced with a defeating silence that makes his heart sink. They don’t know that Alhaitham wakes up throughout the night, expecting to find you snuggled up next to him in bed the way you used to before your sickness got worse, and you had to be hospitalized. However, you weren’t there no matter how many times he looked towards your side of the bed, and the Scribe could only sigh and try to fall back asleep while ignoring his aching heart.
No one sees how Alhaitham gets too lost in his books in the mornings and accidentally makes two cups of coffee instead of one due to force of habit. Or how, for once, he finds the silence of his house bothersome without your voice and the sounds of your activities resounding within the walls, and it’s enough to distract him from reading. He could be found reading at the House of Daena and Puspa Café more often from then on.
During his afternoon naps, Alhaitham sneaks back home and cradles your favorite blanket to mimic the sensation of holding your soft body in his arms the way he used to when you joined him for naps. He listens to recordings of you talking with him just so he can hear your voice again. He was glad he made the decision to record your voice at the hospital before you became too weak to speak. It gave him the chance to hear you one more time even if the sound of your voice made his chest hurt so much that he occasionally had to stop the recording to collect himself.
Nobody sees how Alhaitham finally picks up the fiction books you recommended him because they were your favorite. He prefers non-fiction, but these books are the last things he has left through which he could connect to your mind and way of thinking. He reads them all cover-to-cover even if he finds the story lacking or the writing not to his taste. He will learn to treasure each and every word because you once did.
What someone might see, as Kaveh did when he moved in with the Scribe, is a bookshelf filled with a few journals, a thick book with an emerald cover, and an assortment of fiction books that exist nowhere else in the house. Alhaitham never talks about these books unless asked, but their well-worn covers are a sign of frequent use, and sure enough, one can catch him reading a rare fiction book during one specific month each year.
🐋 Childe
You went missing after going out to collect some firewood in the woods near Childe’s home. A search party was arranged to find you with Childe in the lead, and he was also the first one to find your remains. Your body had been torn apart, blood and innards splattered across the snow, no doubt the work of some rifthounds. Usually, Childe would relish in such a gory sight, but not this time. Not when it’s your blood and flesh painted in the snow.
The sight leaves him numb. He’s numb when the search party comes to retrieve you, numb when he sees your parents weeping over your gruesome death, and numb when he takes on the duty of exterminating every rifthound he finds around Morepesok.
He wants to cry too, to grieve for you the way he needs, but refrains. He doesn’t want to appear weak and unreliable when his younger siblings mourn and cry over your death. You were like family to them, and your death broke their little hearts to pieces. Childe didn’t want to burden his siblings further by breaking down in front of them. He needed to remain a reliable older brother who could support them through this tough time, even when his own heart bled and he cried in his sleep when he dreamed about you.
Childe’s underlings noted that the Eleventh Harbinger became colder and more irritable after your passing. Any mention of your name would garner the speaker a harsh glare, and if Childe assumed what said person said about you was disrespectful, he didn’t hesitate to start a fight and beat the other person within an inch of their life. He became violent and unhinged, much like how he used to be when he returned from the Abyss as a fourteen-year-old boy.
Childe knew his behavior was irrational, and it pained him to see even his own family fear him due to his violent actions. He felt restless. Spending time at home among your belongings summoned feelings of longing and sadness, but even so, he couldn’t bear to throw anything away. He lived among the ghosts of your existence, however, it drove him mad with grief.
Childe needed an outlet for his emotions, so he took to fighting monsters and other strong opponents. He became even more reckless in battle. If before, the Harbinger sought out strong enemies to test his mettle against them and grow stronger as a result, now he sought out an opponent that would be worthy of taking his life.
Childe didn’t want to abandon his family. He loved them dearly and wanted to see his siblings grow up to be happy and successful people, but life without you felt so hollow. A part of him wanted to return to his family, but the sense of his family feeling incomplete never left him. You were just as much of a family to him as his siblings and parents were. He had plans to start his own family with you. But now… now, a part of him yearns to reunite with you in the afterlife. He promised he would stay by your side no matter what, and Ajax is not one to break his promises.
🔍 Heizou
Heizou was one of the first to hear about your stabbing that occurred in an Inazuman alleyway late that evening. You were rushed to a doctor to have your wound treated, but the robber who attacked you hit a vital area. Your blood loss was colossal, and it wasn’t long after arriving at the doctor’s that you succumbed to your injury.
To Heizou, the news brought on a sense of deja vu. He’s already lost a friend to crime in the past, and now he lost you to crime, too. The knowledge made him furious and heartbroken. He was angry at the robber for stabbing you just so he could steal some money that you didn’t want to part with, and he was angry at himself for failing to prevent this. After his friend passed away, Heizou swore to nip crime in the bud by discouraging criminals from committing crimes with the threat that he would find and capture them no matter what without fail. But what good did his resolve do if you still died because of an armed robber?
The heartache and guilt he felt ate away at him as the memory of your ashen face during your last few moments haunted him. He lost you. Never again would he get to spend time with you and make you laugh, kiss and hug you, or tell you he loved you.
His anger drove him to capture the murderer in record time, but hearing the criminal’s subsequent sentence for theft and murder didn’t comfort the detective. No amount of jail time would ever atone for the loss of your life.
After that day, Heizou lost his playful demeanor, becoming somber and reserved. He threw himself into his work, feeling pressured to capture as many criminals as he could in as little time as possible. However, his grief and exhaustion caused his mind to dull and make mistakes while investigating clues. It got to the point where Kujou Sara had to forcibly send him on vacation so he could take a break and properly process your death.
Despite his protests, Heizou knew he wasn’t much use in his current state, so he took this free time to visit your family and mourn together with them. He apologized for not doing a better job of protecting you, fully expecting your parents to lay blame on him for not protecting their child. To his surprise, your parents didn’t blame him at all. They even thanked him for catching the murderer and helping them to feel a little more at peace. Heizou’s interaction with your family helped him feel a tiny bit less guilty about your death.
The experience left him feeling a little less broken, so in the following days he sorted through your belongings in your shared home. He packed away some items to return to your parents, some things he put in storage, and others he gave away that he remembered you wanting to get rid of. A few of your items he kept for himself, one of which was a scarf you mentioned you bought because it was the same shade of green as his eyes which reminded you of him.
Heizou wore your scarf as a keepsake and good luck charm and would hardly be seen without it when he finally came back to work. What once served as your reminder of him, now served as his reminder of you, the person he loved with his whole being. But with the memories of you came the reminder of how you died. Though the memory was painful, it helped Heizou work up the will to keep pursuing his goal of eradicating crime. Even when the case was extremely tough with conflicting clues, your scarf would remind him to not give up, to not let another incident like yours happen again, and Heizou would persevere. He would continue to persevere no matter how long it took because he didn’t want innocent lives like yours to be snatched away so cruelly. Maybe one day, he will see you in the afterlife and proudly tell you all about how he achieved his dream. Until then, he will work hard to be worthy of the title of Inazuma’s best detective.
🍷 Kaveh
Kaveh had a lot of work to do. He was saddled with creating drafts for another large project while also trying to work on the commission for constructing a library in Aaru village for the children. Wanting to help alleviate his burden, you offered to take the finished drafts over to Aaru village yourself so he could focus on finishing up work for his other project. Kaveh tried to object, saying you really didn’t need to trouble yourself on his behalf, but you insisted, expressing your desire to help him finish his work sooner so the two of you could spend more time together again. After some deliberation, he let you go to the village by yourself, confident that you could make the trip since you accompanied him there several times before.
A few days later, Kaveh received news that you had died on your return trip from the desert. When he heard the cause of your death, his stomach roiled. You perished in quicksand just like his father. You died doing something for his sake, just like his father did.
Whatever future plans he was building together with you, whatever progress you made in helping him slowly heal from his trauma, it all came crashing down around him. Your death reopened old wounds Kaveh was only starting to heal from, as well as left new scars that tormented him every waking moment.
The first few weeks, Kaveh couldn’t stand to be in your shared home. It was full of memories of you, and each and every one of your belongings would stab at his heart like a blade. Moreover, the house felt so silent without you around. It reminded him of when his mother left for Fontaine, leaving him alone in a house too big for only him to live in. Now, he was reliving that moment all over again, but it was worse this time because, unlike his mother, he would never see you again.
Kaveh also couldn’t stand to look inside his sketchbooks. The pages were covered in various sketches of you, and looking at them only made the anguish and guilt grow in him tenfold. He blamed himself for your death, attributing it to being his fault just like he attributes his father’s death as his fault too. No matter what anyone says to console him, he will never stop believing it’s all his fault.
Fueled by guilt and self-loathing, Kaveh spent several weeks visiting Lambad’s tavern practically every day. One could even say he lived there since the architect seldom went home. He used what little money he had to buy alcohol, especially of the stronger kind. He wanted to numb the pain in his heart and to pretend that you weren’t really gone from this world. The alcohol helped to muddle his mind until his intoxicated brain conjured happy memories of you together, and Kaveh would mumble your name in a drunken haze. Other times it didn’t help, and Alhaitham, Cyno, or Tighnari could often find a drunk Kaveh quietly crying while slumped over a table and trying their best to drag him home while listening to his drunken babble of self-loathing and regret.
It will take a long time for Kaveh to feel okay again, and even then, he will never be the same optimistic and cheerful person he used to be. You were his muse, the one who made him feel like maybe he was deserving of love after all. But with you gone, he lost his creative spark. His designs no longer held the same extravagant and artistic flair they used to. Now, they’re more tame by comparison. With your passing, you took with you the little bit of joy he felt towards the world, and it seemed more bleak than it used to be when he was with you.
Kaveh refused to seek out love after your death. He’s lost too many people he held dear and has been left alone over and over again. The pain of being left behind and of feeling like he will only bring misfortune to those he cares about, made him seal off his heart. He doesn’t want to let people close to him like that again, and neither does he want to replace you. You were, and still are, very special to him.
Despite numerous years going by after your passing, Kaveh never forgot you, and he didn’t want your memory to be forgotten either. He built an art school and dedicated it to you in honor of being the one who inspired him so much in his creative endeavors. He hopes that your name will live on and continue to inspire future generations of artists long after he is gone from the world.
🎩 Lyney Having grown up in the House of the Hearth with Lyney and Lynette, the twins were practically like family to you. Though admittedly, Lyney and you developed romantic ties rather than familial ones the more you got to know each other. It was no surprise to anyone when the two of you became a couple, and Lynette even encouraged it.
Being a member of the Fatui, you were often sent out on dangerous missions to infiltrate enemy territory and report your findings back to Arlecchino. You were good at your job and had major successfully completed missions under your belt, but even the best slip up sometimes. After infiltrating enemy headquarters, you regularly reported your findings back to the House, however, one day the correspondence stopped. You went completely silent. The thought of you being caught immediately crossed Lyney’s mind, but he was hopeful that as an experienced agent, you would manage to find a way out somehow. You always have in the past, and after having worked together with you during joint missions, he saw first-hand how capable you were. To pass the time, he focused on polishing a magic trick he wanted to show you upon your return.
Days go by, and just as the magician is about to lose his patience and run off to try and find you, news about your body washing up on a riverbank reaches his ears. The heartbreak Lyney experiences upon hearing the news is indescribable. He felt lost, disoriented, and anguished. A part of him refused to believe the facts, but after witnessing the gruesome sight of your corpse, he had no choice but to face reality.
You were dead.
Lyney wondered at length about the cause of your death, and while his own guesses made his stomach knot, the autopsy report he read a few days later made him livid. Numerous torture and abuse marks were found on your body. It seemed that the enemy had captured and tortured you, hoping to force you to spill some of the Fatui’s secrets. Judging by the severity of the most recent wounds, you must have kept quiet because more brutal torture methods were used on you until the enemy figured out they wouldn’t get anything out of you, and disposed of you. Lyney knew how loyal you were to your family. You would never betray them even at the cost of your own life, but in that moment, he really wished you would have treasured your life more. Maybe then you could have survived. Maybe then he would have had the chance to hold you in his arms and tell you he missed you while you were gone. Maybe he would have had an opportunity to show off the magic trick he created specifically for your eyes only. But now, he’ll continue to miss you until the day death comes for him too. Lyney’s initial reaction upon hearing of your torture is overwhelming fury. Lynette had to hold him back from recklessly running off to take revenge against the enemy. It took a lot of reasoning on her part, but eventually, her brother calmed down.
Once his bout of anger passed, Lyney broke down. Lynette didn’t hide her own tears as she held her brother in her arms while he cried. The siblings both missed you dearly and mourned your loss, but Lyney took your death especially hard. He felt broken. One of his most precious people was taken from him in such a cruel manner, and the mere thought of how you must have spent your last few waking hours made him feel horrible.
He was anguished and angry, and the potent concoction of negative emotions weighed down on his heart and mind. Gone was his cheerful smile and outgoing attitude, replaced with a cold and somber frown. His calculative side took center stage. Though his initial burst of outrage passed, he wouldn’t give up on his desire for revenge until the act had been carried out. Aside from the twins, Arlecchino also refused to take your death lying down. You were her precious child, someone she put in a lot of love and effort to raise, and this transgression angered her as much as it angered Lyney. Together with Arlecchino, Lyney and Lynette infiltrate enemy headquarters and make every person a part of that organization pay. The magician ensures that the perpetrators experience the same pain you went through during your torture, and by the time they’re done, not a soul is left alive.
Even after exacting revenge, Lyney barely feels a smidge better. Though your captors have been neutralized and won’t hurt anyone the way they hurt you ever again, it doesn’t satisfy Lyney. At the end of the day, all he wants is to have you back in his life. He consoles himself with pieces of your clothing. Your clothes smelled like you, and Lyney hugged one of your items every night, breathing in your scent and soaking the material with his tears as he quietly cried. It takes a long time for Lyney to get himself together and act like himself again. Though he could easily put on a fake smile for his audience, his heart still aches inside. He misses you no matter how many months go by, and Lynette has her hands full comforting him when he breaks down at night and cries about how much he wants to see you. Lyney would have had an easier time accepting your death if you had passed away more peacefully, but knowing you were tortured to death will forever haunt him.
Once he feels more like himself, Lyney incorporates the magic trick he originally wanted to show you upon your return into his magic shows. He only performs it during special occasions so it would leave a great spectacle upon his audience. It was once made to awe you, but now it awes his audience, and a part of him feels some semblance of catharsis in knowing he could inspire others to feel the same joy you made him feel using just this trick. At times like these, Lyney feels as if a part of you was still there with him, enjoying the show he secretly dedicates in your honor.
⚖️ Neuvillette
You were visiting your friend Navia in Poisson, when the Primordial Sea flooded the area and caused a great catastrophe that took the lives of many of its residents. Neuvillette was aware you were in Poisson when the disaster struck, and he tried to get there as quickly as he could to check on you. He would have arrived there immediately were it not for the pressing matters he had to settle prior. He hoped the Traveler and Paimon would find you and keep you safe since they knew you were the Iudex’s beloved.
When he finally made it to Poisson, to his morbid surprise, he found neither you nor Navia, but some Fatui members helping to mitigate the damage. When he asked about your whereabouts, he was told that nobody had seen you. Immediately, his thoughts ventured to the worst scenario, but he refused to believe in his fears until he could get confirmation. He held out hope that you were alright, and went in pursuit of Navia and the Traveler, hoping that maybe you were with them, or they knew what happened to you.
It wasn’t until he was saving Navia from getting dissolved in the Primordial Sea water, did he catch a glimpse of your face. You were trying to protect Navia from certain death, along with Silver and Meluse. At the time he was too anxious about saving Navia to fully register the implication, but an unsettling thought sprang in his mind that maybe you really were— No, he didn’t want to accept it.
When Navia regained consciousness, Neuvillette asked her about your whereabouts. Her answer pierced through him like an ice-cold lance. With tears in her eyes, Navia recounted how you were helping Silver and Meluse rescue the residents of Poisson when the Primordial Sea flooded in, and how she saw your body dissolve in the water along with her loyal subordinates with her own eyes. The news settled in Neuvillette’s stomach like a boulder, causing it to sink and make him feel nauseous. Dread filled him, but he could only muster a quiet “I see…” and stare off into the distance. He felt crushing sadness, but he wasn’t given time to properly process his emotions and your death until he managed to make it out of the ruins.
That evening, Fontaine was hit by a torrential downpour that lasted several days. The rain fell in heavy sheets, flooding the streets and urging most of the citizens to seek shelter in their homes. Only the Chief Justice had the gall to stand outside and let the rain seep and soak through his clothes.
Neuvillette let the water droplets cascade down his face, imitating the tears he wished to shed as the realization that he would never see you again settled in. It was strange. Though he was on land, each waking moment he was pursued by a constant feeling of drowning. His chest felt heavy as if burdened by a great weight that made each breath he took feel like a herculean task.
Neuvillette felt a lot of emotions he couldn’t find the words for. He was frustrated and angry that innocent civilians had died in the flood because nothing was done to prevent it. So many people died. You died. If nothing else, he wanted to get justice for your and the others’ deaths.
However, Furina refused to provide answers to his questions despite his probing and insistence that now was not the time to keep secrets that could potentially help prevent an even greater catastrophe. That was when he turned to seeking aid from his companions, in the hopes that Fontaine could still be saved. Neuvillette lost and gained many things in those few days. The citizens of Fontaine were freed of their curse, and Neuvillette had obtained a position of complete authority, however, it all came at the cost of the lives of innocent civilians, Focalors’s life, Furina’s mental state, and… your life. Those were great prices to pay, and Neuvillette mourned each and every sacrifice.
Now that he had some time to himself to process his feelings, Neuvillette recognized that what he felt was grief and longing. He wanted to see you at least one more time, to feel you in his arms again. To have you taken from him so suddenly was too painful. He never got to tell you one last ‘I love you’, and he could only hope that his words reach you wherever your consciousness might be now. Fontaine will see frequent rainfall in the coming months. It won’t be easy for Neuvillette to get over your death, and some part of him will always ache and yearn to see you again. But one thing he can do is strengthen his resolve to make Fontaine into a nation that both you and Focalors would be proud of. A nation where tragedies like these will never happen again.
🍃 Venti
Venti liked to climb up on high places like his statue in front of the Favonius church, the rooftop of the Cat’s Tail, or the great tree at Windrise. Today, you found him high up in the tree, absentmindedly strumming a new tune on his lyre. Wanting to surprise the bard, you tried your best to climb the tree as quietly as you could, but right as you were about to pop up and surprise him, the branch you were on snapped, and with a heart-stopping shriek, you plummeted down to the ground.
Your scream alerted Venti. He felt your presence before you even started climbing the tree, but he failed to foresee the danger until it was too late. He didn’t react fast enough to summon a gust of wind to safely lower you down. The sickening crunch of your skull hitting the ground made his stomach roil, and for a brief moment he felt as if the blood in his veins turned to ice. He felt frozen in place.
Snapping out of his momentary stupor, Venti rushed to your side to check on you, but the enormous pool of blood blooming around your lifeless body made him throw up.
Not again. He lost someone he loved once more. The painful emotions of losing you triggered a cascade of memories of seeing the broken body of that one boy he called a friend thousands of years ago. The same boy whose face he now wore as a way of honoring his memory and giving him an opportunity to live out his dreams of freedom through Venti.
Venti felt that same feeling of heavy emptiness once again as he cradled your lifeless body in his arms, your blood smearing the white sleeves of his shirt. One of the bard’s hands cradled your still-warm cheek, and he wept. To have you taken away so easily through such a small accident… it was too much.
Venti didn’t attend your funeral. He couldn’t bear to. However, he forced himself to watch from a distance as your loved ones gathered around your grave. He fully empathized with their grief.
In the following days, one could often find Venti at a tavern. He started with Angel’s Share, but after consecutive days of heavy drinking and drunken ramblings about how remorseful he felt and how you deserved better, Diluc put a stop to Venti’s visits. The Anemo Archon wasn’t getting any better from drinking himself into a stupor until he could barely hold himself upright. It was heartbreaking to see.
Even after being banned from the Angel’s Share, Venti would visit other taverns in the city and rinse and repeat. He so badly wanted to numb the pain in his heart and forget the awful memory of your lifeless body. Only after several bans did Venti finally stop coming to the city altogether. He disappeared for a while, and nobody was able to find him. Only after many weeks did the bard suddenly pop up in the town square with his lyre in hand.
During his absence, Venti wrote a few songs as a way to cope with his grief, and after a while, finally felt well enough to play them. As a bard, he was well-known in Mondstadt for playing cheerful and beautiful tunes, but this time his melodies were melancholic, even sad. They listened to him sing about a love he can no longer say ‘I love you’ to anymore, someone he can no longer forge new memories with and can only carry on in his heart as a memory. The music he played captured the attention of every member of the audience and touched their hearts so deeply that they, too, could feel the sorrow the bard was trying to convey through his melodies. His pain became their pain, too. The heartache was so profound, so raw and crippling, that many people couldn’t hold back from crying.
Venti wasn’t playing the songs to earn money or share his sadness with others. He was playing them for you. He hoped that his feelings would reach you wherever you were and that your memory wouldn’t fade away even if he remained the last person alive who knew of your existence. His songs will keep your memory alive in the hearts of the Mondstadt citizens, never to be forgotten.
☂️ Wanderer
You have been fighting chronic sickness for months, but despite the treatments, each week you seemed to get worse and worse. Neither the doctors of Sumeru nor even Nahida herself could figure out a cure for your condition. You were bedridden with barely any strength to move. Wanderer took responsibility for nursing you back to health by helping you get to places you needed, cooking all your meals and feeding you, as well as getting your medicine and administering it.
Despite his efforts, you could tell you wouldn’t last long. While you still had the strength to talk, you apologized to him for being forced to part from him.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he scoffed, with a frown pulling at his lips. “Rather than talk about such nonsense, use that energy to get better instead.”
He didn’t want to face the facts, to accept the reality that you could disappear from his life. But then came a day where you no longer opened your eyes when he called your name, nor stirred when he tried to shake you awake. Your body was cold and stiff and so unlike what he was used to seeing you as. The life you possessed was gone in all senses of the word.
Something in Wanderer snapped that day. Falling to his knees, he let out a guttural scream that tore at his vocal cords. He unleashed a wail that carried all the anguish and misery he’d been keeping bottled up inside for hundreds of years. He’s lost so many people he cared for in the past. Each time he met someone he grew attached to, fate would always tear them away from him, and you were no exception.
He cried bitter tears in the privacy of your shared home, cursing Fate for doing this to him over and over again. He was angry and heartbroken. Though he lacked a real heart, the sensation in his chest felt like something inside him broke into a million tiny fragments. As if sharp needles pierced through his non-existent heart and caused him to scream until he lost his voice.
He wanted revenge, but how can one get vengeance against Fate itself?
You were gone, so cruelly torn away from his side despite his best efforts to keep you alive. You were the little ray of light that never gave up on him no matter how cold he was towards you or how much he pushed you away, and helped him heal little by little. You accepted him in his entirety and wormed your way into his non-existent heart, so how dare Fate mock him like this? Wanderer truly felt as if Fate was purposely torturing him by taking away all those whom he held dear.
Helpless and anguished, Wanderer reverted to the days when he used to be Scaramouche, the sixth of the Fatui Harbingers who was infamous for his callousness and mercilessness. His roiling emotions spurred him to repeat these spiteful acts against anyone who got in his way. It was the only way he knew of how to vent these overwhelming emotions that made him feel like he was choking on his grief.
It took Nahida’s interference to calm him down and get through to him that you wouldn’t want him to be like this. The Wanderer you fell in love with wasn’t such a hateful person driven by negative emotions, and though he was loathe to admit it, the God of Wisdom was right.
Having quelled the initial burst of wounded anger, Wanderer would think more clearly about what he should do from now on. He could keep all your items, photographs, and letters, but they would never replace you, only help preserve some of the memories attached to them, which a puppet like him had no need for. He won’t forget even the smallest thing about you, not as long as he’s alive.
Wanderer becomes a regular visitor of your grave, taking care of it so your name won’t be erased from the gravestone by time too quickly. He would frequently bring your favorite foods and flowers and place them in front of your grave, before taking a seat next to it and staring off into the distance without saying a word. He did this mostly at night so he could stargaze, just like how you both used to when you were alive.
Even centuries later, when everyone who knew you took their memories of you to their graves, Wanderer will remain to watch over your final resting place, unwavering in his devotion.
🐺 Wriothesley
You accompanied Wriothesley on another one of his swims out in the open waters surrounding the Fortress. Since you weren’t a vision holder, you had to wear a diving suit to breathe, unlike your beloved Duke. You’ve had these private little swim dates a few times before, so your guard was down when you swam through some jagged areas of the Fortress’s scaffolding. The shoulder of your diving suit caught on a sharp edge of metal and tore a hole in it. The tear was fairly large, and you panicked when you felt water rush inside your suit. Wriothesley was quick to freeze the hole and pull you up to the surface to get the suit off of you, but by the time he did, it was too late. You had inhaled too much water and were unresponsive. Wriothesley tried to keep his anxiety at bay and utilized all the CPR knowledge he learned from Sigewinne to try and save your life. He breathed air into your lungs and did chest compressions with enough force to hear your ribs crack, but even after 30 agonizing minutes of trying, you wouldn’t wake up.
Wriothesley had no choice but to accept the fact you died. Wriothesley doesn’t cry for you. He’s no stranger to death. His exposure to it in his younger years made him all too aware of how easy it is to die, and that death came for all without exception. As a result, he was able to accept your death a little easier than most, but it doesn’t mean he made peace with it. The staff and inmates at the Fortress all said Wriothesley looked the same as usual even after your death. He kept up his laidback yet intimidating demeanor and busied himself with the variety of work someone in his position was required to take care of. Only Sigewinne could tell that Wriothesley was not alright despite all the strained smiles he gave everyone. The bags under his eyes grew more prominent by the day, a clear indicator he wasn’t sleeping well. She saw how he threw himself into his work, barely taking any time to rest properly, as if wanting to keep his mind busy from the horrible memory of seeing your corpse. Though he tried to mask it, in truth, your death affected Wriothesley deeply. He had frequent nightmares about watching you drown and being unable to save you, and they would keep him up at night. He usually awoke in a cold sweat, his heart pounding from intense panic and dread until his mind cleared, only to be replaced with a stone-cold reality that made the feelings of guilt come rushing back. Out of habit, he turns to your side of the bed to seek comfort in your presence but seeing it cold and empty served as yet another harsh reminder that you were gone. Wriothesley can’t sleep after his nightmares, so he opts to work out or fuss over his gauntlets to distract himself from his feelings. It takes all his self-control to keep a lid on his emotions and not become the angry, irritable mess he knows he will be if he’s not careful.
When he makes tea, Wriothesley accidentally makes two cups out of habit. One for you and one for him. Even weeks after your passing, it was still a difficult habit to break. For the first while, Wriothesley would even stop drinking your favorite tea blend because it reminded him of you. Rather than enjoy the flavor, all he tastes is bile in his throat. The flavor of your favorite tea makes him nauseous because it makes him think about how you will never taste this again or have another tea date in his office.
There was one occasion when he tried to drink your tea shortly after your death. He thought maybe the flavor would remind him of the happy times he shared with you, but all it resulted in was a broken teacup from the force of his grip, and Sigewinne fussing over his cuts and burns. He didn’t drink your favorite blend for a long time after that, only being able to find enjoyment in it again many years later when the startlingly clear memory of your death didn’t hurt him as much. Wriothesley felt lonely without you. You were the friend and confidant he told his deepest and darkest secrets about his past, the comfort he sought after a difficult day, and the soothing presence that made him feel accepted for who he was without all the embellished titles. But after your passing, the Fortress of Meropide seemed cold and gloomy, as if devoid of the warmth it once had that made him call it home. It was as if your death snuffed out the little ray of warm sunshine he felt when spending time with you.
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ghouljams · 2 months
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Courting (Letters from Lt. Riley)
tags: regency au, Ghost x f!reader/OC, courting, letters, Ghost flirting and also being so weird with it, courting gifts
summary: You told Ghost he could write you. He does.
The maids drop off the letter while you're in the study. The wax seal on the front is unbroken, which you find strange. Aren't parents normally supposed inspect courting letters? You suppose you should be thankful your mother isn't a noble by birth, she doesn't have the same care for propriety you know others do. She's always maintained that love is for the people involved and no one else. Though, love is a far stretch for your feelings as far as you're concerned.
Ghost seems to go out of his way to aggravate and annoy you. You will say... you've never enjoyed conversations quite so much as you enjoy them with him, and you've never had a man entertain your debating so well, and you suppose his eyes are rather warm and honeyed enough to catch attention. You like that you can see the curve of his lips under his mask when he smiles, and that the lines beside his eyes crease when he looks at you. And you like his hands, you suppose, if you had to pick something.
You break the seal of the letter and unfold the thick paper. There's a thin sheet of silver paper covering the actual writing and you scoff at the precaution. Surely the man isn't saying anything so scandalous as to need more protection from prying eyes. Still, you're careful removing the tissue-y layer.
Your breath catches in your throat, fingers hovering to trace carefully over the lines of charcoal covering the page. It dirties your glove and you're quick to avoid touching the paper directly, lest you sully the careful work of portraiture. It's you, your profile staring determined off into the distance, a slight frown on your lovingly shaped lips and a gentle crease to your brow. You wonder what your charcoal double must be thinking to have such an expression. You recognize the necklace he's haphazardly rendered, a gift from your mother you wore at the first party of the season.
How long has he been thinking of you?
There's tight cursive at the bottom of the page, "I have nothing to say, except that you're the most beautiful creature I've ever had the misfortune of knowing. -Lt. Riley"
Your heart flutters so hard, batters so aggressively against your rib cage, that you don't even notice the heat in your cheeks. You call rush to find pen and paper to write back.
-
You're having breakfast with your parents when the maid brings you a letter. You recognize the red wax seal immediately and slide your fingers under the paper's fold to break it quickly. The crack of wax fills the silent room, and you look up from your work to see your parents watching you. You father rests his chin on his laced fingers, and your mother quietly sips her tea. The letter is carefully placed to the side and your mother smiles, setting down her cup to draw one of your father's hands into her own grip.
"Don't let us keep you," You father rumbles, you can't tell if he's upset or pleased. His voice carefully neutral.
"It can wait until after breakfast," You tell him peaceably, picking up your fork again.
"Give it a read now dear, you'll upset your stomach rushing through meals." Your mother, ever the doctor, encourages. You tamp down your smile and unfold the letter, your fingers feeling for another sheet of silver paper. You're almost disappointed not to find one. You suppose you can't expect a gift of that quality every time. Once again the actual letter is short and neatly penned,
"Arguing with me won't make me march down there princess. Not that the idea hasn't crossed my mind, but I'd be gone as soon as I saw you, lost as soon as you opened your mouth. You make me lose all rational thought, and yet you consume my every waking moment. There is no distance I could travel that I would not still be haunted by the memory of you. If I'd never been assigned to your escort I would have been a saner man, miserable for never having known you. Argue with that.
Did you miss every one of your penmanship lessons?
Lt. Riley"
You smile to yourself, your thumb rubbing against the paper. He's pressed little flowers into the folds, their colors bleeding into the page and their petals falling into your lap. You pluck them carefully from your skirt, dutifully avoiding thoughts of your suitor, and place them back in the folds of Ghost's letter. You'll have to write him later, you know he's egging you on, but really he should know better than to criticize a lady's calligraphy.
You look up from your work and meet your parent's stares. Your mother's thumb rubs against the back of your father's hand, you've always hoped for a match like theirs.
"Something nice?" Your mother asks, and you smile at her.
"Never," You tell her, "Lieutenant Riley is as rude in his letters as he was as an escort."
Your father hums, but you think you see the edge of a smile under his beard.
-
There's very little awkwardness in the letters between you and Ghost. He writes better than he speaks, but the bluntness is still there, the charm that made you first agree to this courtship. He makes your stomach clench, makes your heart flutter. He's rude and argumentative, and you find yourself hoping for every letter he sends you.
He's sweet.
He's terrible.
You hide his letters under your pillows, the ones that talk about kissing you, "Everywhere but your mouth," he writes, "so that I can still hear you." You sit on the chaise and chew your thumb reading the letters that promise you devotion, "you'd never worry where I was, I never wish to stray from your side." You hear your friends discussing suitor gifts, the scandalous things that pass through their aunt's inspection first, that their fathers shake their head at.
You think of the modesty panel laced into your stays, the carefully inked words along the edge of the gift, "if my lips were here they'd never leave."
You pluck Ghost's letter from the tray before your maid can even offer it. Your fingers quick to break the wax seal before you even find a place to sit. He never writes as much as you do, but he's purposeful with his words in a way that makes your heart sing.
"If it's the Scot I think it is your friend is fine. We can discuss when I pick you up this afternoon. Wear walking shoes. Love, Lt. Riley"
You snort, quite a way with words your lover. You nearly trip on your way up the stairs staring at his signature. "Love" be still your heart.
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tonkatsubowl · 2 days
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truth to be told, it takes a lot for aventurine to fully trust someone, let alone loving them.
the man had already lost so much, including his own sense of self. to be stabbed in his back, to be betrayed, to be mocked and used and made fun of—he was used to it. it would take aventurine a while for him to feel comfortable being vulnerable with someone, considering he didn't trust anyone in particular.
though the man wore a gorgeous smile, wandering through the streets of penacony, it wasn't a genuine smile, but a mask he put up. expensive clothing, his beautiful countenance and the abundance of money he liked to toss around... it was just a mask he put up. it was also for the sake of his own reputation, too. especially when you were directly under diamond herself.
the main suspect of his suffering. and the cause of his success. a double edged sword that he walked upon. his own life was theirs. a mere toy, a mere chess piece to gamble with.
...but when he met you, he was confused. afraid, even. but he put up a fake smile, some flirtatious words here and there, but the man did not trust you, nor did he believe you would be willing to stay by his side for an eternity for aeons know what.
when he met you, you were kind, understanding. you were a little stubborn, too, and humorous. you never failed to have aventurine laugh at your cute little jokes, and you never failed to protect him, whether it was against the ipc's mocking him in his name, or against nightmare infested monsters that dared to consume his flesh within a dream.
he was terrified of you.
he didn't know what you were doing to him.
every time he saw you, he felt... weak. vulnerable around you. and he hated it. he loathed it. he hated everything about how you were making him feel, as though you were a curse that came to haunt him due to the sins of his past.
every time he saw you, his heart began to palpitate, his chest aching. and it got worse whenever he saw you so happy with someone else. but... maybe you were better off with someone? everyone kept leaving him, after all, whether it was death or it was simply due to some gambling... game-thing. a business transaction, even.
but you stayed.
you stayed throughout the hardships he faced.
why?
just why?
why, of all people, did you want to stay with him? a once upon a time slave, now a business man specializing in manipulation, gambling (an addiction, to put it), and flirtatious words to soothe the mind so he could win his way.
even through everything, you were still here. that was when he decided to seek out a certain doctor.
he sat across from him, forcing a smile across his lips, but the doctor could see it. the mask that aventurine donned himself with.
"you're in love."
aventurine's eyes looked up to the other, "you must be misreading your books like usual."
"you came here... to me, for your thoughts."
aventurine chuckled to himself, nervously, even.
"love? i haven't heard that word in ages."
"it is a complicated thing. especially with how you can be, gambler. a man who is unpredictable, keen to the eye, and... well, unfamiliar with the positive things."
aventurine cleared his throat, toying with the golden coin in his hand. he purses his lips, his mask wearing off for a moment.
"...now, dr. ratio, i am not doubting your knowledge and intelligence, don't get me wrong. i just don't believe that it truly is such a strange thing called... love."
the genius sighed, "you complained to me the other day that you couldn't stand seeing (y/n) talking to others, smiling and laughing. i recall that i was not assigned to be your therapist, here. the rest should be obvious, but it appears you're too stubborn to catch on... or rather, you're unfamiliar with this feeling. this term. love."
bullseye. it was as though ratio had called him out completely. for once, the gambler was silent. here, he would try to make little comments here and there, some jokes there and wherever but... the man was actually silent.
"... what do you suggest i do, then?"
dr ratio leans in, resting both elbows on his knees, eyes fixated on the gambler's own pristine eyes.
"if you are comfortable with it, move at your own pace if you wish to pursue. this is ultimately your choice. you can pursue these feelings, or you may leave it. there is no right or wrong answer, here. this all depends on you and what you wish to do. love is about being vulnerable with each other. accepting each other at their lowest. being for one another. your lover is considered to be your number one companion, truthfully."
aventurine was quiet.
"what is your gambler's intuition?"
a sigh left aventurine's lips. he stood, flipping the coin in his hand, before showing the result of heads or tails.
"...i suppose i'll make a bet with myself. one that doesn't cost money or the finest of gold and jewelry."
the genius watched as the other male got up from his seat, retrieving his sunglasses from his expensive outfit, before placing them on. "i'll make a gamble, to be specific, about this."
"then i wish you the best of luck, aventurine."
months had past, and the two of you were already in a relationship. it had been months, but the man didn't dare to tell you, 'i love you' just yet. as a matter of fact, those words were terrifying for him. what if he lost you after he said that? what if something were to happen to you? he was terrified of saying it, as he wasn't ready yet.
dr. ratio was right—he was paranoid to the bone but hid it. yet, aventurine played a few cards and decided to gamble this relationship with you, to see if it could work out. and so far, everything was well.
you were understanding, kind, beautiful, patient... the perfect partner someone could ask for.
but it also felt undeserving.
did... he deserve this love? did he truly deserve to experience the harmony that his heart fluttered to? he began to doubt. then he spiraled into a panic.
he began to sleep restlessly at night, rendering himself vulnerable to nightmares and the instability of his mind.
... but you were there, throughout all of it.
his eyes shot open, the familiar warmth of your hand gently cupped at his left cheek. he had fallen asleep on the couch, reading a long text presented to him by his supervisor, which was mainly just work and business related things. he didn't realize he had fallen asleep, and at first was confused when he woke up.
his phone was placed securely on the table, and there was a blanket draped over him. the air conditioning was turned on for his comfort, and before him was a tray full of biscuits, tea... for him to savor in once he woke from his nightmare.
"are you... alright?" you asked. "you were having a bad dream."
his eyes traveled to your voice, finding your concerned expression, his palpitating heart now steadying at an easy rate. he began to breathe, his eyes softening.
you were here, at his most vulnerable state, concerned for his well-being. he was silent, but he immediately reeled you in for a gentle hug. he was reluctant, but he wanted to feel the rest of your warmth. your head was buried into his chest, and you could hear his heart slow down. he closed his eyes, calming down from his inner demons.
"...you're okay." you murmur, brushing the top of his hair with your hands. "i'm here for you."
you didn't know much about him at all, truth to be told. the man wasn't really comfortable sharing his past with you, yet. he was a locked chest, and in order to find the key to his past, you had to be patient. time was key, but whatever demons he was facing at night... he knew you would be there.
he had doubts, at first, and always believed that he'd always be alone.
but... you were a different story.
"...thank you," he whispers onto your ear, cradling you close to his chest, "for being here."
your gaze softens, and you were silent for a moment. this was the first time you've seen aventurine like this. so vulnerable, so... reliant on you. but you were okay. because everyone has their own weakness. not everyone was perfect, and you understood that.
"... don't thank me." you say, closing your eyes, taking in his scent as the two of you nuzzled up against each other on the couch, "please don't. it's my job—my duty, as your other half, to be here for you."
dr. ratio's words echoed into his brain, reminding him of what love truly is. being there for one another, no matter what.
"you haven't been here?"
months past, and aventurine is presenting a beautiful, scenic view of penacony for you. the night sky was phenomenal, and the beautiful sounds of crickets and late night critters were no more than music to your ears. you seat yourself at the bench, whilst the gambler was walking around, admiring the view... taking pictures, even.
"i haven't, but now i am." you say, flashing a smile.
aventurine took some time off today to take you out on a date. the man had more than enough sick and vacation leave to do this for you, and it's the first time where he actually used it.
he sits next to you, admiring the night sky, and the sight of you above all else.
"it's a beautiful sight. i come here when i want to... relax."
your gaze softens, and your hand comes towards his own. digits intertwine, and you murmur something, audible for your lover's ears.
"thank you for taking me here. to your safe place."
aventurine looks over to you, puzzled.
"... safe place, huh? didn't expect to... call it that. but i guess that's what you can say for this spot. i can feel at peace here." he nods slowly, looking back to the scenic view.
"... it's a spot where you can feel vulnerable and be okay with it," you say, instantly catching his attention, "and i want to thank you for trusting me to bringing me here. i really, really do appreciate it."
ratio's words echo through his mind once more, the pad of his thumb suddenly reaching over, gently lifting your chin. he leans in, granting you a subtle kiss, in which you've returned.
"... may... i be vulnerable, once again?"
he lowered his guard, his voice coming to a whisper.
"you... can always be vulnerable around me. i want to be your safe person." you respond, in a whisper.
"..." he was silent. "i love you."
it was the first time, too, that he said such a thing to you. such strong words that let your heart skip a few beats. your face comes to a faint, vermillion flush, but you were happy nonetheless. you smile, cupping each side of his face.
"i love you too."
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yuutx · 28 days
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ೀ ׅ ۫ . 𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐑 ? ! (𝐼𝐿 𝒟𝒪𝒯𝒯𝒪𝑅𝐸)
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il dottore x f!reader ノ 18+ content. ノ nsfw + unprotected sex / raw sex ノ female masturbation ノ test subject x mad scientist ノ degrading kink ノ clit play ノ dirty talk ノ size kink ノ mdom + fsub ノ not proofread ! ૮꒰ྀི ◡ ˶ ◡ ꒱ྀི১
i wrote this a while ago 'n i just found it in my drafts 2 day so i figured i should finally post it ! i wld srsly do anything 'n everything 2 be dottore's test stubject he is soo perfect. art credits go to the lovely @/lllOhara ! ♡ + ↻ are rlly appreciated ! !
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Piercing red orbs scanned the room, scrutinizing every detail. His lips curled into a slight smirk as he saw your figure curled up, encapsulated within a metal cage, and suspended by thick ropes. You looked so small and frail, like a little bird locked away in its gilded cage. The man could hardly suppress a laugh as his eyes trailed up your naked figure, stopping when he saw your head hanging low. It was obvious you were still unconscious, but it wouldn't be long before you awoke. Your breathing had evened out, and the wounds you'd received were beginning to stitch themselves back together. It would seem that you had more fight in you than he'd initially anticipated, and for a brief moment he'd been afraid that he'd made a mistake by attempting to bring you here. But alas, his worries were unfounded. The Doctor was always right.
"Y/N," the man spoke, his voice a deep baritone. His words hung in the air as he waited for you to reply. When you didn't stir, his smirk only grew. "I know you're awake, pet," the Doctor spoke again, this time more clearly, "You're a terrible liar, my dear. Now, stop playing pretend and look at me."
His command was sharp and commanding, yet soft and inviting, and it forced you to comply. Slowly, you raised your head, eyes fluttering open, and met the Doctor's gaze. As your eyes landed on his form, you felt a rush of emotions wash over you, ranging from anger, to fear, and even a sense of longing. You couldn't help but notice the way the light reflected off of his ruby red irises, making them shine like the most brilliant of gems. It was then that you realized just how handsome the Doctor was. His features were sharp and chiseled, his expression serious and brooding, yet his mouth was pulled into a devious smile that made your heart race. The man's appearance was nothing short of regal, and he commanded respect from all who were lucky enough to meet him.
The mask he usually wore was gone, revealing his face in its entirety. You noticed how his lips were set into a thin line, and the way his nose curved downward towards his pointed chin. He was tall, much taller than you were, and his shoulders were broad and powerful. You found yourself mesmerized by the man before you, unable to take your eyes off him, even as your heart pounded wildly in your chest. It was a strange sensation, this mixture of fear and desire, and you had no idea what to do with it. Were you attracted to the Doctor? Perhaps… perhaps not, but something inside of you wanted him, that was for certain.
Your body betrayed you as you shifted uncomfortably beneath his gaze, drawing his attention to your nudity. Your nipples had hardened, and your core throbbed with need, aching for release. It wasn't right, you thought to yourself, you shouldn't feel this way about someone who'd captured you, imprisoned you, and planned on experimenting on you. But the longer you stared, the more you wanted him, and the more your mind seemed to lose focus on anything else. Your vision swam as a haze clouded your thoughts, leaving you completely intoxicated with desire. And just like that, you lost control. Your legs parted instinctively, and your hips bucked upward, grinding against the bars of your prison. It was almost as if your body had a mind of its own. You'd never felt anything like it before. The sensation was overwhelming, and you couldn't stop yourself. It was like you'd gone mad, your body reacting on its own accord, no longer caring about consequences or rational thought. And the worst part was, you loved every second of it. Your cheeks flushed crimson as you writhed beneath him, the cool metal of the cage rubbing against your sex, sending shivers down your spine.
You could feel his gaze upon you, watching as your breasts bounced and jiggled while you rode the bars of the cage, grinding yourself against them. Your moans grew louder, and your breathing became labored. It was so good, you thought to yourself, too good. You couldn't help but wonder, had you really gone insane? Were you really willing to sacrifice yourself just for the sake of pleasure? And yet, here you were, doing exactly that. And the man watched, his expression unchanging, save for the slightest hint of amusement in his eyes. His lips twitched, fighting back a smile as he enjoyed your performance. Your moans echoed throughout the laboratory, drowning out the sounds of the machines and equipment around you. It was beautiful, he thought, how could something so lewd and vulgar be so breathtakingly gorgeous? You were like a living work of art, and he could watch you for hours.
You felt your climax approaching, and you tried desperately to stave it off, not wanting the Doctor to see you in such a state. However, you were powerless to stop it. Your orgasm tore through your body, causing your limbs to spasm uncontrollably. Your head lolled forward, and your jaw fell open, letting loose a series of breathy whimpers. Your hips bucked upwards, slamming into the bars, forcing your body against the cold metal. The pleasure was indescribable, unlike anything you'd ever experienced before. It was intense, raw, and powerful, and it left you panting heavily. You could feel the slickness coating the bars, and the smell of your arousal permeated the air. You were completely spent, utterly exhausted from the force of your orgasm, and yet somehow you felt invigorated. You couldn't remember the last time you had came so hard, and the intensity of it took your breath away.
A low rumble reverberated throughout the laboratory, and you could feel the vibrations travel up your spine. The machine beside you was whirring to life, and a loud clicking sound filled the room as its gears began to turn. You couldn't understand what it was doing, or what it meant, but the Doctor seemed pleased by whatever results were displayed. He walked over to you, his eyes never leaving yours, and knelt down beside the cage. He placed his gloved hands against the bars, gripping them tightly, and leaned in close. "That was quite impressive," he murmured, his breath tickling your ear, "Now, let's see what other noises I can pull from that pretty little mouth of yours."
Dottore pressed a button, and the cage was lowered to the ground. You looked up at him, and your eyes met his, and his hand moved to the lock, sliding a key inside. The door opened with a loud click, and he stepped back, allowing you to crawl out. Once you were free, the Doctor grabbed hold of your hair, yanking you forward. You stumbled slightly, and fell into his arms. He wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you firmly against him, causing your dripping cunt to rub against his groin. A moan escaped your lips as his erection pressed into you, and you felt him twitch in response. "Ahh.." he breathed, his grip tightening around you, "I'm afraid I can't wait any longer."
With one fluid motion, he lifted you into the air, and carried you across the room. He set you down onto a large, cushioned table, and began removing his clothes. You watched him closely, taking in every detail of his muscular frame, admiring the way his muscles rippled under his pale skin. The Doctor's gaze remained locked on yours, and his pupils were dilated, filled with lust. You noticed the prominent bulge in his pants, and your mouth watered as he unzipped his trousers, revealing his swollen member. His cock was massive, thick and long, and it stood proudly at attention, leaking precum down the shaft. He stroked himself lazily, and a deep growl rumbled from his throat. "Do you see what you've done to me, pet?" he asked, his voice husky with desire, "This is all because of you."
You swallowed hard, and nodded, biting your lip as he stroked himself faster. He continued pumping his fist, until his cock glistened with precum. His hand traveled lower, and he cupped his balls, massaging them gently. "Such a naughty little thing, making me hard like this.." he purred, his voice low and husky, "You'll have to pay for that.." The Doctor grabbed hold of your wrists, and forced you onto all fours, getting on the table behind you. "I'm going to break your fucking mind, pet." He growled, "You'll be too fucked up to think straight when I'm done with you." His words sent shivers down your spine, and you whimpered softly as his cock brushed against your slit. He pushed inside of you, and you gasped at the sudden intrusion. His length stretched you to the limit, filling you completely. You cried out in pleasure as his cock slammed into you, burying itself inside your wet cunt. Your walls clenched around him, and his hands gripped your hips tightly, digging into your skin. His thrusts were slow and steady, his pace leisurely, and his eyes never left yours. Your head rolled back, and your body shuddered beneath him, overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through you.
Dottore's heavy balls smacked against your clit, all while his cock reached places inside of you that hadn't been touched in a long time. He groaned as he bottomed out, pushing deep into your depths, making sure his full length was seethed inside of you. His movements were unhurried, but firm, cock swelling with need as he fucked into your cunt. Your hands clawed at the table, nails digging into the leather, leaving long scratches across the surface. You moaned loudly, unable to contain your sounds of pleasure. "Fuck.." he cursed, "Your pussy's so damn tight.." Your walls squeezed around him, pulling him deeper, causing his hips to stutter. He grunted, and began pumping his hips, pistoning into your core with renewed vigor. His cock slammed into you over and over again, until he finally released a torrent of hot cum into your womb, coating your insides with his seed. His grip tightened around your hips, and he pulled you closer, pressing his chest against your back. "That's it," he growled, his breath hot against your neck, "Take all of it." His words were like music to your ears, and you did as he commanded, letting him fill you up with his thick load. Your body shook, and your eyes rolled back as you fucked yourself onto his dick, slamming yourself back against his groin. He growled low in his throat, and began thrusting harder, using you like a living fleshlight. Your moans grew louder, echoing through the laboratory, filling the air with lewd, obscene sounds. Your juices flowed freely, mixing with his cum, creating a sticky mess between your legs. He pounded into you with such force that the table rattled beneath you, causing it to shake violently.
"Ohhh..oh fuck…fuck, mm-! L-Love it, I love it so muchhh..!" you gasped, tears stinging your eyes as he fucked your brains out, your walls milking his cock, "'m gonna cum..c- h-haahh…so-so close…w-wanna cum on y-your cock…" Your words were slurred, and incoherent, and your body trembled uncontrollably as you neared your peak. "Mm? Is that so?" the Doctor questioned, "Are you gonna cum for your dear Dottore?" You nodded frantically, a hand jumping to your clit, pinching the sensitive nub between your fingers. "Y-Yes…please…p-plea- please make me cum.." you begged, voice strained and shaky, "C-Can't wait..need to…n-nowww..!!" Your words were cut off as your back arched, body trembling as your squirted, splattering him with your juices. Your body went rigid, and your mouth hung open, a scream escaping your lips as he pumped another load of his thick cum into your used hole. "Oh, you little slut," he laughed, his cock still buried deep inside you, "What a mess you've made, Y/N." He held you in place as his seed seeped out of you, dribbling down the front of the table. You couldn't move, your legs had given out, and you collapsed onto the table, panting heavily. Your body was covered in sweat, and your cheeks flushed red, and you could barely keep your eyes open. The Doctor chuckled, and kissed the back of your neck.
"Mmh, don't go falling asleep on me now.." he chided, "We're far from finished."
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mcu-coworkers · 10 months
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You?
Summary: What you thought was your love story ended up being one cruel summer.
Word Count: 1k+
warnings: None really other than angry Miguel :I
A/n: amidst writing a part 3 for another story I got inspired by doctor strange and gave it a bit of a twist. Hope you guys like it!xx
Parts: One^ Two three Four
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You had never seen Miguel so angry before.
Sure he was always short with everyone and never smiled other than to laugh at someone.
But when he did laugh, even if it was at someone, your heart couldn't help but skip a beat.
There were days when he’d call you into his office and ask you to update him on the spiders and the sectors they were handling and sometimes, if he was in a good enough mood, he’d ask about you.
Despite the mood swings, and his constant frown you wanted nothing more than to stand by his side and be there for all of it.
Peter B. though you were crazy for having feelings towards the coldest spider in the spider society but all things considered, he was probably right.
Only a crazy person would fall head over heels for someone who gave no sign of reciprocating feelings.
You had hope you’d get through one day.
That day definitely was not today.
You’d been caught up on a mission for the past couple of hours so you never responded to any of the comms. When you arrived back at HQ you were horrified by the mess.
You tried to ring Miguel but no luck, then you tried Jess, Ben, Gwen, shit, even Hobbie and still nothing.
Finally you were about to try Peter B. when he popped up behind you.
“You’re not gonna reach them, and honestly,  I   don’t think you want to.” he said as he held a very active May Day in his arms.
“What happened here?” you asked your voice barely above a whisper.
“ I  ‘d tell you but maybe it's better if you just watch.” he said, pulling up all the camera footage.
And holy shit.
Suddenly you felt a lot worse about ignoring those comms from Miguel.
“Shit.” you cursed under your breath.
“Yeah, listen  I   should get going. Miguel will be back soon and  I  ‘m the last person he’ll want to see.” he said, opening a portal.
“Bye Pete, take care of yourself okay?” You said with a soft smile as he slowly disappeared into the portal.
Looking back at the paused footage you didn't know what to think.
You understood Miles, but you also understood Miguel.
But still, seeing the way he handled this and how out of hand he got made chills run down your spine.
You didn’t even want to think what would’ve happened had he gotten through the shield of the go home machine.
Lost in thought you never heard Miguel enter the room.
“Where the hell have you been?” you heard him yell as he walked up to you.
You practically jumped out of your skin at the sound of his tone.
“On a mission you know that Miguel” you said trying to not anger him further.
“ I   called you to come back, so where the fuck were you.” he wasnt letting up.
“Miguel  I  got the guy  I  -” you tried but he cut you off.
“When  I   say come back that means come back am  I   fucking clear?” he said, looking down at you.
You’d never felt so intimidated by him before, not even on the first day after being recruited.
“Yes sir.” was all you could manage to say.
Finally he stepped back and you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding in.
“Lyla pull up the records of the go home machine and tell me where it sent him.” He said turning his back to you.
You could hear the distress in his voice so you thought of a way to help.
Walking up to him with caution you put a hand on his shoulder, “Miguel, Maybe you need to take a step  back let someone else handle it.” you suggested.
“Yeah? Who?You? Thats a fucking joke. You could barely handle a stupid villain, you’ll never catch this kid.” he snarled, shrugging your arm off.
Taken back by his statement you felt a heavy weight on your chest.
“Miguel-” you tried but again you were cut off.
“What are you gonna say some inspirational shit? Tell me you're here to help?hm?” he asked, turning back to you.
“Yes, Miguel, I am here for you, always. But this, this is mania. Some things can't be fixed by yourself. ” You said the weight on your chest felt heavier.
When he stayed quiet you took it as a sign to keep going.
“Maybe this is a sign to consider stopping, look at how much of a toll this is taking on you.” you urged the man was grasping for straws at this point if they didn't find Miles he’d be lost.
“This is my life's work, there is no me without the multiverse.” he exclaimed, turning away from you.
“There are so many things that give your life meaning, that could give your life meaning.” you suggested, realizing what that last part sounded like you felt your face heat up.
Shit.
He stopped his pacing and turned to you, “Like what? You?”
Suddenly you felt your world come crashing down. You had nothing left to lose.
“Yeah. Me.” you said barely above a whisper.
“You care so much don’t you? You think  I   want your pity? That  I  need you?”he said aggressively.
“ I   have never pitied you.”you snapped back.
“Good, because  I   don't need it. And  I   don't need you.” and with that he turned back around leaning on his desk.
You had nothing left for him. Or the spider society.
“Goodbye, Miguel.” was all you said before you walked out of the room and opened the portal to go home, for good.
“That was a bit rough for someone you like, don't you think?” Lyla asked, watching Miguel as he looked over to the door you walked out of.
He decided to focus on one thing at a time, Miles now you later.
He knew you’d come back and when you did, he’d fix it.
If there was something he could fix in this fucked up world it was the mistakes he made with you.
“The files Lyla.” he said changing the subject.
Sighing, Lyla gave him what he wanted and left.
She didn't have the heart to tell him that you left your watch and your suit at HQ.
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purpledragongifs · 9 months
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Doctor Strange in What If...? Doctor Strange Lost His Heart Instead of His Hands - Marvel Studios
Made by purpledragongifs. All gifs are 540px wide. Please do not delete credits
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fanartka · 2 years
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DrStrangetober Day 14: The Cloak
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Imagine a Sanctum Sanctorum where all Doctors Stephen Stranges live like in a dormitory... or maybe they just gather in this Sanctum from time to time, like in a common living room to talk, exchange experiences, consult or find a solution against some terrible danger, cry in the shoulder of another self about Christine... 🙄
And while the boys are sitting on the sofas with tea (and martinis), their Cloaks also have something to talk about.
So, for example, Stephen's Cloak from "What if..?" mad as hell at the Cloak of Strange Supreme for attacking his dear master. The Cloak of Supreme Strange from the 838 universe is here in the role of an older brother, but they all dislike the damned Zombie Cloak a little. And, in spite of everything, the Cloak of Strange Supreme is always ready to shelter those who are dear to him from any threat, just like his master.
By the way, the sinful Cloak Zombie is the only one in the company who can really talk, and not just communicate through telepathy and empathy😏
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mypoisonedvine · 9 months
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Drabble Idea: Judge Crane decides to give his obsession a third option. Death, exile, or…….
You know he would use his position in order to get his crush all to himself while Gotham burns.
YES OMG SOME LOVE FOR JUDGE CRANE he's so underrated and I actually lost it when I saw the movies in theaters and he popped up <3 like omg look it's my husband
warnings: coercion, ownership, threats of noncon, yandere vibes
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"You can't be serious," you mumbled, but you knew he was-- Dr. Crane wasn't an especially humorous guy, that whole death by exile bit from earlier notwithstanding.
He still smiled at you, though; "It's your choice."
"Well, it's not much of a choice, is it?" you scoffed.
"It's a better choice than anybody else got," Jonathan shrugged, "if you do choose exile, I'm sure these guys would love to give you a nice send-off-- right, boys?"
You didn't even have the heart to look back at the thugs who had dragged you in here, but you heard them chuckling and mumbling amongst themselves. Crane had made his message clear, and you let out a sigh of defeat. "Fine," you said.
"Fine?" he repeated. "What's that mean, you'll just die?"
"No, I--"
"You know, you said once you'd rather die than marry me, do you remember that?" He laughed. But that was years ago, when your father tried to set you up with him because he was a respected doctor and you were a nice young socialite-- it was more about rebellion than anything else then, but learning about his insanity and criminal activities wasn't exactly changing your mind.
"I was wrong," you admitted, "alright? I'm sorry."
He smiled again, a little more sinister than the last time. "Then you can wait for me with the others... sweetheart."
~
The huddled mass of the 'arrested' dwindled through the day, executives and politicians dragged up the stairs to meet their fate as determined by Crane; soon it was only half or less left behind, with you simply counting the minutes until you'd be taken-- you couldn't imagine what life would be like with Jonathan, and for now, you tried not to.
He came for you at the end of the day, standing above you and smiling down as you stayed sitting on the ground, leaning against a pillar and waiting for whatever he asked you to do. "I'm not sure what I'm supposed to say," he admitted as he stared at you. "Hi honey, I'm home or something?"
"You don't actually sleep here, do you?" you frowned.
"No, no-- I believe in work-life balance," he shook his head; then reached his hand out to help you up. "Come on, let's go home."
Though you hesitated, you took his hand and let him help you to your feet with a wince.
"Are you alright?" he asked, seeing the pain on your face.
"They kinda roughed me up," you admitted quietly, though your breath caught when Jonathan pulled you closer.
"Poor thing," he mumbled, petting your cheek briefly, holding your waist a little tighter. "And having to sit on this hard floor all day-- you must be sore, hm?"
You nodded slightly, though you felt strange talking to him like this-- like it was a normal conversation, and not something you had to do to keep yourself safe. If being with him could really be considered 'safe'...
"I can write you a script if you're in too much pain," he offered, "but I think you just need some rest: somewhere warm, a nice big bed..."
He leaned in closer as he trailed off, taking a deep breath beside your head as he rubbed your back. Though he must have noticed the way you tensed up and nearly pulled away, it didn't deter him.
"I'll be good to you," he promised, "if you just behave. You don't need to be so afraid of me."
But you could hear the excitement in his voice; he liked that you were afraid of him. Finally, he had the power over you that you'd denied him all those years ago. No matter how sweet he promised to be, one way or another, he was going to make you pay for that.
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mirai-e-jump · 7 months
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Ohsama Sentai King-Ohger Character Book: We're KING!!!!!
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PROLOGUE
Jeramie Brasieri was troubled. After ending the conflict between humans and the strange looking creatures, Bugnarak, and with the turning point of becoming king, he wanted to create a new story.
However, he couldn't come up with anything that could surpass, "The Legend of King-Ohger," which he himself had written, and was known to everyone in Chikyu. And so, he decided to make a proposal to the 5 kings, who were also his figthing comrades…or so it goes.
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Gira Hasty
"I'm going to rule the world!"
Taisei Sakai guesses what's going on in Gira's head! 50% Children from the orphanage 20% The people of Shugoddam 15% The kings and citizens of the other countries 10% What I was like when I was young 5% Food
My Favorite Point: The Cloak "I was worried in the beginning on whether it would look good on me, but now, it's my favorite!" (-Sakai)
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Yanma Gast
"You guys, just shut up already and follow me. I'm not going to lose to anyone!"
Aoto Watanabe guesses what's going on in Yanma's head! 80% Technology and research for the sake of the country's future 15% When it comes to N'kosopa, how I should act as a king 5% Space to think about other stuff
My Favorite Point: Cuff Earring "I like that it has alot of decorations, including N'kosopa's emblem and the jagged edges." (-Watanabe)
The Jacket "I can understand why Yanma loves it, The key point is that it's got alot of texture!" (-Watanabe)
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Hymeno Ran
"I'll do as I want and follow my own path!"
Murakami Erika guesses what's going on in Hymeno's head! 40% Cute things and beautiful scenery, fashion and other things including the "arts" 30% Lifesaving and medical research for the sake of Ishabana's people 20% Romantic stories 10% Daydreaming about the future
My Favorite Point: The Spiral Curled Hair "With this hair, I love the novel style of it being tied up and the tiara attached to the knot." (-Murakami)
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The Immovable King and Moffun
A Special photoshoot with Rita Kaniska and Moffun has become a realization! With their mask removed, Rita enters a relaxed mode, and is being healed by and carefully brushing the fur of Moffun.
"Together with Moffun" is a long running animated series that depicts Panpy, a cryptid hunter, meeting the legendary yetis Moffun and living in "Mofu Village." The white, cute and fluffy visuals, the love of humans, and the willingness to be hugged so tightly…The healing nature of Moffun is very popular among both children and adults, and is known to have achieved the highest viewership rating in Ishabana of 90.9%, which is run by Hymeno Ran.
One of the reasons for the love of this series, was the proof of bond between the queen of Ishabana and her people. Having lost her parents in the "Wrath of God" tragedy 15 years ago, Hymeno, who became queen at such a young age, had suffered greatly…It was at this time that the people of Ishabana rose up. They made the show with the hopes that she would smile as much as possible, and Hymeno, who grew up watching it, turned into a wonderful queen and doctor.
Another big fan of this show, which is currently airing all across Chikyu, loves it. It's the King of Gokkan, Rita Kaniska. Rita's "Moffun Love " is becoming apparent to Hymeno, while Rita doesn't show any emotion due to their duty as king…If Moffun's charm, which has won the hearts of the two kings, spreads any further, is it possible…the future of Chikyu could become brighter?!
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Rita Kaniska
"Even if the earth were to split or the sky falls, Rita Kaniska will not be shaken!"
Hirakawa Yuzuki guesses what's going on in Rita's head! 90% Trials and other work that has to get done 10% Wanting to play with Moffun
My Favorite Point: The Collar "They usually wear a collar that covers their face, so scenes where they show their face are appealing." (-Hirakawa)
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Kaguragi Dybowski
"We'll eliminate these pests for a bountiful harvest"
Kaku So guesses what's going on in Kaguragi's head! 75% Toufu 10% The other countries kings 10% Suzume 5% Racules
My Favorite Point: The Furisode's Patterns "I like that the design shows off the various emotions. This costume is a must for Kaguragi!" (-Kaku)
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Jeramie Brasieri
"Humans, Bugnarak, and everything else, I rule over all and determine the fate of the world. The king of inbetween, the story of what I do will be passed down forever."
Ikeda Masashi guesses what's going on in Jeramie's head! 80% Peace 20% Stories
My Favorite Point: The Forehead Makeup Instead of using a sticker, I have the patterns drawn on instead. It's the switch that gets me into the role! (-Ikeda)
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