#excuse me while i hyperventilate
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novasjaneway · 2 months ago
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Star Trek: Voyager - Futuristic Lover 2.0 (J/7)
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Seven to Janeway: that girl you spoke of, her favorite color was red.
Janeway: gets ready for velocity match against seven, chooses red shirt.
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modernperplexity · 9 months ago
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No one:
Me every time I post a chapter of my fic
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wolfsong-the-bloody-beast · 1 month ago
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bluelockednyx · 2 years ago
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Chigiri and Nagi looking good as always, and Chigiri looking like the boss in the center (good for him, good for him). Isagi and Bachira are okay too, pretty standard for them, but RIN
Are you KIDDING me the only one who has a collar and chains around their neck is rin omg omg omgggg
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wildlyfreemoon · 9 months ago
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HOLY OMG HALF WAY THROUGH EP 2 OF NARCOS
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zephyrchama · 9 months ago
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Do you think demons crack their joints?
It was a lazy, rainy evening in the Devildom. An oddly calm one. The residents of the House of Lamentation were gathered in the living room, mainly because that's where you were.
Beelzebub and Mammon were snacking and watching Leviathan play his handheld game. Asmodeus was browsing a magazine, Satan was browsing a book, and Lucifer was texting with Barbatos.
Belphegor had been dozing off on your shoulder for a while. It was hard to move under the demon's weight. You had been stuck in the same pose browsing your D.D.D. until he finally shifted, leaning back into the couch. You seized the opportunity to roll your shoulders and take a much needed stretch.
You lifted your arms. It felt great. Crack.
"What was that?" Satan asked, glancing up from his book.
"Beel probably sat on a chip," Mammon said. Levi snorted, too busy to take his eyes off the game but in agreement with Mammon for once.
"It wasn't me." Beelzebub stood up to prove his innocence, revealing no food under him.
"It was me," you said. "Just my back."
"Hon, what?" "Your what?" Asmodeus and Lucifer spoke at the same time, and both gave you a concerned look.
"My back? I just cracked it."
The demons sprung out of their seats like you had just cursed them. Levi's game system fell to the carpet. Since he was already standing, Beelzebub strode over and pulled the back of your shirt up, asking "does it hurt?"
Startled, you pulled the front of your shirt down for modesty. "Woah, hello? Excuse me? Uh, what?"
While everyone gathered to stare at your back, Belphegor was stirred awake. "What's going on?"
He went to lean on your shoulder again, but Mammon swatted him away. "Hey! Can't ya see they're injured?" he growled. Belphegor huffed at him, deciding instead to help hold your shirt up.
"Poor thing!" Asmo cooed. With one hand he grabbed your wrist, and with the other he made a peace sign. "Look at me, how many fingers am I holding up?"
"I'm fine. Everybody just chill." Despite your insistence, the panic had already set in and nobody was listening to you.
Leviathan was shaking. "T-that's not good, right? Humans aren't supposed to make those kind of sounds." He was covering his eyes with his hands squeamishly but peeking through his fingers to stare anyway. "A doctor! Are there any human doctors? Should we call Solomon?"
"Yes, somebody call Solomon," Lucifer commanded. "Where did the crack occur?" He started gently prodding around your spine, making you squirm.
Satan tried to bump Lucifer's hand away from you while placing himself in Lucifer's spot. "Can't you see they don't like that? You're making it worse."
"Deep breaths," Mammon instructed you, breathing deeply in and out. He seemed on the brink of hyperventilation himself.
Lucifer refused to budge, but Satan persisted. He was now also poking you. "The damage isn't visible yet, but there could be internal bleeding. You have to lay down."
Belphegor scooted over to make more room, despite your protest of "I'm not going to move, nothing is wrong."
Asmodeus managed to already get Solomon on the phone. You couldn't hear him over Asmo's worried shrieks but knew he had to be laughing. Solomon was not going to let you forget this incident.
Beel, Lucifer, and Satan moved to try and pick you up but enough was enough. "I said I'm fine!! Everybody stay!"
The seven went crashing to the floor, finally allowing you to cover up. "I am fine! I'm fine! See!" You stood up dramatically and grabbed Asmo's D.D.D. to apologize to a snickering Solomon.
The demons were annoyed and concerned as they tried to pick themselves up. "If you're so fine, then explain that noise," Satan said.
"Humans just do that from time to time."
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bumblebeesfromvenus · 9 months ago
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TF141 getting a boudoir photo album as a wedding gift ♡
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A/N: THIS WAS SO FUN!!! Great, absolutely phenomal idea, dear anon. Simon's part is very sappy (I cried) which might be ooc for him?? Idk, that's how I write him/interpret his character! :) let me know who's your favorite 👀
~Fi 🐝
《Warnings》: NSFW content. proceed with caution. PiV, creampie, cunnilingus, Johnny's oral fixation (yes, that is a warning.)
It's still very sweet and lovey dovey with all of them bc I'm a certified sap <3
─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
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─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
John would be grinning and smirking like a proper idiot when he lays his eyes on those delectable photos of you.
I imagine you had a date night at home, sipping wine on the couch and talking about your wedding that's supposed to take place in only 3 days. He's telling you how he can't wait to see you in your wedding dress and slip that ring onto your finger.
Sneaky bastard.
Be prepared to he called Mrs. Price the days leading up to the big day. John excuses it with:
"Need to practice, love. Don't wanna mess it up in front of anyone, eh?"
He knows what he's doing, you know what he's doing, all is well because if he only knew what that did to you. You're just talking, trying to get the nerves out now so you can go into your wedding with a clear mind and have a good time. When you tell him you have a gift for him, his eyebrows almost overshoot his forehead. Yeah, he knew that was a thing some people did, but he never gave it another thought.
In all honesty, marrying you was the best gift he could ever get. Which is why he feels slightly guilty that he doesn't have one for you (at least that's what you see, internally he's crushed) but that all goes out the window when you sit back down with a sleek beige photo album that has a little romantic quote on the front.
What he doesn't expect, however, is the angelic image of your plush body on full display, draped over a velvet chaise lounge with layered pearl necklaces hanging from your neck. This man is shell-shocked. If he wasn't frozen in place, he would've snapped the book shut.
"And what's this, doll, hm?"
His heart feels warm and fuzzy, thinking these are some lovely pictures of you together on holidays you went on, casual trips to the local pub or just some domestic shots you managed to sneak during his leave.
You can basically see the connections to his brain frying. His jaw slacks, and only after what feels like 10 minutes he regains his ability to think and close his mouth. John is sweating and his cock is rock hard as he flips through the remaining pages.
He shoots you the occasional glance while he's trying not to hyperventilate. You just sit back and savor your wine, trying to hide your laugh behind the rim of your glass. You'd expected a reaction, of course, but you didn't think you'd render the John Price speechless just from a few suggestive photographs of you.
But what absolutely breaks the camels back (or John's, in this case) is the last picture of you. You're kneeling, slightly leaned back and supported by your arms, with one of his Flannels covering your soft tits. That alone would've been enough to drive him crazy, but the sight of his old dogtags sitting against your sternum has him groaning out loud.
The only other thing covering you is a simple pair of lace panties, cupping the soft curve and rolls of your tummy so beautifully, John was ready to take a bit out of that damn page.
He nearly misses the inscription underneath the photo;
To my John; the love of my life, the man of my dreams,
I love you.
You hold my heart and you will forever.
May I be so lucky to find my place in the stars by your side when the time comes, so we'll never have to be apart.
With all my love,
Mrs. Price
And that does it. The album snaps shut and you barely have time to put down your wine glass before John is all over you, taking handfuls of you, whatever he can reach. With how fast he smashes his lips on yours, he nearly gives you whiplash.
He's tugging and pulling at your clothes as well as his own, not saying a thing, just hungrily swallowing every one of your sounds and giggled objections before he decides the couch is uncomfortable and he moves you to the bedroom. You're hoisted up without a warning and you cling to his neck. Immediately, worried words start spilling from your lips, remembering how he'd complained about a sore back just today;
"John, baby, your back-"
"I don't give a flying fuck about my back, love."
He's heaving and grunting like a fucking animal, he's downright feral. Despite all of that, you're still laid down gently on the bed, John would never, ever be reckless with you. But he needs to be inside you now, he'll actually lose his mind.
Usually, he'd spent hours between your thighs first, but he just can't wait. He's pounding you into another dimension but with such gentleness in his gestures, it makes your head spin.
He's holding your hand, breathing sweet praises into your ear despite him filling you to the brim. His urge to claim you goes haywire and he fills you with his cum multiple times before he's sane enough again.
He's covered in sweat and his beard is wet from your spit from all the sloppy kisses he gave you. John will definitely make it up to you and eat you out for as long as you want after.
He'll make a copy of one of the photos and take it with him when he's on deployment, just for the nights he's feeling lonely.
His wedding gift to you are the hickeys on your thighs and tummy and new sheets because you two tore the other ones to absolute shreds.
♥︎
Johnny would probably have a boudoir album for you, too. You get at least one shirtless pic a day, so a whole album of his body on display or in suggestive poses basically screams Johnny. He's already drooling the second he spots that book because he knows what it is and that he's in for a treat.
He's buzzing with excitment.
You never really send nudes for privacy reasons, and then for you to do something like this hit him like a truck in the best way possible. You're standing opposite from him behind the kitchen counter, and you look so nervous to him.
Cue his signature shit-eating grin. You tap your fingers on the dark blue album before having enough of your nerves and just sliding it over to him with a few mumbled words of what it is.
"Awe, for me, mo leannan?" He's a teasing bastard, and he chuckles when you huff and turn your head, obviously flustered. Johnny is legit licking his lips, but when he opens the book, his grin fades so fast.
He knew it would be good, but holy shit, this was so much better than he expected. His pupils dilate as he takes in each of the pictures of you, all of you, all your curves and bumps.
Everything he loves about you. God, you're such a woman, he thinks to himself. Some with lingerie, some without. He's full on drooling at this point, and the only reason why he roughly wipes it away with the back of his hand is to not get it on these sacred images.
He smirks at the picture of you in a tub, all soapy, with pebbled nipples. An obvious dig at his nickname, but, god, does your ass look amazing when it's covered in a thin layer of bubbles. He loves lathering you up in the shower and feeling you up while you're all wet and slippery.
"Good thing I can hold my breath, aye, hen? Might even try to set a new personal record." He's grinning and chuckling meanwhile you give him a sharp glare. You can't deny that the idea intrigues you, though.
But this, oh, this one was him swallowing thickly. It's you in very sheer panties (they're barely even underwear) and his name patch is sewn onto the front. Your hair looks so nice, so do your thighs, he doesn't know whether to look at your eyes or your tits. The button on his jeans is about to pop off from his throbbing boner.
He can't take his eyes off that 'MacTavish' patch that sits right on your lower belly, with the slight curve it has to it from your soft tummy.
Johnny has to hold himself back from gripping the book too hard. He wouldn't want to ruin it.
"Steamin' bloody Jesus, bonnie..."
The album is shut and tucked under his arm, and Johnny jumps over the counter to get his hands on you. Or his mouth, more like. He has a huge oral fixation, so he loves sucking and biting on every inch of your skin. You're pushed back into the bedroom, even though you end up on the floor, and the book is thrown onto the bed.
He rips your shirt up and sucks at your tits and nipples, groaning and moaning at the taste of your skin, all while he's rubbing his clothes cock against your leg. You end up on your hands and knees with one of Johnny's hands on your lowerback while his face is buried in your cunt.
He's eating you out like he's been starved for years, and his stubble is already starting to irritate the skin of your thighs and ass.
You'll have the worst case of beard burn in the morning, but how could you care about that when his tongue is so deep inside of you?
Remember when I said he'd have a boudoir album too? Yeah, now you're in between his legs, your back pressed to his chest with Johnny's album in your shaky hands. And the way your engagement ring catches the dim light of the room has your eyes rolling back.
And Jesus christ, Johnny looks fucking phenomal. You clench around his fingers hard, and he doesn't even have to pull his head from your neck to know what photo you're looking at.
He's smirking and grinning like the ceshire cat, knowing that the image of him in a kilt with no shirt one is gracing your field of vision right about now.
"Ah knew ye'd like tha' one, bonnie..."
Johnny's cooing in your ear, telling you to keep looking at the pictures while he's knuckle deep in your pussy. His bare dick is pressed against your ass and you can feel him rocking his hips to get off.
He's mumbling all kinds of gibberish into your ear, but one of the few things you can make out is "mo bhean"* which pushes you over the edge. You won't be leaving that bed anytime soon.
*(My wife)
♥︎
Kyle is such a sweetheart. I've said it before, and I will say it again, he's such a cutie pie!!! But that doesn't mean he can't or won't get nasty.
He'd offered to make lunch, which was delicious as always, and now you're chatting casually about your day at your dining table. Your fingers are laced together, and he's wearing the biggest smile because all he can think of is how he gets to marry you in just a few days.
He's over the moon. He can't wait to see you walk down the aisle, say your vows to each other, and overall have a great time with all your friends and family.
But the thing Kyle is looking forward the most is the honeymoon. He'll have you to himself for 2 whole weeks and he's stoked. He can't wait to treat you to nice things, love on you, but he's the most excited to fuck you as your husband.
He may look sweet and 'innocent' but this man can fuck, okay. And he fucks well. He knows every little spot that has you mewling and he's so good at using them for his gain.
Kyle will fuck you into the mattress in the Hotel you booked, he's already made up his mind about that, but he wants to absolutely melt your brain by being so loving whole doing it that you can't help but cry out for him.
He has heart eyes at this point, watching you talk about all that happened today and he only snaps out of his dream world when you present the deep red album to him with a sweet smile.
He's got a hunch of what it is so there's a hint of a smirk on his lips. Still, he almost gets whiplash when he opens it.
There's no easing into it, just straight up tits, ass and tummy. And let me tell you, Kyle is loving every second of it. It's no secret that he loves your chub, and that fact that it's extenuated so beautifully in every shot makes his heart and his cock happy. He's a very balanced man after all.
He comments on every single photo because he think it's endearing how you get all flustered and giggly from his compliments.
One picture that has him taking a second, though, is one where you have a lacy band tied around your thigh, with a little golden 'Kyle' charm hanging from it. He's all smiley and giddy, but he does try to discreet adjust his trousers because, holy shit, that's hot.
"Have you still got that, dove? Would love to see it tied around your pretty neck."
All you answer is that he'll have to be patient and wait till the wedding night to find out. He's laughing and teasing now, but just what till you get to the last page, Gazy.
And the way his smile just melts off his face is priceless. His gaze is flitting between you on the page and you sitting across from him with a shot eating grin. All the blood that drained from his face went straight to his dick.
Not only are you wearing a set of lingerie in his favorite color, but you've got his iconic pair of sunglasses hooked on the center of your bra. And that's not all either, his eyes travel upwards and his base cap is sat on your head and you've got that beautiful smile of yours on your face.
He makes an audible noise, one that indicates you took his breath away, when he takes in the whole picture.
"How in hell did you manage to snatch my hat and my glasses from right under my nose?!"
"Skilled hands, babe."
He's laughing at you breathlessly because he's still enarmoured by the sight of you.
And Kyle will absolutely whisk you away and fuck you stupid in front of your bedroom mirror while you're wearing his hat.
It makes him feral, seeing you like that. He's got both of his arms wrapped around your middle and he's panting into your shoulder. He does look up from time to time to see your blissed out face all while still wearing his cap.
He lets out a strained moan everytime he looks at you in the mirror and his hips stutter ever so slightly.
Kyle is just spewing jumbled words of love because he's genuinely so happy. You make him so happy.
He honestly can't wait to give you your wedding gift. It's a little booklet filled with poems or quotes that reminded him of you, or of how you make him feel. And it will make you cry when he reads them to you.
Definitely not because he'll be ballsdeep inside of you while doing so...
♥︎
Simon, Simon, Simon.... first of all, he's completely blindsided by this. And he hasn't got a fucking clue what's in that black book you hand him one night when you're cuddling in bed.
There's just a giant question mark above his head. When you tell him it's a wedding gift, he goes silent and just looks at that album in his hands.
He never really got gifts, which obviously changed since he's been with you, but he's still not used to it. You're so thoughtful. And sweet. And kind, and perfect and-
he turns his head to you when you softly call his name and if you notice the slight sheen of tears in his big brown eyes, you don't mention it. You just encourage him to open the book. And when he does, a small huff and gentle smile leave him because how are you so perfect?
Yes, all of the pictures are all filthy, but they're all radiating of love and softness, and he can't get over it. How are you so soft? Simon can't get enough of you. You mess up his emotions in ways he never thought possible, and he can't help that his heart starts beating twice as fast.
That you did this for him means more than you could ever fathom, and he'll treasure this album until his end. He absent mindedly reaches for your hand as he flips through the pages, trying to tell you thank you when his words fail him, like they did so many times before with you.
He comes across a shot of your neck, a black leather collared fasten around it with a little silver skull charm. It makes him smile just a bit. He knows just how much meaning is behind it.
That you love him. All of him, which includes the Ghost. In cursive, 'Riley' is written right above your heart, and he gives your hand a squeeze.
Although you love the Ghost because it's a part of him, you've shown him that it's not all he is. That Simon is enough. That he should give Simon a chance and that he's not incapable anymore, like he was as a little boy. Ghost is sort of a protector of Simon, something not many people know, that's why he wears the mask outside of duty too. To shield himself.
But as much as the Ghost's service is appreciated, Simon can handle himself now. The Ghost will forever be with him, but so will you, and you'll wipe his bloody hands with a smile. You've shown him that you accept Ghost just as much as you accept Simon, and that means the world to him.
He sniffles ever so quietly, and you lean your head against his shoulder, pressing a kiss to his cheek. He moves on, gently turning the pages, and as much as his heart is touched by your kind gesture of this album, that doesn't stop his cock from stirring. It's pictures of your naked form, after all.
He loves every single inch of you and he's told you and shown you so many times, kissed all your insecurities away and took your mind off any bad thoughts about yourself by fucking you so well and lovingly to the point of tears.
Never, in a million years, had he expected you to return these efforts. You kissed all his scars and held him softly when reassuring any doubts he had. That's when he truly and fully fell in love with you.
He can feel himself getting hotter with every passing image of your soft body bent in different positions and clad in delicate garments, if any.
The best for last, as always, and it's a picture of you kneeling in front of a mirror, completely nude. A picture of Simon in full military regalia is tapped to the mirror and it's surrounded by a bunch of hearts drawn on with lipstick.
His name is written under the picture in your handwriting, and he can see you holding a lipstick, in the middle of finishing another heart. His breath hitches just for a split second.
He swears he'll burn this photo into the back of his eyelids.
It shows him just how great and raw your love for him is, and it makes him all fuzzy on the inside. The text at the bottom finishes it all off, and he's actively holding back tears, overwhelmed by so many feelings for you.
Dear Husband,
We're flawed; but that's how I like us. You're you, and I'm me, and I wouldn't change it for the world. You've made me a better version of myself, and that makes me love you so much more. I'm so proud of you, Simmy.
Love,
Your wife
"Thank you, my love. Thank you for this, and for loving me and for everything you've done for me. I love you"
His words are soft and painfully honest as he gently sets the album aside. You've made him a better man. A better Simon. A happier Simon. A Simon that's slowly starting to heal.
It starts off with a soft kiss that slowly turns more desperate and needy to the point you're gently being pushed back onto the bed, your clothes are discarded, and Simon absolutely worships you. He kisses every inch he can reach and touching you in all the ways he knows you like.
And, yeah, Simon can be rough and fuck you stupid for hours, but tonight, he just wants to feel close to you, and make you feel as good as you make him feel by simply loving him. He's talking you through it, holding you while he makes sure you take every inch of his cock.
His strokes are slow and deep, just like his love for you, and he revels in the way your eyes roll back each time he slides into you to the hilt. The drag of his dick against your walls has you moaning and whining, and when he presses down on your pudgy lower belly to intensify the sensation, you're putty.
You two fuck the whole night like this, no matter how sensitive you are, you need to be close to each other.
And in the morning, he'll wake you up with his face buried in your pussy because he's out of his sappy mood and his only goal now is to absolutely ruin you.
Bonus: I can totally see Simon giving his dad the biggest middle finger known to man all the way in hell when he's standing by the altar on your wedding day. It just screams: 'fuck you, stupidly bastard. Despite all you've done to me and my family, despite all that's happened, I've persevered. I've overcome it all. Look at me now.'
Right after he's smiling up at the sky, knowing that his mum and brother are watching and that they would've loved you just as much as he does <3
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I hope you enjoyed!! I love all my boys <3
(If you find any typos, it's 2.am. give me a break pls)
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celuere · 3 months ago
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Can we have a part 3 to the Not Enough/Sweet dreams Arlecchino x reader fic where Reader finds out she's pregnant and has to break the news to Arlecchino? Maybe some cute stuff about Arlecchino taking care of pregnant reader, just a bunch of FLUFF
Pretty please🙏🙏🙏
Anon if you’re asking SO nicely how could I possible decline…
To be honest I thought about this for quite a while because I am actually not that sure about how Arle would receive the news. I don’t think she would react in a negative way and just… dip out but I also don’t think like she would spin you around in sheer happiness (only if you‘ve been actively trying ofc but that’s not the case here). So I thought about a more neutral reaction, not knowing what to make of the news at first. But trust me when I say that I tried to make it as fluffy as possible without going too much ooc
Bu Arle taking care of her pregnant wife? Sign me the FUCK up.
pairing: Arlecchino x pregnant!reader
context: look at anon request!
cw: pregnancy, a bit angsty at the beginning, so much fluff that you’re suffocating in it, idk what else to put here tbh, not proofread!
Also I wrote the paragraphs shorter on purpose since I wanted it to have more of hc look than a full length fic!
Two. You connected a lot of things with the number Two.
For once there was your husbands birthday. 22nd of August.
Then there was the second Fatui Harbinger. Dottore.
You always put two spoons of milk into your coffee.
You have two eyes, two arms, two hands, two legs, two and so on.
You never connected any negative feelings with the number two up until now.
Two lines.
There were two lines on the paper stripe you were currently holding in your hand.
You weren’t shaking. You weren’t crying. You weren’t hyperventilating.
You just stared. Stared down at the positive pregnancy test as all you could hear was the thrumming of your own heartbeat in your ears.
You were pregnant. Pregnant from your husband. Pregnant from the fourth Fatui Harbinger.
Pregnant from Peruere.
You suspected it for a few weeks now. The frequent morning sickness, the headaches, the sudden exhaustion washing over you at the weirdest moments, not being able to keep certain foods down for a longer period of time.
You weren’t surprised, really. But you were afraid.
Would she be happy? Would she tell you to not keep it? Would she yell at you? Would she be ecstatic? Despite being married for a good five years now, the topic of pregnancy and a family outside of the Hearth never once came up in the thousands of conversations you already had.
You had exactly no idea how Arlecchino would take the news.
And that scared you to death.
To add more salt into the wound, your husband was currently not even present. She took on a mission in Mondstadt two weeks ago, only returning this upcoming Saturday.
So you‘ve got four days to come up with a plan on how to break the announcement to her. And you hoped with all your heart that it wouldn’t destroy your marriage.
Over the timespan of the next few days until Arlecchino‘s arrival, the children of course noticed your changed demeanor. The tense look on your face, your often exhausted expressions, how you often excused yourself to the bathroom after shared meals, they even noticed that you stopped wearing clothes that highlighted the curves of your body, exchanging them with a warm cardigan instead. They knew something was off but they couldn’t quite put their finger on it.
And Father wasn’t spared any details of it when she arrived late in the afternoon on a quite rainy Saturday. As a result, Arlecchino observed the situation for her own better judgement.
Your greeting was as usual, a soft kiss onto her lips while your soft hands cupped the outlines of her face with the exception of one thing.
Your weren’t smiling into the kiss like you‘d always do. But that was no reason for her to already draw a conclusion, so she simply went along with it, taking your hand into hers and lead you to the living room so she could tell you all about her little trip to the Nation of Freedom.
Furthermore she noticed how you stopped changing in front of her, even going as far as to lock the bathroom door when taking a bath, how you were always up much earlier than her, often leaving the dinner table as soon as you were finished with the excuse of „still having to go through some paperwork“.
It weirded her out just as much as it worried her. What could you possibly be hiding from your Husband?
On the other side of the coin, you were completely distressed. You had no idea how to tell her, when the perfect timing would be- just the thought about telling her caused your heartrate to increase unhealthily fast. And the bump that was getting more and more visible as time went on, it was getting incredibly hard to conceal it.
So now you where sitting next to your Husband at a fancy gathering of the Fatui, not daring to take off your coat despite Arlecchino‘s insistence.
You were sweating to death but there was no way in hell you‘d expose your bump like that so you just endured and declined the multiple wine glasses that were offered to you and stuck to your simple glass of water.
And that’s when it dawned on Arlecchino, every little puzzle piece slowly coming together as she watched you bring the simple glass to your lips.
The concealing clothes, not changing in front of her, how you avoided any kind of intimacy ever since she arrived, your distaste for certain foods and the sounds of you hurling up your guts in the morning.
How could she be so dense to the obvious? How did she not notice anything sooner? What on earth did go wrong for her to not think about the possibility of a pregnancy?
And for the first time in her life, the Knave felt something in her stomach sink. Was that nervousness? Guilt? Whatever it was, she hated this feeling. Wanted to rip it right out with her own hands and burn it to ash.
A family? With you? Sure, this particular scenario crossed her mind quite a few times. The image of you carrying her child, accompanying you to doctors appointments, waking up in the early mornings for a baby. Her own baby.
But was she fit for that role? Was she fit to raise this child with you? What if she turned out to be just as bad as Mother? What if she failed you during the pregnancy? These new paths opening up in her mind where so incredibly overwhelming for her, she had to excuse herself quickly for a quick breather of fresh air.
You knew something was off by stiffness in her voice before she left for the balcony, you were following her footsteps not a few moments later.
The cold evening air made the hair on your neck stand up, forcing you to pull you coat tighter around your frame when you strode up to her. She had her back turned to you, head leaned back to gaze upon the moon shining down at the both of you, her hair almost glowing in the moonlight.
„Peru-”
„When did you find out?“, her words were soft. Hidden with a slightly sharp edge but you knew exactly what she meant. You figured that she’d eventually find out on her own but you couldn’t help but feel that wave of anxiety wash over you.
„Around three weeks ago… four days prior to your arrival… Peruere, I… I tried telling you so many times but I simply couldn’t bring myself to- we never discussed the possibility of a family and considering your work in the Fatui- I simply didn’t want to put another burden on your shoulders…“, the tears formed very much on their own, the wind now stinging in your eyes.
„You think that my wife being pregnant with my child would burden me?“, she now finally turned around, her face was like nothing you’d ever seen. There wasn’t coldness edged into her facial features. Nor anger or irritation.
It was disappointment.
She was disappointed in you. Was she that bad of a spouse? What made you believe that she‘d be angry with you for something you were both responsible for? Seriously, was there ever a point in your relationship when she was truly mad at you? Sure, you had your disagreements like ever other married couple but your Husband was never angry at you. Anger makes one impulsive. You should know that best.
„Thats not how I meant it- but a child? Is that something you can imagine, is that something you truly want?“, the desperation in your voice cut deep into her heart. You must’ve carried these words with you for so long now, she should’ve acted sooner.
She finally took a step towards you, „Do I look appalled? Do I look disgusted by the idea? Am I even angry with you? My love, you tell me if I want to take this path with you.“, the worries from earlier still plagued her mind but that was a discussion for later. All that mattered to her now was to soothe whatever doubts you had.
„I… I don’t know… we never talked about this- you are often away on missions, what about your reputation, what abou-”, you words were swallowed up by her soft lips being pressed against yours, her hands sneaking around your back to pull you in closer to her.
The kiss was soft, so full of love and affection and suddenly it wasn’t nearly as cold as mere moments ago.
Slowly, she parted your lips, leaning her forehead against yours. A gesture she always did to signal you to calm down, that everything is alright.
„Tu parles trop…“
„You talk too much…“
She made no comment when her thumb gently brushed away a tear that silently ran down your beautiful face. The both of you just stood there in each others arms, not moving, simply just enjoying the presence of the other.
„I‘m sorry for not telling you sooner… I couldn’t- I just didn’t know how…“, the words came out barely as whisper, almost swallowed up by the wind.
„My sweet… what did I just tell you about talking too much?“, she gently squeezed your hands, getting a chuckle out of you that warmed her heart.
„So you’re not mad with me?“
„Do I seem mad to you?“
„No… No not at all…“, you both shared another soft kiss with each other.
„Then there is you answer. Now please… stop hiding from me…“, carefully, she shoved the coat aside to take a closer look and oh boy, you might just shoot her right there.
The cute baby bump might just changed her brain chemistry for the rest of her life.
A faint blush crept up on your cheeks at her reaction. It was unusual for her to loose her composure so easily, „the Doctor said I’m at the end of my first trimester… would you like to have a feel…?“, weird to propose to her again, but yes. You didn’t have to tell her twice before her warm hand carefully ran over your visibly swollen belly, she might just touched Heavens Gates itself right now.
There wasn’t any words being exchanged between you. There was no need for that. The softness in her eyes was all that you needed.
Over the course of the next weeks, you got to witness a completely new side of your Husband and loved this one even more.
Arlecchino immediately got you one of these long pregnancy pillows so we’re as comfortable as possible in your sleep, always making sure you weren’t laying flat on your back
You weren’t even allowed to carry your own bag anymore. You even had to convince her to let her walk up the stairs without her assistance, she was just fretting way too much about you, you were pregnant and not sick, right?
She made it part of her bed routine to apply and gently massage your belly with a special lotion that she went out of her way for to get it from Bubu Pharmacy itself, you didn’t even dare to ask about the price.
Can’t take her hands off of your belly for the love of it. The sight is just so admirable to her, thinking about the little life that grew up inside your tummy was just so- mindblowing to her so and when the first kicks start to set in… she is a GONER. Beyond salvation. Don’t even try to speak her.
Mandatory nap time. She did her research way before your pregnancy and knows how much of a toll this lifechanging process will have on your body so she lets you nap whenever and wherever you want and even sometimes tucks you into the comfort of your bed when she thinks you‘ve been active for way too long. You need rest. Lots of rest.
Stops leaving the house for mere paperwork or negotiations after your five months in, those are to be held now in her home office in case something might happen or you need her and if that happens to be the case- she quite literally drops anything for you.
Literally thanks you every chance she gets for bringing your daughter into the world, often wrapping her arms around you from behind, hands gently lifting up the weight of your baby belly as she plants soft kisses on your neck while telling you how much of a strong woman you are and how grateful she is for you the carrying out her baby. She is far gone your honor.
Did you every think to meet the Knave in a course about birth preparations on a Friday evening? Now you have.
Literally doubles the security in- and outside of your house, always having someone at your disposal and even arranging a team of nurses. That is of course only if you are comfortable with a bunch midwives swarming around you 24/7.
Her worst ever fear would be to miss the birth. Nothing sounds as horrific to her as making you go through the traumatic experience of giving birth without her presence, it drives her nuts to a point where she even refuses to leave you alone for more than hour in the ast few weeks of pregnancy
Of course buys you pretty pregnancy clothes that fit your taste, wether it be something to hide your belly or rather highlight it, she buys it all.
You literally can’t have a conversation with her without her ass mentioning her pregnant wife. Childe is so sick of her atp.
I‘m so down bad for arle being a goner for her pregnant wife. I can’t stress this enough.
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pucksandpower · 1 year ago
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okay but all i can think of is grid kids: where y/n and sebastians’ daughter gets her period while being with the guys and they freak out while she is completely calm😭😭😭
Grid Kids: It’s Just a Little Blood
Sebastian Vettel x wife!Reader x platonic!drivers
Summary: the grid kids have always been their little sister’s role models and teachers but it turns out that they have some things left to learn themselves
Series Masterlist
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“She’s bleeding out!”
Lando’s panicked face fills your screen as the FaceTime call connects.
You immediately sit upright, heart racing. “What? Where? What happened?”
“We found her in the bathroom,” Charles adds, holding up a suspicious-looking red spot on the bathroom rug.
George, on the brink of hyperventilation, rushes in, “We need to call an ambulance! It’s a lot of blood. So much blood.”
Max is basically begging, “Just tell us what to do.”
From the background, you hear your daughter’s exasperated voice, “Guys! It’s just my period! Calm down!”
There’s a collective pause. Mick, with wide eyes, slowly asks, “Period? As in ... the monthly thing?”
Your daughter rolls her eyes but is clearly amused, “Yes. Welcome to female biology.”
You laugh, trying to calm the situation. “Okay, first of all, she’s not bleeding out. It’s totally natural. Didn’t any of you take a basic health class?”
Lance raises an awkward hand, “I might’ve skipped that day ... or week.”
Sebastian is trying not to laugh next to you, “Did any of you ever have a girlfriend? Or a sister?”
Lando sheepishly responds, “It just ... never came up in conversation, I guess?”
Your daughter holds a pad up like it’s a game show prize, “Alright, class is in session. First lesson: how to attach this to underwear.“
The line goes silent for a second before George finally speaks up, “You know, I have a newfound appreciation for what women go through.”
You giggle, “As you should. Time for lesson one of many. Pay attention, boys.”
***
The phone buzzes with an incoming call, Lando picking it up instantly. “Hey, kiddo! What’s up?”
“Can you come pick me up?” Her voice, cracking with frustration as she tries to keep her tears at bay, comes through the phone. “I’m in a lot of pain but the physical education teacher won’t let me sit out despite my cramps being really bad.”
George, overhearing the conversation, frowns. “Seriously? She can’t be that heartless.”
Max grabs the phone, his protective instincts kicking in. “We’re on our way. Just hang tight.”
Within minutes, the grid kids arrive at the school, walking determinedly towards the gym. As they enter, they spot the physical education teacher, a stern woman with a whistle around her neck.
“Can we help you?” She asks, eyeing them suspiciously.
“We’re here to pick up our sister,” Charles says, stepping forward. “We heard she’s not feeling well.”
The teacher scoffs. “She’s been trying to get out of class because of some little cramps. It’s just an excuse for her to be lazy.”
Mick tries to keep his cool, “Cramps can be debilitating. It’s not just an excuse like you claim. It’s a real physical pain.”
Lance jumps in, “You wouldn’t make someone with a sprained ankle run, would you? It’s the same thing. Why make her suffer?”
The teacher is about to argue but Lando interjects before she has a chance, “Look, we get that you have a job to do but she’s genuinely in pain. All we ask is for a little compassion and understanding.”
“And maybe,” George adds, “in the future, a crash course on menstrual health and how not everyone has the same experience might be beneficial.”
The teacher nods, sufficiently cowed. “I’ll take it into consideration.”
“Thank you,” Max says and the group makes their way to where their sister is curled up in a corner. As she stands up, looking a little pale but relieved to see them, they envelop her in a group hug.
“Feeling okay, kiddo?” George asks with concern, carefully brushing a stray hair from her face.
She offers a weak smile, “Better now that you guys are here.”
Lance winks, “How about we go get some milkshakes? Ice cream cures everything.”
She chuckles, “I could go for that.”
***
The media room is buzzing, cameras being set up and reporters getting ready to fire questions. The grid kids are seated next to each other, patiently listening to their weekly dose of Maxplaining while waiting for the interview to start.
A reporter from a tabloid magazine, aiming for a provocative soundbite, smirks and directs a question at Charles, “Rough race today? Are you on your time of the month or something?”
The room goes silent for a moment, a few gasps and whispers are heard. Charles looks taken aback, his cheeks reddening slightly, but before he can answer, Max steps in, voice firm.
“That’s really inappropriate. Jokes like that are not only disrespectful to the drivers sitting up here but also to female racers and women in general.”
Lando nods, “Our little sister wants to be in Formula 1 one day and she should never have to face comments from people who think that they can demean her because of her gender.”
George throws his hands up, “Come on, it’s 2034 for crying out loud! You should know better than this. We should all do better than this. ”
The reporter attempts to defend his statement, “It was just a joke. No need to get so sensitive.”
Lance counters, “We’re not being sensitive. We just want you to show some basic respect. A natural process shouldn’t be turned into a sexist joke because you have nothing of substance to ask. Women deserve to be treated with dignity.”
The reporter mumbles an apology, clearly caught off guard by the unified response.
Charles finds his voice and glares at the reporter, “Let’s keep the questions related to racing.”
“And,” Mick looks towards a group of FIA officials sitting off to the side, “Someone better make sure to take away his media pass.”
***
After the press conference, back in the drivers’ lounge, your daughter squeezes between the grid kids on the oversized couch and looks up at them with earnest eyes. “Thank you for standing up for girls like me today.”
Max ruffles her hair gently, “We’ve always got your back, kiddo.”
George nods, “We haven’t always been perfect but we’re trying to learn and grow.”
Lando adds, “And we hope, by the time you get here, motorsport will be a much better place for you and all other women aspiring to be drivers.”
Charles bends down to her level, “We want you to race in an environment where you’re only judged by your talent and not anything else.”
“You’ve got the same passion and determination any of us ever had,” Mick chimes in. “Don’t let anyone ever dim that light.”
“We’ll be cheering the loudest when you make it to F1. No one should underestimate you,” Lance adds with a wink.
She beams, wrapping her arms around them in a tight group hug. “Thanks, brothers.”
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lookforsomeoneelse · 3 months ago
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i don’t want to set the world on fire… (prologue)
been reading through old imposter au sagaus, and found inspo to get off my butt and start typing…
anyway tw for your standard imposter au stuff like persecution, violence, and cussing
also you might be a trans allegory? idk what that means but i think i can infer
Imagine waking up in a body that is not your own.
It freaks you out; the first couple of days after the sudden shift, but you gather enough information to piece together the puzzle of where you are.
You’re in Genshin Impact, a game you just played to kill time.
Things are different here, you soon find out, as evident of the statues strewn about your new residence.
Your “family” and “friends” worry about you for a while, as you get set in your new life.
It’s disorienting, but after a while you eventually manage to find stable ground to stand on for your new life.
The tides of life remain calm for what seems like a moment after that, before everything you thought you knew about this world comes crumbling down.
Rumors of an imposter who takes up “Their Grace’s” face begin to pop up.
It scares you, the way that everybody takes up arms and begins a manhunt for this person who, to you, hadn’t done anything at all.
As one of your neighbors shoves a pitchfork into your hands, you quickly stammer out an excuse about thieves coming and robbing houses if they all go, and you also offer to stand and look out for whoever the hell they’re trying to kill.
They buy it.
Only six hours have passed since that interaction, and you hear the shuffling of… something.
Opening the door to your humble abode, you find a person covered in blood and rags, bones broken and cuts all over their damaged body.
Your gazes interlock, and their eyes widen at the sight of you. One step, two steps, three steps back. They turn and begin to run, before their legs give in to their fatigue and they trip.
You approach them as one would a wounded animal, which is probably what they’ve been treated like. You’ve already put two and two together.
This is the so-called “imposter” that everyone’s looking for.
They let out a couple of whimpers, and they’re hyperventilating. They shuffle away from you on all fours.
When your shadow inevitably casts over their crawling figure, they turn and begin to earnestly plead. You can only feel pity in your heart as they do so.
“PLEASE,” They cry out, “DON’T-DON’T COME ANY CLOSER!” Their eyes begin to water. They look so scared, you think to yourself.
“please. just leave me alone…” They cover themselves up with their arms, hoping to alleviate at least some of the pain that comes their way.
When they realize that the pain doesn’t come, they come out of their shell slowly to face you.
In a random act of kindness, you decide to take them in, despite everyone else’s differing opinion on what you should do with or to them.
“Don’t worry,” you assure them, “I’m not going to hurt you.” You extend a hand out. “Can you stand?”
Wiping off tears of joy in their eyes, they take your hand and use your grip to pull themselves up. However, once they let go, they stumble to the ground, forcing you to pick them up and help to carry them.
“I don’t think we have time for names. But, I’ll try to at least feed you and give you some spare clothes.”
“O-ok….”
Once you make it to your residence, you sit them down and bring over a bowl of freshly heated potato soup. They devour it with fierce voracity, evident of how they’ve been mistreated. You also look around for anything that looks like it’ll fit and give it to them.
It’s a perfect match.
For the next about two months, life was pretty easygoing for the two of you. You hide them in a supply closet in your home when anyone would show up at the front door.
But they decide that it’s time for them to go. With a smile and a wave, you send them off on their journey, making sure that they have all their necessities on them.
Shortly after, another rumor- completely different from the one before it- spreads like a great wildfire.
The “imposter,” the one you had taken in and cared for, was actually the true creator all this time.
They’ve made a big speech about how they would destroy all of Teyvat for its sins against its creator, but they declare that they will not do this thanks to the sympathy and kindness of a certain individual.
That “certain individual?”
that’s you.
___________________________
WOOO IM BACK BABBBBYYYYY
anyway if yall wanna use this idea go ahead
I don’t get paid for this and you probably don’t either so go crazy with it
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ebonyslasher · 9 months ago
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Can you do more yandere slashers part 2 please.
Hopefully, I'm getting better at writing yandere characters! There are some possible triggering themes ahead so read with caution.
Roses are red, violets are blue
Here's
Yandere!Slashers Pt. 2!
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A strained sob bounced against the dingy walls that you were held captive in. Your existence, normally happy and calm, turned desperate and miserable. You looked around with teary eyes, taking in your unfortunate new home. The air was littered with specks of dust, paint torn from the walls, and all the windows crudely covered and broken. It was a scene taken from a horror movie that you desperately did not want to be in. The tears silently flow down your face before the raggedy door flings open.
A shadowy, foreboding figure stood tall at the door frame. You recognized that figure, it was the one who kidnapped you to this horrid place.
“Please ... .please let me go…,” you whimpered out, your sobbing revitalizing before this monster. He stepped forward and you shrunk back. He stops. The next movement he made your heart stop. Michael flings a body beside you. The patch of light coming from the mostly covered window showed the gouged out eyes of your crush. They lay lifeless and their once beautiful face was now covered with blood. 
The image of a dead body, especially of someone you knew, caused you to hyperventilate. Feeling an extreme urge to flee, you stand up and attempt to run towards the door. Michael grabs your arm painfully and throws you down.
“Let me go, let me go! You monster!” you screamed. You attempt to stand again when Michael kicks at your legs. He quickly places his dirty boot on your right leg, right on the tibia. Stomping down, Michael relishes in your painful cry after the sickening snap of your bone. You could not run from him and he could not be happier.
—--
Michael knew everyone who lived in Haddonfield. Most by their identifiable features and home addresses.
Michael stalked all his victims, but only for a short time as their existence would not last long.
However, if he becomes obsessed, not only will he stalk them every single day. He will keep them alive for an undecided amount of time.
As you place your existence in Haddonfield, Michael becomes hooked. 
He paid attention to your needs, placing toiletries that you ran out of/low on in various places in your house. It escalates into leisure items that you spoke about with your friends. Things that he knew that you knew you did not purchase
Making himself known, he begins to appear and reappear in different places, from a distance. Toying with you.
Anyone who will get in the way will be removed, permanently. Especially any love interest.
He is not above harming you to make you submit, stay, and be quiet. He knew what was best for you.
Injuries looked especially good on you anyway
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“Kitten ... .how disappointing,” Asa remarks, seeing the piss-poor excuse of a Valentine's Day present on his bed. It was made haphazardly, the paper mache butterfly looked tattered with paint, some sort of adhesive, and drenched paper.
Asa had shown you how to do the technique weeks ago, disguising the activity as a fun bonding moment. He made an off-handed comment that a paper mache insect would be a great gift for Valentine’s Day. Of course, his smart little kitty caught the hint. But, it was obvious that you did not practice enough. 
You sat upon the bed, head down in embarrassment at the state of your gift. “Asa, I tried! I really did! You know I’m not that good at-” You started to explain. Asa put his hand up and you stopped talking immediately.
“You had ample time to practice, y/n. But, you did not. Therefore, you will be punished. Get on all fours on top of your disaster,” Asa instructed coldly. You did so, feeling humiliated at the action. You desperately wanted to make this up to him while also feeling apprehension at the punishment. 
Asa starts to hit your back and ass with his hands. You endure, but the force of his hits ends up making you fall on top of your gift. The burn of his hits combined with the uncomfortable feeling of wet paper and glue slathering your stomach. It made you cry out, strengthening the boner Asa had. 
---
Anyone who’s moving, living, or even traveling through the town gets observed by Asa. When you arrive, you capture his interest in ways he never thought possible. 
He searched your name, address (and floor plan if available), and knew all your family members. He breaks in to look at everything you have.
 He had notes dedicated to what you like to eat, what size of clothes you wear, etc. 
Once he captures you, he doesn’t make you a part of his collection. Instead, you'll be his personal pet. A little kitty he can enjoy. 
Life was starting to get a little boring. Your existence changed his life. He just needed to train you so you would not be useless to him.
His training includes the way you react (in the way that he likes), enduring physical punishment and sexual sensory overloads, how to care for him correctly, etc. 
Any spouse, family, or friends that were living with you are now part of his collection. They would be a distraction to your duties.
If you perform extremely poorly, he will drag you across the floor to see any loved ones in the collection. Digging his fingers into your eyelids to force you to look at their display.
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“Dr. Lecter?,” You asked as you knocked lightly on his office door. You let yourself into his practice, as was normal for your appointments. 
“Y/N, please come in,” he said smoothly so as to not betray his excitement at your arrival.
You plop down on the sofa across from him and your weekly sessions begin. You’d had them for a month now. It was last week when you noticed that you were getting weirdly attached and attracted to Dr. Hannibal. It wasn’t right with the power dynamics in your current relationship. Also, all the blaring issues he knew about your life. This did not dissuade your budding feelings, with the unintentional help of Hannibal. He did not know that your conflicted romantic feelings were about him. It was like he always knew the right thing to say. He spurred your mind to think outside the box or his perspective. Everything he said, he seemed to always be right about. 
“.....I feel a romantic connection to this person, but I know I shouldn’t,” You say.
“And why not?” He questioned
“Our relationship right now…it would be inappropriate to say the least.”
Hannibal leaned forward, his face schooled in its perfect neutral expression. Internally, he was fighting a smirk to bless his sharp features. “And what is love without risk?”
“....I…”
“You don’t have to answer if you don’t know, y/n. I am merely throwing out a different perspective. You like this person right? What makes it inappropriate?”
“His…status and title do. The power dynamics would be unequal,” you say, trying to be as vague as possible.
“It will always be unequal. You possess powers that he would not have. And vice versa. Titles mean nothing. You see, I am your psychiatrist. I know who you are, I can see the power that you have. A relationship between you and me would be risky, in the eyes of others. But, only our eyes matter in the end.”
“A relationship between us two…?”
“Just as an example, Y/n. To help you see the big picture.”
--
You were his patient. He fell in love, becoming obsessed with you. You looked like the perfect partner, one to parade around at the envy of others. 
He would make sure to format your mind to see how perfect you two would be. That he would be the only one for you. 
Hannibal being Hannibal does this covertly, planting seeds into your head every session. He even stops taking payment for your appointments, to ensure you would still come.
The medication he would prescribe you was a level of biochemical control over your emotions. He knew the side effects and how the medication would affect your mood after you took them. 
He acts like the perfect gentleman. He has perused your home, making sure to have items that you need or want coincidentally at appointments. 
Anyone who is a threat to you or the budding relationship will be removed.
You will see them for the last time, served as a decadent meal. He will feed them to you, without your knowledge
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“Taylor Layknn’s party is in two days, I’ve taken the liberty of picking out your look for you,” Patrick says dismissively. He thrust the outfit into your arms as he checked his phone. You stood flabbergasted at his gall.
“Patrick, I already had an outfit planned out,” you explain. You look over the outfit, trying to imagine how it would look on you.
“Yes I know, but I saw this while shopping and thought about you immediately. I knew it would be flattering on you. It goes with what I’m wearing. We’ll look great together.” Patrick looks straight into your eyes, watching your reaction.
You felt annoyed, a little offended, but flattered that he thought of you. “That’s sweet, but I don’t think that’s exactly my style.” You began to hand the outfit back to him. He thrusts the outfit back against your chest.
“It is your style and you don’t even know it. Here, look at how the color compliments your skin. How it’ll hug your figure in the right places. You know, most of these bitches don’t even know how to dress. You’ll be the talk of the night if you just listen to me.”
--
He tries to shelter your interactions from others, feeding you lies and pretending like he is giving you inside information to gain your trust
He purposefully talks bad and compassionate about others to uplift himself in your presence, disguising it as competition.
He is always extra with his appearance but was even more so when he knew you were going to be there.
He even wears the cologne that you love. He sends you flowers, your favorite ones, to show how much attention he paid to you
Once he has you wrapped around his finger, He tells you what to say and how to act. He needs you to be the perfect partner that even Paul Allen would be jealous of. 
The desperate yuppie that he is needs you to look and act a certain way to fit in with the 'in-group'.
He buys you clothing and expects you to wear it for him. He will send you makeup tutorial videos that he likes.
Patrick will also send photos and videos of people with what he thinks is the ultimate body type. He will do whatever to shape and mold you into his perfect partner.
Patrick has a doll that looks like you in his office drawer. He dresses up in what he would want you to wear. He has another at home where he acts out fantasies of your eventual marriage. 
He constantly questions where you are or slyly questions others. He gets mad if he isn’t invited anywhere, especially to his favorite place.
If he could, he dreams of hiring you as his personal assistant (if that was your profession). He has thought many times about firing his current assistant just to have you perched there, sitting pretty.  
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clock-06 · 3 months ago
Text
There’s this idea of a dynamic for BillFord that’s been causing havoc in my skull and begs for escape, so it’s gonna get to today.
Basically Ford is more self aware and catches onto the fact that Bill has fallen for him, and starts manipulating him back for his own goals. Cause Ford was already a mad scientist, there’s a reason Bill thought Ford would join him in weirdmaggedon (go re-read the Rudolph thing, he’s pretty unhinged)
Ford was nerdy as hell, and definitely took a psych class in college, and starts using operant conditioning on Bill. While Bill does have feelings for Ford, he still sees him as lesser, because he’s Human, and figures Sixer doesn’t have the capacity to manipulate or disobey him, and by the point it’s an active plan, Ford has conditioned him enough to not even check.
It’s a slow start, but Ford figures out that Bill is more willing to do things for him when he’s given rewards for it, ie, calling him “Muse” tends to make him put more effort into things, he has favorite sweaters that Ford wears and Bill will be more attentive to what Ford wants or needs when he’s wearing them. Eventually, Ford starts using these as rewards when Bill is forwarding Ford’s goals instead of his own, and very soon has a personal and trained dream demon.
By the time the Portal is fully built and operational, Bill has basically told the Henchmaniacs “Hey, we’ll do that apocalypse thing after IQ and I have a little research trip across a few dimensions, I’ve got to make sure he stays safe cause he’s my ticket to the portal” and they’re all like “excuse me fucking what no just kill him” and after the first few protesting comments end with the utterer in dust, the rest of the gang just shuts up, most of whom vow to get Sixer killed while he and Bill are traveling together.
Because everything’s going according to plan, Stanley isn’t called to the Shack to hide the journals, but rather to protect the shack and journals while Ford is traveling. It’s a very confusing letter, and by the time Stan determines that it’s actually real, he barely gets there in time to watch his brother disappear through the portal before it autolocks and shuts down. He still starts up the Mystery Shack because he feels weird about the money Ford left him, unsure if it’s actually real, and needs a way of income. The twins still do come to visit for the summer, and Stanley still legally becomes Stanford as a cover story, but it’s not a car crash this time because Ford left behind an intricate plan for how to erase him without leaving any trace and Stan goes “well I’m wanted for a lot of crimes, I’ll just use this for myself.”
There is more Bill memorabilia around the house because Ford wants to be able to keep an eye on what Stan is doing, and Dipper does find the third Journal, hidden in the floorboards beneath his bed, and the pages on bill contain a detailed account of his powers as well as invisible ink containing the plans for Weirdmaggedon that Ford knows Bill has. This leads to Dipper fucking hyperventilating and trying to warn them all about Bill, which is very awkward when he comes back through the portal, lying contentedly in Ford’s fluffy hair.
TLDR: Ford realizes two can play the manipulation game and plays with Bill’s feelings for his own benefit, and Stan gets the shack because Ford goes through the portal to keep researching and writing his journals with an overpowered dream demon happily pressed under his heel
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phoward89 · 10 months ago
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Banner by me. Dividers by @saradika
Summary: When Coriolanus signs you out of the hospital to bring you to his Corso penthouse, you see a glimpse of his dark side. Will that glimpse make you run away from him or to him?
Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x Reader (Y/N)
Warnings: Coriolanus Snow is his own warning! Possessive!Coriolanus, Obsessive!Coriolanus, DelusionalCoriolanus, Dark!Coriolanus, Soft Dark!Coriolanus?, Head Gamemaker!Coriolanus, Mentions of death, Mentions of planning murder, Mentions of cheating/infidelity (not on reader), Mentions of poison, Large age gap/difference (Coriolanus is 33 while reader is 18), Manipulation, Groping, Slapping, um...trying to think of anything else.
Here's the 2nd part of Forever & Ever, My Darling Rose. I gave the Reader a last name, Halvir, in this just to make some scenarios etc a bit easier to write. But the Readers first name is up to you lovely and wonderful readers to come up with.
Story Masterlist
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Chapter 2:
Coriolanus marched towards the nurses’ station with a haughty airs to him. He gave off an entitled, but dangerous aurora that had the nurses shaking in their white nursing hats. He'd threatened to kill every single one of their loved ones (friends, family, pets, estranged family, etc) if something happened to you and the nurses were terrified that he'd make good on that promise. Considering you went out of your mind with a nightmare and cornered yourself into your room, resulting in him being called there to calm you down, the nurses were fearful.
The nurses quickly grabbed their charts and scurried off, excuses that they had to check on patients echoed into the air, as the head gamemaker got closer to the front desk. Patients that are most likely asleep since it was nearly 3 in the morning. Yes, the nurses left their charge nurse behind to deal with the wrath of Coriolanus Snow. The nurse assigned to you was the first to bolt.
“I'm signing Y/N Halvir out since your staff is too incompetent to properly care for a victor.” Coriolanus firminly told the charge nurse as he came to a stop right at the desk she was sitting behind, all by herself since the staff abandoned her to face a fate worse than death alone.
The charge nurse refused to meet Coriolanus’ eye while tentatively informing him, “Head Gamemaker Snow, sir, it's ill advised to sign her out. She hasn't been checked by a doctor and she seems to be dealing with some post traumatic stress.”
Wrong Answer. Coriolanus was outraged that some old nurse had the gall to tell him that he couldn't do what he felt best for his, HIS, darling rose. What did that old hag know? If it wasn't for her calling him, you would've hyperventilated and passed out from sheer fear in the corner of your room.
A private room that he was footing the bill for, by the way.
Well, looks like he'll just have to make the charge nurse’s loved ones disappear for her lack of skills tending to you. He'll also find out who was your assigned nurse, make that useless twit disappear along with her loved ones. Well, the Citadel could always use some more lab rats to conduct mutt experiments on.
“It may be ill advised, but I assure you that I am signing Y/N Halvir out of this hospital and taking her with me, where she'll be properly cared for.” He calmly told the nurse as his cold blue eyes cut her down. Leaning down over the desk, causing him to be face to face with the old nurse, Coriolanus hissed, “Your insubordination has won your son, a doctor, and his family a transfer to District 6. Seems like the hospitals there are in need of more doctors due to the rise in morphling addiction amongst the district citizens. It's such a shame that both of your grandchildren, a boy and a girl, will now be eligible for the Hunger Games as District 6 citizens.”
The charge nurse shook with fear as she pleaded, “Please, Head Gamemaker Snow, don't do that. Please, don't be so harsh.” Quickly, she worked on her computer while adding in, “I'm printing out the discharge paperwork now, just don't send my family away to District 6.”
Coriolanus just stood up straight, his full height of 6’0 towering over the charge nurse as she sat at the desk, typing and clicking away at the computer. He didn't say a word to her, just stared her down with cold, dead, blue eyes. 
The charge nurse swallowed down a sick feeling that was welling up while rising from her seat to scurry over to the printer. She silently prayed to the printer, which was growling louder than a feral animal, to hurry up and spit out the paperwork for your discharge. 
Coriolanus grew bored waiting for the necessary paperwork for your release. So bored that he was tapping his shiny black shoes against the linoleum floor. 
Click, click, click. Click, click, click. Click, click, click. Click, click, click. Click, click-
“Here’s that paperwork for you to sign.” The charge nurse told Coriolanus while hurrying over to him. Quickly she placed the paperwork on the desk before grabbing a pen from the cup on top of the desk. “And here's a pen, sir.” She practically threw the pen at him.
“Thank you, but your family's still headed to 6.” He simply said while signing and initialing the stack of paperwork he was given. It seemed a bit of an overkill in his opinion.
The nurse turned as white as a sheet upon hearing Coriolanus’ words, but she didn't dare try to fight him on it. Her family's fate was sealed by the sadistic head gamemaker, a man whose temperament was worse than his father, the late General Crassus Snow.
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Once Coriolanus was finished with your paperwork, he left the front desk without so much as a thank you or a goodnight to the nurse, and returned to your room. You were sitting on the bed watching some late night rerun on Capitol tv whenever he entered your room. Looking between you and the tv, he chuckled, “You like the god awful cooking show where the chef curses out his potential staff?”
“We only get 3 channels on our tv back home in District 12 and this is one of the channels.” You explained to him while he made his way further into the room. Truthfully, you were lucky to even have a tv since you lived in the Seam. Your brother Rein and his girlfriend, Ashlie, had scrimped and saved for years to be able to buy the thing. It was small and second hand; only picked up 3 channels. The Capitol News, Capitol Movie Classics, and Capitol Channel 3. You wished there were more channels, but you were grateful for the ones you had. Most people in the Seam didn't even have that. You know that your neighbor, Corbin, and his Auntie (a mining widow) didn't even have a tv. 
As Coriolanus placed your paperwork down on your side table, you stared right at the tv (as the top chef called one of his potential staff a stupid fucking donkey for burning a risotto) and honestly revealed, “Plus watching all of these chefs get cursed out and treated horribly by their potential boss reminds me that somebody out there has it worse than me. Even though I live in the Seam with my coal miner brother and his girlfriend, who's a local barmaid at the hob, nobody's ever treated me as horribly and rudely as that award winning chef treats the people competing on his show for a job in his restaurant.”
“Hmmm…” Coriolanus hummed. Standing by your side, he tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear while asking, “And what of your mother?”
“I haven't seen her since she ran off when I was 5 and Rein was 15.” You flatly remarked.
“I see.” The platinum blonde man nodded. He felt rage boil in his cold, icy veins. How could somebody leave you as a child? You were so perfect, so innocent. You didn't deserve to be willingly abandoned by your mother. Oh, if he ever got a hold of that useless bitch she was dead. He'd make sure that she died a torturous death too.
“You signed me out AMA?” You asked, glancing over the form that was on your side table 
“Yes, I signed you out against medical advice because the staff here is doing you, my darling rose, more harm then good. They're too incompetent to care for my Victor and you, Y/N, deserve nothing but the best care.” Moving to the wardrobe in the corner of the room, he told you, “I had your reaping dress cleaned and brought here for you when you were admitted. I thought you'd feel more comfortable in that than your uniform from the arena.”
“Thank you, Head Gam-Coriolanus. I appreciate it.” You thanked him, a bit nervous about what name to call him. In the end you decided to just call him Coriolanus, but it still felt heavy and wrong on your tongue.
“Please, just call me Coryo.” He countered while crossing the room with your simple cotton floral dress in hand. “Now let's get you out of your hospital gown and into your pretty dress so we can go home.” He suggested while coming to a stop right at your bedside.
Instead of standing and stripping naked like Coriolanus thought you'd do, you arched a brow at him instead only to ask, “Home? But I thought you were taking me to a penthouse here in the Capitol?” 
“I am taking you to the Corso penthouse which is now your new home, my darling rose.” He slowly explained to you, as if you were a small child, while placing your dress down on the bed. Shaking his head, he grabbed your upper arm and pulled you to stand up. 
“What the hell are you doing, Coriolanus?!” You shrieked, pulling away from him as he started to untie your hospital gown. 
Grabbing you roughly by the upper arms and turning you to look at him, he stared down at you with cold, icy eyes. “I'm tired and want to go home and get some sleep. You will be a good girl and let me help you change.” 
You tried to break his hold while assuring him, “I can get changed myself. You can go wait in the hall, Coriolanus.”
“No, my darling rose, you can't. Now, be a good girl and let me help you so we can get out of here.” He told you in a tone that was sickeningly sweet.
“Corio-” You began to protest, only for him to slap you across the face. 
Tears welled up in your eyes as your hand automatically flew up to cradle your stinging cheek.
“I told you to be a good girl and let me help you, Y/N.” He sighed. 
“You hit me…” You trailed off in shock as tears spilled down your cheeks.
“Oh, my darling rose, I didn't mean to hurt you.” The pretty platinum blonde man cooed while prying your hand away from the cheek that he’d struck in his frustrated anger. His blue eyes raked over your cheek, which was raw and red from the slap. Seeing your tears rolling hotly down your cheeks turned him on, as horrible as that sounded. Brushing his knuckles along your puffy cheekbone, that would surely bruise within an hour or so, he softly said, “I don't like brats and backtalk, Y/N. If only you were a good girl then I wouldn't have slapped you.”
His words left your mind going a mile a minute. So, wait, it was your fault he slapped you? All because you didn't want his help changing? That didn't make sense. Should it make sense?
You were drawn out of your mental musings whenever you felt Coriolanus’ tongue lap up the tears along your cheek. Your breath hitched at the action. Your felt a tightness in your chest and a fluttering in your lower belly as he tilted your face to lick the tears of your untouched cheek. 
As his tongue traced your cheekbone, lapping up the salty tear stains on your skin, you felt a tingle in your core. Oh no. You can't have this reaction to him. It's wrong; he’s a married man and older than you. Hell, he's even older than your older brother.
Even though you knew being turned on by him was wrong, it didn't stop you from rubbing your thighs together.
When he pulled away from you, he gave you a lined smile and suggested, “Now that we have an understanding, let's get you in your pretty dress so we can go home.”
Your head was fuzzy with want and you had a slight ache in between your legs, so you were in no shape to protest or fight back. “Okay.” Your breath was shaky as you nodded. “Okay.”
“Seems like I have quite the effect on you, my darling rose.” Coriolanus smirked as his nose ran along your jawline. Your heartbeat was beating quickly, perhaps too quickly, while you felt heat pool in between your legs. Oh god, you've never felt like this before (yea, you've been turned on before, but not to the point where you felt uncomfortable and wanted to rip your hair out) and it both startled and excited you. 
He licked the shell of your ear, causing a shiver to run down your spine. “I must confess, Y/N, that you also have quite the effect on me.” He whispered into your ear before pulling away and leaving you to stare up at him with shock all over your face. “Don't look so shocked, my darling. You’re very beautiful and you're resilient; a victor.” 
Turning you around, he gently untied your hospital gown as if he was untying the bows to his favorite piece of lingerie. When he was done, he spun you around, nearly knocking you off balance and slid the gown off your shoulders. Your eyes darted to the floor as your breasts were exposed to him. You felt so small under his gaze and towering form as he slid the gown the rest of the way off you. 
“You have such nice tits.” Coriolanus smiled in awe, lust shining in his eyes, as he began to palm your nice tits.
“Coriolanus-” You started, only for him to cut you off with the request of, “Coryo, call me Coryo.”, as he began to run his thumbs over your nipples while cupping your tits in his large, calloused hands.
“Coryo, we can't do this here. We're in my hospital room.” You told him despite his actions causing you to get even wetter then you already were between your legs.
“It's a private room, my darling rose. I paid enough for it, so I don't see the harm in us getting my money's worth.”
What the hell did he mean by that? Did he seriously want to mess around in your hospital room? Oh no. No, no, no. No. You're drawing that line at that. 
Your hands wrapped around his wrist as you told him, “I just want to get out of here, Coryo. You promised to take me home, remember?”
You prayed that your words knocked some sense into him because you didn't want your first time doing sexual things to be in a hospital room, where a nurse could walk in at any time, with him (he was a married man for God's sakes!).
His demeanor deflated and he sighed, “Yes, my darling rose, I did promise you that didn't I?”, while pulling away from you. He grabbed your dress from the bed and motioned for you to lift up your hands.
“What about my underwear?” You asked, feeling a bit exposed as Coryo looked you up and down with a hungry glint in his eye. It was as if he was a starving man and you were a juicy steak ready to eat.
“You don't need them, darling. Once we get to our penthouse you'll be changing into a shirt to sleep in anyways.” He explained while motioning, once again, for you to lift your arms. This time you obeyed him and he pulled your best floral dress over your head. He smoothed it out, only to press a kiss to your forehead and smile. “You're all ready to go, my Victor.”
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The car ride to the luxury penthouse seemed to take ages. You were alone with Coriolanus since he was driving and it made you feel a bit uncomfortable. After what happened in your hospital room (him stripping you and groping your boobs) you didn't think it was a good idea to be alone with him. He was married and you didn't want to lose your innocence, all of your firsts, your virginity to a man that would never be yours no matter the chemistry or effect you had on each other.
You were staring aimlessly out the window when Coryo startled you by placing a hand on your thigh. You didn't say a word, just sighed uncomfortably.
Looking over at you with a worried expression, Coriolanus asked, “What's wrong, Y/N? You seem troubled.”
Pulling your eyes off the window, you snapped your head to look at the platinum blonde in the driver's seat and honestly told him how you felt. “You shouldn't be resting your hand on my thigh, Coryo. You’re married.”
The gold ring on his finger mocked him as it shines against the red and cream floral fabric of your dress. He never had anyone turn him down because of that thin gold band he was branded with by saying ‘I do’ to Livia Cardew, well that is until now. Coriolanus knew that you were young and innocent from District 12 so the thought of being a mistress would horrify you. He knew that he had to ease your worries, so he simply told you, “Don't worry about my wife, darling. I’m taking care of everything; she won't be my wife much longer.”
“I wasn't aware ya’ll were having marriage problems. The Capitol gossip rags make it seem like the marriage is a happy one.”
“Things aren't always as they seem here in the Capitol, my darling rose.” He told you before correcting your grammar with a stern, “And it's I wasn't aware that you were having marital problems.” Patting you on the thigh as he switched lanes, he explained, “You're not in District 12 anymore and since you'll be staying here in the Capitol for a while it's best that you learn how to speak properly; like a Capitol citizen.”
You didn't say a word, just numbly nodded. You never thought that staying in the Capitol while Victor’s Village and your house was constructed meant changing how you talked. You never thought you talked strange, well until now. “Do I sound weird when I talk, Coryo?” You asked, staring at the side of his face as he drove.
“No.” He shook his head. “We just need to work on some small grammar errors here and there, but no, darling, you sound just fine when you talk.”
“Oh…” You trailed off, turning your attention back to looking out your window. 
He gave your thigh a gentle squeeze, “You're a rose that just needs some extra pruning and tender care, but fortunately for you I'm an excellent gardener that favors white roses.” His thumb grazed your thigh as he explained, “White roses are the perfect symbol of purity and perfection.” As he pulled up to a large building, his baritone heavily hung in the air with the meaningful words of, “Unblemished; untouched, just like you, my darling rose.”
But how long would you be Unblemished and untouched? Would he take your innocence as soon as you entered the penthouse or would he wait until he was free from his wife? The bigger question was did you even want him to take your innocence? To give you all of your first experiences with a man? Now that was the million dollar question you didn't have an answer for. Or maybe you did, but didn't want to acknowledge it.
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AN: Did anyone catch the tv show easter egg I threw in there?
Tags: @kuroosbby001 , @purriteen , @poppyflower-22 , @meetmeatyourworst , @whipwhoops , @bxtchopolis, @readingthingsonhere,@savagenctzen, @ryswritingrecord, @erikasurfer, @tulips2715, @universal-s1ut, @thesmutconnoisseur, @squidscottjeans, @sudek4l, @wearemadeofstardust0, @mashiromochi, @gracieroxzy, @belcalis9503, @shari-berri
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vicocaaisha · 8 months ago
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Crazy for You
Baek Harin x Reader Fic.
Sypnosis: Desperate for Harin's attention, you tried to make her jealous that somehow ended good and bad?
Warnings: Kidnapping, Yandere!Harin, fluff at the end! (Part 1, you can read this or skip it.)
Requested by: @churim
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You’ve been trying your best to avoid Suji, ever since Harin confessed her feelings for you.
However, Harin has still left you on your own. Who knows where she is. It made your stomach upset because of the anxiety you’re feeling.
Maybe she was toying with you? Maybe she lost interest and got bored? Who knows. Your mind is clouded with doubts.
With nowhere to go, you decided to seek help from Suji. Maybe Harin will come out if you talk to Suji?
“Hey, Suji-ah.” You waved to her. You were nervous because you ghosted her after talking with Harin. Suji is cold hearted to be honest and you expected her to ignore you.
“I don’t want to hear your excuses, Y/N.” Suji said as she walked away from you
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Harin is totally ignoring you. You tried to approach her but then Wooyi got in the way and pushed you then told you to “stay away”. She didn’t even look at your way even if you fell after Wooyi pushed you. She was overprotective over you before.
You don’t get it.
Last week, Harin just confessed her love and now she’s acting cold towards you now?
There’s nothing else you can do but follow and try to gain Suji’s trust; you failed miserably.
In the end, you felt helpless.
As you were laying in bed late at night, you realized that you got played because Harin knows you’re totally whipped at her with everything she does. You were regretting so bad for betraying Suji, and so disappointed that you fell for Harin’s sick manipulation.
An idea went to your head as you were laying in bed. What if you make Harin jealous on purpose? Maybe she’ll come out or if she didn’t care at all then it’s time to give.
You quickly jumped out of your bed and wrote a "love letter" for Suji.
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Harin is glaring at you because you bump into her, purposely.
“Sorry.” was all you said with no feelings at all before walking away from her, but in your mind, you were high fiving yourself because of your plan. When you bump into her, you let your love letter for Suji fall.
The love letter only contains about how you regretted liking Harin and that you truly wish that you were dating Suji instead.
That will do the work! You thought to yourself.
When you were out of sight, Harin picked up the paper that fell from you.
It has a kiss mark? Harin thought to herself.
Harin thought it must be for her not until she read the contents. She was fuming with rage, what was that she read about? You like Suji and not her? You regretted kissing her?
Oh boy, she felt like she could hurt someone on the spot.
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You were walking with Suji after school. Suji felt tired of telling you to go away because of your pessimistic manner. You don’t even want to talk to Suji at that time. You were just kind of wishing that Harin was watching you being all over to Suji.
“Forgive me already, Suji-ah!” You said while hugging Suji’s arm.
Suddenly, a black van stopped in front of both of you, and it opened. It opened! Four men crowded over the two of you and put a sack over your heads.
You tried to shout, but the unknown man put his hand over your mouth, in which you struggled to breathe. You felt like you were going to pass out from the restriction of air and the feeling of fear you have right now.
Why did you decide to go home late with Suji? You should have gone home right away after the bell rang! You were regretting everything. You felt Suji being thrown out after the van was driven away.
It’s getting harder to breathe, you’re hyperventilating because of all the things that are happening. With that you passed out.
When you woke up, you were tied in a chair. Your arms and feet are sore from the tight rope that is against your skin.
The room was dark, you were so, so scared. A shadow suddenly appeared.
“Mhhm!” You struggled against the cloth on your mouth. You were hoping that person would help you.
“Tsk.” was all you heard from that shadow, it sounds like it’s a feminine voice.
“Do you really like Suji?” Harin opened the light and it revealed her as the perpetrator of all these happenings.
You were shocked; can’t even move anymore. She was holding a knife, you really are so scared right now.
Harin walked towards you, with a knife in her hands. She removed the cloth that is blocking you from talking.
“Speak.” Harin demanded.
“I– I don’t!” You said before bursting into tears. You were so scared of her, you didn’t know that Harin is capable of this, she is crazy.
She’s crazy for you.
“Then what’s this paper about, hmm?” Harin waved the paper on your face, with the lipstick mark you left on and you can still smell your perfume that you sprayed on the paper.
“Harin, will you believe?” Your mouth was quivering from fear.
“Tell me!” Harin shouted, it echoed throughout the room. You startled from it, you’re regretting everything.
“I w–was trying to make you jealous. Y–ou left me on my own, I thought you didn’t like me anymore.” You managed to say with sobs in between them.
“I’m sorry, Harin, I like you. I do!” You said as you were crying really hard this time.
Harin’s gaze softens after hearing your explanation, but that isn’t enough to trust you again. She felt like you betrayed her.
“I was upset, I don’t want to be far away from you again!” You added. You felt like this was your last day. You should have eaten that burger you’ve been craving.
Unexpectedly, Harin lost the grip on her knife and it fell. She also fell, crying.
As she was crying, she held onto your clothes. She was hugging you too. It lasted about a few minutes before she regained her composure.
She picked up the knife again and this time, she freed you from being tied. When you stood up, Harin hugged you suddenly. You embraced her hug and rested your head on her shoulders, you felt tired.
“I’m sorry for everything, I freaked out.” Harin mumbled. She felt peaceful when you hugged her back.
As you can see, Harin isn’t good at expressing her feelings. She instantly lost it when she read your love letter for Suji and she felt like something needed to be done. She thought that if she kidnapped you; you could be forever hers.
That night, Harin explained to you everything. She told you that she was really scared of being in a relationship because she has trust issues that’s why she was ignoring you.
“I only have my eyes on you, Harin.” You reassured her.
You went home with her. She cared for the bruises formed on your wrists, she bathed you, and cuddled you on your bed.
“Don’t leave me again.” You said as you looked at her eyes. The room was dimmed, the source you only have is the moonlight and it shines right through Harin’s face.
“I’ll try to break my walls down for you, Y/N.” Her eyes were glistening. She’s so pretty but crazy.
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I'll write a Doah x Reader soon! Hope you guys like it^^
Also, I think I can only write a bottom reader, but I'll try my best to write a top!reader.
Send request guys, hehe.
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invisible-lint · 6 months ago
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Everything Could Be Okay: Chapter 2
Rhys x Tamlin's sister!reader
Summary: Time for a wedding... Or is it?
Warnings: nothing I can think of!
Word Count: 1.4k
Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 3
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You had never been a fan of parties. They were too loud, the air too stuffy, and the gossiping of the Spring Ladies you were forced to be with was obnoxious. But you had endured, not wanting to leave Feyre to fend for herself. Or worse, alone with Ianthe who had gotten on your nerves with how pushy she had been while planning what was supposed to be Feyre’s wedding.
Feyre had made her escape nearly an hour ago, heading up to bed, and here you were, stuck, nodding along as you pretended to listen to the gossiping females surrounding you.
"From what I hear, Tamlin is looking to find a husband for you." That got your attention. The room is suddenly suffocating, air struggling to find its way to your lungs. Your hand reaches to your necklace, finding the ring on it. The group of females look worried as you back away, feeling as if the room is closing in on you.
"Excuse me," you manage to mumble, fleeing the room.
You run out to the gardens, not noticing Tamlin following you. You stop, sinking into a bench, trying not to hyperventilate. How could he do this? Just because he wanted to pretend nothing had happened doesn't mean that you would. He sits next to you and you stand, anger flooding your body when you see him, pushing out the panic.
"How dare you?" You hiss, blinking back the angry tears stinging your eyes.
He sighs. "What is it I've supposedly done now?"
"When were you going to tell me you were looking for a husband for me?"
"You're overreacting. Someone asked about marrying you, and I simply said I would think about it."
"No. You don't get to make that choice for me. I am not ready for that. I am not ready to replace him!" You start to pace, trying to keep your temper in check. 
"It would be good for you to move on. You can't be unhappy forever." 
You lose your temper then, whirling to face him, pointing a finger at his chest. "You don't understand! I felt it when he died! It was like my soul was cleaved in two! That is not something I can just move on from! Had Feyre's death been permanent you would not have moved on as quickly as you're asking me to!" He growls at you, claws sliding out. You flinch, knowing you said too much and turn to run further into the garden. This time, Tamlin doesn’t follow.
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The next day is the wedding, and you sit with Feyre as several females prepare her. You watch silently, trying to gauge how she is feeling. You know about the nightmares, and have noticed the weight loss, but you don’t know what to do. What can you do? You’ve offered companionship, tried getting her to eat more of the foods you know she likes, but still, she is wasting away before your eyes. You can’t talk about Under the Mountain, no one talks about it. No one can. 
You notice Feyre is looking more and more nervous, and you ask for the room to be cleared. Once it’s just the two of you in the room, you pull a chair over so you’re right next to her, taking her hands in yours.
“I was nervous before my wedding too. I couldn’t eat anything and then I almost fainted right before the ceremony.” You squeeze her hands gently. “But I knew it was what I wanted. Andras and I had courted for nearly 20 years before I agreed to marry him. I suppose what I’m trying to say is if you’ve changed your mind, if you need more time, I will come up with some sort of reason to postpone the wedding. Tamlin doesn’t need to know about any of it.” 
Feyre sits for a moment, thinking before shaking her head. “I’m ready. I want this.”
You nod, squeezing her hands again. “Then I’ll be right there with you.”
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You suppose you shouldn’t be surprised, Rhysand was prone to making dramatic entrances after all. Showing up right as Feyre was walking down the aisle seemed just like the kind of thing he would do.The part of you screaming its relief is hard to ignore, but you manage to shove it down.
You stride across the lawn, chin held high, interrupting the argument. "I will be joining Feyre as a chaperone." The violet eyed male quirks an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a smile. “Oh?”
"Yes. No part of your agreement said she had to spend her time in your court alone." 
"I suppose not."
"So I'm joining her." 
At that moment Tamlin finally finds his voice. "Absolutely not."
"You'd have her go alone?" You ask, raising an eyebrow at your brother. 
He sputters, before making an exasperated noise, knowing you're right. 
"Don't worry Tamlin, I'll treat her better than you treated my sister," Rhysand taunts. You shoot him an exasperated look, ignoring your brother's snarl. He crosses over to you and Feyre, wrapping an arm around each of you and winnowing away, whisking both of you off to the night court.
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You wander the halls of the mountain palace, thinking back on the past few hours. It’d been hard not to laugh when Feyre had thrown her shoes at Rhysand, the look on his face had made it even harder. But more than anything, the interaction made you feel relieved. Somewhere in there, who Feyre truly was still resided. And he had managed to draw her out. 
You walk out onto a balcony, glad that whatever magic seems to be heating the interior of the palace extends to out here. You gaze up at the stars, lost in thoughts about how you might help Feyre. When you eventually turn to go back inside, Rhysand is standing in the doorway, staring at you, the expression on his face unreadable. He walks over, leaning against the railing of the balcony next to you. 
“This is the second time now I’ve found you roaming in the middle of the night. I’m starting to think you don’t sleep.”
“I don’t.” He raises an eyebrow in response.
“Not well at least. It’s… a long story.”
“One you won’t share with me?”
You cross your arms, shooting him a hard look. “I don’t know you.”
“Ah, yes. But I assume you intend to accompany Feyre everytime. One week a month for the rest of your life gives you plenty of time to know me.”
“I think I know enough.” You squeeze your arms, trying to ignore the way your heartbeat races at the idea of getting to know him.
“Do you make it a habit of assuming you know people based on what you’ve heard?”
“Do you make it a habit of being so obnoxious?” You huff, flinging your arms down to your side, temper stirring. The corner of his mouth quirks up into a smile as he tries not to laugh.
“Are you always so easily irritated?”
You snap, letting everything you’ve been holding in flood out. “You would be too if you were me! I have lost so much and I’m supposed to just smile and pretend I’m okay. That I don’t dream about my dead husband every night. It has barely been a year since he died and someone asked Tamlin if they could marry me. A year! I was with him for almost 100 years and people have the audacity to think I should move on because I can’t be miserable forever! Not to mention that without him, without his sacrifice, Feyre wouldn’t have been able to save anyone! Oh, and speaking of Feyre, I don’t think she wants to marry my brother. But she refuses to admit it and there's nothing I can do and she’s going to end up as trapped and miserable in Spring as I am! And I have nobody to tell this to because the only person who I could ever truly share my feelings with is dead! So I’m so sorry if I’m a little bit irritable.” You finish your rant, chest heaving. Rhysand just stares at you, a little wide eyed, at a loss for words. Suddenly realizing how much you had shared, you turn and run, heading anywhere but there, but he remains rooted to the spot.
He had felt it. Felt all your anger, frustration and anguish down the blossoming bond. Mate. You’re his mate. He lets out a shaky breath, turning to grip the railing, his heart dropping to the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t tell you. How could he when you had just shouted at him about how you're still grieving your husband? So this, like so many he already carried, would be his sole burden to bear.
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A/N: And there it is! I'm already working on chapter 3 and hope to have it posted sometime either this week or early next week. it's already a LONG one! As always, requests are open and feel free to send them on in!
Divider by @tsunami-of-tears
Taglist: @lilah-asteria @readingislife2006 @acourtofimagines @mistymoocow @irelanrose @darker-december @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @loving-and-dreaming
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shiratamahatsumiyo · 3 months ago
Text
TWST with a Blood Mage reader (Part 3)
Warnings: Blood and Gore, Slight Swearing
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• When the fae entered the room, the sight made him fall out of his levitating upsidedown posture out of shock. He closed his eyes, trying to gather his bearings, and blinking his eyelids a few times before he expressed what looked like mild panic. He looked at the headmaster, expecting an explanation, but it seems like Crowley also froze in what looks more like mild fear.
?????: "BY THE SEVENS, WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED HERE, CROWLEY?! WHY ARE YOU JUST STANDING THERE?!"
Crowley: "DO I LOOK LIKE I HAVE ANY IDEA OF WHAT HAPPENED?!"
?????: "NOW'S NOT THE TIME FOR ONE OF YOUR SORRY EXCUSES, YOU BIRD BRAINED MORON! THEY NEED MEDICAL ATTENTION!!"
Crowley: "I'LL CALL THE INFIRMARY --"
?????: "INFIRMARY?! WHAT ARE YOU, STUPID?! THIS ISN'T JUST SOMETHING YOU COULD SIMPLY PUT A BANDAID ON! CALL AN AMBULANCE!!"
• Seeing the gore in front of the fae caused him to lash out at Crowley and hollar for any medics. The seven men in robes snapped back from their shock. The man with glasses pulled out his magical pen to summon bandages and the man with red hair pulled out his to cast a healing spell.
• The floating tablet dialed an emergency hotline while stuttering and hyperventilating, the man with blonde hair quickly talked to the operator on the other side of the screen.
Operator: "Hello, this is the Sage Island Hospital, what's your emergency?"
????: "W-W-We... They.... B-blood... sob..."
Operator: "Sir? I can't hear you. Please speak clearly."
????: "Blood...sob... Everywhere.....sob... H-h-help...sob... "
Operator: "Sir, please--"
???: "OH FOR SEVEN'S SAKE! LISTEN HERE, THERE'S A PERSON HERE THAT NEEDS AN AMBULANCE! IF YOU DON'T COME HERE QUICK, I DOUBT THEIR SKIN WILL STAY TOGETHER ANY LONGER. DO YOU HEAR ME?"
Operator: "W-we hear you, sir... Please stay on the line. We sent an ambulance to your location."
• The man with glasses and the man with red hair surrounded you cautiously, careful not to touch the exposed mangled flesh and wrapped your wounds with the bandages. All you can do is just go with the flow, knowing that explaining the concept of your complicated magic would be useless now. Besides... It's very amusing.
??????: "... A-alright. Can you hear me?"
BloodMage ! Yuu: "Yes."
??????: "Calm down. Breathe. The ambulance will be here for a moment, alright?"
BloodMage! Yuu: "Okay."
????: "Stay with us, now. Don't faint. Oh Sevens!"
BloodMage! Yuu: "I won't."
??????: "Azul, please pull it together!"
??????: "Look at us. Y-You're going to be fine."
BloodMage! Yuu: "Okay."
• You're not sure if the men are comforting you or they're comforting themselves, judging by the look on their eyes. Their hands shaking and their breaths shortened. They're more unnerved by how calm you are despite your burnt skin.
• The man with lion ears ordered the students to call the infirmary ghosts in case the ambulance doesn't arrive on time. The fae guided the panicking students to the exit, including the man with the turban.
• Crowley ordered the ghosts to immediately vacate Grim from the premises. The cat did not resist and could only look at the mess he caused as the doors closed behind him.
?????: "THE GHOSTS ARE HERE!"
Crowley: "Finally!"
?????: "EVERYONE, STAND BACK!"
Random Student A: "Th-th-they're dead 😰!"
Random Student B: "There's blood everywhere 😱!"
Random Student C: "Eugh... Crap, I think I'm gonna be sick 🤢..."
Random Student A: "It's that horrid monster's fault 😨!"
Random Student B: "...sob... Why is this happening?...sob... I just got into this school!...sob.... 😥"
Random Student C: "I just wanna go home, man! 😭"
Infirmary Ghost A: "LET US GO THROUGH!"
Infirmary Ghost B: "PLEASE LET US SEE THEM!"
• The wall of students parted like the Red Sea to make way for the ghosts. The ghosts immediately operated on you and began to layer the bandages the two men wrapped. A crowd of nosy students gathered around, either fascinated by the gore or wanting to witness how the ghosts apply first aid.
?????: "Hey, hey, I wanna see- EW! I regret seeing that! #NotForWeakStomachs!"
????: "Cater, just stop taking photos! Aren't you supposed to evacuate the students?"
Cater: "Don't worry, Trey. Lilia already handled that... Ugh, I'm gonna need bleach for my eyes for the rest of the week..."
Lilia: "Alright, I guided everyone to safety and the monster was captured and removed not long ago... How are Riddle and Azul doing?"
Trey: "Lilia! Thanks for helping us."
Cater: "Yeah, seriously thanks."
Trey: "Riddle is actually calm but it's hard to think that this is his first time doing first aid."
Cater: "Azul looks pretty pale but surprisingly, he can handle it without Jade after all."
Trey: "sigh, Cater... How's Kalim?"
Lilia: "He's horrified. The poor boy cried rivers. I had to call Jamil after he vomited on the floor."
• While the three of them are chatting, the ghosts give permission to Riddle and Azul to let go and let them do the rest. The boys approached the three looking disturbed. They look at the blood stains on their clothes, unnerved by what they had seen.
Cater: "Riddle! Woah... That's a lot of b-blood..."
Trey: "How are you holding up? Are they still alive?"
Azul: "........"
Riddle: "..........."
Lilia: "Riddle? Azul?"
Azul: "...Riddle, did you see that?"
Riddle: "...Yes."
Trey: "What are you talking about?"
Cater: "They're not dead, a-are they?"
• Cater and Trey eagerly wait for an answer, clearly hoping that you would stay alive and kicking. And well... You are.
Azul: "F-forgive me if I sound delusional, Riddle. But did you see how they aren't affected at all?"
Riddle: "No, you're not delusional. I definitely saw that... They seemed to stop the bleeding by themselves without us using pressure..."
Cater: "Guys, you're scaring us. So please just spill it."
Lilia: "... Just what I suspected."
Trey: "W-what do you mean?"
Infirmary Ghost A: "WAAAH!!!"
• All of the students become more alert after hearing the ghost's shriek and another panic surged through the room. The ghosts frantically search for more bandages as the blood starts... Levitating?!
Infirmary Ghost B: "Th-they're certainly not normal!"
Crowley: "Move, move! What in Twisted Wonderland is happening?"
Infirmary Ghost B: "They are healing themself!"
BloodMage! Yuu: "Hehee~"
• Everyone heard a giggle from you and they froze. They looked in your direction and were frightened to see streams of blood coating your every limb, encasing it like additional bandages and melted itself into your bones. Finally, it solidified and healed your limbs perfectly.
Lilia: "...Could it be?"
Crowley: ...I-it's...!"
Lilia: "...Blood Magic."
• You're unfazed by the attention you're receiving. You stood up and flexed your newly healed limbs. The mirror's face then disappeared.
Crowley: "...I... I thought it was forgotten...!... I-i thought it's forbidden to...!"
Lilia: "... Crowley, please listen to me. We must guide the students to the dorms before things get even more complicated."
Crowley: "And you're leaving this unexpectedly violent event to me? With them?!"
Lilia: "Crowley, I apologize... I may be centuries old but even I cannot grasp the knowledge of Blood Magic. I hope you understand."
Crowley: "Oh... Very well. I shall take matters into my own hands then..."
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