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hells-wasabii · 8 months ago

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hello :33

Could i request a drabble with Alastor x reader who can break deals made by demons

He meets the reader, who comes into the hotel, and they make a deal that is totally bad on their end (like to let them touch his ears once and in return they will do his bidding forever and ever).

But then after getting Alastor to do his part, they break the deal, and Alastor and everyone else is dumbfounded. (he is equally pissed and intrigued)

I looooooove your writing and congratulations on 200 followers!! :3

A/N: Hey wait I know you! You were one of my first followers! Thanks for sending this in, it’s seriously a cool concept and was pretty fun to work on! I actually hadn’t planned on it being so long, but I hope you enjoy!

Character: Alastor

Type: Fic (Alastor x reader with a deal breaking ability, Fluff, Angst)

Alastor knew when he was being watched, he could practically feel your eyes on him from across the room. His smile turned tense as he narrowed his eyes at the little display that Niffty was attempting to show him. Though, she really couldn’t be bothered whether he was paying attention or not. Alastor couldn’t help but wonder: why was it you were staring at him so intently?

You were an enigma to Alastor. You were a guest of the hotel, and yet of you he knew next to nothing other than a name and a knack for mischief. As far as he could tell, you were ordinary. A specimen that did little to pique his interest. The radio demon turned his attention from Niffty’s insect display to look at you from the corner of his eyes. He watched with unease as you smiled knowingly at him, almost as if you knew something that he didn’t and he was the last to be left in the dark.

“I want to make a deal with you.”

Now that, that got his attention. The words had left your mouth so effortlessly. It was barely a whisper and yet it was enough to make his shadow move across the room to tower over you. If you noticed, you didn’t let it show. Perhaps that should have been his first sign that something was amiss.

In moments Alastor was mere inches away, a grin that couldn’t be described as anything else but plotting splitting his lips. “And what is it that I can do for you, my dear?” Behind him, his shadow waited impatiently, hungry for a meal, a soul. And Alastor planned to feed it.

“I want to touch your ears,” You said it with such confidence, so much so that it nearly took him aback. In fact, there was hardly a pause or even a moment of consideration. It sounded more like an impulse than anything else.

Surely he was hearing things. His… Ears? What kind of preposterous request is that? And to offer your soul for such a thing? Preposterous. Surely you had lost your mind before or since your arrival. But perhaps it was an even trade-off, considering his aversion to touch. Truly, he couldn’t see himself losing to a fool’s deal like this.

It was all standard, really. The matter was settled in a shake of the hand, markings and sigils appearing in the air and lining the walls around the both of you. And of course the rest of the Hotel’s residents, guests and staff alike came along to see what the fuss and light show was about. Alastor didn’t make deals every day after all? When had been the last time he had struck a deal for a soul? He could hardly remember as your hand left his.

“Well, let’s get this over with, shall we?” As if you needed any more invitation than that. Stepping closer, you reached up. Had it not been for the fact that the radio demon had no choice but to hold up his end of the bargain, you were sure that getting this close would either reward you with a stern warning or the loss of a limb. Anyone else would have hesitated, but not you. Not when you had an ace up your sleeve the way you did.

The moment that your fingers brushed the appendages on the top of the radio demon’s head, your mouth opened into a fine ‘o’ shape. They were unbelievably soft. Usually, the pelt of a deer is coarse, the hair only smooth when you go with the grain, and prickly when against. But with Alastor, it felt more like fur than the usual coarse hair of a buck. Interesting.

The radio demon did his best to steel himself, unwilling to show any sort of reaction, especially with an audience present. His expression nearly fell as he realized that the rest of the Hotel’s residents were bearing witness to such an embarrassing situation. He made a note to attempt to save face later.

When it was finally over, his smile turned sinister. He relished the feeling of a new leash, a new bond, forming in the palm of his hand. The radio demon couldn’t help but love the way a new wave of power coursed through him He watched with glee as the chain began to form, link by link until it came to an end at the binding around your neck. But you merely smiled. This was his second clue that something was a miss.

He lifted his gaze to follow your hand, as you raised it up to grasp the glowing green bond. He watched as it strained, the shackle and the chain before it shattered in a manner that was not unlike glass. He could feel it, the broken bond. He could feel the power that had just coursed through his veins leave his body.

His lips twitched. His smile nearly fell, in fact, the overlord was certain that if it hadn’t been for the green stitches that appeared as he slipped into his demonic form, he was sure that he would have bared his teeth in a ferocious snarl. Instead, Alastor lost his composure. He reached out to grab ahold of you, but you were already two steps ahead and three out of range of the radio demon.

“What is the meaning of this.” The radio in Alastor’s voice crackled, a grating sound that nearly made you falter.

But you merely grinned, continuing to back away towards the others. “Deals are always meant to be broken.” With this, you turned on your heels and were out the door before more could be said.

You. You were exactly what he needed. But how could he possibly have you do anything in his favor without some sort of leverage or contract? It had been quite some time since someone had provoked his ire like this, but he wouldn’t allow himself to be bested like this. Not by a long shot. Alastor stood tall, dusting off his tattered coat, as if it had been sullied in some form or fashion as he watched you make your leave. It would seem that the radio demon had quite a bit of work to do.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin imagine #hazbin headcanons #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor headcanons #alastor imagine #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor

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chairofchaos · 4 months ago

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Even In the Dark

Pairing: Cassian x You (Y/N but no Y/N use! Uses she/her pronouns) Summary: Cassian comes home to a mate in pain, and does everything he can to help. Rating: Teen Word Count: 3.7k Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, heavy emphasis on the comfort for those of you who have been burned by me one too many times, mild sexual content and discussions (I think that covers it but as usual, if I have forgotten anything please let me know!) A/N: Happy Cassian Appreciation Week! @cassianappreciationweek Shoutout to @tsunami-of-tears for the lovely Illyrian wing dividers. Enjoy!

Something was amiss in his home. Cassian noticed it the second he opened the door, stomping and wiping his boots on the doormat before stepping inside.

Your boots were there, dry and untouched, exactly as they had been this morning. As the day was coming to a close much like its stormy beginning, it surprised him to see the umbrellas showed no sign of use.

There was silence. Cassian’s brows furrowed. You spent rainy days singing. You liked storms, would dance and sing in the rain when it wasn’t too cold (and even, on occasion, when it was).

He bent to untie his boots, nearly ripping at the laces in an increasing worry. If he wouldn’t have been worried about dirtying the floors, he would have forgone the step all together. He worked in the darkness, his last clue that all was not as it should be.

No candlelight flickered against the wall. No scent of vanilla, or cinnamon, or mahogany swirled about him. Mahogany. The scent you had proclaimed was your favorite because it reminded you of him.

You saved it for days like this, days when you would be inside more than you liked. You told him it meant none of its light or scent would be wasted. That you would be able to sit in a reminder of him all day.

“I’ll buy you a hundred. Light them every day,” he had told you earnestly.

You had laughed. “Once I finish all the rest that you’ve bought me, I’ll let you buy me as many as you wish.”

He hadn’t argued. You had a rather impressive collection spread throughout the home you shared. It would be a shame to let it go to waste.

Boots finally off, he placed them next to yours, the appearance of his large muddy boots striking against the considerably smaller, clean pair beside them.

He walked down the hallway, peering into room after room, but knowing somehow that he would not find you on this level, in the kitchen, or the dining room; the living room or the office, no matter how much he hoped he would. When there was no sign of you, he wound slowly up the stairs at the end of the hall.

There. The bedroom door was shut. It solidified his concern. No light crept from beneath the door; no sound of your movement reached his ears. He ignored the open doorways to other rooms and strode quickly to enter yours.

Darkness met him. The room was as dark as it could be, given that the little light the storm might have allowed to filter through the window was blocked entirely by the heavy outer curtains.

On good days, those stayed open. The typical curtains before the window were a light gauzy material through which sunlight could flow. On the bad days, Cassian knew, the heavy curtains would close with a flick of your hand. They were a wall of thick fabrics to keep light and sound from your presence.

The tonics you took daily helped keep the episodes at bay, but not always. He stepped inside quickly and as quietly as his body would allow.

“My love,” he whispered. You gave no answer. He prayed you were asleep. It was often the only respite you had on days like this.

But that was too much to ask of the Mother, apparently. As he waited, a broken sob wrenched from your body followed by a whimper of pain. Whether it was from the movement the sob required or the sound itself, he didn’t know.

That was enough. He crossed to you slowly, trying to keep his footsteps from making any noise. The faint light of the bioluminescent clock hands reflected in the bottles beside your bed. It was the only light you allowed, its presence necessary to keep track of the hourly doses of pain relief you could take. He counted those bottles quickly, bit back a snarl of anger, then swore at what he found.

Six empty bottles. Six full bottles sat beside them. His anger wasn’t at you. The amount of pain you were in scared him. Twelve doses of tonic were all the healers would allow you to keep on your own. For mild episodes, one to three bottles sufficed. Six was pushing it. If this episode lasted beyond eight doses, Cassian would have no choice but to summon the healers for more help.

Your breath trembled from your lungs, shuddering on the shallow inhale and measured, calculated on the exhale. Nausea. He would bet anything you were trying to temper it with as steady breathing as you could manage. That was one symptom the tonics could never address, as you were allergic to the one herb that wouldn’t interact with the ingredients for pain relief you so desperately needed.

A faint rustle from the bed drew his attention. Your hand, extended to him. A request.

He placed his hand gently over yours, palm down so you could fingerspell your request into his hand. You had learned together, needing a way to communicate when you were in too much agony to speak.

H-E-A-L-E-R, you spelled slowly. He stiffened, his eyebrows raising. You had half the doses left. A quick request, ‘Lie w me’, followed. You never asked for him to send for the healer. Not until you had finished every single tonic.

Cassian waited until you withdrew your hand, tucking it back under your pillow to support your head. Quietly, he stood to fulfill your needs, walking around the bed before disrobing to his underwear. His clothes were cold. It would not help you, and he should let his skin warm a tad before joining you. But first - Cassian reached out in his mind to his brother.

Rhys.

Yes?

She needs help. She asked, this time.

It's that bad?

Yes.

I'll send them. Let me know if there is anything we can do.

I will. Thank you.

Of course. Good luck, Cassian.

No response would come until help arrived, one of three healers he, Nesta, and Feyre had vetted and assigned specifically to help you through these episodes when they had become more frequent a few years ago. The healers kept keys to your home so they could come and go as needed without making any more noise than was required. One of them was always on call.

Climbing into bed was always the hardest part. He had a choice. Do it quickly, and your pain could be sharp but brief. Do it slowly, and he may drag out your agony.

You had told him once after an episode that the shifting of the mattress beneath you caused your head to splinter into pieces. He had said he would sleep on the couch, a chair by your side, even the floor if it would keep you from pain. You had shaken your head.

“What I need most in those moments is you beside me. The warmth of your body in the blankets is soothing. Hearing the steadiness of your breathing gives me something to cling to, a standard I can use to measure my own breathing; to measure the passage of time without having to open my eyes.”

But he would not touch you. Not unless you asked. That was your one request, that he lay there, close enough for you to hear, but never to touch you unless you specifically requested it.

“My body often feels as if it’s on fire,” you responded when he asked about the experience after the first time he witnessed it. “It’s agonizing. My head feels as if it’s being wrenched in two or more pieces, my skin is aflame. My stomach roils, and I cannot seem to breathe without complete concentration.”

“And with me beside you?” He had asked.

You had managed to squeak out the request that first time, though it led to you throwing up beside the bed not two minutes later. He had cleaned it up, and then joined you, lying as far from you as possible as you choked out the need to have him there, but away.

“It centers me. Gives me something to focus on other than the pain.”

“But if you feel like you’re on fire, wouldn’t a cold compress help? Some ice, perhaps?”

You had sighed. “In my experience, it only causes a different sort of pain. I know for some it helps. In my case, I find it forces my body to fight harder against the sensation and drains me more quickly. I wish it did, but it never seems to help as much as it hurts.”

That first episode he had witnessed had terrified him. He had spent the night with you in his room at the townhouse, the both of you tangled in each other for hours before sleep caught up to you both. He was in heaven. But as he woke, he had been thrust into his own personal hell.

He hadn’t realized how much he loved you until he saw you with sweat beading at your forehead as your whimpers woke him. The panic that filled him immediately flowed in perfect synchronicity with the knowledge that he would do anything to help you.

The light flowed freely through his windows. The sounds of the city filtered in freely. He had curtains, but they were not designed for the kind of darkness you needed. They quenched no sound. It was not enough.

And you lay there, crying, as he sat up. He remembered it with horror now. He could recall it all, including all the things he had unknowingly done wrong.

“What’s wrong?” He had asked. You had whimpered, tensing. He sat up entirely, reaching to stroke your arm. You had only cried harder, tears streaming from between your tightly closed eyelids.

He had sat up quickly to analyze you better. He had kept asking you questions at full volume. He remembered how he hadn’t thought to block the light with his wing. How he had tried to reach for you, leading to your agonized words begging him not to, pleading with him to get a healer. He had jumped from the bed to do so, hearing your retching from behind him a minute or so after. He had spun back to you, but you waved him off, tearful eyes pleading him to do as you had asked.

So much had gone wrong that time.

He was fortunate he knew about your allergy, glad you had mentioned it offhand at dinner three weeks previous. It had only been your third date, but it had come up somehow. Had he not known, you could have died from the tonic the healer brought for you. In the end, Rhys was summoned in the early afternoon to push you into unconsciousness and put you out of your misery. Nothing else had helped. You slept for over a full day, not waking for anything.

He had kept vigil over you in his bed, not knowing how to help. Rhys had come and gone, checking in and bringing food and water for both of you, though your tray was exactly the same on the way out the door as it had come in.

You had awoken at dusk the next day. You had stretched with a groan which startled Cassian from his fitful dozing.

“My love,” he had whispered incoherently.

You blinked with a little yawn as you looked over at him. It took you a minute to orient yourself and frown.

“Cassian.”

“Sweetheart,” he said in response, eyes filling with tears at the ease with which you spoke his name. “Are you okay?”

You nodded. “I am,” your nod turned into a shake of your head. “I am so sorry.” He tracked each movement, but no wince or whimper followed. There was no visible indication of pain.

He was so lost in looking for any sign of your discomfort that it took him a few moments to respond. “Don’t be sorry. Are you certain you’re alright?”

“Yes,” you gave him a shaky smile. He wanted to crush you in his arms but had learned through your words and your pained cries that any contact would hurt, so instead he gripped the arms of his chair.

While you didn’t look as though you were in pain, embarrassment was written all over your face. Still, discussion needed to wait. He got you food and water, and a fresh shirt of his to change into.

Once he had taken your empty tray away, he looked inquisitively at where you sat propped up in his bed. “What happened?” He asked quietly.

You had indulged his question. Some things you knew could trigger the episodes, so you avoided them. Bright lights or loud noises for long periods of time. Sleep deprivation. Cassian had held in a flinch at that, knowing he had kept you up until nearly three in the morning.

Stress, built up over a period of time, was the most common instigator. He recalled your words from dinner the night before, about the hard deadline you were facing for an investigation into a trading company that had seemingly been avoiding tariffs. He had reached for your hand unthinkingly when it had clenched on the bedspread beside you, unable to withhold the only comfort he had to offer.

You had sighed and gripped his hand gratefully. “Can I hold you?” He had asked, stroking his thumb slowly from your wrist to your knuckles. Your nod was the only assent he needed before scooping you gently up from the bed and climbing in, settling you in his lap with your head tucked under his chin.

“I’m sorry for causing you trouble,” you whispered, tracing a hand lightly across his chest.

“It was no trouble.”

“I took away half your weekend. You had plans.”

“They weren’t anywhere near as important as this. I rescheduled.”

“Still -“

“No, my love,” he shook his head, the endearment slipping from his lips without thinking. He hadn’t notice you tense up at the words, and continued, “You needed help. I wasn’t leaving you.”

“Cassian,” his name fell like a breath from your lips.

“Hmm?” Now he noticed. You sat still as possible in his lap. Your hand had stopped its gentle tracing. He dipped his head to look at you, but you didn’t meet his gaze.

“You called me ‘my love’.”

“If it upsets you, I am sorry. But it is the truth.” A flush settled across your cheeks, and he continued, “I love you. Your pain felt like it was a part of me. I began to love you weeks ago, and I knew this morning... I love you.” His words were cut short by the quick raise of your head and the settling of your fingers over his lips. Your cheeks flushed, lower lip rolled between your teeth.

“I love you,” you said quietly. “Very much.”

He laughed softly at that, loosely grabbing your wrist to press kisses against it. “Well. Thank the cauldron for that.”

It was your turn to laugh, and you wiggled to face him. The darkness had truly fallen, stars glimmering through the still uncovered windows.

Cassian lay beside his love, watching the pained breaths, the occasional twitch of spasming muscles causing the quilt to shift.

The door opened slowly, letting the tiniest sliver of light in as a short male stepped into the room. Mirvyn, the head healer on your team. The light glimmered against his glasses before he shut the door again. He moved silently with the practiced footsteps of a cautious male.

Cassian knew the healer recognized his presence. They didn’t acknowledge each other in the darkness. Your hand reached for Cassian’s, gripping it until your nails bit into his skin.

The healer began to work, administering a more potent treatment that could be injected into your arm. You hated it, every second, but it was the only thing that seemed to help you.

You had lay like this for hours. Cassian knew the pain you must be in to have asked for the healer when you had taken only six vials of tonic. When you didn’t respond to the prick of the needle in your shoulder, he knew getting the healer been the right call.

You were asleep within minutes. The healer began to check you, your breathing, your heart, anything he could learn from your pain signatures. He sighed.

Just like every other time, Cassian knew. Nothing to be done. That was the most frustrating piece. Aside from avoiding the things which could trigger the episodes and taking your daily tonics, there was nothing you could do. None of the healers could find a single thing wrong with your body, even as you fell to pieces from the pain.

The healer walked around to Cassian’s side of the bed and bent to whisper, “I'll return in an hour to check on her, then stay in the guest room if you need me for anything else."

Cassian whispered his thanks in return. All they could do was wait. A silent vigil for the love of his life to return to comfort in her own body. A silent sorrow for the pain she must feel.

It was his greatest sorrow, that he couldn't share the pain. He didn't even know its extent. You were not his mate. You were beloved, but he could not understand or protect you. Hours, you would lay, knowing you could call for help. Struggling to decide whether it was bad enough.

A little over six hours, and a healer. Today was bad. He would wait.

Cassian quietly asked the healer to sit with you for a little bit when he returned. He went downstairs, made two sandwiches, and ate one as quickly as possible. You had told him once that him not taking care of himself did you no favors. He had promised he would not neglect himself, so he ate. He did it quickly, because he would not leave you longer than he had to.

The other sandwich he left on the counter with an empty glass. This healer liked the sandwiches, and he knew where you stored all your drinks. He could help himself.

He filled a large pitcher of water and walked up the stairs once more with the pitcher and two glasses. If you got thirsty, there would be water for you. It was the one thing he could do that he felt in control of. He didn't like how insignificant it felt. Still, you told him waking up and seeing a pitcher of water there, the one thing you usually forgot, always made you feel cared for.

Mirvyn had heard Cassian coming, and met him right outside the bedroom door.

"She's still asleep. Her vitals are steady, but for her to have called, I am concerned. Be careful. Sleep. The spell will let you know if anything is truly amiss, but if you sense anything out of the ordinary, come get me," the healer cautioned. "Often your senses will kick in before the spell will recognize it as an issue."

Cassian nodded. "I know. Can you tell how this compares to her last bad episode?"

The healer sighed, pulling his glasses off to clean them before replacing them on the bridge of his nose. "Cassian, it's about the same this time. I'm still surprised she hadn't passed out already, but by my measurements it's about the same."

"She seemed..." Cassian shook his head with a grimace. "It seemed even worse. She's everything to me, Mirvyn. If anything happens to her..."

"I know. We all know. Take care of yourself, Cassian. If either of you need anything, I'll be down the hall."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Sleep. He would sleep, and more importantly, you would sleep. In the morning, you would be alright. He had to believe it.

Cassian woke first, approximately twelve hours later. It was unsurprising. He woke before you on the good days, too. So he waited, his hand in the space between you in case you decided in your sleep that you wished to hold it. You would wake soon enough, if you felt better. Cassian wouldn't let himself think of the alternative.

"Cassian," you whispered.

"My love," he greeted you quietly.

"May I have some water?"

He smiled. "Of course."

You sat up while he retrieved your glass, filling it with careful precision in the darkness.

"Here."

You gulped it down before handing your glass back to him. "Thank you."

He nodded, replacing the glass and the pitcher. "How do you feel?"

"Well enough," you sighed. "A bit of a residual headache."

"That's good," he smiled.

"Yeah. Hold me?" You asked. After the first time, you always asked.

"Of course. Always." He climbed into bed beside you, scooping you into his arms as he sat against the headboard. Once you had sat up, you often didn't want to lay down again. Changing from laying to sitting to laying again so quickly had seemed to do odd things, and now you avoided it at all costs.

"Thank you," you whispered, settling your head against his chest.

"You're welcome."

"I love you, Cassian."

"I love you, too," he hummed. "Mirvyn is here."

"I know. I remember him coming in last night."

"Remember anything else?"

"Other than you coming home, not really. Everything else is blurry."

"That's alright," he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. "That's everything important."

You laughed. "Oh? the important things, you coming home, and Mirvyn showing up?"

"Yeah," Cassian couldn't help but laugh.

"I heard that swear, you know. When you saw the tonic bottles."

"I was worried," he protested. "I'm always worried when you're sick."

"And? Foul language," you teased in return. "Ghastly, nasty language. You kiss me with that mouth, you know."

"And you love the things this mouth does," he teased in return. You were happy. You were fine.

You hummed your acknowledgement, pressing a kiss to his jaw. "I do. I love the male its attached to more, though."

Soon, you were both quietly laughing, intermittently interrupting each other for gentle kisses. It was the best ending for what had been unbearable just hours before. This was Cassian's favorite. The calm between the storms, when you were yourself, in his arms.

You deserved this every morning, every day. This peace. This lightness of heart. In the meantime, he would love you, even in the dark.

A/N: I am by no means a definitive authority on migraines or chronic illness. I do, however, suffer from migraines. This is based largely on my own experience, though I've never had the benefit of a Cassian in my life and frankly, even if I did, the last thing I might want is someone anywhere near me.

All that aside, I wanted to explore what Cassian the Lover might feel when his beloved was in pain. And what better way to do that than with an indulgent fic?

Additionally, I felt it was important to acknowledge that it takes a village. Sometimes, the best thing your person can do for you is to be there and help you ask for help. I may not have a Cassian in my life, but I have many a Mirvyn, and many incredibly supportive people. I am very, very grateful for every single one of them.

I hope you enjoyed the fic, and that you enjoy the rest of your lovely Cassian week! Don't forget to give cassianappreciationweek and maased-out a follow so you can stay up to date with future fandom events for your writing and reading pleasure!

All my love,

Chaos

P.S. I reblog a lot. Want to see the fics without any chaos? Totally cool! @fictionalchaos is the place to be!

Permanent Taglist: @ninthcircleofprythian @c-starstuff-man0 @dusk-muse @lilah-asteria As always: If you want on or off of the taglist, let me know!

#cassian fanfiction #cassian acotar #cassian x reader #cassian x y/n #cassian x you #cassian the lover #cassian appreciation week #cassian appreciation week 2024 #cassian week 2024 #fictionalchaos #my work

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scaralvr · 2 years ago

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hello! i would like to request prompt #15 with haypasia and scaras dynamic and him trying to get you jealous but you take it the wrong way + hurt/comfort, thank you!

only you — TRIAL FOR YOUR HEART EVENT scaramouche x gn!reader (possessiveness, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort)

☆ prompt(s) used : are you jealous yet?

note(s) : thank you for requesting, traveler! i really like the idea of this concept so i hope you like how i wrote it (o´▽`o)

one tiny mistake caused your lover to completely lose his trust in you. after being so careful, you just had to slip up. the fatigue was getting to you, and you know how scaramouche gets when he sees even the slightest hint of an illness. he's so careful with you, handling you like a porcelain doll and that if he isn't considerate, you'll break.

you did break, you shattered right in front of his eyes. you passed out mid-conversation and scaramouche's distress was at high. you didn't see how his hands trembled as he held you, you didn't see how his gaze flitted from the slow rising of your chest to your closed eyes. you didn't see how visibly worried he was.

scaramouche wasn't going to let anyone betray him again, even you, his (s/o). he didn't care whether he was going to have to use force to teach you a lesson. he's grown tired of your petty little lies just so he doesn't have to worry about you.

"a devout follower of yours? i see," you say with a calm tone, but scaramouche doesn't fail to notice the way your gaze slightly darkens. he continues, "yes, isn't it great? the first step to the birth of my becoming of a God begins with her." scaramouche can hardly contain an evil cackle from slipping from his lips, but he'll save that for later.

your hands are behind your back as you fidget with your thumbs, "that's good, kuni. um, listen, i was wondering if-" you stop short when you notice the way he seems to be enraptured in his deep thoughts. probably thinking of haypasia again, huh? you look to the side and almost anyone would feel bad at the way you frown, "nevermind."

scaramouche smirks and he holds onto the rim of his hat, the trinkets clinking with each step he takes towards you. "what? do you have something to tell me?" he queries with a condescending tone, taking pride in the way you appear like a poor lamb being hunted as prey.

you shake your head, "no, it's nothing. you should get going, no time to waste on that plan of yours, right?" you shrug it off with your signature chuckle that you forced to release from your throat. scaramouche's lips curl upwards, "correct." and with that, he walks away, no greet goodbye, not a single word did he utter that acknowledged you were still his lover. his only.

lately, you noticed his visits with haypasia frequently taking up more and more of his schedule. he doesn't even hesitate to cancel out on dates he had previously planned with you and instead, wastes away at the day with a woman he just met. your insecurities begin to gnaw at you with each second that passes by.

it never leaves your mind how sometimes, scaramouche wouldn't even return for days and when he comes back, he claims it doesn't have anything to do with haypasia at all. but you do see him during your daily check-in at his office to see how he's doing. though, he seems to pay less attention to it recently. then you realize, this must all be because you showed the smallest indication of an illness.

you tuck your knees up to your chest and it looks like you're spending another day alone in bed without the presence of your lover, who's busy with his own things to do. or people to meet. the moonlight that peeks through the window's translucent curtains adorns your features. suddenly, you feel a dripping from your nose.

you touch it and look at your fingerpad to find a crimson red. you panic and get out of bed to wash up in the bathroom. blood continues to pour from your nose and your head begins to feel light. when you finish up, you make a discovery. mortal. you're a mortal. scaramouche surely doesn't seek that if he wants someone to be by his side forever.

time would take you sooner or later, and right now, your body wasn't in its best condition. tears grow at the corners of your eyes as you realize that you weren't even the one he was even looking for in the first place, because you're a mortal. your presence is temporary; no wonder he's been so off as of late.

scaramouche is exhausted. despite being a puppet, he felt his knees about to give way beneath him because of how hard he's been working lately. and the past few days, he noticed you hadn't visited him at his office so it added to his sour mood. scaramouche wonders whether he should continue to dangle countless summaries of what he and haypasia did, but he supposes you've learnt your lesson by now.

a small smile is atop his lips as he puts his things aside for the day. during his walk back to the house he shares with you, he replays your amusing reactions in his head whenever he told you about haypasia. you really are pathetic aren't you? well, all is fine. you're going to come running back to him no matter what so...

scaramouche ought to apologize as well. his behaviour was uncalled for, at least he'd agree to that. he wonders how you're doing physically too. that little incident of you passing out that began this whole ordeal still hasn't passed his mind just yet. scaramouche will check in on you when he gets home.

he arrives and peers into the rooms, searching for your whereabouts. scaramouche put his hat onto the dining room table and sighs. maybe you're out getting groceries. maybe you're visiting a friend and lost track of time. though he'd prefer the first option. scaramouche wanted nothing more than to get in bed with you after a long week of working and being separated from his lover.

his plan to become a God would be set into motion soon, and he wanted you by his side by that time. he figures he'd apologize now if he were to get back to work the next day, so he waits. scaramouche sits at one of the chairs at the dining table and waits for your arrival.

as he's only four minutes into waiting, he notices an envelope on the ground that must have fell from the table after he placed his hat on it. scaramouche picks it up and examines it before peeling it open. he takes out a paper with beautiful ink words across it, which he can come to recognize is your penmanship. hesitant at first, he reads nonetheless.

dear kunikuzushi,

i hope this letter finds you well. i, however, am not myself as of late. surely, you've noticed, but i've come to realize that you're meant for bigger things, kunikuzushi. i'm just a mortal who's living in your world and when all is said and done, time will reach me as well. at the moment, i'm recovering my state in liyue at bubu pharmacy, where a close friend will tend to me, so please, don't worry and focus on what it is you truly wish to achieve rather than allowing me to burden you. i hope everything will go well with your plan, along with haypasia. farewell, kunikuzushi.

yours truly, (y/n).

scaramouche has a blank expression when he finishes reading it. his thumb smoothes over the corner and it slightly crumples. "farewell?" he mumbles, eyes darkening. scaramouche rips the letter apart without another second of waiting. pieces of the page drift to the ground and he grits his teeth. "i'm not going to let you leave me."

had scaramouche known you were hurting that bad because of his antics of teasing you, he would've dropped the act immediately. his pride got the best of him and made yet another one of his loved ones leave him. but he'll have time to dwell on that later. his top priority right now, is getting you back.

he sets a course for liyue, not caring whether it'll interfere with his current plan of becoming a God. what use would it be without his lover by his side as you always were? it was originally his plan; to have you there the whole time, and to cut you off was out of the question.

"qiqi, would you indulge in helping me pick more herbs for our friend, (y/n), here?" baizhu asks with a smile as the little zombie looks up at him. she nods, "yes, baizhu. would (y/n) like to come along?" qiqi queries as she looks at you. baizhu places a hand on her shoulder, "it's alright, qiqi. they'll be needing their rest."

you smile, "thank you for asking, qiqi." qiqi nods again and waves, "qiqi and baizhu will be back... with (y/n)'s herbs." baizhu winks at qiqi and qiqi hums. that causes you to blink for a few moments. these two...

"we'll be off. anything you need, you can find in the cabinets over there," baizhu says before leaving with qiqi in tow. as they exit, your mind can't help but linger upon scaramouche. you wonder how his plan is going with haypasia. you sigh and shake your head. it was your fault to begin with, for not noticing the signs sooner, right?

you stand up and decide to take a walk for fresh air. you feel bad for not coming along to pick herbs with the sweet girl and your friend, but you want some time alone. but as soon as you leave the pharmacy, you meet a familiar fatui harbinger.

"scaramouche!" you say in surprise, your eyes wide as you look left and right. said man suddenly grabs you by the wrist and pulls you behind the building. "don't 'scaramouche' me," he seethes, eyes narrowing with anger. scaramouche roughly pushes you against the wall and keeps you there with just his menacing glare.

you fight back the urge to look away, but you can't bring yourself to do so when tears are helplessly flowing down his face. "why would you leave? actually, no, that doesn't matter," he murmurs, looking down to refrain you from seeing the way he cries. "can you come back? i-i promise i won't do anything like that again, so..."

scaramouche slowly lets go of your wrist to wipe at his tears. you solemnly say, "kunikuzushi." in a tender motion, you hold both his hands in yours and he looks up, eyes baring more tears to release. "it's not your fault," you say with the softest voice he's ever heard.

you lift one hand to cup his cheek, "it's okay. if my presence with you is what you truly wish for... i'll do it for you." you smile and scaramouche couldn't contain himself from holding you close and pressing his lips against yours. you clutch at his shoulder and your tears mix with his.

even if it isn't forever, he has you right now. so please, don't leave, as you're the only one he has.

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flowercitti · 1 year ago

Note

Hi, I read your one Astarion story "wanted to kiss your skin and your everything." First I would like to say it was so good it kinda made me wanna cry it was so sweet it's definitely one of my favorites I've read. :) But I saw at the bottom you said about a request so I was wondering if you would be willing to write a fic about Astarion and Asexual Tav/Reader. I honestly don't have any other specifics, but I haven't seen a lot of Ace content with BG3 which I understand but I would really love to see more. Please don't feel pressured or anything, thank you in the least. Have a great day or night :)

Wahh thank u sm I’m so glad you enjoyed that fic! 🤍☺️ and thank you sm for sending a request, I really love this idea! 🫶 here’s a little Drabble 🫶.

Fluff/Gender Neutral Reader/Ace Reader

🌸

You can’t say you’re surprised when Astarion propositions you. He’s open and flirtatious and he seems to now exactly what he’s doing, as well as being so wholly aware of the affect he has on people. He may not be able to see himself, but he’s learned well enough from the reactions his pretty face garners.

You agree with that assessment, he is rather beautiful, but when it comes to sex—

“What?” Astarion seems nearly speechless, his silver tongue gone heavy in his mouth as he blinks, coming damn close to outright stuttering, “I—I mean, surely you—I’ve seen how you look at me!” He huffs, looking frustrated and confused and completely thrown off.

It’s almost endearing, to see him grow so flustered, his suave persona melting through his shock. You can’t help but smile, “I’m just not really interested in sex. That’s all.” You shrug, and Astarion looks at you as if that tadpole in your head has finally started to transform you.

“You’re still very pretty and utterly charming, don’t worry.” You inform him, and Astarion chuckles, if only out of disbelief.

“Good to know I haven’t lost my touch.” He sniffs delicately, looking away from you, his full lips pursed in a slight pout.

You watch him shift from foot to foot nervously, ruby eyes regarding you warily, brows pinched as he seems to wager whether you’re lying to him or not.

“You don’t want me, then?” He says carefully, a faux sort of lightness infused in his tone. You see through it immediately. His eyes always give him away, glittering in the moonlight and fanned by dark lashes.

“I didn’t say that.” You manage a step closer, chewing on the inside of your lip, “It’s just the sex I don’t want. Everything else—I’m interested.”

“What else could you possibly want from me, then?” He seems to blurt, his mouth twisting out of confusion rather than anger, his gaze flickering away anxiously.

Something in your chest pangs, a painful churn behind your ribs. He looks like he believes it, like he thinks you’re teasing him or leading him on. You frown softly, holding your hand out between the two of you, leaving it open for him to take should he choose.

“I could show you, if you’d like.”

He stares at your hand like it’s a live trap, like it’s fit to spring its spikes into him the moment he reaches out. There’s a strange flicker of emotion that shifts across his face—relief, consideration, fear. His mouth parts, a quiet breath pressing past his lips as he considers you, seeming not to notice the long seconds that pass by. But he keeps his eyes steadily on you as he slowly slips his fingers over yours. His skin is unnaturally cool, perfectly smooth and untouched by calluses. You can nearly see him shudder from the simple contact, his face twitching in surprise, crimson eyes like pools of shining blood.

“I don’t see the point of this, surely there’s more I could do for you—”

You shush him, delighting in the scandalized look he rewards you with, “No. I like this more.” And you think he does to, more than he lets on, more than the sex he had been tempting you with.

His eyes are strangely glassy even as he huffs, looking down at your joined hands.

“You have better not be playing me.” He mutters, but he sounds nearly breathless as you thumb gently over his wrist. Your other hand comes up to hold his between both of yours, as if you could press heat into his lifeless flesh.

“You’ll just have to wait and see, then.” You say playfully, but your fingers are delicate as they trace the bones of his knuckles, finding the lines of his veins. You’re closer now than you were before, Astarion’s eyes just slightly widened as they regard you. His fingers shift in your hold, his thumb pressing experimentally into your palm.

He looks as if he’s never done this before, surprise and awe dancing over his face despite how hard he attempts to hide it.

“I suppose that I will.” He rasps, his head tilting to the side in wonder, and you meet him with small smile.

🌸

Astarion-flavored Requests are still open 🫶🤍 thank u sm for reading.

#astarion #baldur's gate iii #baldur's gate 3 #unsure where exactly this fits in his romance line but. use ur imagination.#x reader #astarion x you #astarion x reader #bg3 #bg3 astarion #gender neutral reader #ask me #my fanfiction

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gem-de-lune · 17 days ago

Text

Revisiting Timeline for News about Seunghan

Since a lot of people are anxious, I decided to talk today about some confirmations I have been experiencing.

I recently had someone message me another Tarot reader's verdict on the timeline for Seunghan's return or rather when we will receive news on this.

I will preface this by saying I actively try not to interpret other reader's pulls because a lot of time, they are not meant for me to read. However, in this case, part of their reading was a definite sign for another reason, so I will be referencing a tiny part of it.

In this other reading the person pulled the Moon card for a timeline and said that it equated to 9 months. When it comes to timelines and tarot, everyone has their own way of doing it- but personally there imo i do not distinguish whether a timeline is 9 months, years, weeks, or days, just by 1 card alone.

The reason why I mention this is because i was basically not paying attention to the months aspect, just the number 9. (Sign 1)

Next, I decided I might as well do a quick little pull for timeline, in which I pulled the Hermit card

The Hermit is the 9th card of the Major Arcana. (Sign 2)

Then, as I placed down the card, my alarm went off for 9am....(Sign 3)

At this point I was like ok I get it...

So me being me I was like okay what is 9 days from now and if that means anything bc your girl could have a whole baby in 9 months.

9 days from now in Korea (where it is Oct 26th today) would be Nov 4th. (Sign 4).

I had someone in my asks ask me if the numbers I pulled for timeline a while ago: 8, 6, 4*, 2 were still valid, because another reader said news will come by Nov 4th. (Sign 5)

So finally I pulled some cards asking if we would get news by Nov 4th. And I will also preface, when pulling cards for yes/no you need to take into consideration what the card actually means. So even though this card is positive, if you are pulling like the knight of pentacles which is slow moving or stagnant, then the answer is more likely no or maybe a little later than expected. If you pull a knight of swords who is super fast, then you'll get a faster timeline than expected.

In this case I pulled

Ace of Wands + 9 of Pentacles + 10 of Swords

Someone recently asked about my swords being oddly positive, and I do think they are referring to this 10 of swords card. The 10 of swords actually traditionally looks different so here is a comparison of the original vs my deck:

And it usually signifies a painful ending. However, what a lot of people miss is the golden sky in the traditional card, which signifies the light at the end of the tunnel.

My deck which is the Book of Shadows Vol 2, narrows in on this meaning. The 10 of swords is not simply about a painful end. It's symbolizing going through a painful situation and being reborn from the ashes of that pain. It is about overcoming in a situation that seemed like the end. This is true with both cards, but the true meaning for your specific reading is dependent on the surrounding cards. Which is why it is usually not good to pull this type of card alone for an outcome, because people tend to just see the swords and defeat but in reality- even if someone is going through a defeat that is NEVER the end of the story unless they literally die- which is unlikely 😂 (every set back is a set up for a comeback)

Now, going back to these pulls- which btw JUMPED out. They are saying yes. We should be receiving an update by the 4th. The 10 of swords signifies being reborn from a painful situation as stated. The ace of wands is a powerful yes card signifying new ventures, passion and action. The 9 of pentacles aside from being yet another 9 indicator, shows that this will be positive news coming after a long time of hard work.

I think we were definitely due for another one of these non structured reads. I am sorry if anyone felt personally victimized by me saying I cannot pull every day for if he will return and when. I still cannot do that, but I understand the stress and sorrow, and I never mean to be mean at all- just want you guys to know that. I am a Gemini Moon so dealing with all the emotions of so many people is draining to me because I see them as tasks I must analyze instead of just what they are: emotions. Just know I am with you and I hear you regardless.

I hope this reading brought a lot of comfort to yall.

#astrology #kpop #tarot #riize is 7 #riize is seven #smsupportsbullying #riize #seunghan #anton #eunseok #sungchan #shotaro #sohee #wonbin #bring back seunghan

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katerina-marie · 4 months ago

Text

The Tragedy of a Duality

Gojo Satoru x Female Reader and (Past) Ryomen Sukuna x Female Reader

Chp 1, Chp 2, Chp 3, Chp 4, Chp 5, Chp 6, Chp 7 (Final)

In the present, you are a sorcerer and the cherished wife of the Honored One. In an era long gone, remembered by only one, you were ordinarily human and the beloved bride of the King of Curses. How fitting it would be, in an evening of destruction, to have your heart torn in two.

Content: JJK Universe and Canon Events (tho tweaked to incorporate reader), Fluff, Angst, Flashbacks, Ambiguous ending, Violence, Death, Female reader but left descriptively vague, No use of y/n, True Form Sukuna in the past, Itadori Yuji is Sukuna's vessel in the present but nothing inappropriate b/n reader and Itadori as the vessel.

WC: 4.4k

A/N: Me, drafting this post: Eh, it's probably not that bad. I'm just a baby when it comes to angst.

The Final Chapter

Just like the surrounding camp, the inside of your tent is mostly quiet and settled. Your breathing has just begun to even out, and you rest on your stomach with your face pressed into the crook of Sukuna’s shoulder. Two of his hands are tucked behind his head while one cups your rear and the tips of nails on his right tickle the skin of your hip. The two you bask in the warmth of each other and the last tingles of shared pleasure.

“Sukuna,” you whisper, letting your lips brush across the skin of his chest. You feel his answering hum under your cheek at the same time it reaches your ears, and his hand slides upwards to rub at the small of your back. “What are we going to do when we return home?”

“Whatever pleases you,” he replies instantly, and you smile.

“If I want to go see the ocean after we have recovered from our travels?”

“Then I will take you to it when the weather turns warm.” Sukuna pauses in consideration. “But do not ask me to frolic in the water.”

You giggle, but it turns into a pleasant sigh when he kneads the muscles of your back. Your eyes feel heavy and you nestle in closer to him.

“If I want to plant every flower in existence in the gardens outside our chambers?”

“Then I shall send the gardeners to the ends of the earth to procure every such type for you.”

“And if I want—,”

Sukuna interrupts you by pressing his lips against yours and pulling you up further onto his chest. When you break apart, his fingers trail down your cheek and then grab a hold of your chin so he can tip it upwards so you meet his eyes. You think they are the gentlest they have ever looked.

“Whatever you desire, whatever you seek—ask it of me and I shall give it to you. There is no limit to what I would do for you.” His words fill your chest with effervescent joy, and you murmur back gratitude and adoration.

“Whatever we do not accomplish will wait for us in the next life, and the one after that, and so forth. I will always find you.” Sukuna’s last words to you follow you into sleep, so it is no wonder how you dream of your days with him.

---------------------------------

Weekends at home with Satoru are your favorite.

The two of you sleep soundly into the morning, and it is always a toss up of whether or not you can slip from Satoru’s grip without waking him up. You consider it a mild success if you’re able to brew a cup of coffee and take the first sip before he is wrapping his arms around your shoulders to pull you back against his chest. You rest your head against his shoulder and he steals a drink of your coffee. He feigns retching just like he always does, his appetite only whetted by sugar and more sugar.

Sunshine spills in through your windows and bathes the kitchen and living room in soft morning light. The sink drips ever so slightly because you missed shutting it off completely, and soft music filters in from a little speaker you keep on the counter. Stuck to the side of the fridge is a small calendar, and you are thrilled that it finally reads “October.”

“What should we do today?”

Satoru makes a contented sound as he sets your mug on the counter in front of you. “It’ll be cool outside today. We can go for a walk?” he offers. His hands skate up over your hips to squeeze gently at your waist.

The idea is tempting. Autumn has always been your favorite time of year, and the prospect of feeling the briskness of the air on your skin excites you like no other. But you have more fantastical ideas in mind.

“If I want to take a trip north to have that dish we had on our honeymoon?” you ask playfully. Satoru chuckles in your ear and nips at it in a way that has you squirming.

“I think we could probably make it there and back in time for class on Monday.” His lips dip to your neck, and you lean your head back farther to allow him to reach more skin.

“And if I want to hop on a plane and lie on a beach somewhere warm?”

Satoru pauses this time and lifts his head.

“I think we could make that work,” he says slowly. “Things have been quiet at school lately and I could force—I mean ask—Nanami to cover the first year’s training for a couple days.”

Quiet is accurate. Sukuna has hidden himself away, and you don’t know how to feel about it when you know it’s because of you.

Satoru’s hands wander, and you bat at them, giggling at the way his fingers sneak under your shirt to tickle at the skin on your stomach. His laughter is rich and never fails to set your heart alight. When one hand reaches up to tilt your cheek in his direction so he can kiss you, you melt against him.

“If I want to spend all day in bed with you?” you ask, breathless in the best of ways, and maybe such grand vacations can wait.

Satoru turns you in an instant and wastes no time in dragging you back towards the room the two of you just left, and there is a wicked gleam in the blue of his eyes that matches the grin rounding his cheeks.

“Who am I to ever deny you?”

You kiss him fiercely because Satoru has never denied you anything, and you are too lost in him to be aware of anything else, to consider doing anything beyond twining all of yourself with him. After all, you know there is nothing but time for the two of you to accomplish everything you want together.

---------------------------------

Everywhere you look, the city you love is nothing but carnage. Bodies lay strewn across one another in piles of mangled gore and puddles of blood threaten to soak your shoes. You sprint over asphalt and each step deeper into Shibuya sends blistering panic through your body. There’s a pull in your chest that began just minutes ago and intensifies exponentially. It’s urging you forward to somewhere…someone. There are images in your head you cannot quite understand or make clarity of, but what you know them to be is an unequivocal truth. The memories come to you in fragmented pieces that you can’t connect together yet. You’re losing count of how many fingers Itadori Yuji is somehow consuming, and your focus is being split into inordinate directions.

“Do you have a habit of stealing fruit that doesn't belong to you?”

The only sound left in the normally busy station is your frantic breathing and the slapping of your shoes on tile. Your eyes sweep over various entrances and exits, and there are multiple staircases slicked with blood of human and cursed kind. Rationality is fading, allowing for fear to drive your decisions, and you decide to move further down into the station.

Four arms and too many eyes. It should repulse you, send you fleeing, but something about him is enticing. He looks at you as though he thinks the same.

A long stairway looms in front of you and you take them two at a time, your hand gripping the railing to keep you upright when a step lands wrong or your balance tips forward. What is real and what is memory are superimposed together in front of your eyes, and trying to discern between the two has you staggering.

“Wed yourself to me.”

When you reach the bottom of the stairs, reality takes over your vision and the sight in front of you stalls your feet. Dozens of curses lay torn to pieces and scattered all over the pristine white floors. There is viscera painting the walls and cylindrical columns, and in the middle of it all, a glimpse of something strikes you with great sadness.

“Did you miss me while I was gone? I have returned to you now.”

Your chin quivers, and you suddenly wish that your talent for being able to recall seemingly useless details relating to the people you care most about didn’t work as well as it did. You hate the way you can instantly pick out a pair of perfectly polished, mahogany-colored dress shoes that still gleam under fluorescent lights, if only because they are the one thing that allows you to identify what remains of Nanami Kento.

There’s a forest that looks so familiar in the way it offers shelter from the rain and bears fruit you like to eat. Once, long ago, someone large and powerful weaved through its trees as he stalked you in the night. In your most recent memory, it’s decorated with glowing bulbs of light and saw you wed another.

A sob rips through your clenched teeth as memories flash before your eyes again, but this time they don’t take the form of an age long gone. Instead, you reminisce on the image of an always-weary smile and kind brown eyes. There is echoing laughter, and you remember the comforting pressure of a reassuring hand and a friend who cared for others more than he would like to let on.

If you know anything about Nanami Kento, it’s certainly that someone else is alive because of him and where he lay. And if the mounting pressure in your chest didn’t drive you to press onwards, you’d take the time to fall to your knees and mourn a man who didn’t deserve the fate that befell him. But neither did you take a pause just a few minutes earlier when you first arrived in the city and stumbled around a street corner to see familiar bodies laid out on cots. You recognized the black suit Ijichi always wore even though it was riddled and torn with puncture wounds. You couldn’t miss the way Shoko was hovering over Fushiguro as he lay unmoving. Behind them a ways, a white sheet was tucked up almost entirely over a half mangled face, and bile stung your throat at the chestnut bob that was splayed out around it.

You couldn’t stop then and didn’t stop now. Not when Satoru isn’t answering his phone and you are manic in your desperation to find him. Not when something ancient and primal is driving you towards a being you almost have no memory of, yet the marrow of your bones and sinew threading your muscles ache to remember him. There are students, some still children and others just barely not, who will suffer from the events of today. Dear friends and peers lay broken and beaten, and there are those that will never get up. Tears blur your vision and your feet slip as you take off again.

“Come to me, when you feel so inclined, and I will always be willing to let you find me.”

All of this steals your breath and claims your focus, and maybe that’s why you don’t hear a once familiar voice or register Satoru’s exclamation of someone’s name. By the time you skid around a corner and the station opens up, what lies before you is unfathomable, and you stop. The dark hair of a friend you thought was gone and buried is jarring and unexpected. Across from Suguru, Satoru’s face is crumpled and broken, and he is forced to his knees and tangled up in something you don’t understand. You go to call for him, not thinking in any sensible way, and his name only halfway slips out before there is a pressure at your chest and you realize a fatal mistake has been made.

“When you are caught off guard, you freeze, even if I would always remind you that it makes for bad prey.”

It’s a horrid habit, most unbecoming of a sorcerer, and it’s unfortunate—now that memory serves you—how you never seemed to grow out of it.

A patchwork face of pale skin and blue hair takes up most of your field of vision, and you slowly look down to see the hand resting between your breasts. The noise around you has started to fade away, and your attention is drawn to the flicker of white-hot pain somewhere beneath your ribs. Those fingers begin to curl against your sternum, the tips digging into the fabric of your blouse, and the noise that escapes your lips is strained and might just sound like someone’s name.

Did you always know what it feels like to have steel part your flesh?

Pain and pressure are mounting, and something is keeping you upright as your chest threatens to cave in on itself. Your eyes flicker over the shoulder of the curse that stands in front of you, but the devastated look on Satoru’s face as he screams your name has you wishing you had closed them instead.

It’s alarming to feel how hot your blood is as it pours down your chest.

Satoru’s voice reaches a fever pitch. The lights seem to flicker, but it’s more likely your vision is going because blood is starting to paint your front scarlett. In the distance, though it’s nearing, a thundering roar of regret and retribution shakes the ground and the very walls surrounding you all. But something inside of you is being ripped in two, and all you can think of last is how fitting it seems.

“I will always find you.”

How terribly he has cursed you.

---------------------------------

Ryomen Sukuna finds it wholly unfair and unnecessarily cruel that on two separate occasions he has felt your heart stop beating—that this is twice now he has been incapable of making it to you in time.

Itadori Yuji is slumped back against a wall and something is being forced down his throat. The boy is just barely alive, and yet Sukuna thrashes against the boundaries of his control. You are here, and he is stuck. Another finger is consumed and Sukuna thinks he can get Itadori’s head to turn. Your heartbeat is frantic. One more finger, and if he strains hard enough, pointed fingernails spring from Itadori’s fingertips. Sukuna thinks he might hear you say his name, but it’s hushed and far away, and it could be his own wishful thinking. One last finger and Sukuna bursts forth, obliterating whatever—whoever—stands in his way.

He can sense your panic and hear the way your white-haired lover screams your name. In desperation, he crashes through metal and brick, ripping down walls and plummeting through tiled floors in an effort to reach you. He sets Gojo Satoru free from the trap designed to seal him (it’s what you would have wanted, and Sukuna is weak to your whims) and destroys the two curses who had orchestrated this whole ordeal. However, once again, he is too far and too late, and there is nothing to do when you are dead before your body hits the floor. What remains of the crumbling train station goes eerily silent, and Sukuna knows he’ll spend the next thousand years hating himself again.

When dust and debris clear from his vision at the same time he shakes it from his clothes, Sukuna sees Gojo stumble his way to you. There is a keening, wounded sound coming from his mouth and it overlaps with the way he gasps out your name. Even Sukuna can admit it’s painful to watch as he trips over bodies and staggers on hunks of sheetrock before he can fall to his knees beside you. Gojo is sobbing by the time he is able to slip his hands under your shoulders and lift your body up enough to clutch you to his chest. He moans and laments as he rocks you in his arms and Sukuna debates if putting him out of his misery would be the kinder thing to do.

He waits a few feet back, still in the shadows and either ignored or unnoticed. As he sniffles and pants, your husband staggers to his feet with you in his arms and turns in Sukuna’s direction. There is blood seeping through your shirt from a cavity in your chest and your head hangs loosely just over the crook of his elbow. Your eyes are shut and his fingers grip desperately into your knees from where his hand is curled under them. He begins to walk dazedly, his footsteps stilted and unbalanced, and the sorcerer stares blankly ahead.

Your body is limp and lifeless, and the way your legs swing slightly in time with his strides bring about memories that live fresh in Sukuna’s mind even though they are centuries and centuries old.

It is your neck this time, delicately flayed with fatal precision. The white nightgown he had peeled off of you hours before is saturated in a red so deep it will never wash out. It trickles down your shoulder to seep into the bedding under where you lay, and Sukuna is uncertain if he should be grateful that your eyes had slid shut in your final moments. Seeing them empty and dull as they now are would haunt him for all the days to come.

He could do no more for you than slide his upper arms under your knees and below your head so that you are nestled in his arms. He carries you out from the tent, and the whole of the camp goes absolutely silent.

There is nothing left by the time Sukuna is done. Trees laid flattened for miles and there are body parts strewn in branches and thrown against rocks. Ripped sheets of fabric rustle against the ground as a stiff wind catches them, and smoke pours up towards the blue-black of the sky.

Sukuna does not feel anything else besides mind-numbing pain and searing loss. He sees no point in honoring your last request to consider the lives of worthless mortals. He has you no longer, and there is no one to prevent the complete decimation of everything around him.

When Sukuna returns to his estate, alone and despondent, he takes one look at the flowers blooming in the garden and sets it all ablaze.

When Gojo is nearly past him, Sukuna jerks forward involuntarily to take you into his own arms, but the snarl of utter hatred that twists the other sorcerer’s face nearly makes him step back. It’s then he remembers that you do not belong to him in this lifetime, that you have loved and married another, and again Sukuna has lost you in more ways than one. It sends something white-hot racing through each limb, erasing the same numbness that is familiar to him, and the earlier bloodshed is not enough to satiate the rage that overtakes him. He is a couple fingers more powerful and in control again, (though not soon enough), and at current, there is no one else near—nor capable—other than your widower husband.

Sukuna imagines that the same hatred on Gojo’s face is reflected on his own, and maybe the two strongest sorcerers are bound to have it out for more reasons than one. Gojo probably blames him for the state of everything around him and for how you lay dead and cold. Sukuna craves to put a fist into your husband’s face because he had the opportunity to have you when he didn’t, and for failing to do what Sukuna also couldn’t. There’s a mutual understanding between the two, and he lets Gojo pass behind him.

Sukuna watches as he finds an alcove of fallen stone and places you gently under it. His fingers smooth down over your hair and his lips whisper declarations of love against your forehead when he leans down over you. It’s sickening and gut wrenching, not unlike what Sukuna did when he finally laid you to rest when it was his turn. It pains him greatly. You pain him greatly, and by the time Gojo whirls around, Sukuna is ready.

---------------------------------

The Honored One is still braced in a fighting stance though blood drips from his nose and parts of his clothing hang in tatters. The King of Curses has gashes that mar his arms and one that slices down over his right eye. Both of their chests expand with more effort than usual. Satoru has two fingers ready to twine with another, and Sukuna’s hands hover next to each other in front of his chest. They are surrounded by open night, having leveled the rest of the station in their fighting, and somewhere far off sirens blare and lights flicker.

Gojo’s face is pale and wild, his eyes empty and devoid of everything, and for a split second Sukuna empathizes with him. He had felt the same lack of emotion a thousand years ago, experienced immense loss and knew nothing else but the pain of it.

“You wish to close your eyes in the hopes that she is alive and waiting for you when you open them again,” Sukuna tells him, and his words are not gentle, but maybe understanding.

Gojo offers no retort and barely moves, though his eyes do flicker once to where your body is lying a distance away, sheltered by the stone you lay under and the careful way they fought to avoid bringing about any more damage to you.

“You wish to find her in death,” Sukuna continues. His voice is all knowing and authoritative, and his sympathies for his rival end here. “Yet, I am the one who finds her in life.”

An elegant white brow springs upward. “You’ve lost her twice now. Do you think you’ll live long enough to see her a third time?”

Black tattoos twitch erratically as the some of the composure on Sukuna’s face slips, and he bares his teeth at the other sorcerer. “When I find her a third time, if you happen to be around, I suggest not getting in my way.”

The laughter that pours out of Gojo again is hollow and maniacal and carries through the night until it trails off into emptiness. The two stare at each other, each with their own silent promises and resolute in their determination to see them finished. Immense power flickers over them both, but only one of them would walk away alive.

Gojo Satoru hopes to be victorious and spare you from death should what Ryomen Sukuna say is true and he lives long enough again to doom you a third time.

Gojo Satoru cannot deny that he desperately wishes for what the King of Curses has just described. If only things were so simple, so that he could close his eyes and open them to see you next to him. Maybe this time, fate would be kinder to you both.

Gojo Satoru isn’t sure if he wants to win this fight, yet duty burdens him.

Ryomen Sukuna despairs at the thought of prowling the earth for another unknown amount of time while waiting to be reunited with you. He thinks of what could have happened if he had been whole, if there weren’t still pieces of him missing. Would you have given in to the lure of him and remembered what once was? Maybe then he could have saved you.

Ryomen Sukuna fears one possibility, and will forever ponder if his curse in life is to always lose you just after he’s found you. Would a brutal and sanguineous history always repeat itself? Until he can find out, there are countless cities to lay waste to and souls to torture, but years still pass rather slowly when one is deprived of the thing they want most.

Ryomen Sukuna wonders which of the two of them would find you first, should he and the white-haired sorcerer both perish. Perhaps they’re destined to battle for you then, too.

---------------------------------

Many, Many Years Ago

Hidden away in the desolate countryside, a being sits by candlelight to chronicle the life of their master. They escaped the chaos of his demise, wrought by his own doing and the cowardice of pathetic mortals, and are now waiting for the day of his return. In the meantime, they take it upon themselves to ensure that history is recorded with pinpoint accuracy.

There are minor adjustments to be made however, if for nothing more than to maintain their master’s legacy as something well respected. There is no need for the dalliances of a woman to mar the pages of an otherwise heroic tale, and leaving evidence of such weakness would be a disservice on their part.

Uraume has already deigned themselves once with the responsibility of removing such hindrances from their master’s focus. It would be of no trouble for them to serve Sukuna-sama in such a way again.

An unfortunate and momentary affliction, Uraume thinks, and then they swirl their brush into black ink and begin to write.

---------------------------------

Epilogue

Consciousness comes to you on the tail of a wayward breeze. It is cool against your skin and flows from behind where dusky night has settled into the sky. In front of you, the last remnants of a blushed orange sunset begin to dip below the trees and blacken their silhouettes. With it, warmth bleeds away.

You blink at the sight of it, and even that feels slow and languid. You step forward and the grass that hovers above your ankles rustles and cracks beneath your feet. Awareness is not sudden but trickles in with every point of connection between the sole of your foot and the ground.

Pink and white, faceless bodies, and odd echoing voices.

You walk further and let your fingertips tap and twitch in the empty air by your sides until your nail digs into your skin.

Old and new, landscapes that vary so differently in what views they offer, and they feel so very far from one another.

You stop without realizing it, and a man calls out your name. You perceive it as your own right then, but every detail that would fill in a composite picture for what it means still slips in gradually. You first turn your head enough to focus on the outline of a horizon just to your right, then again to glance over your shoulder and allow the first glimpse of your profile to whoever stands behind you.

The pitter patter of rain and the warmth of someone’s arms.

Consciousness and awareness do not heed the passing seconds as something to be considered significant. Perhaps, by the time you shift your weight into your heels and allow the beckoning of the presence behind you to steal your attention, recognition will have returned to you. Maybe then, the face that awaits you won’t seem so unfamiliar.

---------------------------------

A big thank you to everyone who read and left comments for this story! I had such fun writing it, and I hope you all enjoyed it.

Now, I'm off to find something soft and fluffy because I have thoroughly hurt my own feelings <3

Taglist: @kalopsia-flaneur ; @kafanizdakicokiyi ; @rosso-seta ; @lululala06

#gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujustu kaisen

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sassenach77yle · 29 days ago

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||COUNTDOWN || SEASON 4 EPISODE 02 || DO NO HARM ||

#83daysofoutlander☆

He was silent while we made our way out onto the river. It was a dark, moonless night, but the reflections of starlight from the surface of the river gave enough light to see, once my eyes had adapted to the shifting glimmer of water and tree-shadow. “Ye dinna mean to say anything?” he asked abruptly, at last. “It’s not my choice to make,” I said, feeling a tightness in my chest that had nothing to do with stays. “No?” “She’s your aunt. It’s your life. It has to be your choice.” “And you’ll be a spectator, will you?” He grunted as he spoke, digging with the oars as he pulled upstream. “Is it not your life? Or do ye not mean to stay with me, after all?” “What do you mean, not stay?” I sat up, startled. “Perhaps it will be too much for you.” His head was bent over the oars; I couldn’t see his face. “If you mean what happened at the sawmill—” “No, not that.” He heaved back on the oars, shoulders broadening under his linen, and gave me a crooked smile. “Death and disaster wouldna trouble ye ower-much, Sassenach. But the small things, day by day … I see ye flinch, when the black maid combs your hair, or when the boy takes your shoes away to clean. And the slaves who work in the turpentine camp. That troubles ye, no?” “Yes. It does. I’m—I can’t own slaves. I’ve told you—”

“Aye, ye have.” He rested on the oars for a moment, brushing a lock of hair out of his face. His eyes met mine squarely. “And if I chose to do this, Sassenach … could ye stay by me, and watch, and do nothing—for there is nothing that could be done, until my aunt should die. Perhaps not even then.” “What do you mean?” “She will not free her slaves—how should she? I could not, while she lived.” “But once you had inherited the place …” I hesitated. Beyond the ghoulish aspects of discussing Jocasta’s death, there was the more concrete consideration that that event was unlikely to occur for some time; Jocasta was little more than sixty, and aside from her blindness, in vigorous health. I suddenly saw what he meant; could I bring myself to live, day after day, month after month, year after year, as an owner of slaves? I could not pretend otherwise, could take no refuge in the notion that I was only a guest, an outsider. I bit my lip, in order not to cry out instant denial. “Even then,” he said, answering my partial argument. “Did ye not know that a slave owner cannot free his slaves without the written permission of the Assembly?” “He what?” I stared blankly at him. “Whyever not?” “The plantation owners go in fear of an armed insurrection of Negroes,” he said. “And d’ye blame them?” he added sardonically. “Slaves are forbidden to carry weapons, save tools such as tree knives, and there are the bloodshed laws to prevent their use.” He shook his head. “Nay, the last thing the Assembly would allow is a large group of free blacks let loose upon the countryside. Even if a man wishes to manumit one of his slaves, and is given permission to do so, the freed slave is required to leave the colony within a short time—or he may be captured and enslaved by anyone who chooses to take him.” “You’ve thought about it,” I said slowly. ��Haven’t you?” I didn’t answer. I trailed my hand in the water, a little wave purling up my wrist. No, I hadn’t thought about the prospect. Not consciously, because I hadn’t wanted to face the choice that was now being laid before me. “I suppose it would be a great chance,” I said, my voice sounding strained and unnatural to my ears. “You’d be in charge of everything …” “My aunt is not a fool,” he interrupted, with a slight edge to his voice. “She would make me heir, but not owner in her place. She would use me to do those things she cannot—but I would be no more than her cat’s-paw. True, she would ask my opinion, listen to my advice; but nothing would be done, and she didna wish it so.” He shook his head. “Her husband is dead. Whether she was fond of him or no, she is mistress here now, with none to answer to. And she enjoys the taste of power too well to spit it out.”

He was plainly correct in this assessment of Jocasta Cameron’s character, and therein lay the key to her plan. She needed a man; someone to go into those places she could not go, to deal with the Navy, to handle the chores of a large estate that she could not manage because of her blindness. At the same time, she patently did not want a husband; someone who would usurp her power and dictate to her. Had he not been a slave, Ulysses could have acted for her—but while he could be her eyes and ears, he could not be her hands. No, Jamie was the perfect choice; a strong, competent man, able to command respect among peers, compel obedience in subordinates. One knowledgeable in the management of land and men. Furthermore, a man bound to her by kinship and obligation, there to do her bidding—but essentially powerless. He would be held in thrall by dependence upon her bounty, and by the rich bribe of River Run itself; a debt that need not be paid until the matter was no longer of any earthly concern to Jocasta Cameron. There was an increasing lump in my throat as I sought for words. I couldn’t, I thought. I couldn’t manage it. But I couldn’t face the alternative, either; I couldn’t urge him to reject Jocasta’s offer, knowing it would send him to Scotland, to meet an unknown death. “I can’t say what you should do,” I finally said, my voice barely audible above the regular lap of the oars. There was an eddy pool, where a large tree had fallen into the water, its branches forming a trap for all the debris that drifted downstream. Jamie made for this, backing the rowboat neatly into quiet water. He let down the oars, and wiped a sleeve across his forehead, breathing heavily from exertion.

The night was quiet around us, with little sound but the lapping of water, and the occasional scrape of submerged tree branches against the hull. At last he reached out and touched my chin.

“Your face is my heart, Sassenach,” he said softly, “and love of you is my soul. But you’re right; ye canna be my conscience.”

In spite of everything, I felt a lightening of spirit, as though some indefinable burden had dropped away.

13 AN EXAMINATION OF CONSCIENCE ~ Drums of Autumn

#the frasers #outlander #outlander starz #outlanderedit #outlander fanart #outlander series #samheughan #jamie fraser #jamie and claire #jamie&claire #claire beauchamp #dr claire randall #claire fraser #caitrionabalfe #outlander book #outlander books #outlander season 4 #outlander 4x02

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woeswrites · 7 months ago

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Yandere Hannibal Lecter

Warnings: Alluding towards torture, Yandere themes, Obsessive behaviors,

Notes: Hannibal's done! A fic idea I had shortened down into whatever this is lol

Hannibal sure loved his dinner parties

Needless to say the community did too

To satiate the numerous requests for more he'd decided it was time to out-do himself yet again

A gathering to celebrate summer solstice would do

He'd spend a considerable amount of time in preparation

Handwritten invitations

A completely unique menu

And last but certainly not least, the gathering of ingredients

As he finished off the last of the swine he could already see his vision coming together

'The day of' quickly approached

Hours he spent slaving away in the kitchen

Finally he'd be able to enjoy himself and entertain his guests

He'd meticulously picked out his visitors for this event

You were very much not among those he'd selected

His eyes trained against your figure

A simple glance and nothing would have been amiss

But Hannibal was not the average onlooker

One by one he picked up on curiosities about you

Your darting eyes scoping out the place

Your suit, new but definitely not costly enough to fit in with the rest of the crowd

And one last thing, that fancy watch of yours

Hannibal excused himself from the clique who had entrapped him with their formalities

A few quick greetings here and there and he was by your side

"Forgive me, but I cannot seem to remember your name. All the party planning must be clouding my memory."

You were quite surprised at the host's appearance

Its not like you were in a group of people

On the contrary, you were alone, on the outskirts of the room

"No need to ask forgiveness. This is actually our first time meeting. Y/n-- Monroe's plus one. It's nice to meet you."

Hannibal gracefully accepted your handshake

He didn't feel the need to mention that he'd already encountered Monroe and his companion that night

That would ruin the fun

He'd strike up a conversation, all the basics (weather, occupation, etc.)

It was safe to say Hannibal didn't believe the accountant lie

He felt your callouses earlier, those were hands of labor

But, yet again, that was something he kept to himself for the time being

By the time you started looking a little antsy someone was calling for Hannibal

"Hostly duties. I hope to catch you again before the party's over Mr. L/n. Do try some of the horderves, I hear the chef's fantastic."

As soon as you escaped the interaction you were back at it

Scanning the various rooms for anything light enough that was worth taking

Elite parties like this were like taking candy from a baby

It's not like these millionaires would notice a few pieces of jewelry missing anyways

Especially not while they were off getting drunk with their friends

Hey, even if they did

You'd soon be gone without a trace

Or at least you thought so

While everyone else was mingling downstairs you'd managed to worm your way into the master bedroom

Luckily you'd brought a pretty bulky satchel with you

Everything and anything that looked valuable was slipped inside the bag

While questioning whether or not the gold candle holders were worth the space they'd take up you heard something

Footsteps

The function was still thriving downstairs (as evident from all the chatter and music)

Perhaps a random partygoer felt the urge to explorex

You weren't too worried about it before they started sounding closer

And closer

It was evident they were heading your way

It was too late to hide

They were practically already here

You quickly clasped your satchel together again before the man fully stood before you

"Well look at what we have here."

"Hannibal! You're just the man I had wanted to see. I have completely gotten lost. Where's your bathroom?"

Your sheepish smile did nothing to convince the man in front of you

Instead he'd locked the door behind him

"If you're trying to be secretive about your motives, maybe you should be careful about wearing your spoils before you've fully left the scene of the crime."

Hannibal points at the watch on your wrist

You might have been wearing it but it was definitely his

You tried to rectify your actions

You clearly had never been caught before

All of the goods were thrown onto the ground

You backed away, begging him to forgive you for you actions

"You know, I really hate the rude. I don't know what more ill-mannered than stealing."

Hannibal approached slowly, rolling up his sleeves

You tried backing away but couldn't get too far

"I'm sorry-- I'm so so sorry!"

"No you aren't. But you will be."

Just like that you were out

It took a second for you to realize you were awake again, your vision obscured by some sort of cloth

Hannibal would eventually reveal your surroundings

You were in his basement, a sight not many were privy to

It probably had something to do with the meats hanging down there

You had to fight the bile that rose up your throat

Hannibal grabbed you by the chin, forcing you to look at him

"We're gonna shape you into a good boy. No matter how long it takes."

He wheeled a cart over to you, the tools a little too fuzzy for you to make out with how bad your head hurt

"Don't look so scared. A little cooperation and maybe this won't hurt so bad Mylimasis."

He'd break you down over time

There was no other option

#he/him #male reader #Hannibal Lecter x male reader #hannibal lecter x reader #yandere hannibal #yandere hannibal lecter #possessive love #NBC Hannibal #yandere NBC hannibal #hannibal #hannibal lecter

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drama--universe · 24 days ago

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Hospital Love

Requested by @creepypastacrazier93: Hey hey! I was wondering...how about a Jiang Cheng x 21st century reader oneshot? I won't elaborate, I'll leave it to your imagination :-) good luck and thx!

Pairing: Jiang Cheng x reader

Word Count: 1.6k words

Jiang Cheng couldn't help but groan as he exits the restaurant, removing his tie after yet another unsuccessful date. It was the fourth one this month already, another woman his mother had chosen for him. They were all too preppy for his liking, none interesting in any way for even a second of the date. All of them were just daughters of other wealthy businessmen, spoiled and rotten. He had a headache from this date, the girl her voice had been shrill and annoying, especially because she wouldn't shut her mouth for a single second. He got to his car and got in, slamming the door shut before groaning as he leans his head back against his car seat. With another loud sigh, he starts the car and gets ready to leave.

He takes the long route, wanting some peace and quiet before getting home. He didn't want to see his mother for now, knowing she'd yell at him for ruining another date. He drove as slow as he could, enjoying the view around him. The night might be cold and dark, but Jiang Cheng loved the night sight of nature. Most creatures were asleep, only the rare spotted nocturnal animal awake and flying or running around in absolute silence. Jiang Cheng couldn't help but look to the side as he watched the forest. He was, however, pulled out of his admiring by a loud car horn, eyes snapping to the front just in time so he could swerve out of the way for the other car that had swerved into the wrong lane. He felt the wheels of his car hit the side berm before hitting the guard rail, the car coming to a straight stop and sending Jiang Cheng flying forward. The seat belt stopped his movement and he felt his collarbone and maybe even a few ribs break, the airbags deploying and sending his head backwards. After a few minutes, he heard voiced beside him but his head was ringing and he could barely see due to his fuzzy vision. It felt like hours before he heard voices, not able to make out what they were saying. He felt people grabbing his body and dragging him out of the car, flashing lights and sirens surrounding him as people surrounded him. Asking questions to him, but he's unable to answer as he feels his vision blurring.

When he wakes up again, the first thing he sees is you. You're adjusting the wires on his chest that are connected to monitors, seemingly very focused on your task. He goes to speak, but stops when he feels a pressure in his throat and he moves his hands up to feel what was going on. You see him move and your eyes widen before you grab his hands.

"Just a second, you're attached to a breath monitor." You speak calmly before moving your hands up and grabbing the tube that went down his throat, carefully but quickly removing it so he could breath on his own. Once the tube was gone, Jiang Cheng took a deep breath in to fill his lungs. Once he is breathing again, he looks at you again but you speak before him.

"You're in the hospital, you had a car accident a few days ago. You took a big hit to your head and to your back and left leg, so you can't move too much." You explain shortly and he almost wants to scoff, but when he feels the ache in his body he realizes that he should swallow his pride and listen for once. He sighs heavily and looks up at the ceiling. He doesn't know how to feel for once in his life, whether to be annoyed that he was stuck in a hospital for a considerable time or glad that he had a decent reason to not come home for awhile. That meant while he'd be bored out of his mind, but no forced dates either.

And thus he stayed in the hospital, using the free time for healing both mentally and physically. He had days where he only had physical rehabilitation and others where he had mental evaluations to check if his brain didn't have some later damage.

All the while, you remained his nurse, always waking him up in the morning to change his bandages and check his vitals. Then you'd bring him some food, sneaking in some regular food sometimes for him to enjoy instead of the regular hospital food. The only times he didn't see you was when you were checking other patients or when he was at rehabilitation with another nurse or doctor. But some days, you'd stay with him for hours, just talking about basic things and as much as he disliked to admit it, he liked talking to you.

In fact, he couldn't live without it. He couldn't live without you.

The days he dreaded being in the hospital were quick to chance to dread of ever leaving the hospital and you. Even when he hated the food and the constant checks on his mental and physical health, he just didn't want to leave.

Unfortunately, however, he was being discharged today and he had no way of fighting back.

He sat in the hospital gardens, going over the paperwork for his discharge as slow as he could. He'd read and reread the papers, signing the papers where he was supposed to with his good hand while a small frown was on his face.

"Don't wanna leave, huh?" You walk closer to him, leaning down to see the papers. Jiang Cheng looks up to you before sighing as he put the pen down.

"It's certainly a mental workout to leave this hospital." He grumbles as he leans back in his seat and taking a deep breath of the fresh air. You sit down beside him and grin. "Yeah... It definitely is a chore." You chuckle. "So... What you going to do now then, huh? Go back to speed dating?" You tease and Jiang Cheng groans instantly, annoyed at just the thought of it. He gives you a playful glare before scoffing.

"Sure... I'll tell my mom to give you a chance then?" He decides to tease you, but there is a slight genuine tone to it that he hopes you don't pick up on. You do, however, and grin softly as you lean on the table with your elbow. "Mhm... Might as well give me your number." You tease back and you can see a soft tint of red on his face appearing, which makes you smirk softly as you stand up again.

"Get that paperwork finished, okay? No use for you to stay somewhere you don't need to be." You smile before walking off to continue to your rounds.

After he's discharged, it takes a few more weeks for him to get back to his usual life. Luckily his mother left his alone mostly, no blind dates until he looked "presentable". His mother's words, not his own.

But then, after two more months, he was sat in a restaurant again for yet another double date. He tapped his fingers on the table in annoyance as he waited for his date to arrive.

"Look, I don't feel like pretending, so I'm just going to say hi and leave-" You speak before pausing as you notice Jiang Chen sitting at the table that was meant for your double date. You pause as you look at him. "Wait... You're my date?" You stare at him with wide eyes as he looks up, seemingly just as shocked as you were. You blink before just sitting down opposite of him, putting your bag down.

"Don't mind if I stay then?" You grin as you look at him. He looks a bit confused, still dazed until he finally snaps out of it. "You're my date?" He asked, repeating your previous question again. You chuckle and nod. "Apparently, yes." You smile sweetly. He sighs softly, leaning back in his seat.

"Is this allowed..? Not that I don't you want be here! But since I was a patient of yours..?" He asks and you lean back, shrugging. "Well... It's not illegal or anything, but it can be frowned upon. It really just depends on the situation" You shrug before looking up as the waiter arrived.

The night passed by quickly as you ate and drank, the conversation never dying down at all. The topic changed every now and then, but neither of you got bored of the conversation.

Normally, Jiang Cheng would leave after half an hour to an hour of the date, but this time he stayed in the restaurant for longer. Even after two hours, he remained in place with pleasure. By the end of the evening, he just felt disappointed that it had to end. So he offers to ride you home, desperate for those extra minutes.

And now, you sat in his passenger seat of his car as he drove (very carefully, of course). The radio was on, filling the silent atmosphere with some soft music as he tried to make the drive as long s possible without making it too obvious. But eventually, he arrived at your house and parked the car with a soft sigh.

"Tonight was fun." You smile at him, unbuckling your seatbelt. He looks at you, nodding softly but not saying anything. You open the door before looking at him. Then you just impulsively lean closer and kiss his cheek softly. "Let's do this again sometimes..." You mumble softly, your face heating up a bit before you get out of the car and walk to your house. Jiang Cheng, meanwhile, is blushing furiously and almost wants to hit his head on the steering wheel to make sure he wasn't dreaming.

That day, Jiang Cheng couldn't wipe the smile of his face as he drove home.

#the untamed #untamed #mdzs #the untamed x reader #untamed x reader #mdzs x reader #the untamed jiang cheng x reader #untamed jiang cheng #the untamed jiang cheng #mdzs jiang cheng #mdzs jiang cheng x reader #untamed jiang cheng x reader #jiang cheng x reader #jiang cheng #reader insert #x reader #request

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some-pers0n · 2 months ago

Note

yyyuo shooullg tell me about Paramic,,, /nf

Ah, perfect! I get to unleash my autism ramble upon you related to my freaky weird god animus OC who is trapped in a paradoxical timeloop of their own creation with no clear explanation for the existence of the catalyst!

Okay so ramble under the cut annnddd here we go

So Paramic is a HiveWing-IceWing hybrid who hatched like 30 years post Pantala arc. The silk bridge between the two continents has been built and dragons regularly mingle between them. Paramic's parents lived in Sanctuary, which has become renowned for having an academy that's fairly prestigious, as much as the ones on Pantala.

Paramic wasn't born looking the way they do now. In fact, they were a pretty normal average dragon. They showed a deep appreciation and love for the humanities (dragonities?) as well as science, mainly anthropology, archeology, and some physics. They had a close friend group that followed with them as they went to Sanctuary Academy for further education

So Paramic believes themselves to be a good person all around. They're kind, considerate, and generally take a ton of thought into considering whether or not their actions will hurt anyone. They're outgoing, and while they do like spending time by themselves, they like their friends and spending time with them. They have a streak of pride and a bit of a savior complex but that's fineee they'll be fineeeee

In their fifth year of learning, they were out on an excursion when Paramic found these black claw caps nearby a riverbed. Completely and utterly black. It was as though it was an absence of light rather than a colour. Obviously animus-touched and Paramic took on the task of bringing it home and studying it, as it didn't appear to be dangerous and they have handled animus-touched objects before. Not to mention this...odd feeling that Paramic felt about it. Drawn to it rather than repulsed like any other animus-touched object. Though, they chalked it up to being a result from whatever enchantment was placed on it

As Paramic worked, they couldn't find a particular date for the claws. With their technology, they were usually able to trace back data to at least a vague estimate. Here? Nothing. The surface was smooth. It didn't feel like a material that Paramic had worked with before. It wasn't a polished gemstone nor a piece of refined metal. It was strange to say the least

After some time of dwelling over the claw caps, curiosity got the best of Paramic and they decided to put them on. They had experimented already with seeing what would happen with putting them on random animals and even their model of a skeleton all to no avail. Doesn't seem to be sealing to them nor inflicting them with some disease. So, that evening, Paramic sealed their fate by putting them on

...nothing happened. No grand change it appears. However, when Paramic decided to test them out by swiping at the air, they hit something

A tear. Their claws had grazed against what felt like a thin piece of fabric. It couldn't be something. In front of them was simply nothing. And yet, there, floating in their small hut in the woods, was a tear in reality; and Paramic got a glimpse of what was on the other side just before it began to seal up once more. It was of a river, isolated by forests and surrounded by a wide mountain range

Within a minute, it was as though the tear had never existed

...Paramic took the claw caps off. They were afraid, though incredibly curious. What was that? What does this mean? Should they tell anyone? Ideas swirled around in their mind, each one pulling them in another direction, before eventually they put them away for a day or two, scared, yet desperate to discover what was on the other side

Eventually Paramic got the nerve to explore. They gathered some supplies, namely food and equipment in order to build a shelter if needed, and headed off. They left a note behind for their friends, saying that they're heading off and, by the next time they see them, Paramic would have discovered something that will shake the foundation of the world as they know it

Turns out that the tear in the fabric of reality was quite literal! As Paramic passed through the horizon, they realized that this world was very much like their own one. Their place of origin

Paramic would go onto exploring this one, realizing that they had ended up in a parallel universe in which Pantala had still not been discovered yet. It...netted them some pretty weird looks as well as interrogation, which they then got backed into a corner over and escaped via swiping at the air and jumping through the tear when they had a moment to breathe

This cycle repeated, with Paramic finding new parallel world after parallel world, marking them down in a journal they had brought with them. It was fascinating! Seeing all of these locations and writing them down

The one constant among them all was the way Paramic would come into them. It was always the river. They would hop through the tear and see that stream. Sometimes it was dried up. Sometimes the forests were leveled and burned. However, it was always that riverbed they would find themselves on whenever they jumped to new realities

.......problem was: how does Paramic get home now? Well, after what felt like months of jumping from world to world, they found a rather interesting one! A world where animus dragons are plentiful. In this one, animus magic was offered to those who were deemed good dragons and there were plenty of laws put in place as to regulate and manage it

Paramic was asked whether they were a good dragon or not. They said yes, as they were a lowly researcher simply lost between worlds and feeling homesick. Paramic said that, once they returned, they would bring back the information they had gathered as to bring about great technology shifts and changes for the betterment of dragonkind. They believed that having animus magic would allow them to not only make it back home significantly easier, but to also

They were granted the abilities of animus magic. Able to bend reality even more to their will and warp it to their desires

But Paramic was thankful! They tipped their head and went on their merry way. They bounced around from more realities as time went on, mainly just experimenting with their magic

...however, as time went on, Paramic began to miss their original world less. They were captivated by the realities that existed in the multiverse and got quickly addicted to making notes and drawing diagrams that only existed for themselves. "I'll go back soon," they kept telling themselves. "This is all for my home reality. To benefit it. To protect it."

The more and more that Paramic explored, the more they encountered worlds that were indistinct from others. They jotted down countless timeline shifts and changes, but a lot of the time they'd find some that were ultimately indistinguishable from another one. It got a little boring over time

Which is when Paramic asked themselves a question: what would happen if they wanted to experiment with this world? Throw a small wrench into the timeline. Create something inexplicable. Review the results

This time, this was for protection for their home reality. Animus dragons are dangerous! Paramic had encountered many realities in which animus dragons had an iron grip over the world. Perhaps in these ones, Paramic could help them out? Find a loophole and dismantle it. Overpower the head animus and bring peace. That would help others. They're a good person, after all

These little stunts became more and more common as Paramic began wondering what would happen if they had disrupted the timeline in such a way. As they did it more and more though, they encountered one reality that made Paramic's stomach drop

This was a reality that was tempered with in a way that Paramic didn't see themself doing. That's when Paramic realized that there must have been other Paramics like them, hopping between worlds and doing all sorts of things. There had to be

...but those Paramics weren't from their origin reality. The real reality amongst the sea of other ones. A strike of paranoia and fear surged through them, and in a moment of desperation, they enchanted themselves to be the only Paramic across every possible reality

They didn't know if this worked. Yet, it wasn't until they had visited a new reality when they noticed something...odd. The claw caps had stuck to their actual claws. No longer could Paramic take them off. Paramic tried to enchant them to come loose, but to no avail. These things were inexplicably immune to any and all enchantments

Paramic kept going more and more. Rather than writing down the changes in the timeline when Paramic got there, they began writing down the results of whatever Paramic did as a little experiment. It became less of saving dragons from bad realities and rather trying to see what could possibly happen had an animus tried doing whatever they did. It became a loop eventually, with Paramic hopping from one reality to another and just simply messing with it for the sake of seeing what happens

"It's for the original reality," they kept telling themselves on the sleepness nights. "It'll be okay. You're still a good dragon. Good dragons don't hurt others without a reason."

Paramic at this point began repeating that "I'm a good person" mentality to keep themselves afloat and ignore the dread and feelings of guilt over this. They weren't trying to hurt others! They're just...looking to see what happens when an animus does this. It was to help their original reality. It was to help the real reality, amongst this ocean of lesser ones

Paramic began to see the parallel versions of dragons less as cognizant beings and rather more, well, NPC-like. Their reactions became predictable and repetitive. They tried telling themselves that, no, they didn't fully believe in that...but yeah no they were beginning to go down this route

Worse yet, you remember the black claw caps that became fused to their claws? The darkness spread. With each reality that Paramic visited and began to destroy by now, the texture-less black spread from the claws. It went along the forearm and came to the wings. It even began in other places, with black spots forming on their scales and spreading like an infection. Bits and pieces of them would flake off too, only to hover and float around them. White lines and sigils of indeterminate origin and meaning as well began to appear, glowing faintly and keeping them awake during the night

It became clear to Paramic that the darkness was like a piece of unreality. The opposite of existence. Slowly, bit by bit, Paramic was succumbing to this. Less of a dragon and more of a force in the multiverse that marked only doom and suffering

...but they're a good dragon still, right?? They're a good dragon! They have to be. They are. A bad dragon would wipe out all of these worlds for the sake of their own pleasure. Paramic? Paramic cared about these dragons! Kinda. Well, at least enough to not inflict dangerous plagues on every one. They're more like a...a bringer of change, yes! Good or bad. It's all for research anyways

That's when Paramic noticed that they had yet to return to their original reality yet. It felt like countless millenia to them of wandering. How much would the real world shift?

Once they decided to go back, if only just to update their peers. In the real world, only a couple months had passed. When Paramic had returned, they were but a husk of the bright-eyed, bubbly and fun friend that they once knew. Paramic was a dragon who spent so long without having a real conversation. During that brief visit, they were inconsiderate, often talking over the other and interrupting them. They'd talk to themselves and try and think things through verbally

It wasn't until Paramic had told their friends, their real friends, about what happened when they began to get angry and scared. Paramic was confused. How could they react this way? After everything they did?? All of this research and the only thing they get from it is "you killed countless lives"???

Paramic thought about disposing of them. It was an urge they had felt before and would act on impulsively. Whenever there was trouble, they'd do away with them quickly

The only reason that Paramic didn't go through was their own horror at realizing that, subconsciously at least, they did not consider what they thought to be the real version of their friends to be important. They were subjects. They were designed to be tested upon

Paramic left that reality and never returned out of shame and terror at the implications

The cycle continued more and more, with Paramic breaking apart. Dragons would soon begin to run from them, finding them to be a monster than a dragon. A beast that trudged through realities and only brought great change, usually in the worst of ways

It all continues until, eventually, Paramic is essentially almost entirely formless. Most universes are gone by now, having been erased from existence due to Paramic's meddling. Yada yada esoteric reality falling apart stuff happens and eventually it's only Paramic and the riverbed. Everything else is gone. The multiverse will go quiet once and for all

Paramic looks down at the remaining bits of their claws. They hover without meaning, with only the hollow, empty remains of it left. In a fit of anger, Paramic grabs them and tosses them into the river. As they sink below the surface, they disappear into the aether. Where ever they end up, Paramic can't possibly know

Once and for all, Paramic breathes for the last time. Then, there is nothing

The universe resets once more after that. The world begins anew. Once more does reality continue on as per usual. The planet forms, the Scorching happens, and all the events leading up happen once more

Until one day, a young, academic minded dragon finds a pair of claw caps nearby a riverbed once more

Aaannddd that's Paramic! Woawie. Anyways I gotta head off for my lecture now lol

#ask #sneeb #sp-rambles #fave

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mybl--dyvalentine · 9 months ago

Text

Insufferable જ⁀➴ Vernon

✮ idol! vernon x manager! fem! reader

✮ Summary: Job searching wasn't always the easiest. Employers read your resume and completely brush you off once they deem you as unfit. Until an unexpected acceptance from one of the biggest idol companies in the world reached you. Who knew that the job would lead to a meeting of fate.

✮ Genre: Angst? girl idk.

✮ Warnings: Swearing and a near death experience

✮ Word Count: 2,832

Y/N:

The sound of birds chirping filled the room, which woke me up. I blink until my vision begins to clear and stare at the ceiling, contemplating whether or not to be productive or procrastinate. My phone lights up with a notification. I pick up my phone and stare at the notification, processing what it says.

"Hybe Labels... Why does that sound so familiar?"

I swipe up and press on the safari app. Halfway through typing in Hybe Labels to look it up, I remember. THE Hybe Labels emailed ME? I applied for so many different jobs that I completely forgot about which companies I even applied to. A small scream left my mouth before I grasped the situation. I have to open the email. Anticipation took over my body, controlling it to the point where I stood and stared at my phone for a couple minutes. After building up enough courage, I opened the email.

Hybe Labels: Employment

Hello Y/N,

After careful consideration, we ultimately decided to hire you as a manager! The group you will be managing is SEVENTEEN. We will provide more information after we get your verbal acceptance during a meeting with the head manager.

Best Regards,

Sung-Ho

I fall back onto my bed and let out a huge sigh. After job hunting for so long, I thought I'd end up broke this month. I grin and get up, ready to start my day.

"Who knew picking an outfit would be so difficult?" I say to myself while looking in my mirror and posing.

Currently, I'm sporting a fitted grey button-down tucked into a darker grey pencil skirt with black pumps and black tights. My hair is up in a claw clip, and I decided to wear black rectangle glasses to complete the outfit. The goal was to look like a manager, and I ended up looking like a generic office worker.

"Well, at least it's business casual." I say while grabbing my phone to check the time.

"Oh shoot! It's already 11 am? I need to leave right now."

After grabbing my purse and keys, I ran to my car. I finally head to Hybe Headquarters. After parking, I realized I forgot to do makeup. In a rush, I quickly slapped on some lip balm, lip tint, concealer, mascara, and blush. I exit my car immediately after and speed walk to the entrance. The place is very sleek and modern. It exudes richness and is kind of intimidating. I look around the lobby and see a person who looks like a receptionist. I quickly make my way towards them.

"Hi, I'm here for a meeting with the head manager?" I ask.

"What's your name?" They say.

"Y/N." I say with a smile.

They look at their monitor and start typing. The typing went on for who knows how long until I was snapped back into reality by their voice.

"Okay, you can head up. The head manager is going to be there at 2 pm. Just wait outside the door with the number 224 on floor three. There should be some chairs near it so you can sit down."

"Alright! Thank you." I turn to face the elevator and head over to it.

I punch in the upwards arrow and wait for the elevator to arrive. I take a quick glance around the room to get a grasp on the atmosphere. It's mostly people dressed in monochromatic outfits and all look somewhat wealthy. I really don't fit the aesthetic of this place. The elevator dings and I look at the slowly opening doors. I walk into an empty elevator and press the button with the number three on it. The doors close and I patiently wait to reach floor three when the elevator stops at floor 2. Once the doors finally open, I'm greeted with a man. He looked quite familiar but I couldn't put my finger on it. He glances at me and doesn't utter a single word.

"Hello. Which floor are you headed to?" I ask curiously.

He takes a couple steps to reach the buttons and presses the button with a four on it while completely ignoring my question.

"Ooookay." I say quietly.

It doesn't take a lot of common sense to answer a simple question that doesn't even take up that much of your time. Plus I was trying to help by pressing the button for him. I roll my eyes and wait for the elevator to reach floor three. The elevator finally dings and I walk out looking for which side has the room number 224. After reaching the room, I take a seat and pull out my phone from my purse to check the time.

"1:59? I made it just in time." I sigh with relief.

I pocket my phone and lightly tap my fingers on one another while looking around. There wasn't much to see other than a big grey door, some chairs, and a couple potted plants. Some footsteps and voices emerged from the direction of the elevator. As they got closer, I got more anxious.

"You must be Y/N." A man asks while another opens the door.

"Ah, yes that's me." I say nervously.

"Great! Come in." He waves his hand into the now open doors.

I slowly walk in and see a long table with lots of chairs filling up the empty spaces.

"Have a seat right here." He points to a chair next to the biggest chair in the room.

I sit down and wait for them to start asking questions. The men settle down in their seats and finally look at me.

"I assume you've read our email considering you're here right now?" The man in the big chair asks.

"Yes, I have. I'm here to verbally accept your offer to work as a manager for seventeen." I say.

"That's wonderful. Here we have your resume, I took a quick look at it and I truly believe you are perfect for this job."

"Thank you sir."

"It says here that you have managed for an idol group previously correct?"

"Yes, I have."

"It's nice to hear you won't need that much time to get in action."

I stifle a laugh due to the tense air.

"Well anyways, Are you able to start today? Seventeen is supposed to be recording a GOING Seventeen episode today and we'll need someone to manage them."

"Of course!"

"Great. I'll have you formally introduce yourself in a bit. Go head up to their practice room on floor four. They should be there right now. I'll send them a notice that you'll be arriving."

"Alright. Thank you sir. I'll be on my way now." I grin and get up from my seat to leave the room.

After closing the door, I let out a sigh. The tense air really made me struggle to breathe. At least I secured the job before I said anything weird. I walk back to the elevator and press the upwards arrow. The elevator dings and I see a man inside.

"Hi! I don't think I've seen you here before. My name is Seungkwan." He holds out his hand.

"Hello, my name is Y/N." I shake his hand. "And uh... I'm your new manager."

He pauses for moment, staring at me.

"Oh good! We've been needing one since our last one got sick and had to quit. Which floor are you headed to by the way?"

"Floor four. I was on the way to properly introduce myself to you guys in your practice room. The head manager said he'd send a notice to you guys."

"Ohhh that's what that was? Well anyways It's nice to meet you." He says while punching in the number four.

"It's nice to meet you too." I say.

The elevator dings and Seungkwan and I step out of the elevator to head towards the practice room. Loud music could be heard throughout the entire hallway. We finally reach the door to the practice room and Seungkwan stops me.

"Could you wait out here for a second? I'll let the guys know that you're here so that they could get themselves ready."

"Sure."

He opens the door and walks in closing it immediately. I could hear faint talking which was quickly taken over by the sound of sneakers. The door then opens shortly after and Seungkwan pops his head out.

"Come on in!" He grins while opening the door wider.

I slowly walk in to be greeted by 12 other men. A barrage of greetings came my way as I walked towards them. I returned the greetings and finally had a good look at all 13 of them. While I was scanning each of them, one of them caught my eye. He looked familiar. It was the same guy that ignored me earlier!

"I have a quick question." I say glaring at the inconsiderate guy.

Vernon:

"By the way guys, the head manager said that we'd be filming a GOING Seventeen episode today." S.Coups announces during a break from practicing.

I give him a nod and head to the water station in the practice room. After pulling out a white cup from the stack and setting it under the faucet, I notice that there wasn't any water inside the jug.

"Seriously?" I say to myself.

"What happened?" Jun asks.

"There isn't anymore water so I'm gonna have to go all the way down floor 2 to get a drink."

I put back the cup on the stack and exit the practice room. After pressing the button with a number two on it, I walk inside the elevator. My song "2 Minus 1" is quietly playing inside the elevator. While humming along to the song, I exit the elevator and head towards the nearest water station on the second floor. Once I finally reach the station, I quickly grab a cup and fill it to the brim with water. I empty the water into my mouth and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. After trashing the cup, I make my way back to the practice room. The elevator dings and I see a woman standing inside. I give her a quick glance and enter the elevator.

"Hello. Which floor are you headed to?" She asks.

None of your business. I'm already irritated from getting a couple moves wrong during practice, so I don't feel like answering anyone's questions let alone someone I've just met. I just move in front of the buttons and punch in the button with the number four on it. I hear her mumble something under her breath, but I pay no attention to it as I've already tuned her out. The doors open with a ring and I shuffle out of the elevator and walk to my practice room.

"Hey guys, are we going to continue or are we waiting on someone?" I ask while opening the door.

"Oh, Seungkwan is currently out right now. We'll start back up when he gets here." Hoshi answers.

Five minutes later, the door opens and Seungkwan appears.

"Okay, get together guys we finally have a new manager. She's right outside and waiting to introduce herself to us." He says.

We all nod and get in a group. Seungkwan opens the door to reveal a woman who looks very familiar. It's like I've seen her somewhere before. All of the other members proceed to introduce themselves while I'm deep in thought.

"I have a quick question." She says while staring at me.

"I don't think I caught your name." She points out.

"Oh! Um... It's Vernon." I say reluctantly.

"Oh I remember why you looked so familiar!" She puts a finger in the air.

"Care to explain why you ignored me earlier in the elevator?" She tilts her head.

The other members all look at me. Each of them sporting a confused look on their faces. I quickly glance at each other and open my mouth to say something. But nothing comes out. My ears turn red and my brows scrunch. How dare she embarrass me in front of my members!

"U-um.. I'm sorry for him, I think he's having a rough day. A couple mistakes during practice you know?" S.Coups grins trying to cover for me.

The other members nod their heads and change the topic.

"Shouldn't we head out soon? We have an episode to record today." She says while checking her phone.

Everyone collectively agrees and leaves me standing alone in the practice room. I head over to my bag in the corner of the room.

"I swear she's out to get me." I say while picking up my bag.

"I'll get her back." I say while walking out the practice room.

Y/N:

"CUT! That marks the end of our filming today. Great work guys." The director says through a megaphone.

This episode was all about water sports so each of the members were decked out in swimming gear. I felt good about today. Being able to help on set of a GOING Seventeen episode is new to me but it seems as if I did a good job.

"Y/N! Could you come here for a second?" Vernon yells.

I look away from the director and to him. A confused expression wipes away my previous smile.

"Oh. Uh sure." I yell back.

I treads over to me and he give me a quick smile.

"Isn't such a beautiful day?" I says while staring at the sky.

"You're right. It is a beautiful day." He says back.

I stood still analyzing each of the different clouds and colors in the now sun-setting sky. It was so pretty it captivated me. Then it was oddly silent. It felt as if Vernon disappeared and I was left there. I turn my head around to see if anyone was still there.

"Hello?" I say while looking for another person.

Then suddenly I feel a push behind my back. There was a strong wind and then a cold temperature engulfed my body. All I could see were plants and a clear turquoise liquid. Then it hit me. I was underwater. Bubbles quickly rushed upwards as I frantically tried to reach the surface. I flailed my arms and legs to try to push myself upwards, but my position remained the same. In a final attempt I extend my arm as far as I could to at least give a signal that I was drowning. My vision started to blur and by this time, I lost too much air. This was it. I'm going to die here.

---

A bright light slipped into the crack of my eyelids. I look around the room. The place was neatly decorated and I was laid on a couch. Memories flooded my brain. I was never taught how to swim, so drowning was always one of my greatest fears. I looked at my body. Someone changed my clothes. I'm in a big t-shirt and shorts, my heels at the bottom of the couch. I get up from the couch and find a mirror in a hallway. My hair is damp and tousled and my makeup is completely ruined. I put my hands on my arms and turn around to check my phone. As I walk towards the couch I hear something.

A deep voice came from outside, "how was I supposed to know she couldn't swim? It was supposed to be a harmless prank."

"Harmless prank or not, it still put her life in danger. I hope you realize that being rude doesn't get you anywhere." Another voice answers.

I storm outside, frustrated that Vernon pushed me and thinks that this was just some 'harmless prank'. Once I get through the door, I see him. Vernon. He's talking to S.Coups with a pained expression.

"What the hell was that for huh? Who thinks that it's a good idea to just push someone into a body of water?" I yell.

He looks at me a little shocked, "Look, I'm sorry I didn't mean to-."

"I don't wanna hear some half-assed apology! You almost got me killed and all you can say is 'look, I'm sorry'?" I raise my voice.

"Well then what DO you want to hear? At least I'm apologizing no?" He crosses his arms.

My face flushed. I didn't exactly know what I wanted to hear. It's as if nothing he could say would make me forgive him. He stared at me. Waiting for an answer.

"Look guys, that's enough. You both need some time apart. Y/N I'll talk to Vernon and make sure we get this whole situation figured out." S.Coups says.

"No, I think that she shouldn't be so-." Vernon says before getting his mouth covered and dragged away by S.Coups.

I glare at Vernon as he's being pushed away. How could he? What did I ever do to him? These are questions that I need desperately answered.

i hate this idk if i wanna finish this

#vernon #vernon x reader #vernon x y/n #vernon x you #seventeen #svt #vernon fanfic #hansol vernon chwe #choi hansol

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stellari-s · 10 months ago

Note

if you wanna write about one of the idv girls.......... alice deross and a reader who's also a journalist, perhaps working together?

you can wait till she releases ofc!!

📰

hi, sorry for it being so late, but sure yeah i'm open to writing idv girls! to be fully honest, i've never written for alice though (except for one occasion before her release...) but i can try for sure!

request; yes, by anon! requests are closed til i get my current requests taken care of but may open some comms?

wc; 730.

tags; default! journalist (alice deross), jounalist! gn! reader, work relationship, reader admires alice, canon-divergent, first person pov.

summary; an avid reader of alice's columns, you've wanted to be a journalist. and now that you are, for your first assignment, you are to work with alice deross...

rumors spread like wildfire, and this agency was no exception.

i had gotten my dream job as a journalist - since i was still in school, i had always admired a certain writer named alice deross, who wrote articles with a striking amount of detail, as if she herself had experienced what she was writing firsthand (even if such wasn’t the case), while still keeping a certain veil of mystery. that’s why i worked hard to get recruited into the same agency as ms. deross, networking and honing my writing.

and, to say the least, my first day was, indeed, filled with rumors.

rumors about what? why, of course, the famed oletus manor. it’s become a famous place for novelists to center horror stories around, seeing as many strange events are said to have happened there, yet they all seem so wild it’s hard to believe. “participate in a game for a chance to have your wish, no matter its grandness, granted.” who would believe such a thing? was my first thought.

yet, alice deross allegedly was passionate about this very case - everyone else was either scared to enter the unknown or uncertain whether it even existed or if it was a reality warped to exaggeration by the people who spread the rumors.

ms. deross, however, insisted on taking this case.

only she had the resolve to delve into the unknown and only she held such strong beliefs with eyes that could light a fire.

“surely there is something from this manor i can glean. i had prior connections to the manor, so it’s hard to believe such liveliness could be overtaken by these dangerous games,” she had declared to the head editor.

it appeared she had other motivations than producing a good story.

supposedly, it took quite a bit of convincing, but it was only after ms. deross went out of her way to obtain a manor invitation, the reddish wax seal bearing an abstract floral imprint, that the head editor (reluctantly, and much to his chagrin) accepted; clearly, ms. deross was adamant about this case, so as long as she could make a good story, who was he to say “no”?

...must have been what he thought.

i was curious about her said “other motivations” that i was nothing less than certain she held close to her heart, so with the head editor’s approval, i ventured to oletus manor, shrouded in mystery, with ms. deross. my first impression of her was what her writing style conveyed: polite, clear-spoken yet slightly distant. as they say, “style is the man himself,” i suppose.

in fact, i distinctly remember her first question: “i have been curious why you insist on going with me to oletus manor,” she said while i drove through the forested area, “it will likely be a dangerous gig.”

“yes,” i replied back (perhaps my voice betrayed me, for ms. deross shot me a look with a gleam of worry), “i’m fully aware.”

her look of worry diffused then into a wry smile.

“i don’t know whether you are courageous or reckless.”

“maybe both.”

“...regardless, i should warn you: curiosity can kill the cat. i do respect it though, seeing as you even volunteered to come with me.”

those were her last words as i remember parking up at the manor. it was then ms. deross seemed to change her demeanor considerably to the point of tangibility - i could practically taste it.

what had transpired at the manor was already reflected in her eyes before we had even entered its premises.

its happenings are a story for another day. a whole article wouldn’t be enough.

ms. deross handed me an envelope. “remember, (y/n), it is never too late to withdraw. i have a personal matter to settle here, but your life is what should be most important to you.”

she handed me a camera, the black lens reflecting my own face, revealing nothing but the truth at that moment laid bare. when i looked up at ms. deross, meeting her eyes, i couldn’t help but notice a more soft look than usual.

perhaps she had resigned to the fact that, since we both made it this far, i would not turn back now.

“after all, dead men tell no tales.”

(that said, i am alive even now, so for the future, i still have a tale to tell.)

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ttoadsandsnails · 1 year ago

Note

Hello. Can I request a male yuki-onna x female reader? Like in the tale, the yuki-onna spared her but made her promise that she would not speak about her encounter with him. Days later, she meets a beautiful man, and the two fall in love and get married.

Reader is sometimes worried about her husband because he can't stand hot weather and only wants to take cold baths.

Thanks!

Thank you so much for the request! I really enjoyed this one :)

This is going to be a two part story! It was getting so long and I haven't even gotten to the second part of the request, so I decided to split it up. Keep an eye out for part 2!

Word count: 1288

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Male yuki-onna x female reader

Part 1

Bang!

You jolt awake. Clumsy hands glide over the bedside table in search of the knob to the lantern you place there nightly. You feel your fingertips grace the cool metal of the lanterns base and reach up, grasping the knob and turn.

A dim orange light floods the room, casting its surroundings in a soft glow. Turning your head side to side you search for what could have caused such a booming sound to erupt in the middle of the night, but despite your brief scan, there was nothing.

You grasp the covers tightly, an uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach. Many thoughts race through your head about whether you should get up and investigate or not, wondering if it was possibly just an animal or a tree falling from the storming skies. After a moment of consideration, another softer bang is heard. It sounded so close.

With a nervous nod you throw the duvet off and swing your legs over the side of the bed. Slippers wait at the edge of the frame, sweater on the chair. As you slip them on you stand, in the same motion grabbing the lantern and the small knife you kept next to it on the nightstand.

The floorboards creak under the strain of footfall as you walk forward, showing the age of the cabin. Where you were staying was high in the snow covered mountains, away from most of civilization. The only way to and from being the old green, paint chipped truck parked out front. It was owned by a family friend who was kind enough to let you borrow it for a well needed vacation.

The cabin consisted of a living space, bathroom, and a small bedroom, the cabin's only door was situated directly across from the one you were currently staring down. With shaky hands you place the only light source down and reach for the knob. The hand grasping the metal knob quickly pulls back. It was freezing. So cold in fact, that it was nearly impossible to keep a hold long enough to turn it.

Confusion scrawls itself into your brows. There is a small fire going in the living room; there should be no reason for anything to feel so frozen. You pocket the small knife and using that hand, yank your sweater sleeve over your digits. With hand ready the lantern makes its way back in the other as you lay your wool covered palm on the knob and turn.

Cool air quickly rushes past your frame, instantly chilling you to the core. Flakes of snow cling to soft clothes. You use a hand to shield your face from the onslaught of cold bashing into you. It feels like you were outside barring the chilling weather, not inside what should be a warm cabin. Your feet shuffle slowly forward as your eyes squint around the room.

The front door was wide open. Snow and bits of what looked like shards ice litter the floor, the fire long out. It must have been the storm that blew it open. A sigh of relief can be heard falling from your lips as you do a once over of the living room to make sure there were no animals or anything that found their way inside. You only found pine needles and more ice shards. Odd.

It was starting to feel even colder so you made your way over to the door, swiftly closing and latching it. When you turn to head back to bed you see it.

A figure lurking in the doorway.

You make a shocked noise and fall, back hitting the door, lantern falling from your hand. The fallen light illuminates them and you can make out some of their features. Tall with long onyx hair that went down falling just below their waist. Sharp cheekbones and nose lay on pale skin. So pale that it almost seemed to glow in the light. Their lips were a soft blue, and eyes completely white, no color whatsoever. They adorn a fully white kimono.

Their lips part as they speak in a deep, almost hoarse voice.

“Give me one reason now, why I should spare your life”.

Your feet push back and forth against the ground in an attempt to further yourself from their ghostly presence, but your attempts are futile. The door is blocking your path.

The pale figure glides slightly forward without making a single move. He’s floating. Your chest tightens with fear as you force words out of your trembling lips.

“Please spirit I- I’ve done no wrong!” You say while slowly running your hand down your side. You feel a hard object part way down. The knife!

With a shaky hand you slip it into the pocket, grasping the knife and wait.

You see a pale kimono clad arm rise and the figure moves closer. With a loud thud, his hand hits the door next to your head. You jump and look him directly in his snow colored eyes. He looks so hauntingly beautiful. His mouth falls slightly open; he seems to be staring through you, seemingly searching for something.

Your grip tightens on the blade, your breathing shallows preparing to make a strike when you notice a change in his expression. His gaze seems to soften and with a slight nod, he lowers his hand softly to your shoulder. Sharp pain emanates from where he placed his hand, small ice shards forming on the cloth of your jacket.

“Yes…you haven’t, have you?” he says in a whisper.

The hand that lays on you shifts, moving its way over to your bare cheek. You flinch and wince and the intense chilling sensation flowing through your jaw. His grip moves down to your chin, tightening, his thumb runs gently over your bottom lip causing it to tingle.

“Listen to me… I have shown myself to you when I should not have. I shall spare you here today….but you mustn't speak of this encounter….with anyone.” he speaks gently but firmly. You can almost hear a tone under his voice, a threatening one that causes you to swallow thickly. Your grip loosens on the knife.

You breath out shakily and nod. “Uh uh…..yeah! I mean yes! Um I…I won’t tell anyone, ever. Please just leave me be…”

He stares silently for a moment, scanning your features for any hint of doubt before nodding to himself. “Very well…”

The hand draws itself from your face and you quickly bring your own up, trying to rub the chilling burning sensation away. The figure stands up once more, looming over you.

“Please stand and open the door. I shall take my leave.” He says.

You free your hand from your pocket and remove the other from your face placing them both on the ground to pull yourself up quickly. Standing, you finally see how tall he really is, his frame lurking above your own.

Without turning your back to him, you maneuver your hands behind you and grasp for the doorknob, relieved when you finally find it. With a twist the room is chilled once more with the howling snowy winds.

You watch him closely as he glances once more your way, a warm smile graces his features as he glides through the door frame. He moves farther away and with a blink, he’s gone.

Quickly you close the door and latch it. You let out a long shaky breath, tears spring to the corners of your eyes. Your eyes darted around the room looking for the ice that was there and found nothing.

You're not sure what just happened, or what that was, but you knew you wouldn’t soon forget.

#yuki onna #male yuki onna #yuki onna x reader #male yuki onna x reader #monster x reader #reader x monster #monster romance #monster scenarios #female reader #my writing #ttoadsandsnails

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the-writer-in-the-winter-forest · 1 year ago

Text

One Less Burden

Summary: Miguel goes to clear his head after a nightmare and to process his current findings of an Earth where another version of him exists.

Features: Miguel O'Hara, Lyla, and Earth-928's Curt Connors.

Warnings: (Very small ones, but I'm being considerate) Depictions of panic attacks, depression, and anxiety.

Whump, hurt/comfort, angst fic!

Authors Note: From the winner of my Miguel SFW poll, the people asked for angst, and angst is what you shall get!!

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It was just a dream.

Of course, it was a dream, none of it made any sense. The images, the scenarios, none of it made sense, none of it could have been possible. That didn't make the fear of it any less real though.

Miguel's trembling hands run along the back of his neck where his skin is damp and hot. His ears are ringing like an early warning system. This must be what a spider sense feels like, is it? Research and first-hand accounts of others suggest differently. If this is how it feels, Miguel already hates it. Pushing his palms against his ears, he breaths deeply and hard to help drown out the ringing.

Miguel pulls the bed sheets off him, feeling suffocated and cold due to their dampness. Every inch of him wanted to go running and dive into a freezing lake, the shock alone would be enough to shift back his scenes to reality.

It ends up being the soft voice of a certain AI that ends up doing so instead. “Miguel?”

He should have known that it wasn't going to take Lyla long to show up. Her small form appears on Miguel's left bedside table looking concerned. “Your heart rate and blood pressure are elevated.” She scrolls through the display in front of her showcasing Miguel's vitals.

“Lyla,” He sighs, sounding more tired than annoyed. “What did we discuss about monitoring my vitals?” It's a rhetorical question, of course, more so a reminder to Lyla not to monitor him while he sleeps, especially while he sleeps, it’s creepy.

“Should I talk to Doctor Connors about getting you back on some sleep aids?”

Pills, meds, there's always one or the other to treat something of his. Whether it be Rapture, anxiety, depression, or his restless nights. It feels like there’s so much of Miguel that can’t be lessened without the help of a special little pill.

Lyla's expression softened when she sees how worn down Miguel looks. But his weariness is nothing new and Lyla's sympathy hasn't lessened. Her partner is in pain, and there are sadly more limitations to her than anyone else. What is the use of being as advanced as she is if she couldn't help in the ways she wants? She watches his hands trace over the various scars on his upper body, they seem to be the only tangible thing keeping him in this moment. He doesn’t want to go back to sleep, yet the exhaustion still lingers heavily around him.

“Yeah…that sound like a good idea.” Miguel presses his forehead against his knuckles forcing himself to try to feel drowsy. Let his exhaustion take him. “Get me in for a session with Doctor Keaton too if you can.”

“You got it, Boss.” Lyla watches Miguel carefully when he retrieves an autoinjector from his side table drawer. Even she winces when the needle pierces into Miguel's shoulder. But compared to everything else, it's the only pain that lasts a few seconds. “Maybe you should take the day off.” It’s a statement, not phrased as a question. She doesn't want her tone to sound passive. She had been hesitant to even make the suggestion. Even without having an intellect such as her or even if she hadn't known Miguel very well, she would have known the answer. But even with that, for Miguel's sake, she’ll continue to hope that there will be more days than not that he’ll allow himself some moments of peace. His wide eyes follow him out to the terrace of his bedroom to look at the city lights below him.

“Tell Jess and Curt to look after things for a bit. I’m going out.” His hands grip the railing tightly, he’s careful not to dent it.

Lyla looks in disbelief at this remark. Guess it's never too late to rely on others. “Going out wh-” Before the AI can ask for any further information, which really would have been appropriate considering Miguel just leaped from the terrace, diving down into the city below. Without Lylas' deadpanned expression, anyone else would have considered this cause for worry. He's so dramatic. "He’s really gotta stop doing that.” She grumbles before evaporating from the room.

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The rushing chill of the night along with the soft rain against his naked body, mixed with the fiery adrenaline pumping through his system the further and further he falls, it’s actually peaceful to him. When he’s ready his suit encases him.

It’s rainy nights like these that make Miguel think back to when he and his brother Gabe were kids. They’d make paper boats and race them along the stream near their house. When the rain came, the stream would pick up, which made the conditions for boat racing perfect.

Not wanting to be bothered for the rest of the evening, Miguel shuts off the receiver in his suit that holds, manifests, and can summon Lyla. Of course, she doesn't exist solely in his suit. She’s a free-range AI, as Miguel liked to refer to her, though Lyla grimaced at the idea of being compared to a farm animal. “Those chickens aren't solving interdimensional travel equations with the eggs they lay, Boss.” He remembers her telling him.

He needs time to himself without Lyla monitoring him. He hasn't been himself lately. Everything inside of him feels gnarled, raw, and exposed like an open wound. No. He’s had opened wounds before, and they don't hurt like this. The misery hurts worse than any physical injury he’s received over the years. Those can be bandaged, stitched, and iced, only simple fixes like ones that can be solved with a pill.

Never before had he been so happy to be beating down muggers and robbers. This distraction is very much needed. It’s not a healthy way of dealing with his anger. He’s better than this, letting his frustrations get to him, and yet here he is, still angry.

He swings and leaps past the tall buildings, past the busy motorized streets, passing like a blur, almost unnoticeable. It's only when he finds a good spot to perch and rest for a moment that he can stop and think, be truly alone, and just think. Think about what’s been on his mind for the past seven months.

It was childish to call it unfair. But it’s how he feels. It’s wrong and unfair. He feels that fact burning at his core. But how it plays out..it’s wrong, too.

He had stumbled across Earth-829 purely by accident, purely by chance. He almost didn't believe it. All looked too perfect to be true. An Earth where he wasn't alone, he has a wife, a daughter, people who love him…or rather, someone like him. Seeing it all the way it was made him angry, envious even. And the most cruel part of it all is that he knows it doesn't end well. Not too long from now, the alternate version of him will meet a tragic and sudden end. His family would be distraught, his wife, and his daughter in despair. Daughter, he has a daughter. Miguel shakes his head. She isn't yours, you idiot.

He hasn't told anyone about what he found, not Lyla, not Jess, not Curt, or his wife Carmen. No one. The reason for that is that he can’t imagine what any of them would say if Miguel were even to suggest it

There's no way he couldn't, shouldn't! This idea of his, this insane idea, shouldn't be keeping him awake at night. No part of him should be entertaining it. Leave it alone, leave it be, let it play out the way it’s supposed to, he’d tell himself all this over and over again, because it may have been what anyone else would have told him. Why can’t he just be content with the way things are now? The overwhelming nature of it all was swarming him.

Miguel freezes at the edge of his perch, his nerves and senses overloading. The leap to the next building over should have been nothing that would make him stop this cold. And yet the distance made everything spin. Memories of his childhood once again come flooding back to him. His brother had taken him up onto the roof of their house when he was no older than eight, it terrified him so badly, he wouldn't stop screaming until his parents finally managed to get him down. It's been years since he got over his fear of heights. Why has it suddenly made a reappearance after all this time? He hadn't even noticed that the rain had stopped, nothing was registering, no lights, sounds, nothing. His chest tightens, and his breathing becomes slow and shallow. His systems are overloading.

“Lyla...” The words barely escape Miguel's lips before he collapses clutching his chest. “...help..”

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His hearing is the first thing to come back to him.

The loud ringing is replaced by soft murmurs, voices that he couldn't recognize as they phased in and out.

The soft, low light on his bedside table made him feel safe. The warmth of his bed instead of the wet hard ground where he had…

Miguel springs forward in bed, having a brief recollection of Deja Vu from only a few hours ago. He immediately tenses, grabbing his shoulder. From the look of it, the skin is heavily bruised. Surprisingly, taken off her guard by Miguel's sudden return to consciousness, Lyla waves her game away, dissolves herself, and then reappears.

“Hey, easy, Boss.” She speaks soothingly. “Everything's ok, just breath.” Miguel listens to Lyla, breathing slowly and steadily. He’s safe. He’s alright. “I pinpointed your location when you contacted me. It was so strange that I wasn't able to track you once you left the building.” Lylas is never shy about showcasing her classic sarcasm. Especially when it comes to Miguel. "From what I could gather, you blacked out due to over exertion. I dispatched some of the others. Once they found you, they brought you back here.” She pauses, allowing Miguel to collect his thoughts while also regretting her snarky comment from just a few moments ago. That regret is what makes her not immediately ask Miguel why he had been found unconscious on a rooftop in the rain and in the middle of the night. He’s still collecting himself. She doesn't want to push him.

“Thank you.” Miguel breathes laying back down, looking at his AI assistant with great appreciation.

“I’m always here, Boss.” She reassures him. “Plus, you pulled me out of a 1v1 pong match with myself.”

Miguel stares at Lyla with pure confusion. “Pong?”

Lyla's hologram flickers when she shrugs. “Eh, I wanted to see what the hype was about. back in the 70's”

“And what did you find out?” Miguel asks, sounding genuinely curious as to what conclusion the AI could have come to.

“People in the 70’s were wierd.”

“You always were more of a Tetris girl anyway.”

Lyla gives a look that can’t argue with that fact. Her eyes behind her heart-shaped glasses turn worried again. She phrases her words carefully so as to not freak Miguel out any more than he just had been. “Are you ok?”

The way that she asks that question tells Miguel that it has more than one meaning. And he knows which one Lyla is asking, it’s the one that he can’t tell her the truth about, the one where he has a solution, but he just can’t seem to trust anyone with it. He needs to tell someone, tell them what he’s found and what that could mean for him. Lyla can see how hard he is thinking about her simple question. It is simple, right? She thinks back to her limitations, here's another shining example of her inability to help, her inability to comprehend something that is so simple for an AI, but almost impossible for a human.

“Can you message Curt? Tell him I need to talk to him?”

It didn't take long for Curt to arrive. Miguel allowed him access to his room when he heard his knock at the door. He’s much shorter than Miguel, with a slim build and dark hair. Under his lab coat, he was dressed sharply and professionally. If Miguel had known Lyla longer than he had known Curt Connors, maybe she would have been the one that he would have told this all to. But Curt has been there since Miguel's accident at Alchemax. Helped him by creating a knock-off brand of Rapture that will, over time, diminish his need for the drug. He headed the science and research division of the Spider Society. It took many great minds to keep this place running smoothly. All the scientists, doctors, and engineers had once worked with Miguel and Curt at Alchemax but had broken off when discovering more of the company's darker secrets. They were folks who had been misguided, just looking to make amends.

Curt knew a bit about past mistakes himself. He takes a moment to look Miguel up from head to toe before telling him, “I’m glad you’re ok.”

Miguel gives a nod propping himself up on his pillows. “What did Carmen say?”

Doctor Connors sighs, pulling up a chair to sit at his friend's bedside. “I may still be learning my wife’s native language, but I can recognize the curse words in en español. Which I don't think is that impressive. Then again, she knows many of the curse words in Mandarin, so we’re both equally terrible, I guess, to each other's cultures.” He shrugs none nonchalantly, laughing at the scenario. “Lyla told me that you’re not sleeping well again.”

Miguel shakes his head, not wanting to focus on that specific issue at the moment. “That’s not why I asked you to come up here.”

“If it was to confess your deep romantic feelings for me I’m sorry to say that you’re too late, I’ve been off the market for the past year.” Miguel raises his eyebrow towards the doctor, indicating his want for him to understand that this conversation isn't the time for jokes. Curt makes quick work to rearrange himself. “Just kidding." He gestures his hand. "Proceed.”

Miguel takes another deep breath, thinking about how to phrase what he’s about to tell his friend. He has to tell someone, he’s been struggling with this for months, and keeping it to himself was adding to this weight inside of him more and more with each passing day. Maybe it was time to lift some of the burdens he was giving himself.

Miguel looks at Curt with every bit of seriousness he can muster trusting himself and trusting his friend. All cards are on the table.

“I found something... and I don't know what to do with it”

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