#I screamed when I opened the box lol | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

prythianpages · 10 months ago

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In My Eyes | Azriel

Azriel x Rhysand's Sister | Summary: Azriel has lost you once and when unseen circumstances bring you back to life, he will not lose you again. Even if it means going against his family.

warnings: mentions of death (descriptive and a bit gruesome)/loss, angst 💔

a/n: I wanted to take a little break from all the fluff I've been writing so here's a little angst. I listened to Jacob's prayer from the Minari soundtrack a lot along with Thom Yorke's Hearing Damage while writing this. Hence the title bc I couldn't think of anything else lol and also because I feel like Az would be so down for his mate, she really could do no wrong in his eyes.

A haunting stillness permeates the air, broken only by the occasional whisper of Azriel’s shadows. He doesn’t know why he’s here. He wants to turn and leave but his legs betray his mind, prompting him to go forward. Cracked cobblestone paths lead him to the castle’s doors and as Azriel pushes the door open, it releases a loud groaning noise.

Inside Hybern’s castle, broken furniture lies scattered and the once opulent halls now echo with the sound of dripping water. His shadows stir uneasily. A sudden gust of wind brushes past him, carrying a pleading whisper along with it.

“Help me.”

Goosebumps rise on Azriel's skin as his shadows freeze in place. There was something familiar about that haunting plea that sent shivers down his spine.

“Azriel.”

"y/n," he breathes, the mere utterance causing his shadows to stir into a desperate frenzy. His steps quicken, evolving into a full-blown run, his heart pounding in sync with the frantic pace of his movements.

"y/n!" he calls out again, this time louder. His eyes, stinging with tears, frantically scanning the endless expanse of the haunted halls for any trace of you.

"Azriel, help me!"

Azriel runs and runs, but the hall stretches infinitely before him.

“Help! I’m al–”

And then, with a jolt, Azriel wakes.

Cold sweat clings to him like a second skin as the tendrils of the dream slowly release their grip on his consciousness. Your voice–it felt so real. But he knows it’s a dream because when he turns his head, the spot beside him is empty.

As it has been for centuries.

Azriel allows his heavy eyelids to flutter shut once more as he catches his breath. This was just another nightmare, he tells himself. It does nothing to soothe him. The more he thinks about it, the more unease grips him. Even his shadows are shaky, trembling as they brush against him.

For centuries, his dreams have been plagued by nightmares. It had always been the same one. The one that made him relive the moment he found out you were dead. Azriel had been the one to find the box that carried your mother’s severed head down Windhaven’s river and when he had spotted another box, all he found was a severed finger. A severed finger wearing a ring he was all too familiar with because he had been the one to place it on your finger.

Azriel remembers the way his heart had dropped to his stomach. He remembers the way he had desperately tugged on the bond only to find nothing but an eerie quietness on your end. He knew at that moment you were gone and you weren’t coming back.

The scream that tore through his throat was as violent as the gaping black hole crushing through his chest. It curdled the blood of anyone within earshot and had the surrounding birds jolting from their perches, their feathers rustling in a panicked flutter. Not even his shadows, who had carried him through his darkest times, could console him.

Azriel had no body to mourn. No hand to hold on to. No face to caress for the last time. He could only hope that your death had been quick and painless.

But this nightmare was new. Different. You were alive in this one. Or sounded like it.

Azriel opens his eyes and he brings himself to sit up in bed. His hands, weary and scarred, rub at his face in exhaustion, brushing away the lingering tears that sting at his eyes. He then looks down at his hands, aching to feel your warmth once more. Even if only in a dream.

The glimmering ring on Azriel's left hand sparkles under the tender caress of moonlight, drawing his attention. His trembling fingers trace the contours of the band. He can’t help but turn and twist it, yearning for a complete view of the engraved letters. It spells out your name and the ache of grief intensifies with every twist. He hasn’t taken the ring off since the day he married you, even after death did you part.

It compliments the smaller, daintier ring wrapped around his neck that hangs on a thin silver chain. Your ring. His name is engraved on it just as yours is on his. The only difference is that yours cradles a captivating cobalt blue gem. A precious fragment, crafted from his own siphon and meticulously refined by himself. He wanted you to carry a part of him wherever you went.

Now, he is left to carry it. The only piece he has left of you.

A poignant reminder that though death may have claimed you, the essence of your union lingers on. He can’t imagine loving anyone else. He doesn’t want to love anyone else. For him, it was you and only you. He could only thank the Mother for allowing him the time he had with you but also curse her for taking you from him.

His hand closes around your ring, grappling with the disorienting emotions coursing through him. Despite the centuries that have separated you, an instinctual yearning tugs at Azriel's core. He reaches out for the intangible thread that once connected you. He knows he’ll only receive the familiar void. It had been this way for ages. He’d wake from his nightmare, reach out with false hope and receive nothing in return.

Yet, this time, just like the nightmare he woke from, is different.

The shadows that hover over Azriel's shoulders, murmuring their soothing lullabies, suddenly cease in their dance. His eyes widen, capturing a glimmer of something long forgotten. Hope. It stirs within him, a dormant ember flickering to life after centuries of darkness.

For a fleeting moment, there's a response. A fragile shimmer through the bond. So delicate that it's almost imperceptible. And it’s coming from your side.

Azriel tugs again, cautiously and slowly. Anxiously and holding his breath. Even his shadows don’t dare to stir. But as he awaits another sign, silence envelops him. There’s no response.

He tugs again, desperately seeking confirmation. And then again and again. His tugs grow harsher, more desperate, each pull an urgent plea for any sign, any trace of you. Yet, the bond remains eerily silent, as if mocking the fragile tendrils of hope that dared to rekindle within him.

Maybe it was all a figment of his imagination.

But he swore he heard your voice, swore that tug, as faint as it was, was there. The crushing weight of loss descends once more, and it's as if he's losing you all over again. The echoes of hope vanish, leaving only a hollowing ache. His shadows begin to stir again, anxious to fill that hollowness in fear of the malevolent darkness that threatens to creep back inside and consume him all over again.

“No, no, no,” Azriel cries, his voice breaking into a mere whisper. With tear-streaked eyes, he looks up towards the moon, its ethereal glow filtering through the window on the ceiling.

“Please,” he says, beseeching the celestial body to heed his prayer.

Yet, the void persists and an overwhelming surge of fear takes hold, tightening its icy grip around him. Because though he thinks of you all the time, he’s beginning to forget the small details. Such as the exact shade of your eye, the radiant sparkle in your eyes as you’d smile at him, the comforting warmth of your laugh, the precise hue of blush that would grace your cheeks every time he told you he loved you.

He doesn’t want to forget. As painful as the memories are now, he wants to anchor himself into every single one of them. To hold onto the exquisite weight of every detail.

"Please," Azriel pleads once more. His body quivers with each sob, hunched over in bed, fingers tightly gripping his chest as if trying to anchor his unraveling soul. The shadows, usually under his control, writhe in a frenzied storm, mirroring the emotions swirling inside him. Some tendrils slither out from beneath the door, seeking out help.

It doesn’t take long for them to reach someone. Rhysand swiftly materializes in the room. "Azriel!" he calls out, a voice cutting through the tumult of emotions that cling to the air like heavy mist. “What’s wrong?”

"I heard her, Rhys," Azriel confesses through tearful sobs, his pain echoing in the shadows. "I felt her."

“What if she’s alive? I–I need to find her.”

Rhysand's heart plummets, a solemn gravity darkening his features. “She’s dead, Az,” he murmurs softly, tone laced with empathy. While Azriel lost his mate, Rhysand had lost his sister. He, too, mourns for you.

Azriel shakes his head in denial. “She needs me.”

Rhysand takes a deep breath, blinking back his own tears. He then turns toward the doorway, meeting Feyre’s wide eyes. She had rushed to the room along with him. "Please, get Cas," he tells her.

As Azriel secures his siphons, he stares down at his left wrist, where a lunar emblem is etched onto his tan skin. It had disappeared when you had died but now, it is vivid against his skin once more. He doesn’t know exactly when it had reappeared. He was binding his hands before a training session, weeks ago, when he noticed it. The reappearance of your mating tattoo carries with it the weight of the vows you had spoken to him.

“As long as I’m alive, I will love you with every breath.”

But you weren’t alive. You were still dead. After that night almost a year ago, Azriel had looked for you. Every night and day. For months. He was driving himself into pure madness, even his shadows had grown restless. There had been no more signs, no more traces of you but he still pushed on and he would’ve continued if Rhysand hadn’t forced him to stop.

“Are you ready?”

Azriel nods at Rhysand, securing the last of his weapon to his leathers. He then spares a glance toward Cassian, who is doing the same. It had been a long week of planning for this very moment.

Koschei initiated contact through a cryptic note delivered to Rhysand. The message proposed a meeting at the lake. A “peace” conference, he had called it. One that exclusively also required the presence of Cassian and Azriel. The terms were strange, but with dwindling options and time slipping away, Rhysand reluctantly consented.

"I'll be back before you know it," Rhysand reassures Feyre, bending down to plant a tender kiss on her temple. His gaze lingers on their infant son cradled in Feyre's arms, his smile warm as he places a gentle kiss on Nyx's head. "Save me a slice of Elain's cake for later.”

"Alright," Feyre exhales, her eyes still etched with worry. Her attention shifts towards the inked markings on her left arm and a fleeting shadow brushes softly against the tattoo. Lifted by the subtle touch, her gaze meets Azriel's and then Cassian's. In that silent exchange, they convey an unspoken commitment to protect their family at any cost. Feyre can only manage a small smile before the three males winnow away.

As soon as they arrive at the lake, Azriel feels a stirring in his chest. His attention is immediately drawn to a lone white swan. The swan glides across the murky water. A looming darkness rises from the lake, blocking his view of the swan and causing his shadows to jerk back.

"Welcome," Koschei's voice whispers through the wind.

Rhysand moves forward, standing in front of Cassian and Azriel, despite the anxiety coursing through him. “Let’s cut to the chase. What do you want?”

The looming darkness swells, and a malevolent chuckle reverberates from its core. Azriel’s shadows tuck themselves behind his wings and his entire body stiffens. He can sense Cassian do the same beside him. "You know precisely what I desire."

"And you know why we won't grant it," Rhysand retorts. There’s an icy rage swirling in his violet eyes that overcomes his sense of fear. He can only imagine what a world ruled by Koschei would be like and he refuses to allow the death god the power to harm his family.

"I anticipated your reluctance, Rhysand. That's why I've prepared a gift. Aid in my liberation from this lake, and it's yours."

Rhysand scoffs, unwavering. "No gift will entice me to free you."

"Are you certain about that?"

The wind intensifies, rustling leaves and brushing against the Illyrians, raising goosebumps in its wake. Birds, concealed in the trees, erupt in panicked flight. Rhysand, undeterred, digs his hands into his pockets, his eyes narrowing in question at the death god.

Koschei's laughter echoes again. "Perhaps I should show you first. It’s only fair, wouldn't you agree?"

The wind abruptly ceases, plunging the world into an eerie hush. The shadow that looms over the lake drifts to the side, allowing the swan from earlier to glide forward. Suddenly, a dark mist envelops the bird, its form blurring and shifting until the swan's elegant feathers dissolve into a cascade of shimmering silver. From the mist, a cloaked figure emerges, her midnight-blue robes trailing behind her like the ripples of the lake.

With each step, the water seems to part beneath her feet, revealing the silhouette of a woman long thought lost to the depths. You.

“y/n!”

Azriel instinctively moves forward, hand reaching out towards you. Cassian, however, restrains him, a powerful grip on his brother’s arm preventing any impulsive advance.

Rhysand's eyes widen as you approach, a slow and haunting revelation unfolding in the dim light. It is you, standing right in front of them. In your blood and flesh. But your eyes–your eyes, once bright with life, now mirror the opaque shroud of mist hovering around you.

“This can’t be,” Rhysand breathes, his voice barely a whisper, disbelief coloring his tone. “How?

“King Hybern resurrected your sister from the magic of the Cauldron the same way he did with Jurian. You see, Tamlin was desperate to get Feyre back at that time. He let his guard down, allowing Ianthe to not only disclose the location of the Archeron sisters but also the location of your dear sister’s remains. Tamlin buried her body somewhere in his lands but his father had kept her wings. As a trophy. Did you know her death was slow and cruel?”

A shudder courses through Rhysand. Cassian’s fist clench at his sides and he spares a glance toward Azriel, whose body is shaking. None of them knew the details of your murder. An apprehensive feeling churned in their stomachs and Rhysand felt the bile rise in his throat.

“The sons of Spring did not show her the same mercy they did your mother. They drugged her with faebane, rendering her powerless so that she could not fight back. They sloughed her finger off to gift to you. Then, they took her wings. Let her bleed to death."

Suddenly, Azriel’s chest tightens. He can’t breathe. A pained expression crosses his face and his knees go weak. Images of you being tortured to death flood his mind and all he can think about is how he failed you. Cassian’s grip on him tightens even more, keeping him steady.

“King Hybern was so sure he’d win the war that he kept your sister hidden. He knew the Shadowsinger was her mate so he drugged her with faebane the same way the sons of Spring did. He didn’t want any of you finding out she was alive.”

“Hybern didn’t want to ruin the surprise. After his victory, he had planned to take you all back to the castle to torment you with her live state. Only to have you die at her hands. Of course, as you can see, that didn’t work out. Briallyn knew of her resurrection and brought her to me.”

Azriel can’t take his eyes off of you. His shadows dart toward you, slithering up your legs and caressing every inch of you. They linger on your wings. You don’t move. You don’t even blink.

But you’re alive.

All this time you had been alive. That nightmare he had, it was real. You were calling out to him, asking for help. Tears sting at his eyes. That tug he had felt from your shared bond. It was also real. And the tattoo that had reappeared on his skin was not a cruel trick from the Cauldron. But a sign.

“I’ve become very familiar with your sister. She’s very powerful but I’m sure you knew that.”

Rhysand’s gaze flickers to where you stand, heart aching. It’s you but not you. Unlike Azriel, he can’t help but think what if this is all a trick? An illusion to get him to side with Koschei? Cassian meets his worried gaze. They both glance toward Azriel and then exchange a look.

“Let her go.” Cassian finally speaks, hazel eyes glaring at the darkness before them. “And take me instead.”

“Lord of Bloodshed,” Koschei addresses Cassian in an amused manner. “What a most gracious offer. Unfortunately, for you, I have no desire to replace y/n. You, however, are welcome to join me of your own free will.”

“While I am confined to this lake, y/n is going to do everything I physically cannot. She’ll be my proxy, my spymaster. Isn’t that right?”

"Yes, master.”

The words slip from your lips like ice, each syllable devoid of the warmth and affection that once filled them. Azriel's heart lurches in his chest, a cold dread settling in the pit of his stomach as he hears the lifeless tone of your voice.

"No," Azriel growls, the sound reverberating through the air with a primal intensity. His voice, usually steady and composed, now carries an edge of desperation and fury. “You have no right to her. She’s mine.”

Rhysand keeps his hands in his pockets, hiding the fact that they’re slightly trembling. He eyes you once more, pure agony seeping into his very core. He mentally takes a deep breath and looks back toward the looming shadow over the lake, mustering all his strength to feign indifference.

“I don’t understand how this is a gift.”

“Here’s the deal, Rhysand. You help free me from this lake and I free y/n from my control. It’s as simple as that. Since I’m feeling generous, I’ll give you a week to think about it.”

All seven of Azriel’s siphons ignite in a cobalt blaze of raw power. He will not let Koschei control you. You’ve already suffered enough. Cassian struggles to maintain his hold, his grip faltering against the force of Azriel's will.

“Azriel, no!”

The sound that erupts from Azriel was more animal than human—a deep, throaty growl that spoke of primal fury. He breaks free from Cassian, stumbling forward. He regains his footing with ease, rushing toward the lake. Toward the looming figure. Toward you. He’s so close, the water lapping at his boots when your clouded eyes finally meet his.

Burning pain courses through Azriel’s veins, bringing him to his knees and suddenly, he feels like he’s on fire. Your power takes hold over him, penetrating to the core of his being, carving through the marrow of each bone. He knows the fire is not real. It’s only an illusion but it feels as if every single cell in his body is being tormented with the worst agony imaginable. He can barely hear himself scream over the roaring pain in his ears.

Two strong hands clamp onto Azriel’s shoulders and he writhes against it, fighting it. “No,” his voice is a mere hoarse whisper as Rhysand uses his own power to pull him out of your illusion.

As Rhysand’s tendrils of darkness engulf Azriel, the last thing he sees are your eyes. They’re still clouded over, devoid of their usual luster. Yet, against the backdrop of emptiness, tears escape from them.

Azriel wakes to a dull ache in his head. He feels the gentle caress of his shadows against his face, attempting to alleviate the headache that grips him. With a slow blink, he reluctantly greets the soft illumination of his room at the riverhouse. Memories of what happened earlier flood back with startling clarity and his wings quiver involuntarily. A physical manifestation of the anguish that had ravaged his spirit. He doesn’t care that it was you who inflicted that pain upon him.

It pales in comparison to the pain you must be feeling inside. A mere glimpse of the raw emotions raging within you was enough to pierce Azriel's heart. Like a tempestuous storm, the waves of pain surged through your bond. But then, abruptly, he was shut out.

The image of your tear stained cheeks as you brought him to his knees plagues him with uneasiness. It’s this restless unease that stirs him, prompting him to rise from the bed. He looks toward his door, his shadows curling against his ears. Heavy with determination, he makes his way towards Rhysand’s office.

When Azriel's shadows forcefully swing the doors open, the entire inner circle stands before him. Their expressions betray the weight of their recent discussions. The room falls into a silence, thickened with tension. They had been discussing you. Without him. His hands clench into tight fists, his simmering anger threatening to spill over.

“Azriel,” Feyre greets him with a tense smile. “How are you feeling?”

Azriel’s eyes lock onto Rhysand. Anguish and resentment churn within him and Rhysand's posture stiffens in response

“We have to approach this situation with caution,” Rhysand says, surprised by the steadiness in his own voice despite the weight of their predicament.

“Caution?” Azriel nearly growls, prompting Cassian to inch toward him. “She is my wife! My mate! And you expect me to just sit here and wait for your approval to save her?”

Rhysand frowns, his violet eyes flaring. “You think I don’t hurt too?” He exclaims, his voice breaking as he utters his next words. “She is my sister!”

A hand rests on Azriel’s shoulder. Cassian’s. “I want to save her too. Trust me, I do. But we can’t just jump into–”

Azriel shakes Cassian’s hand off, his shadows hissing toward the taller male. “What if it were Nesta?”

Cassian frowns and he spares a glance toward his mate, who is watching the scene unfold with a somber look on her face. Azriel releases a frustrated huff before redirecting his gaze towards Rhysand, a pointed finger aimed accusingly at his friend and High Lord.

"If it were Feyre," he insists, his voice tinged with both desperation and conviction, "you would see no reason."

Rhysand's silence speaks volumes.

"I failed her once," Azriel continues, firm and resolute. "I will not fail her again."

But Rhysand's response is unwavering. "I can't let you go. You have to understand.”

Azriel's jaw tightens. "You can't stop me," he counters in defiance, wings flaring out behind him.

"As your High Lord, I–”

"I'm done," Azriel cuts off sharply before Rhysand can go any further. He’s well aware of the weight of his words but he doesn’t allow them to bring him down. You are his mate, the tether to his soul, and he will put you above all else. Even his family.

"I resign as Spymaster of the Night Court.”

Feyre's eyes glisten with tears as she approaches Azriel, brushing off Rhysand's attempt to hold her back. "Azriel, please," she implores, her voice trembling with emotion. She knows what Azriel must be feeling. She knows because she lived it herself when Rhysand died after the war. But she also knows–or at least, hopes–that there’s another way to bring you back home. She’s already making plans in her mind to reach out to Helion.

"Don't go. We'll find a way to bring her back, I swear it. Just give us time."

Azriel shakes his head, the thought of waiting to rescue you souring in his mouth. He can't bear the thought of you in pain, needing him, while he stands idle. The urgency to act gnaws at his soul, a primal instinct driving him to protect you at any cost.

“You’ll abandon your family then?” Amren asks. Despite her efforts to maintain her usual façade of indifference, a faint glimmer in her eyes betrays the struggle.

“I will not abandon my mate.” Azriel says, taking a step back. “She’s my family too.”

"Don't do this," Rhysand pleads as he takes a tentative step forward, his hand outstretched toward his brother.

Azriel takes another step back, his hazel eyes darting across the room, absorbing the silent pleas etched on the faces of the inner circle. He loves them but he loves you more.

When his gaze locks with Rhysand's again, Rhysand's heart sinks. He realizes that Azriel's mind is already set. His brows knit together in a pained expression. He doesn’t want it to end like this.

"I will not hold this against you," Rhysand manages, his voice strained.

How can he hold this against Azriel? When he would do the same for Feyre. When you, his sister, have been brought back to life only to be imprisoned by Koschei. A gasp fills the room as he drops to his knees.

"But please... just...please..."

The words catch in his throat, choked by the overwhelming grief and helplessness that engulf him. His shoulders slump in defeat as tears blur his vision. Feyre instinctively wraps her arms around him, pulling him close. A brief sanctuary in the midst of his shattering world.

He knows he cannot make Azriel promise anything and Azriel knows this too. Despite the grim circumstances, there is a flicker of solace in Rhysand knowing that whatever terrors may come, you won't face them alone.

“I’m sorry,” is all Azriel says before winnowing away.

Azriel’s shadows tuck themselves back behind his wings when he arrives at the familiar lake. His gaze immediately seeks out the water's edge, where wisps of mist still linger. There's no sign of the white swan he had seen earlier.

"I knew you would come around, Shadowsinger," Koschei's voice taunts from the shadows.

"Where is she?" Azriel demands.

Koschei's laughter carries on the wind, but he concedes. You emerge from the surrounding trees, your eyes widening in shock as you lock gazes with Azriel. This time, your eyes are clear, unclouded, and Azriel's heart twists with recognition as he memorizes the exact shade of your eyes all over again.

"You can't be here," you protest, and Azriel's shadows peek out from behind his wings, reacting to the sound of your voice. It's you. It’s really you.

Your eyebrows furrow, mirroring the same pained expression Rhysand had worn just moments ago. You recognize the gleam in his eyes. "No," you plead, your voice barely a whisper, tears welling up in your eyes. "You can't do this. You have to go back. Go back right now!"

Tearing his gaze off of you, Azriel looks toward the ominous silhouette of Koschei. He can feel the air thicken with anticipation, awaiting his next words. He continues to ignore your protests, even as you frantically rush toward his side.

“As long as you have control over her, you have control over me.” Azriel says and then drops to his knees in submission.

"My, my, my. What a lovely surprise," Koschei remarks, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

"Get up!" You cry out, your hands clutching at Azriel's arms in a desperate attempt to pull him away from the lake. Away from Koschei's grasp. "Azriel, get up!"

Azriel’s knees remain rooted to the spot but his body leans into your embrace. His eyes flutter shut as he allows himself a fleeting moment to revel in the warmth of your presence—the warmth he had yearned for over centuries. The warmth he thought he would never feel again.

His eyes open and though Koschei is a mere shadow a couple of feet away, he can feel his gaze burning into his soul.

“I’ll serve you too,” Azriel finally says, sealing his fate alongside yours in the grasp of the death god.

"What have you done?" Your voice trembles with disbelief, your eyes still wide with shock as you stare up at Azriel, your hands reaching out to grasp his face. After Azriel swore his loyalty to Koschei, the death god had granted you both permission to be alone. He sent you to his sister’s old cottage, where you’d be staying for now.

Azriel's heart swells at the touch of your warm, soft hands against his skin. He wipes away the tears that cascade down your cheeks, his own emotions overwhelming him. "You're alive," he murmurs softly, his voice barely above a whisper, as he rests his hands on your face.

His fingers trace the familiar contours of your features. Every line, every curve is evidence to the reality of your presence. A presence he had long thought lost to him for eternity. The Cauldron had gifted him once more. Here you are, tangible and real. Alive. He can barely believe his eyes.

As Azriel's fingers brush against your face, his shadows dance eagerly in his wake, reaching out to join in the tender caress. They yearn for the sensation of your skin, their touch as gentle as a whisper, expressing their overwhelming joy in silent echoes. "I love you. I love you. I love you," they chant in a chorus of happiness and the bond in your chest sings back in a language only you three understand.

Despite the tears streaming down his face, there’s such a deep and profound warmth in Azriel’s eyes. As he looks at you, it’s like sunlight breaking through dark stormy clouds. You want to bask in its golden glow but as a thought crosses your mind, you abruptly shrink back from him and your lip quivers.

“I hurt you. I-I didn’t want to but I couldn’t stop it. I hurt you. I made you scr–”

Azriel smiles at you, bringing you back into his protective embrace. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not,” you breathe, eyes searching for any trace of pain or repulse. You find none and though unleashing your power on your mate was against your will, your guilt threatens to consume you. “I’m so sorry, Azriel. I’m so sorry you’re here.”

"Don't be," he murmurs softly, cradling your head against his chest. His fingers thread through your hair, a gentle reassurance of his unwavering presence. He had lost you once. He’s not going to lose you again.

With a heartfelt sigh, he pulls you even closer. “I’m right where I want to be.”

Slowly but surely, the cascade of tears dwindled, leaving a trace of dampness on your cheeks and Azriel’s leathers. In your mate’s arms, you finally have the courage to voice your deepest fear.

"I'm scared, Az. What if I hurt you again? Hurt someone else? What if I do something worse?”

The vulnerability in your voice tugs at his heartstrings, igniting a fierce determination to shield you from any harm. He’d do anything for you.

“You can do no wrong in my eyes.” Azriel responds, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. He then inhales deeply, flooding his senses with your scent. “You don’t know how much I missed you.”

Azriel then pulls away, just enough to look at you again. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t save you but I’m here now. I won’t fail you this time.”

Your gaze softens. You send a wave of pure love through the bond and Azriel feels his heart flutter at the sensation he’s been deprived of for so long.

“You never failed me, Az.”

Azriel's face breaks into a radiant smile and you smile back at him. It lights up the darkness that had weighed heavily on his heart for centuries. "I love you," his voice is barely above a breath, reveling in the blush that takes over your cheeks in response.

He reaches for the chain around his neck, fingers trembling slightly as he clasps your left hand. His gaze lingers on the lunar tattoo on your arm that matches his for a moment before sliding your wedding ring back onto your finger.

Holding your gaze, he brings your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it. "My mate," he murmurs against your skin. He then kisses the ring on your finger, the cobalt gem glowing in response. “My wife.”

"I love you," you say back, your arms winding around his neck as your fingers caress the soft strands of his hair. He yields to you, allowing himself to be drawn closer. You kiss the corner of his mouth. "My mate."

Then, finally, you press your lips against his. "My husband," you declare softly, sealing your bond with a kiss that echoes the depths of your devotion and commitment to each other.

And for the first time in centuries, Azriel sleeps soundly with you in his arms. Free from the torment of nightmares that had haunted him for so long.

Only to wake up and realize it’s because he’s now living in one.

a/n: Hope you enjoyed! When writing this, I didn't intend for there to be more parts so for now, it's a one-shot. I left the ending open-ended to allow you to interpret it how you want and also, leave room for a sequel in case I ever do want to go back to this. That being said, while I don't have ideas for a sequel in mind as of right now, I did come up with a backstory for Az & reader in this little au so I might write a prequel on how their relationship came to be.

I also have another Az x Rhys's sister series. It is written in third person and it's more of an Az x OC series. You can find it here, if interested. But I do intend to make this au different than that one.

tagging: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444

#azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel x rhysand's sister #azriel angst #azriel imagine #azriel one shot #azriel fanfiction #acotar imagine #acotar fanfiction #acotar angst #acotar x reader #acotar x you #acotar x y/n

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hatsukeii · 5 months ago

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Kuroo Tetsuro has survived just about a hundred confessions in his lifetime. No, really, he has. He's survived meek, stuttering schoolgirls who bring him boxes of intricately wrapped chocolates, bolder, riskier classmates who offer to fill in the empty spot as his plus-one for school events, even girls from schools they play against who ask for a signature across their tits after Nekoma matches (which he has definitely never taken up before, for sure, not even a question.)

He is rendered speechless for the first time in his life, as he rummages through his brain, looking for the right words to either declare his undying infatuation, or to put together some sort of excuse as a backup plan if his confession goes sideways. Somehow, he fails to do either, which is how the two of you end up stuck inside the storage room of Nekoma's gym, surrounded by the seductive scent of rubber and leather volleyballs, and sweaty, unwashed school jerseys.

It was supposed to be easy, he was supposed to offer to pack up, and wait for the rest of the team to leave first, before ushering you, the team manager, over to him. He was supposed to tell you that he thought you were totally cool (not awesome yet though), one hand pressed up against the wall outside the storage room so his body could lean into it, and the other one spinning a volleyball on his finger like he just #didn't care lol if you said yes or no (which was a blatant lie). After that, since you would obviously have said yes anyways, he was supposed to flick the ball up and catch it with one hand only, flip his hair back like the totally awesome and nonchalant guy he thinks he is (he's not), and give you a wink for good measure, just so you remember how totally hot he is and never lose interest in him. Then, he would retreat into the storage room, and toss the volleyball into the basket with the others, waiting to hear for your giddy skips out of the gym. Once you were out, he would scream and jump like a teenage schoolgirl who just got their tits signed by Kuroo Tetsuro, and go home with a skip in his step. It was a perfect plan, down to the minute details.

Everything went south the second he decided to lean against the wall. It seemed that he had miscalibrated how many inches away the part of the wall that he was planning to lean on was from the door to the storage room. He instead opted to place his entire body weight onto the door that was kept ajar, so as to make sure Kuroo could go inside and toss the volleyball into the basket. It was already too late to salvage his plan when he sensed the shift in his centre of gravity, and the lack of surface beneath his feet as he tumbled straight into the storage room right in front of you. Obviously worried (of course, since you're supposed to be blindly in love with him), you ran in as well, too quickly for Kuroo to stop you before the door slowly swung shut behind your back, drowning the room in a blanket of pitch darkness.

The door unlocks from the outside. The keys are in Kuroo's pocket, which are now stuck inside the storage room that he had to unlock from the outside to keep open so he could toss the ball into the basket with the others after confessing his totally lowkey, "they don't even matter at all" feelings for you. See? This is what happens when Kuroo tries to do new things.

"You sure you don't want the lights-"

"KEEP THEM- nah, just keep them off, I like it better this way anyways."

He will stand in front of the light switch to block it completely if he needs to. He will threaten to strip naked right then and there if it means you will not even try to turn those fucking lights on. His entire body is so fucking red right now it's not even funny anymore, just embarrassing, and really, really lame. On the other hand, you just really want to find your phone, which has miraculously slipped out of your pocket and slid onto the ground of the storage room somewhere.

"Can I at least borrow your phone for a flashlight? I need to find mine, gotta let my parents know I might actually not make it home tonight."

Now Kuroo isn't a selfish person, and he is happy to offer his phone for you to find your own, so long as you don't try to look at him while you sweep across the floor of the room. He is happy to offer his phone, but it is sitting outside on a bench, far away from the horrors of the storage room. His free hand, now clammy and grimy from falling onto the ground and sweating bullets from his embarrassment, reaches up to rub his temples. Not only did his meticulously crafted plan blow up in his face, he now has to spend how many hours stuck in here with you, knowing full well he was going to confess. He can't even offer you help in finding a fucking phone in here. This isn't funny anymore, just humiliating, and really, really, really lame.

"Yeah, uh, that's somewhere outside too, my bad."

You stretch your hands out in front of you, feeling for a cart, or a wall, anything to lead your way. Your fingers manage to graze over the wall, and you almost cry out in relief when you can vaguely tell where in the storage room you are. Pressing your back against the wall, you slide downwards to sit. You don't have a watch, or any indication of time for that matter, but you can tell it's going to be a long night in here.

So why not probe a little further?

"Well, Tetsu, since we'll be stuck here for a while anyways, what were you saying before?"

The way his nickname rolls off your tongue makes him reconsider giving up on his efforts, until the rest of your question ensues. Kuroo can make out where you are from your voice, and he too tries to feel for a wall of some sort to walk along. Instead of a wall, he walks straight into you and trips over, falling into a pile of old jerseys. He isn't even sure how you're sitting here with that chemical weapon right next to you, but this will have to make do for now. He settles himself down beside you, his hand pressing against the ground.

"Me?" Who else? The Boogeyman?

"No, me. Yes, obviously you, dumbass, before you locked us both into this place."

He is sure of one thing: He does not want to confess to you right now. He did, twenty minutes ago, but as of now, he doesn't. His eyes dart wildly from one place to another, looking between nothing in particular in the pitch black room. Fuck me! Kill me now! Put a stop to this never-ending suffering! You think those old jerseys might actually have fatal effects on the human body?

"Nothing, don't worry about it haha it's literally nothing." God he sounds so fucking stupid. Haha? Seriously? Like that's going to save him now?

"Alright, then, guess we'll just sit here in silence for however long it takes until someone finds us. It will probably be tomorrow morning, just letting you know. But that's fine." No, it is not fine. You're itching to know what he was going to say. You're really hoping it's what you thought he was going for, but being hopeful leads to getting locked in a storage room, sitting next to a potential biohazard for the next 13 or so hours.

The motion activated lights outside the storage room shut off, and you can tell that it's dark out by the way that no light seeps through the bottom of the door anymore. Your stomach rumbles, unaccustomed to running this empty at this time of day. If only you can find your phone, which is lying unceremoniously somewhere in this room, and order something. That is your main concern. Kuroo's main concern is something way bigger, and much, much harder to fix. He is locked in a pitch black room with his team manager, who he's been head over heels fawning over ever since they graced the club with their presence. His phone is somewhere outside, which is not ideal. Your phone is somewhere inside, but to find it, you would have to turn the lights on, which is clearly the most reasonable thing to do. Except the second you turn the lights on, you will be able to see how the red from Kuroo's face and neck is slowly, but surely seeping into his white t-shirt, the amount of red enough to begin staining the collar pink, which is also not ideal, and is in fact, much worse.

"God, what the fuck am I doing?" Kuroo's hands travel to his ears, and the tips are smoking hot. He cups them in his palms, before rubbing his face in agony. This was supposed to be easy, and cool, and he was supposed to walk out of the gym with a new girlfriend. Now, he's not even sure when he will get to walk out of this gym. Should he make some small talk? Lie on the ground and sleep? Try to find a bottle to piss in for the night?

"If you help me find my phone, we can order food, and I'm telling you right now I need that, so badly. Can you please just turn the fucking lights on, Tetsu? Please?"

He doesn't respond, partially because he's too scared to, and mostly because he's trying to think of what excuse he can vomit out for being piping red everywhere the second you flick the lights on. He can feel you standing up by the way that your knee makes that little clicking sound when you extend them, the little sound he's heard so many times before during packup. You take one step, two steps three steps, hands outstretched and feeling for the smooth plastic of the light switch. Just as the coolness hits your fingertips, you flick the switch on.

Click!

"I'm like, really into you."

Oh! This was definitely not what you expected! Fuck me! Kill me now! How do you keep it cool when he's sitting right there!

You don't spare a second in turning the lights back off, drowning the room in darkness again, this time to hide your own flushing face. You're supposed to spend the next 13 or so hours in here with this guy, and he's just dropped a bombshell onto you. Not to say you don't reciprocate, because you obviously do (who wouldn't?), but you have to admit, it's a little scary thinking about the possibility of it, and it's really scary when the possibility is confirmed, for better or for worse.

Meanwhile, the possibility has been confirmed for Kuroo, for the worse. Much, much worse. Was it that bad? Was he so pathetic in his antics, that the second he truly meant what he said, you had to shut the lights off? He should've just waited longer, for more signs, or more tells, anything. He should've waited until his chances were maximised, so that there was no margin of error, and he definitely should not have planned to lean on a wall so close to a door that unlocks from the outside. Instead of his carefully orchestrated confession going swimmingly, it is drowning, and it's kicking and flailing its arms and legs everywhere, gasping for air.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this. Sorry. Wow! This is really fucking embarrassing! I need to die, like right now! Feel free to stay on that side of the room, you go girl!"

You try to stifle in a laugh, but it leaves your mouth before you can stop it. Typical Tetsuro, he just can't help but end everything with a joke. Time to test his sincerity.

"Alright, well what if..."

He can hear your footsteps approaching. He shuts his eyes, he's ready for anything. Kuroo has thick skin, he knows it. He's been hit more times that he can count in every single area of his body by the force of leather balls being struck by teenage boys, he's ready for it, trust guys! He's got this! In the bag! (The bag is a soggy paper bag that just broke from the bottom. Everything inside is rolling away from him on the ground.)

Instead of the stinging slap he's expecting, your extended hand brushes his shoulder, and then two hands cradle his face from the sides. The musty air of the storage room dissipates, and he smells chapstick instead, minty, almost unnoticeable. He braces himself. You're about to break his neck, he's sure of it, and honestly, that doesn't sound like too bad of an option right now.

"...I do this?"

Goodbye, beautiful world, and volleyball, and fans asking him to sign their tits. And most importantly of all, goodbye, you.

Then he tastes mint. It's a miracle that you even manage to find where his lips are in the pitch black darkness of the room, but a shot of luck works out in miraculous ways sometimes. This is one of those times. Kuroo has no idea what he's doing. Should his hands go on your waist? Or your face? Or your neck? Why is he thinking about those things right now, as if he can see where you are, and as if you aren't kissing him in the middle of the gym storage room? Fuck it, he just shuts his eyes and lets it happen, placing his hands wherever he can find you.

After all, he's Kuroo Tetsuro, and he just pulled his team manager by locking himself in a room with them on accident at 8pm on a Wednesday night.

"This was all a part of my masterplan, you just weren't aware of it."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Tetsu."

“Oh, this definitely does.”

You pull him close by his collar, and you can feel the heat radiating off his face. You smirk, can’t have a guy like him getting too cocky.

“Don’t embarrass me, motherfucker.”

Kuroo grins at your threat. Never has he ever had to make his own confession, let alone receive a threat in response. To be fair, never has he ever been locked in the gym’s storage room with his team manager either. Truly a night of new experiences.

He thinks it’s hot. Like really hot. He might just embarrass you a little once every so often to hear you say it again.

“Whatever you say, princess.”

____________________________________________

Kenma comes in for morning practice the next day, and for once Kuroo is earlier than him, judging by the way that his duffel bag is slouched over the bench, and his regular sneakers are sitting beneath it. Coach has given him the spare keys to the storage room, just in case Kuroo has lost his set again. He goes to unlock the door, seeing that it's closed, which means Kuroo has definitely lost them.

He opens the door to the two of you asleep, half of your body sprawled on top of his, and one of his arms resting inside your shirt, right on the dip of your back, atop a pile of old, musty jerseys. He winces, not at the sight of the two of you finally together, but at the fact that you two have managed to fall asleep in the centre of a bioweapon.

author's note:

i cracked myself up so many times writing this you have no idea, and i hope i have cracked you up too as you read this.

here are the tags!

@chuuya-brainrot @starlysama @bailey-reeds

will see you all in the next one, love u guys, bye bye

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo x reader #hq imagines #hq crack #haikyuu kuroo #kuroo testuro #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu oneshot #kuroo tetsuro fluff #haikyuu fluff #kuroo tetsuro imagine #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo fluff

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inkprovised · 2 years ago

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Have a Luigi and Bowser idea that lives in my head rent-free...

I wrote it down quickly and half asleep. I hope you can read it.

Find more Little Turtle here!

Little Turtle

At the age of 11, Luigi started losing his eyesight and became blind within one year.

Luigi is 24 now and lives with his twin brother Mario.

On his way home from university, Luigi reached their backyard and stopped in his tracks as he heard Mario... 'cursing'?

"Mario, are you alright?!" the younger twin shouted, ready to open the gate, as he stopped.

"Lu, you're home already? Wait, wait, wait, don't come in! There is a huge animal somewhere!" Mario sounded nervous.

Luigi paused. "A huge animal?"

"Y-yeah! Maybe you'd better take another walk until I get everything under control!"

That was weird, Luigi thought, but okay. He could come back later... at that, he closed the fence, ready to head anywhere else but stopped in his tracks, when he felt a warm breeze at the back of his head and neck...

Luigi's hands shook ever so slightly. This was no breeze. Someone or something stood behind him, breathing in his neck.

"H-hey." the young man started. "A-Are you the one m-my brother is talking about?" He turned around, slowly, his knees shaking like jelly.

"Do you mind if I take a look of you? ...I mean not look - look, I obviously can't see you, but I mean -" he held up his hands. "I can 'look' at you with my hands... if that's alright with you, that is..."

A short silence, then a snuffle can be heard, and for Luigi, it feels like permission. The young man smiled and reached out.

Something warm and soft brushed against his fingertips, and he gasped.

"Ah. There you are."

('How to train you Koopa King' lol)

Mario was searching for anything he could use as a weapon... how could this be?!

He was cleaning the living room - what he hated, but was forced to do since he lived with his blind brother.

The last time Mario decided to clean the floor 'later' , Luigi almost broke his arm.

Inside their home, Lu was swift on his feet. He knew where everything was, knew how many steps between every single piece of furniture were. And that day, he walked fast as always and fell hard over a box Mario left there on the floor. Thank the stars nothing worse happened, but Lu was forced to wear a cast for weeks nonetheless.

While cleaning, Mario took a look out of the window, and there he saw it.

A giant... Teenage... Mutant... Ninja... Turtle... thingy in the middle of their small piece of lawn. Mario freaked out and ran into the kitchen - looking for a knife or anything else he could use, while having his cellphone tugged between ear and shoulder.

The line beeping...

Mario cursed.

Then... did he just hear Luigis' voice?!! From the backyard???!!!

He had to get him away from there! So he yells at him to take another walk.

The line is still beeping....

Mario grabbed the knife and ran back into the living room. Taking another look at the garden, he panicked when he saw his baby-bro in the claws of this THING! Fighting for... his life? .... squishing the face of this... creature... thing...

Mario burst out of the door, screaming in horror.

"LU!!! NO!!!!!"

Luigi carefully touched the face in front of him. It was not human, that he could say at first touch. It was huge. Soft. He couldn't stop himself, and he squished the huge muzzle. The creature didn't flinch. Then he heard his brother behind him, screaming in horror.

"It's fine, Mario! He's nice. And I'm almost done here! Luigi stroked over the big creatures nose and felt something... smoll and even softer than the rest of the face... A scar?

"Ah!" Luigis face lit up. Could it be? After all these years... how! Why?

"Is that YOU, my little Turtle?!"

"'Little Turtle'?" Mario asked, dumbfounded.

And the line was still beeping...

Luigi turned the direction he thought Mario to be. He beamed.

"I told you about him! Don't you remember? Back when I fell down the street drain!"

-----

Luigi was 12 and just lost his eyesight completely. He had a very hard time and ran from home after an argument with his parents. Of course, he got lost immediately. The rain was pouring, and he fell down a barely secured street drain.

Down there, he crouched against the wall, trying to ignore the pain in his head from his fall, crying his eyes out. The other moment, Luigi heard another sound... whining?

The boy held his breath, trying to listen over the loud splashing water. Again.

"Hello?" Luigi crawled in the direction of the sound. "Do you need help? Are you lost too?" The next thing he felt was something hard. A... shell? A Turtle? "Are you hurt?" Luigi pet it carefully, searching for anything that might feel like injuries. He felt the animal shiver and whine under his fingers. "Don't worry, my little Turtle. I'll take care of you." There was a deep scratch close to the 'nose' and an open wound on its leg. The boy took off his scarf and tied it around the wound, then he took the animal on his lap. Under his hand, he felt... horns? And... hair??? Also, the little 'Turtle' was bigger than expected... odd.

Luigi talked to the little creature for hours, rocking them both until they fell asleep.

Hours later, Luigi was found by some workers. He must have slept for some time now, and when he woke, the turtle was gone...

-----

"I told you about him back then!" Luigi explained.

Mario looked at him in disbelief. "Mum and Dad always said you hit your head down there! Or you were too old for an imaginary friend... HOW do you know it's him?"

At that, Luigi went silent. "I just know it..." Then the younger twin felt something tug his hand...

Mario gasped loudly. The giant 'turtle' opened Luigi's hand and laid something inside.

Luigi felt some sort of cloth.

"Lu!" Mario shouted, excited. "That's it! That's the scarf you lost back then!"

Someone picked up the phone...

"Animal Control. What can I do for you?"

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ghostofhyuck · 6 months ago

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NCT Dream who's most likely to switch their shoes with your heels.

AN: *screams* MARK LEE!!! This is all his fault bec. of that fansign video. >:( jk. But as someone who's tall and loves wearing heels, i have to write this ! (still implied that reader is shorter than dreamies.)

Huang Renjun

Have you seen his outfit looks !?!?!?! Heels are no worries for him. He doesn't care if it's a stilettos or high heels, if your feet is aching so bad that you can't walk properly without wincing, he doesn't hesitate to remove his shoes so that you can wear it. It's huge for your feet and you'll probably drag it against the ground but you don't mind it because your soles can finally rest. Renjun on the other hand, doesn't mind walking around wearing your heels, it's pretty and he wants for you to be comfortable. :<

Lee Donghyuck

Another one who wears heels in Dreamies ofc!! Heels are his least worries, he doesn't mind switching shoes with you BUT it depends on the situation, if it was a formal event where you're required, he'll be worried for your feet the whole night. But if you just want to wear heels because you want to, Haechan would probably roll his eyes because he told you so that the heels isn't the best shoes to wear during that time, and yet, he doesn't think twice of removing his shoes so that he can switch it with your heels.

Mark Lee

Mark's third and that's because he stated that he'll give his shoes to his girlfriend but will prefer to walk around barefoot though. LMAO anyway, since that's the case, I feel like Mark would not be that barefoot (jesus christ, the streets are dirty!) so he'll probably leave his socks on if he's wearing one lol. It doesn't matter if the socks get so dirty, he doesn't mind it though as long as you're comfy with his shoes, and would probably be the type of carry your heels for you. :<

Park Jisung

Just like Mark, I feel like Jisung would prefer walking around wearing socks or barefoot just so you can wear his shoes. He doesn't mind at all because he prioritizes your comfort first! I think he's also the type who tells you to sit on a chair or maybe bench first if your feet is aching, he lets you rest first and if it's really unbearable, that's when he offers his shoes for you, and there will be push and pull fight with you two and at the end, he's walking around wearing his socks, carrying your heels while you drag his huge shoes around lol.

Zhong Chenle

I don't know where this spectrum is going but Chenle's on the least likely BUT that's because he probably would be willing to switch shoes with you but he can't walk properly in heels lol. So his solution is to buy you shoes! or any footwear that is within your vicinity. You'll be shocked because of his gestures but you watch as he casually grabs the box from the paperbag, open it to see a pair of expensive sneakers and it fits you perfectly??? so you're just having a cinderella moment there and your bf is like, pats shoulder because he's so proud of what he did. <3

Na Jaemin

He's also same with Chenle! He probably would like switch shoes with you but it depends which type of shoes are you wearing, if it's a stilettos or a high heels, he can't walk properly on it. He also wants to be comfy too! So he would probably be the type to carry you instead of switching shoes with you lol. It's much easier for both of you because I feel like Jaemin thinks there's much princess treatment carrying you rather than you wearing his shoes that's too big for you while he's wearing barefoot. Plus the walk is easier!

Lee Jeno

Same with Jaemin, Jeno would be willing to switch shoes with you but you know what? Once you complained to him that your feet is aching and you don't want to walk anymore, he just thinks that the better solution is to carry you on the way home! Piggyback type of carry and it's with an ease, he'll probably ask you if your comfortable enough in the position and would walk slowly so that you don't feel uncomfy, :< He likes it too because the skinship between you two is because you're snuggled around him like a koala. :<<

#nct dream #nct imagines #nct dream fic #nct fic #nct x reader #nct #nct dream imagine #nct scenarios #nct fluff #nct dream reactions #nct drabbles #nct dream imagines #nct mark #nct jeno #nct renjun #nct haechan #nct chenle #nct jisung #nct jaemin

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dpspcehntr · 24 days ago

Note

In the spirit of being premenstrual and irritable, what do you think would be the cause of the LaDS and MCs first serious argument and who would snap first?

For Zayne, I believe it would be MC getting injured and Zayne being fed up with her "reckless" behaviour fighting wanderers. Even though he knows how capable they are, it's borne out of worry.

Xavier is so chill, I can't imagine him being angry even if MC gives him a Pennywise makeover while he snoozes and says nothing as he walks down the street looking like nightmare material. What would set him off, though? MC eats the last hotpot?

Sylus would snap because MC threatened to set him on fire one too many times lol

And Rafayel... The clouds aren't the right shape? MC cuddled her plushies more than she hugged him? The list of possibilities are endless with this dramatic fish boy, but what would make him really angry and not just pouty?

Hello again friend! Arguments with the boys I feel are rare, mostly because all of them seem to communicate well for the most part. Take all of this with a grain of salt as I am not an expert!

Zayne is kind of a no brainer. The first serious argument would be over MC’s reckless behavior during a mission. It would start as a stern “talking” to as MC’s doctor to which MC just blows him off. It would turn into a major fight because MC does’t take how serious the situation could’ve been. I don’t think it reached screaming match but the folks at the hospital do start to worry about the tone of his and MCs voices. Obviously Zayne is going to continue to be concerned for her health so she instead has to do a bit of work to understand where he’s coming from and be nicer when he does lecture her on her health.

Xavier is a tricky one cause I don’t think the thought of an argument is even possible for him. If anything it’s MC who is upset with something and lashes out. It’s because of his easy going nature that makes MC even angrier. Eventually they talk it out but yea an argument between these two will be because he hardly ever expresses his own emotions and goes for soothing and problem solving first.

Sylus would have an argument with MC about not taking the dangers of the N109 zone seriously. It would be something MC sees as not that deep but he would be quite upset at how little she cares about her well-being. Again not a yelling fit but you both don’t speak to each other for a few days after. Eventual apologies occur and then a discussion on how dangerous the N109 zone really is and reaching an agreement where MC can protect herself but not be smothered by Sylus’ need to be in control.

Rafayel early into his relationship with MC would have some small disagreement that he just harbors on for a while. He just kinda disappears for a few days and when he does resurface the issue has only gotten bigger. It would be a very tense and heated conversation for quite a while before both of them come to an understanding. After that, they both bring anything that bothers them to each other right away and hash it out.

Yea this stuff is not my forte but I tried 😭! I love angst but I’m so bad at it. I hope I did this some justice!

My ask box is open! Send me your NSFW head cannons/thoughts/confessions about the LADS main 4! I might even write some of them up!

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potatoplace · 2 months ago

Text

Gone

Azriel x Archeron!Reader (deceased), Elriel

the 1 | alternate endings: betty | The Prophecy

mini-series masterlist | ACOTAR x reader masterlist

Story Summary: In the wake of your death, Azriel loses everything. And still, you're dead and gone, an aching void felt in those around you.

Warnings: character death (suicide), dead body of reader, grieving, fuck Azriel

Words: ~2.5k

Author's Note: Yes, the title comes from Rosé's 'Gone'. Go listen to it RIGHT NOW. I would say that even without this fic tho lol love me some Rosie 🫶 So here's the first one of the second parts to the 1! I hope you guys like it, and I hope I did all of the characters' reactions justice (especially Miss Feyre) - ALSO thank you for all the love you've given the 1! It was born out of my own crappy day, I'm happy something good came out of it ☺️

18+ only pls

🤍💙🩷💙🤍

Azriel quickly made his way back to Elain, doing his best to put the interaction he had just had with you behind him.

His mate.

Elain’s sister… That’s the only way he had ever thought of you.

As a human you had been… Less than average. Hard to look at.

At least in comparison to Elain.

Elain was a breath of fresh air, so lovely and innocent and so entirely unlike him.

And turned fae, she was even more breathtaking.

He had waited for her to realize how truly damaged and scarred he was, and not just on the outside. How entirely unworthy of her he was.

But she hadn’t. She had seen him, loved him, even with how broken he was on the inside.

And he had meant his words to Nesta, when he had said no one would ever compare to Elain, even his mate.

And he was right. You didn’t compare to her.

But as he reached her side and wrapped his arm around his lovely Elain, he couldn’t help but… wonder.

Had he just made a mistake in rejecting the bond so easily?

His free hand came to rub at his chest, which felt like it was being scraped with a knife, a dull, throbbing pain.

“Are you alright?” Elain’s sweet voice asked, and he tilted his head to look down at her.

A small smile graced his lips. “Of course, sweetheart. Come to the balcony with me, will you?”

The ring he had selected for Elain lay in a white velvet box, tucked safely in his jacket pocket. It was a beautiful ring, a silver band inlaid with glittering diamonds, and a stunning pink diamond as the centerpiece.

You had told him that Elain had always wanted a pink diamond ring.

He hoped you weren’t lying, trying to sabotage his proposal.

He wouldn’t put it past you, mating bonds do make fae rather territorial. Even if Elain is your sister.

He shook the thought out of his head, you had never been anything but kind. Boring, yes. Quiet, yes. But always kind.

Azriel smiled at Elain once they reached the balcony, and they stared out over Velaris together for a moment while he gathered his courage.

“Elain,” he said softly, drawing her gaze to him.

“Yes, love?” Elain asked, her lips curving upwards, as if she knew what was coming.

Azriel dropped to one knee and pulled the box from his jacket, reveling in how Elain’s eyes lit up.

“Elain, I have loved you for so long now. In fact, I believe I loved you from the moment I set eyes on you all that time ago, in the human lands. Never did I think that I would have the honor of calling you mine, even once. But now, knowing how wonderful you are, I cannot imagine spending the rest of my life with anyone but you. Elain,” he said, cracking open the box and showing her the ring inside. “Will you marry me?”

Tears were streaming down Elain’s face as she beamed down at him. “Yes, yes, a thousand times yes!” She squealed, and Azriel quickly slipped the ring onto her left hand before taking her in his arms and spinning her around. “I love you so much, Az. And how did you know I wanted a pink diamond?” Elain asked once he had set her down, giving her time to admire her new ring.

“Oh, I may have asked Y/N for advice on what you’ve always wanted,” Azriel said.

“Ah, that was smart-”

“Oh my gods!” Feyre screamed, cutting Elain off and causing the pair to look over to her.

“What is it, Feyre?” Rhys asked worriedly, panic on his face after Feyre’s outburst.

Feyre took off running before answering, Rhys following immediately, and the rest of the inner circle exchanged looks before sprinting after them, leaving the confused citizens of Velaris behind.

They skidded to a stop at a balcony, where Feyre was leaning over it, sobbing.

“No!” She screamed, a guttural cry leaving her lips as she collapsed to the floor, Rhys barely catching her in time as she passed out in his arms.

“What is it, Feyre?” Nesta asked as she walked over to the balcony, glancing over the side herself. “Mother above! Y/N!” Nesta yelled, the first time that Azriel had heard true, heart wrenching pain in her voice, and she collapsed next to Feyre, tears streaming down her face.

Y/N?

But what would be wrong with Y/N? Azriel had left her in the hallway, not ten minutes before now.

Elain tugged him over to the balcony, her heart rate picking up just from the reactions of her sisters. When she peeked over the side, a scream left her lips, more wounded and hurt than Azriel thought she would ever sound. “Y/N!” Elain cried as she fell next to her sisters, the three of them huddled together once Feyre came to a moment later, her sobs picking up instantly, her hands clutching at her chest.

Azriel dared a glance over the side, his heart dropping to his stomach when he saw it.

Saw you.

Lying there, unmoving, darkness surrounding your body.

He gasped and stumbled back from the balcony, reality hitting him.

Dead.

You were dead.

You were his mate and you were dead!

Tears streamed down his face, and he couldn’t tell exactly what happened next, but soon enough Cassian was flying back up from the ground, your limp, unmoving body in his arms.

The three sisters’ sobs grew louder when they saw you up close, the three of them surrounding your body where Cassian had gently placed it on the floor. Feyre sat with your head resting in her lap, her hands running through your hair as she sobbed. Azriel watched on, a hand covering his mouth as he beheld your lifeless form.

“Why…? Why would she do this?” Feyre cried, resting her head on Rhys’s shoulder when he sat next to her. “I don’t understand, she was fine just a little bit ago…”

Azriel couldn’t help but feel partially responsible.

“I…” He started, but stopped before he got it out.

Nesta’s head whipped towards him, though. “You…? You what, Azriel?” She snapped.

All eyes followed suit, snapping to Azriel’s form, taking in the tears on his cheeks.

“I… Y/N is… was… my…”

“Spit it out,” Nesta growled, her voice icy with rage and grief.

“Y/N was my mate,” Azriel finally whispered.

Everyone gasped, but it was Elain’s face that broke his heart.

“Y/N was… I don’t understand,” Feyre said softly, watery eyes meeting Azriel’s. “What… What happened?” She asked between teary breaths.

“She… She told me, when she had asked to speak with me, Elain.”

“And?” The sharp question came from Rhys.

Azriel hesitated, but the pressure of all those teary eyes had him answering. “I rejected the bond. Just as I said I would.”

“You what?!” Nesta screeched as she launched her body towards him, only stopped by Cassian’s strong arms wrapping around her waist and holding her back from killing his brother. “You found out about the bond and rejected it in the same night?! In less than ten minutes?!”

Feyre was glaring at him, tears streaming down her face, and he was sure that if she wasn’t still cradling your head in her lap that she would be eviscerating him with Nesta’s help.

And Elain… She was staring at him with such sorrow in her eyes, the love that had been shining in them mere minutes before all but gone.

“I… I thought that it was what I should do, I love Elain,” Azriel explained, but he could tell it was the wrong words by everyone’s shock and disgust.

“So you turned down the bond? Just like that? You couldn’t even think about it? When it was Y/N?!” Nesta yelled, her struggles against her mate renewed with her outrage. “What in the hells is wrong with you?” She snarled, silver flames bursting from her fingers.

“You should go, Azriel,” Feyre said quietly, the calm before the storm. And he didn’t want to be here when his High Lady turned into a raging hurricane.

His gaze snapped to Elain, who had turned away from him, instead focusing on where her fingers were caressing your rapidly paling face.

“Az. Just, go home. Okay?” Cassian suggested, his own expression harder than it normally appeared, but still softer than everyone else around them.

Mor and Amren, who had been quiet throughout the ordeal, gave him pitying looks as he turned to leave, his wings drooping to touch the ground.

The three sisters wails grew in volume as he left them, Feyre’s the loudest among them as she mourned her twin, who she’d already lost in death once before, and nearly again to the terror that was the Cauldron.

He could hear the concerned chatter of the citizens of Velaris nearby, a few people daring to venture into the disallowed areas of the House to see what all the commotion had been about. Quickly, Azriel made his way to another quiet balcony, launching himself into the sky.

Tears were still falling from his eyes when he landed in front of his and Elain’s cottage- though he wasn’t sure if he should even call it that anymore.

She still said yes, his shadows whispered to him quietly, their voices tinged with sadness. But… Our mate… they wept softly, coiling tightly around him.

Azriel threw the door open, making a beeline for the bedroom. He collapsed by the foot of the bed, a sob ripping from his throat.

His mate. Gone.

🤍💙🩷💙🤍

Three days later and his mate was being lowered into the ground, her decoratively carved wooden casket slowly taking her to her final resting place.

His mate. Dead.

It had been three days since he and Elain had spoken, though they had laid next to each other in silence each night when Elain came home from planning the funeral and mourning in the company of her remaining sisters.

She looked beautiful today, even in dull black mourning garb. Her engagement ring was still sparkling on her ring finger, the one ray of light still left in his life.

He couldn’t help but feel she was slipping through his fingers, though.

A situation entirely of his own making, he supposed.

After the ceremony and during the wake, he waited for Elain to approach him first.

“Hi, Az,” she said softly, settling herself into the chair next to him. He murmured a soft hello back. “I wanted to… Talk to you.”

“Oh? What about, ‘Lainey?”

A slight blush colored her cheeks at the nickname. “I wanted to know… What you said to Y/N. I just… I need to know if it was just the bond being rejected or…” She trailed off, turning her eyes from his hazel ones to the table.

“If I was needlessly cruel to her?”

Elain pursed her lips together. “Yes.”

Azriel sighed. He had hoped he would never need to admit how horribly his last interaction with his mate had gone. “I… I was not kind to her, not like I should have been. I wish I could change how I rejected her Elain.”

Elain’s mouth turned downwards. “What exactly did you say?”

Azriel looked at the ground. He couldn’t meet her eyes as he repeated his awful words to her, her eyes widening by the second.

“I… Azriel, I am sorry, but I cannot marry you.” She slipped the ring, the ring that was so, perfectly Elain, off of her finger and onto the table, sliding it over to him. “I would not be able to marry someone who could say such things to someone, let alone to my sister and their mate. I… I wish you the best. I’ll move my things out of the cottage as soon as possible.”

And with that, Elain stood from the table and walked back to where her sisters and his brothers were sitting, leaving him and his broken heart in her wake.

She’s right, master, the shadows whispered to him. You hurt our mate badly. She is gone.

Tears pricked Azriel’s eyes again.

A few minutes later, a black cloud encroached on his field of view-

His High Lady.

“You said WHAT to my twin?!” Feyre screamed at him, darkness flooding his vision. “You thought being her mate was a joke?! And when it wasn’t a joke, you told her she would never compare to Elain?! And that waiting for your mate, the one who was made for you, was a waste of time?! What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Feyre raged, her inner beast coming out, only for Azriel to see.

And he was horrified, terrified as his High Lady pinned him to the ground, talons cutting into the skin of his throat and piercing his left wing.

“I should rip you limb from limb,” Feyre hissed, her voice more animal than fae. “It is only for my mate that I will not, but you will leave this court and never return. Better yet, leave the fucking continent so that I am less tempted to hunt you down and slaughter you anyways.”

And then Feyre was off of him, letting her claws slice into his neck, just barely missing his jugular. The darkness receded, leaving him lying on the ground bleeding and Feyre standing over him, appearing as a fae again.

“Azriel.” Rhys approached the two of them, followed closely by Cassian, and extended a hand to help Azriel up. “Brother, you know that I love you. But… You can’t stay here. Not now. Not after… This.” A heavy sigh left his brother’s lips.

Cassian hugged him tightly, careful to avoid brushing against his now punctured wing.

“I’ll miss you, brother. Take care of yourself… Don’t… Don’t do anything stupid, okay?” Cassian said quietly, tears shining in his eyes.

“I second that, Az. Be smart, hmm? I’m sure that you’ll find somewhere to hear from this, to change from this,” Rhys said aloud. Then, he spoke into his mind, “I know Feyre said to never return but… If you could, I would like for you to check in with me every month or so. Just to know that you’re alright.”

“I will,” Azriel replied in a soft voice, his throat sore from where Feyre had held him and cut him. “I am sorry, for what it’s worth,” he added as he regarded the three remaining Archeron sisters, knowing it would likely be the last time he would see any of them.

And then he took to the skies, even with his punctured wing making flight painful and more difficult than it had been since he first learned.

His mate, gone.

His family, gone.

It’s what I deserve.

General Taglist: @daughterofthemoons-stuff @lilah-asteria

'the 1' Taglist: @blackgirlmagicforever @historygeekqueen @angelbunny222

#gone #the 1 #fuck azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x reader angst #elriel #archeron!reader #angst #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #acotar #acotar fic #acotar fanfic #az x reader #az x reader angst #azriel angst #tato writes

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revelboo · 2 months ago

Note

I havent seen a fic for bumblebee yet and I'm sure you have your own plans that I will love anyway but I thought id throw an idea out😳

So, bumblebee gets his human somehow but the catch is they're selectively mute. So they take a little while to get comfortable talking to him-but otherwise physically settle in pretty quickly because hes just so doting taking really good care towards the human, finding them cute and he doesnt really *seem* threatening, just over excited maybe(?) but their partial muteness could lead to some fun interaction possibilities💛🙏 but yeah you dont have to do anything with it if you dont vibe w it lol but I just thought it might be a sweet option for if you write for everyone's favourite gentle bee eventually💛

P.s. I absolutely love your work!!! You give off professional writer with a side obsession that the fandom is SO lucky to have💗

Thanks- I’ve been meaning to write Bee for a bit since y’all keep asking.

Last Night

Bumblebee x Reader

• Moving into the tree line, Bumblebee can feel the sun warming him, the subtle change in temperature as he enters the shade. Hear little birds chirping above him, catch glimpses of them flitting among the branches. Slowing and keeping low, because there they are. Ethereal little organics moving about under the trees, heads lifting and ears flicking as they graze. Some of them have arching growths like branches on their heads, their thin legs looking incapable of holding their weight. They remind him of the life he’d seen on the surface of Cybertron long ago. Things curiously like these, but metal like a Cybertronian, they make him homesick to watch, but he keeps coming back anyway.

• A cardinal, bright against the bone-stark branch of a sycamore. Inhaling, you lift the camera and click off a few shots, managing to catch it in flight when it takes off. Fingers tightening on your camera, you move deeper into the woods. Having to remind yourself to watch for snakes, to occasionally look down. Losing yourself in the world through the lens, it’s a faint rustle ahead of you that slows your steps. There. Deer grazing in a natural clearing in the trees. Smiling you lift the camera, finger flying to take as many pictures as you can, hearing one of them snort. Heads up and alert. To you? Zooming in on a buck, you inhale because there’s something there on the other side of the clearing. Big and yellow and- are those eyes staring at you?

• He freezes, staring at the human dappled in spots of sun and shadow. Missed you completely so transfixed in watching the animals. Frozen as you lift the little box in your trembling hands and do something with it. Human tech that does who knows what. And he’s standing suddenly in alarm sending the animals bounding off into the underbrush. “Hey, wait,” he says as your eyes widen, mouth falling open. Then you’re running, too.

• You can’t scream, can’t make a sound as you run through the trees feeling branches whip your skin and brambles claw at your hair and clothes. That big yellow, metal monster is right on your heels, huge feet crashing after you. It’s faster than you, your heart racing as you feel its fingers brush your backpack and you’re brought up short. Unable to breathe or cry out, too paralyzed with fear as your feet leave the ground. Kicking, you squirm your arms out of the backpack straps and fall into a bush.

• Scrap, you’re quick. Dropping the thing you abandoned, he makes another grab and his servos close on you. Upside down and making a funny hitching sound, the whites show all around your eyes. “It’s okay. You’re okay,” he croons, trying to turn you upright and you just go limp in his servos. And he freezes in horror. Had he broken you that easily? No, he can feel your heart beating still, but you’re unresponsive. “It’s okay.” He’s not sure if he’s talking to you or himself as he adjusts his hold. Ratchet. He can fix this, make it right.

#bumblebee x reader #idw bumblebee #transformers x reader

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gothic-thoughts · 2 months ago

Text

Clearing Up Confusion

(sry its so long, i got a lil down bad i love him sm 😭)

Michael Myers x Black Fem Reader Smut

MDNI, AsylumPatient!Michael, Nurse!Reader, Forbidden Love, Virgin!Michael

Part 1: Right Here

Part 2: Right Here

Part 3: Right Here

CW: Confused Michael lol, afab parts mentioned, groping/palming, ✋🏾job, riding

TW: quick murder mention

Word Count: 2229 (give or take)

Michael didn't get it.

After months of knowing her, he still couldn't understand why (Y/n)'s body was always so... animated. Her hanging earrings bounced when she walked and her box braids swayed when she shook her head— on top of that, she was jiggly. Top, middle...bottom.

He didn't understand and it made him mad.

She walks into the cafeteria, those plump, dark thighs wiggling under her white nurse dress— as usual. (Y/n) glances over with a small wave but he doesn’t respond despite his attraction to her, he only squints behind that orange mask as she disappears between the kitchen doors. A couple minutes later, the nurse walks back out, still unaware of her slightly bouncing ass and thighs as she sipped from a small paper cup.

“See ya tomorrow, Mikey!”

Cold blue eyes follow her until she vanishes from them when stepping through the open cafeteria doors. Michael turns to look over his left shoulder and then his right, noting the two security guards standing behind him with tight grips on his chains. He knows that they’ll either try to stop him or go with him if he leaves— he just wants to talk to her in peace. He resets his position before gazing back down at his cold, untouched food.

The killer then slowly stands up, his almost 7-foot form casting an imposing shadow over the guards as he turns to face them. The guards immediately recoil and reach for their tasers but as soon as they do both of Michael’s hands grab their necks and simultaneously break them before dropping them to the floor with thuds, disregarding the cameras. He then turns to look at the exit.

Michael followed his nurse’s footsteps down the hall until he found her in the next, still drinking her water— still jiggling, unaware that one of the most violent and murderous patients escaped. Before he could grab her, another nurse turned the corner at the other end of the hall and gasped, stammering incoherently. (Y/n)’s steps slow down from her confusion, unknowingly making it easier for him.

“The hell is your problem— Mmh!?”

Michael’s hand suddenly covers her mouth, muffling her screams as he walks her back to his room. He shuts the door with a loud slam before turning and walking over to her.

“Hey, hey!” She called, eyebrows furrowed at him.

The Shape freezes.

“What did I say about the manhandling?”

His body tenses knowingly. He was so eager to see her, that he completely disregarded their agreement.

“Didn’t I say that if you wanna touch me, you gotta be gentle?”

He takes another step then gently places his fingers on her cheek, delicately stroking her cheek to show her understood— to show he was sorry. The gesture made her laugh a little, the sound, in turn, soothing his nerves as he continued to pet her like he would his masks. He didn’t like when she was disappointed in him; he wouldn’t even know what to do with himself if she was ever mad at him.

“It’s alright, you just scared the shit outta me. Now, why’d you need me so bad?”

He just stares down at her for a second, head tilting as he examines the unusual stillness of her body.

“Mikey...?” (Y/n) called, reaching out to rub his arm, “Michael, what’s the matter?”

Michael wordlessly spun the nurse around by her shoulders then guided her forward until her breasts and stomach were pressed against the wall next to his door, pinning her between him and the cement as gently as he could. He crouches down behind her so he can begin his analysis, starting with the jiggle in her thighs right as they stop. He got it: it was her movement; it had everything to do with why she was so jiggly. He gently swats the left one to truly confirm his observation.

“Wha— hey!” She squirms, “What are you— hey! Michael! Where is this coming from?”

Keeping one large hand pressed against her lower back, Michael uses the other finger to curiously poke and prod at (Y/n)’s left thigh. He then swats the right, making her tense then chuckle uncomfortably at his cluelessness but it was cut short with a sharp gasp when Michael squeezes the left thigh just under her ass, watching the smooth, dark flesh rise like bread between his spread fingers.

“Okay, okay, I get it: you like my thighs. Is that really why you pulled me in here?”

He didn’t even grunt out a response. He was damn near ignoring her with every poke and caress he gave her thighs. He wasn’t even aware of how perverted he was being, he was just so immersed, a contrast to how angry his confusion made him earlier. His cold, inexperienced hand slowly slid up the back of her thigh until it rested on her butt, the boldness making her gasp sharply.

“Hey!”

(Y/n) reached back to swat it away, making him look up at her with a head tilt.

“You can’t touch me there, Michael, I’m your nurse!”

He was confused again. Why would she say that to him? He knows that.

He brushes it off and focuses back on her ass, treating it the same way he did her thighs: with experimental pokes, squishes, and smacks, but it eventually gave him a result he wasn’t expecting: a soft hum. He stops, head tilting again. Michael smacks her ass again, granting more jiggling and another hum from her.

“Alright, that’s enough. I know you’re curious but...” She shivers at the next smack, gulping thickly, “I'm your nurse, you can’t feel me up like this.”

More confusion: why does she keep saying that like he doesn’t know?

He stands up behind her, instantly towering as he gently grabs her hips and pulls her back his cold body until his pelvis is pressed firmly against her lower back. She tilts her head back and looks up at that orange mask, waiting for him to move away, continue groping, anything but he remains still, seemingly done but when (Y/n) tries to move he holds her against him with a soft grunt. Little did she know, Michael was looking down at her with some kind of desire— a desire he felt before.

He was lost again, but this time it was combined with worry. Something about how she was looking up at him, how warm she was, how jiggly she was made his desire to kill grow... but he didn’t want to kill her. He knew he didn’t, the thought of hurting her made him mad at himself. In the end, he began groping her furiously hoping the feeling would go away.

“Mmh, Michael—”

He tunes her out, trying to focus on the warmth of her body as his big, rough, inexperienced hands roam up and down her curves, but it is torment: calming him down while still riling up his bloodlust. His hands reach around, worshipping her breasts, grasping at her tummy, caressing her thighs, and squishing her butt, all of which made more gasps and hums come out of her. He grabbed the inside of her thighs and that made her thighs part a little more as a soft moan of his name slipped out. Michael’s hands pause as he finally acknowledges the stiffness that pressing against her soft butt and making his sweats tighter.

“Oh god...” (Y/n) breathes out, palming the wall, “Did you make yourself hard?”

He tilts his head.

“Hard, y’know, horny? You never felt that before?”

He adjusts his head, hands refusing to leave your sides as he processes the fact that he isn’t feeling bloodlust, just the regular kind.

“Ugh, okay, lemme think... Does it hurt?”

A subtle nod.

“Of course it does.” She sighs shakily, trying to ignore the size of him against her crack, “Um, fuck, I’ll have to help you, won’t I? Dammit, I’ll lose my job.”

Michael’s hands tighten on her sides, lowering to her hips to pull her back again.

“Wait... they can’t really fire me, can they? They need me, right? This is the calmest you’ve ever been thanks to me.”

He hunches over (Y/n) and buries his mask in the side of her neck as he hugs her— something she’s only recently taught him how to do. She chuckles at the gesture but it’s replaced with a soft hum when he starts humping his aching erection against her ass, his hips gradually moving faster the closer he pulls her back to him. She lets out a shaky breath.

“Okay, okay, okay; I’ll help you, but you gotta be gentle and listen to everything I say, alright?”

Michael nods into her neck, the papier-mâché mask scratching between her chin and shoulder.

“It might get a little hot, you sure you wanna keep your mask on?”

Another nod.

“First, go lay back on your bed.”

His heavy body practically disappeared from the nurse’s back and when she turned she found him already laid back on his shitty mattress with his large cock twitching and trying to stand in his pants. She gulped as she made her way over, kicking off her heels and mentally preparing herself for everything: her explanation if her boss caught them, the ridicule if anyone else caught them... the fat cock practically dying to be let out. (Y/n) takes a breath as she pulls down his pants and underwear, letting all 9 inches spring free which earned a soft sigh from behind that mask.

“Holy fuck...” She whispers, her mouth-watering before she composes herself, “I mean, um, better?”

Another subtle nod. The nurse hesitantly dropped her panties to the floor and stepped out of them before climbing on the bed and straddling the behemoth’s muscular thighs, the action making her dress hiked up over her ass as she stared down at the throbbing dick standing before her pelvis. (Y/n) takes a breath and wraps her hand around the pole, stroking from the wide base to the tip, making it leak effortlessly.

“Good god, where were you hiding this shit?”

Michael tilts his head back into his pillow with a huff every time her hand passed over the leaky, sensitive tip that he was grinding against her butt, his eyes closing at the new sensation.

“You like that? Feels better?”

He nods, hair disheveled all over his pillow. His nurse watches his chest rise and fall with every stroke over his pulsing veins, the sight making her drip onto him as she began humping him to get her own pleasure. Michael suddenly grabs her wrist with a huff, trying to convey the message of wanting it faster but his nurse thought he was being needy and carefully moved a little higher on his body with her palms planted firmly on his clothed chest.

“Be gentle, okay?”

He was confused again but remained still to see what she was going to do since she held his cock upright. The killer’s body tensed slightly when she started to lower her cunt on him with groans through every inch until her jiggly form was somewhat seated on his lap. His eyes were wide behind the mask, watching her breasts rise and fall to the beat of her shaky breath as her tight, wet channel slid down his shaft. (Y/n) tenses, gripping his shoulders tightly to which he abruptly sits up and grabs her hips to steady her on his lap.

"Yup, like that. You're gonna just hold my hips, okay?"

He grunts lowly behind the mask and guides her the rest of the way down until her cheeks are squished against his thighs. She looked up at him, already weak from the delicious feeling of his cockhead pressing on her cervix and his pulse throbbing against her g-spot. (Y/n) shivers in an attempt to control herself enough to tell him what was next but she was caught off guard by him starting to drag her up and down his fat cock by her hips.

“Wha- how d-do you... know how to...” Her mind trails off from her body already seeking an orgasm, “Oh my god, Mike... right there...”

Hearing praise from his favorite nurse always made Michael’s heart skip a beat regardless of him never showing it but now he made sure (Y/n) could feel just how much he loved hearing her approval even if it came in the form of moans and grunts. Her whimpers and groans were suddenly accompanied by a shaky hand that reached between them and pressed to his pelvis, trying to slow his thrusts while wet, squelching echoed off the cement walls of his room.

“M-Mikey, wait, big guy. Gimme a...” She trails off, eyes rolling back, “A... a fuckin’ minute, didn’t expect you to be so... ugh, my god, yess~”

The Boogeyman stopped moving her for a moment only to grab her wrists as gently as he could and hold them behind her back with one hand while the other gripped her hip firmly before both hands worked together to resume her bounces her on his lap. She gasps out, throwing her head back and arching her back as she cums hard, her pussy spasming around him as he continues to wordlessly bounce her on his lap and fuck her through an intense, eye-crossing orgasm.

"Michael... Mikey, you're doing amazing, b-baby~"

She looks up at him, amazed and already dizzy from how steady and sure he was moving her, every drop followed by barely a huff. Not every lift from exertion, every fucking drop. He wasn't tired. Hell, he was never tired. (Y/n) clenched her fists behind her back tightly and moaned loudly with how delicious each stroke against her g-spot and hit against her cervix felt, glad she didn't have to teach him a goddamn thing.

But in the back of her mind she got the feeling that she might need to teach the Boogeyman was how to stop.

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(a/n): I cut it short tbh, but lmk if yall want it longer 💙💙

#black reader #black writers #x black reader #x black fem reader #black fem reader #michael myers x reader #rz michael myers x reader #michael myers x you #rz michael myers #michael myers x y/n #rz halloween #halloween #october #happy halloweeeeeeen #size difference

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whateverloomis · 2 months ago

Text

"Scream meets X" || Billy Loomis x Stu Macher x GN!AFAB reader 🔪🔞

PART 1

Here's part 4 babiiieees. This is a short one (because of writers block,) but it's nice and angsty. Hope you enjoy! As always, any suggestions or requests my ask box is open <33

Warnings: Character death (2 of them. I'm so sorry,) possessive Billy, reader cries a lot, Tatum has dumb blonde moment (lol,) gore, unedited

As you were approaching the cabin you were staying at, you crashed into someone. They steadied you and when you looked up it was Billy. Randy and Stu were looking for you along with him; "Where the fuck were you?!," Billy screamed and all you could do was hold onto him and cry.

"C'mon," he said and pulled you inside the cabin, walking into your room and closing the door behind him.

"YN, what the fuck was that?!," he questioned and you sobbed.

Billy closed his eyes and sighed, calming himself down just enough to hug you and comfort you.

"She... She said he'll kill me first," you managed to say and Billy pulled back, a confused expression on his face.

"What? Who said that?," he asked while studying your face.

"The old lady."

Billy shook his head and sat on the edge of the bed. He ran his hand through his hair and sighed before looking up at you. He was angry and confused. He needed answers or else he was going to lose every fiber of patience he had left and kill everyone in that goddamn farm house.

"Why would she say that... YN, why the fuck were you in that house?" He asked and you sighed, sitting on the edge of the window afterwards.

"I don't know, Billy I just... It was weird. I was walking around and I just... got curious? And I didn't even think about it before I was inside the house." You explained and Billy kept looking at you silently, waiting for the rest of the story. He wasn't going to say another word until he knew every detail and you knew as much.

"I was looking around and staring at all the photos along the wall. Then I saw a figure in the reflection of one of the glass frames and when I turned around it was her." You continued and Billy stopped you before you could continue; "Did she tell you her name?," he asked. You shook your head no and he signaled you to continue telling him what happened.

"So... She asked me if I wanted lemonade. It was weird, and for some reason I felt oddly welcomed so I followed her into the kitchen and drank th" - "I'm sorry, you drank the lemonade? What if that shit was poisoned or something, YN? What the fuck were you even thinking?!" Billy interrupted and you shrugged. You didn't have any explanations as to why you felt so calm at the moment.

"It wasn't poisoned! Oh my Gosh, listen. Nothing else happened until I was going to walk out of the house and she grabbed my wrist and pulled me towards her forcefully. I don't even know how a woman her age can be that strong! I freaked out and then she told me I was going to be killed first. That's all that happened I swear!" You finished and Billy closed his eyes, sighing.

"Okay, well... From now you're gonna tell me when and where you're going while we're staying here." Billy said seriously and you gasped in disbelief; "What? You don't trust me?!" You were losing your patience.

"It's not that, okay?! I don't want you to get hurt YN, these people are acting really weird and I'm not gonna let anything happen to you!" he said, possessiveness lacing his voice.

You were going to snap at him but the door opening abruptly interrupted you.

Stu barged in breathless with Tatum right behind him.

"Not now Stu!" Billy said and Tatum stepped in; "Hey! Quit arguing over dumb shit! Randy's missing!" she said and you instantly got worried.

"Wasn't he with you guys a few minutes ago?" Billy asked, annoyed.

"Yeah, then we went inside to look for you guys and before we knew it he was gone," Stu explained and you were visibly scared.

"We have to go look for him-" - "You're not going anywhere alone," Billy interrupted and you sighed. "Nobody said I'm going alone, Loomis!" - "Quit it! We'll split up. Me and Stu, you and Billy. Now, let's go before we end up killing each other," Tatum finished the heated conversation and everyone stepped out of the cabin to begin searching for Randy.

•

You searched nearly everywhere and there was no sign of Randy. Everywhere except for the barn.

Being honest, you didn't want to search in the barn. The place where you shot your big scene with Billy. Where you had your moment to shine with only your lover. It would crush you if one of your close friends were killed in that place...

"OH GOD, NO!" you shouted.

Billy ran towards you from the entrance, knife in hand ready to kill whoever crossed his path, except there wasn't anyone threatening, no... There was a dead Randy. A pitch fork right through his skull perfectly aligned with his eyes. His mouth was hanging open, a lingering quiet scream emitting from his limp body.

You were crushed. You didn't want to face the reality of it, but it was right there in front of you. Randy, dead in cold blood.

"Fuck..." Billy whispered and held you with your head against his chest, blocking your sight.

You ran out of the barn as quickly as possible to join Stu outside. Tatum was starting to walk in the woods with a flashlight but got startled at your loud sobbing. She ran over to you quickly and immediately knew what you'd seen.

"He's gone?," Tatum asked and hugged you tightly. Billy pulled Stu aside, just enough to not be heard by you and Tatum, but close enough to keep an eye on the both of you.

"We need to get rid of these fuckers. Run away like we planned and not look back." Billy told Stu, and his friend instantly agreed. He even seemed excited.

Billy and Stu couldn't go much longer without letting that darkness take over them and form a blood bath. This situation was a perfect excuse to do so and they sure as hell weren't going to miss the opportunity.

"Fuck yeah we do! You want me to get the masks?" Stu asked, ready to run back to the cabin but Billy stopped him; "Not yet dipshit, we can't expose ourselves like that." he said while pointing at you and Tatum. Stu opened his mouth forming an O in acknowledgement.

Before they could continue their discussion, Tatum shouted that she was going to continue her original plan of searching at the lake once again. You decided to go with her but before you left Billy grabbed your middle and whispered in your ear; "Stay where I can see you." You nodded in understanding and left with Tatum, flashlights in hand.

Once you were far enough, Billy sent Stu to look for their ghost masks. He kept watch of you as you walked in the woods.

•

You and Tatum walked in the woods far enough to see the lake but you stopped mid way; "Tate... What are we looking for, exactly? We already found Randy." - "Revenge." She said simply.

You were confused at her words. You didn't take Tatum as one to get physical when it came to confrontation, but then again maybe you were wrong.

"Revenge how? You wanna kill these people or something?" - "What?! No! Just give that old hag a piece of my mind! She's crazy! Maybe scare her a little before we call the cops..." She said.

You bit your lip in thought, slowing down as you realized it's not a good idea; "Tatum I don't think- Tate?"

She was gone.

You sighed in disbelief. This is how people get lost and found dead in horror movies.

As you were beginning to call her, you heard a loud gun shot. Crouching down to avoid getting spotted you saw the old couple walking along the pier with your friends dead body. Tears started to stream down your face as you saw them dump her body in the lake.

You were frozen for what seemed like minutes before you started to run back towards the cabin. Suddenly you crashed into someone and started to kick and punch at them before you realized it was Billy.

"Hey hey hey! YN! It's me!" He said, startled.

"They killed Tatum they kill-" - "They killed my Tatum?!" Stu came running from the cabin. You saw him holding something in his hand but couldn't make out what it was until he was right in front of you.

The ghostface masks.

Your eyes widened as you saw it. Billy took one from Stu's hand and placed it on yours. He had the softest most reassuring look you'd ever seen.

"How about we teach them a lesson?" He said, a smile slowly growing on his face.

You were angry, troubled, confused and upset at the loss of your best friends. At the thought of you possibly being next. About Billy and Stu being next. Adrenaline was coursing through your veins and it took over any rational thoughts and efore you knew it, the mask was in your hands.

You agreed.

Agreed to murder not one, but two people.

#billy loomis smut #billy loomis x reader #ghostface smut #ghostface x reader #ghostfacesmut #billy loomis x you #scream (1996)#stu macher smut #stu macher x billy loomis #stu matcher x reader #slasher x reader #slasher x you #slasher x y/n #slasher x final girl

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iluvcarmzatto · 8 days ago

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Where the Light Enters

Lucius Verus x Aelia (healer at the colosseum)

warnings: angst, fluff, violence, maybe some cursing??

A/n: Hey guys! Ik it’s been months since I’ve written anything but so much has been going on and I haven’t had the time to do any writings but I’m back ! I just watched gladiator 2 yesterday and loved it (and Paul) so yall already know I had to make this one! Lmk if you guys want a series for this! I’ve been debating but I can’t decide lol. Anyways yes I’m back and enjoy this fic!

The overbearing heat of the sun was so intense that her eyes could barely open, sweat dripping down from her head to her brows then onto the ground. Her sweat hydrated the ground of the colosseum more than rain ever could. Her breaths were getting heavier and the crowds antics and cheers were becoming more deafening.

Gladiators. Her mom and dad. Two of the most bravest, honorable people she knew, had to fight against the worst gladiator of them all. And she had to watch. Her mother and father had gotten into some trouble by senate and they were forced to fight in the death oval (what Aelia called it).

The senate figured out they had a daughter and forced her to watch. In the senators watch box. They tied her down to a chair in the front row of the box and made her watch everything.

Her mother and father told her to always be strong and keep a positive mind. But how was she supposed to in a situation like this? She looked down at her necklace, the one her parents prepared for her before she was born. It was always a little too big on her.

Seeing that necklace made her want to cry. She internally knew what was going to happen, even if she didn’t want to admit it to herself.

But she remembered what her father preached to her about being brave. She was always told by them that they would get out of there some day and live a peaceful life. That was a lie.

Her heart pounded so fast she thought it might burst. Below, her mother and father clashed swords with the gladiator, their movements desperate yet determined. For a moment, it seemed they might win. Until her father was thrown into the wall.

She screamed. “PAPA!”

His body slumped to the ground, lifeless.

She wailed in agony.

Her mother turned to her at the box and mouthed “I love you Aelia” she was impaled by the blade of the enemy and fell to the ground.

“NO!” “MAMA!” She was mad, hurt, and afraid.

“Do you see what happens when people defy me?” The emperor yelled in her face.

Aelia already crying just cried more. But this time not a screaming cry just silently.

He grinned, his voice cold and sharp. He mimicked Aelia’s mother’s death, driving an imaginary sword into his gut and stumbling dramatically. “Just like that. Gone.”

Aelia’s nails dug into her palms. She pulled at the ropes until her wrists burned, but it was no use. She refused to look at him, her body shaking with fury.

He laughed and walked off. “Guards!” The guards untied the ropes from Aelia’s wrists and ankles and dragged her all the way out of the colosseum, she didn’t really even notice that she was being put out.

She was in so much pain, mentally and physically, she didn’t even care what would happen to her now. She was left outside the colosseum like she was trash, like she was nothing.

She lay on the ground for what felt like days, and as the night was taking over day, her eyes were closing more and more. Cheeks dry from the tears that streamed down.

“Child.” The voice was soft yet stable.

She looked up, blinking through her tears. A woman knelt before her, older, with graying hair tied back and calloused hands that smelled faintly of herbs.

“Leave me alone,” Aelia whispered, her voice cracked.

The woman didn’t leave. Instead, she reached into a pouch at her waist and pulled out a small vial. “Drink this.” When Aelia hesitated, she added, “It’s for the pain. You’re bleeding.”

Aelia glanced down at her wrists, the raw, skin stinging. She took the vial and sipped. It was bitter, but the throbbing in her wrists began to dull.

“Who are you?” Aelia asked.

“Call me Iona,” the woman said. “I’m a healer. And I think you could use someone to teach you how to survive.”

~~~~~

Present Day

“Aelia! We need more vials! And more cots!”

The shout echoed through the cramped, chaotic healer’s station. Aelia didn’t look up, her focus locked on the gladiator before her. His leg was torn open, blood spilling onto the table like a river. Her hands worked quickly, needle glinting in the dim light as she stitched the wound closed.

The necklace around her neck—once her father’s promise, now her anchor, thumped softly against her chest with each movement. She barely noticed it anymore, its weight a part of her now.

“I wish someone like you would always work on me,” the gladiator slurred, his lips curling into a lopsided grin.

Aelia glanced up briefly, smiling despite herself. The drug they gave him was already doing its job, dulling his pain and loosening his tongue. “Thank you,” she said lightly. “That’s very sweet of you.”

He chuckled weakly, his head lolling to one side. “You’re an angel. A goddess.”

She bit back a laugh, tying off the last stitch and pressing a fresh bandage over the wound. “I’m just a healer. And you’re just delirious.”

He chuckled and her assistant walked the gladiator off back to his cell.

The station door slammed open, the heavy wood cracking against the wall. Aelia’s head shot up, her heart skipping a beat. A gladiator stumbled in, his face pale and his arm drenched in blood.

“Help him!” someone shouted from behind.

Aelia’s assistant, a young girl barely out of her teens, rushed forward but stopped short, her hands shaking. Aelia quickly pushed past her, her voice sharp. “Lay him down here!”

The injured man staggered to the nearest cot, blood dripping onto the floor. His breathing was ragged, his eyes wild with pain. Aelia grabbed a cloth, pressing it to the wound. The cut was deep—too deep for anything less than immediate care.

“Hold this,” she ordered the assistant, who obeyed without question, though her hands still trembled.

She turned back to the gladiator, her tone steady but urgent. “This is going to hurt. A lot.”

Then, as she started working, he looked up at her, his gaze locking with hers. His expression was fierce, but there was something else there—a hint of weariness that didn’t belong to the typical gladiator she treated.

“I’m Lucius,” he rasped, his voice rough from the pain. “And you’re the one who keeps all of us alive down here.”

Aelia paused, glancing up at him. Lucius. She of course knew he was a gladiator, but she had never expected to treat him. Knowing that he was one of the best upcoming gladiators the colosseum had ever seen. She felt like she knew that name even be for this. Before he was a known name around the colosseum.

Even though everyone is human, he always seemed not human sometimes. The way he fought it was like nothing she had ever seen.

“I do my best,” she replied with a nod, working to stop the blood flow. “Stay with me, Lucius.”

“What’s your name?” he asked, his eyes never leaving hers.

Aelia hesitated for a moment. It was rare for a gladiator to ask for something personal from her, and usually, she didn’t share such details. “Aelia.”

He gave a small smile, despite the pain in his features. “Aelia. Beautiful name for a healer.”

She concentrated on his wound, not acknowledging his compliment. “This will take a while. You’re going to feel a lot of pain.”

He chuckled, a weak sound. “Pain is what I know best.”

After she finished patching him up, it was night time and she had to clean up everything. Aelia wss so tired she felt like collapsing against the wall.

Lucius got up from the cot and stood up.

You’re strong,” Lucius says softly, his gaze heavy with respect.

Aelia lets out a sigh. “I have to be. I don’t have a choice.”

“It’s more than that,” he replies, “Strength isn’t just about surviving. It’s about not giving in to the system... even when it’s crushing you from the inside.”

Aelia finally un-tensed, the tightness in her shoulders loosening as she gazed into Lucius’s eyes. There was a rawness to them, a mixture of pain and strength that made her heart ache. For a long moment, she could only look at him, as though trying to understand the person behind the fighter.

“You have striking eyes,” she said softly, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Lucius blinked, taken aback by the unexpected compliment. His lips quirked into a faint smile. “Thank you,” he replied, his voice low, almost surprised.

He then shifted on the floor, his body leaning against the stone wall as he sat beside her. For a few moments, the two of them shared the quiet—something rare in the chaos of the colosseum’s healer station. Aelia couldn't help but notice how his presence seemed to fill the space around them, like a force of nature. There was a certain energy to him; brave, broken, yet undeniably powerful.

She glanced at him again, her thoughts drifting. It was as if he’d stepped out of one of those ancient tales her mother used to tell her as a child, those stories of gods and warriors, larger than life.

Except Lucius was no myth. He was real. And he was sitting beside her, in the quiet aftermath of a battle, just a man.

"I never thought I’d be sitting here, talking with a gladiator," she said, breaking the silence. Her voice was gentle but held an edge of wonder, a quiet admission.

Lucius chuckled, the sound warm, though a hint of sadness lingered in his tone. "Most people don’t, I suppose." His eyes softened, though there was still a distant look in them, as though something heavy was pressing on his mind. "I’m not much for small talk, but I’m not always the monster they make me out to be either."

Aelia nodded, a faint smile playing at the corners of her lips. “I know. There’s always more to the story, isn’t there? It’s just hard to see it sometimes.”

"Yeah, it is," he agreed quietly. He leaned back, his shoulders relaxing against the cold stone of the wall. “But you, Aelia... you don’t just see the surface, do you? You’re not like the others who pass by, not really caring. You see people. That’s a rare thing around here.”

Aelia felt her heart beat a little faster at the sincerity in his words. She wasn’t used to being seen that way, not in the colosseum. Not by anyone who truly mattered.

She looked away for a moment, trying to steady her racing thoughts. "Maybe it’s because I understand what it feels like... to lose someone you love. To be forced into a life you don’t want."

Lucius was silent for a long moment, his gaze focused somewhere far off in the distance. “I know what that feels like too,” he murmured. Then he turned to her, his eyes soft but firm. “But we fight. We keep going, even when it seems like we don’t have a choice.”

Aelia felt a lump form in her throat at the weight of his words. She nodded, her voice a little more fragile than she intended when she responded. "Yeah. I suppose we do."

The two sat in quiet understanding for a while, the connection between them growing despite the silence. The world outside seemed a little less harsh, a little less overwhelming, as long as they were together in that moment.

A/n: AHHH I HOPE YOU GUYS LOVE THIS STORY AS MUCH AS I DO. I THINK ITS SO SWEET HOW AELIA AND LUCIUS CAN ALREADY FIND PEACE WITHIN EACH OTher. So I have decided there will be chapters to this! hope you guys enjoyed and more chapters to this series coming sooner than later!! pls comment and tell me what I should improve/what I did good on! Love you guys! 😆🤍

#paul mescal #gladiator 2 #lucius gladiator #fluff #love #angst #lucius verus #lucius versus x reader #hanno x reader #gladiator ii #paul mescal x reader #colosseum

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qin-qin16 · 3 months ago

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My computer is possessed?! Oh, wait, it's just my out-coded skeleton boyfriend!

Summary: When some of your work in progress goes missing, you decide to start investigating whether your computer has a virus. That is until you realize that the few remaining works are of one character: Error Sans. cw: comedy, kinitoPET and creepypasta vibes, Error is an asshole and Reader is stressed, gn!reader, dark jokes about suicide, but nothing serious, we have a bit of jealousy Error, writer Reader… note: I finally wrote down this idea from weeks ago lol and the divider is from @sister-lucifer (Part one) (Part two)

You would never forgive yourself.

Five hours of work. Five. And it all vanished with a simple power outage. The entire neighborhood was in the dark for hours — and when the power finally came back, everyone heard the lengthy stream of insults and curses you hurled at yourself when your computer screen went blank; there were no files saved in the cloud and no trace of everything you had written.

Your body glides over the wheeled chair as you slowly spin in circles, “Eu quero me matar…” You murmur, without any genuine or serious inflection in your words, even though deep down in your mind, there’s a certain desire to end the emptiness that lingers from your anger.

“Three pages… three damn pages…” You run your hand over your face, resting it on your mouth as you feel your eyes sting from the static white of the computer screen. “I can’t believe it.” You finish, still in disbelief over the unexpected blackout.

You know that old saying, “I’ll believe it when I see it”? Well, the problem was right in front of you: a completely empty Word document, except for a few notes saved before everything was lost. Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to believe what you were seeing.

“I’m not going to write all that again! I can’t even remember the last thing I wrote!” you rant to no one but the lifeless machine in front of you, running both hands through your hair and tangling it with unnecessary force — leaving only irritation in certain spots on your scalp and strands of hair sticking out in every direction.

Settling into the chair — legs crossed and leaning forward like a shrimp — you start closing all the tabs left open on the computer, not caring at all about what’s saved or not. All you want to do right now is shut off that old piece of junk (that can't even handle an internet outage) and go grab something to eat. Maybe that would help you relax and distract yourself from this mess.

However, the large ERROR 505 flashing on the screen interrupted your ongoing stream of frustration.

The damn title, accompanied by a series of codes that made no sense to you, was plastered on the last tab of your browser, just waiting to be closed. But even after you clicked the little red box three times — eager to shut the window as quickly as possible — the page stayed open.

It felt almost as if it were mocking you. Almost…

“Perfect! Just what I needed!” You don’t hesitate to slap the monitor, taking out all your anger on the old machine. “Now even the damn Google isn’t working!” Your grunt is muffled as you bury your face in your hands, holding back the scream that desperately wants to burst from your throat.

“God, if you exist, why are you punishing me like this?” Your murmurs are heard only by the computer as it continues to mock your suffering with the bright white screen — and that damn ERROR 505 displayed at your face.

“Know what? Screw it, I don’t care.” With your hands thrown up in defeat, you finally surrender, tired and out of patience to battle this cursed error.

This is worse than when the Ao3 is down—no, I can't exaggerate like that, you think to yourself as you crouch in your chair searching for the charger’s plug. If this page won’t close on its own, then it’ll have to be forced; nothing beats unplugging the old computer directly from the outlet.

Which turned out to be a challenging task, not only because of your awkward and uncomfortable position in the wheeled chair, but also due to the mess of wires and cables under your desk. You didn’t even know which one belonged to your computer, let alone where the outlet was.

“Maybe it’s best to just yank everything and hope the outlet comes with it.” You go back to your original position, stretching your spine and letting out a quiet grunt as a pop resonates from your back. “I need to stop spending hours sitting in front of the computer.” Your grumble is nothing more than a hollow promise, unlike your spine, which was definitely promising to develop some kind of scoliosis.

“Okay, here we go— what the hell is this?” you exclaim, and even though your voice lacks any emotion — probably exhausted from all the shouting earlier — your jaw drops, matching the widening of your eyes as you see that the once flashy ERROR 505 screen has now changed to a completely different tab.

What had once been a white background filled with bold text was suddenly replaced by your Tumblr homepage... featuring countless fan arts of Error Sans scattered throughout your feed.

It wasn’t unusual for you to search for fan art and fanfics about him; in fact, the number of tags you followed with his name was far too many to count on both hands!

However, today was not one of those days. In fact, you had been trying to set aside your obsession with the glitchy skeleton to focus on other Sanses. Those three pages you lost forever were actually part of a fanfic about Cross x Reader that you had been working on for a few days.

So… why did the page load with this theme that you had been ignoring?

It doesn’t matter, I’ll just close this tab and—oh my God, what a gorgeous fan art! You quickly get distracted by the artwork on your screen, and without hesitation, your finger starts clicking rapidly on the mouse, liking and reblogging as fast as you can.

You must have been very tired not to notice the muffled sound coming from your computer — different from the noises it made when starting up or running a virus scan. No, no, this sounded oddly like a stilted laugh, as if the audio had been chopped into pieces.

But why would you pay attention to that? Computers couldn’t laugh, especially not at your half-closed eyes and the sentences you’d written incorrectly because you were sleepy…

Right?

Tagging the people who wanted to see a fanfic of this:

@snastheskeleton64, @moonpieandfries12345, @lostsoulsofdragon, @mrcatmario, @something-random1-1-blog, @joonebugg, @crunchontoast, @honeybubbletea33, @what-have-i-unleashed, @leafwateraddict, @sweethoneybear, @sleepy-batz

If you want to be tagged in part two, please let me know :D

#error sans #error sans x reader #error x reader #error x you #utmv #utmv au #qinqin stuff 💖#sans x reader #sans x you #sans x yn #utmv x reader

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