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countlessimagines · 2 months

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Your World [ Wolverine x Reader ]

Summary: your Wolverine was your whole world.

A/N: I like writing angsty stuff and this movie provided me with the best possible scenarios <3 hehehe I love wolverine

Warnings: Cussing, mentions of blood

Marvel MASTERLIST Link here

SPOILERS BELOW

It wasn’t an ideal love story that brought you back to Logan.

Being a mutant with incredible healing abilities and a broken heart made it so easy for Stryker to capture you. Your Wolverine had been the one to rescue you from the clutches of Stryker and the horrible fate that loomed over your head. All the days of experiments and cold rooms where you’d be injected with who knows what, it all lead to him.

But you always had to remind yourself that Logan had gotten you out, made you a X-Men, but found the brutal truth of how dangerous it was to be loved by you.

You loved deeply and endlessly, like a void waiting for eternity to be loved and to love. Logan was exactly what your heart desired for years.

Someone who could never die, never leave you.

Fighting alongside each other became a beautiful symphony. And God protect anyone who caused you harm, because Logan would only see red and slice them to pieces. It was a miracle none of the X-men had been torn to shreds, but Scott always came close.

The team would always joke about your relationship, saying how could an innocent soul be in love with such a brute like Wolverine.

But Logan knew the only way he could breathe was to be with you, to hold you, to kiss and love you.

He would always find his way to you no matter the circumstance.

Beast was holding you in the infirmary because he wanted to run tests? Logan was there.

Storm and Jean wanted to have a girls night? Logan was sitting outside the room in case anything happened.

Scott was training you in hand to hand combat? Logan was definitely there.

Your world consisted of him and him only.

And maybe that is why it hurt so much when he let your entire team die, because you had not made them your whole world.

You had been away on a mission by yourself when you received the news of their passing. You returned to a bloodied home, no sign of Wolverine to be found.

Life began to blur after what happened. You had to go into hiding, because people blamed you for what happened, too. And there was no one there to stop you from spiraling into a flurry of self hatred.

Hatred for what you had become. A love sick puppy so consumed with Logan only. Maybe if you had been there, maybe if you hadn’t put so much trust in him, maybe if you could have taken the hits for your team.

And the thought that stuck with you the most, if you had been there, screaming for help - would Logan had only saved you and left the rest to die?

Because the love you shared was slowly becoming so obvious to you that it was not pure or natural, but rather so simple it would have made you and Logan public enemy number one.

But you supposed that had already happened, too.

Your mutant abilities were the only thing you had left, so you consumed yourself in underground work. Becoming exactly what the X-men had fought against.

Shedding your uniform, you had to separate yourself from the X-men because people recognized you too easily. It was hard to find any work where people wanted a tainted mutant.

You tried your hardest to not let every moment be consumed by the thought of Logan. He had never reached out to you after the event, despite the grief between you so overwhelmingly strong. He couldn’t face you and love someone who would have stepped through hell and back for him.

He felt as if he didn’t deserve it.

So time continued to pass as the bond between the two of you was severed so deeply that it was suffocating to be apart.

But it wasn’t until Deadpool showed up to your apartment that you were finally addressing your past.

“Leave, now. I’m not hearing any of your bullshit.” You tried to close your door but he stopped it.

“Please, c’mon. I need you! Wolverine needs you!”

You tensed at the mere mention of him. “If he needed me so desperately, it is far too late for him to come back.”

“But you’re his one and only, for fuck’s sake! Every variant I’ve met of him has had a you stalking around like a lap dog. You know how many of you’s have beaten the shit out of me?” He rambled on, and you rolled your eyes.

“I don’t care to understand what you’re saying, so goodbye, Wade!”

Deadpool sighed before kicking the door in and stabbing you through the chest with one of his blades. You stared at him in shock and couldn’t register anything as he flung you over his shoulder into an orange portal.

You landed on a hard ground that pushed the blade out of you. “Wade, you’re a dead man.”

He stepped through the portal and leaned over your body. “Sorry about that, but I can’t die so you’re stuck with not only me, but Wolverine!”

Deadpool giggled and ran off, making sure to rip the blade out of your stomach. You winced but felt your regeneration cells working to stitch you back together.

Slowly sitting up, you spat out blood.

“I tried to tell him not to bring you into this.”

You froze at the voice you fought to forget, willing calm into your fast beating heart.

Sitting up fully only made your legs wobble and your head spin. But you had to look up into the eyes of the man you still loved.

Logan looked different, healthier and happier. It only made you feel sick.

“I’ve been busy.” He said it so casually that it made you want to slap his chest for the lack of greeting. “Wade gave me a second chance. I helped save his world.”

“You haven’t seen me in years and you choose to brag?” You scoffed, removing your shirt to assess the damage Wade had done to your shirt.

Logan sucked in a breath as he took in your battle worn scars. Despite your healing factor, you still kept every scar from every wound you had endured.

He remembered the last time he saw you, you only adorned a few on your chest and stomach.

Now it was littered with them.

“You’ve been busy too, I gather?” Logan said with a hint of sarcasm.

You glared at him. “Why am I here?”

“Wade thought that I needed you.” He admitted it with such ease, like he knew it to be true in his heart.

“And? Do you need me?”

He hesitated before answering. “I’ve always needed you… and I think that’s why I let myself go for so many years. Because I knew that no matter what I did or said to you, you would never forgive me. I would always be the one who let our team die… let you go.”

“Well you’re right, because I never would forgive you. Not after abandoning all of us,” you choked out, the tears beginning to creep into the corners of your eyes. “I loved you fiercely, Logan. All it would have taken was one call during those first few days and I would have been there for you. We could’ve been healing together. But you chose this life of despair for both of us, Logan.”

“I know.” He said, his own eyes watering.

“I despise you.” You said, but your heart was breaking, letting out the true feelings. It was bleeding for him and for him only.

Logan stepped closer and you did not stop him.

“I want nothing to do with you.” You said, your voice cracking.

“I understand.” He said, five feet away from you now.

“I hate you.” You began to weep, the blood in your heart revealing what you wanted truly.

“I don’t blame you.” Logan closed the gap between the two of you, holding you close to his chest. You cried into his shoulder, holding on for dear life. “I’m never leaving you again.”

All you could muster was a small nod, your tears staining his shirt. His own were dripping onto the top of your head.

And in the empty apartment, you and Logan stood, holding onto each other.

Holding your world together.

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nyxronomicon · 1 year

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Ugh so annoyed the link in my childe fic is broken and I'll have to get on browser to fix it... 🙄 I'll reblog it again when it's no longer broken lol

#sigh. even updated my app and that didn't work #Tumblr needs to stop trying to be like Twitter and fix these random fucking issues #anyway please let me know if you run in to any broken links...#can't get to the original post AT ALL from the app... not even searching my own blog

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scarlethexelove · 7 months

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There Is Nothing Wrong With You

I know it says Sorry For Your Loss but it was the only one I could find and this was what I wanted. Also Not mine

Pairing: Wanda x Autistic!Reader

Word Count: 895

Warnings: Barely any angst, Comfort, Fluff, Self-Hatred, A little bit of hitting oneself

A/n: Wanted to write this short little fluff story with Autistic reader. This really has to do with Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria, which is also highly linked to ADHD. I can struggle with it just wanted to write a comfort for it. So hopefully others can enjoy.

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN

Wanda makes her way back to her room. She comes across your door slightly cracked and peers in seeing you sitting on the floor in front of your bed building a Lego set as the tv plays quietly in the background. She slowly opens the door and ventures in shutting the door behind her.

You had been avoiding Wanda all day and if you couldn’t get away you would give her one word answers. She was getting frustrated and upset that you were acting so cold. She was also worried that maybe she had done something to upset you. Wanda had told you something that she thought was minor and you apologized profusely to her not meaning to be upsetting or annoying to her. But you had worked it out and were fine last night when you said your good nights.

You hadn't even noticed Wanda come in until you heard the clicking of your door shutting. You look up at her and immediately wish that you could run, but there is nowhere to go and you know that you will have to deal with this now. Wanda won’t let you go until you talk to her and you know that.

“Y/n/n what’s wrong? You have been avoiding me all day and when you’re not you are being cold and kind of rude.” Wanda sits down on the floor an arms length away from you. You start to fidget a little and pull your knees to your chest. “I’m sorry.” You look down not wanting to meet her gaze, your voice small. “Is this about last night?” She asks gently, hooking her finger under your chin and lifting your gaze to hers. There are tears already in your eyes as you shake your head trying to stop the tears from falling. She can see the conflict behind your eyes.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It’s not you. I’m the one who is messed up. I mess everything up. I ruin everything. You don’t deserve this. You’re better off without me.” Your words come out fast and broken. Her heart breaking hearing your words. Your left hand threading through your hair as you take your right hand using your palm and hitting it against your head hating yourself hating your brain for making you this way. Continuing to mutter “Stupid, so stupid.”

Wanda’s hand gently gripping your wrist and pulling them to her chest. Your hands gripping at the top of her shirt as she pulls you into her lap wrapping her arms around you tightly as you begin to sob into her shoulder. She gently rocks the both of you as she whispers reassurances in your ear. Lightly kissing the top of your head, keeping you tightly in her arms calming you slowly.

Once your sobs turn into sniffles Wanda gently pulls you back cupping your face in her hands. She uses the pads of her thumbs to wipe the tears on your cheeks. She is being so soft and tender with you which just makes your hate for yourself even more. She shakes her head with tears in her eyes. “You did not mess anything up and there is nothing wrong with you. You are perfect the way you are.” She gives you a tearful smile gently rubbing your cheek. You nuzzle into her hand looking for comfort. “Please don’t ever say I’m better off without you detka. I have not so much already and I can’t lose you too. I would give up the world to see your smile. You mean everything to me.” You can’t help the tears rolling down your cheeks at her words. She gently kisses your forehead, then your nose, and then finally leaves a kiss on your lips before leaning her head on yours. “I love you Y/n.”

More tears stream down your face. You can’t believe Wanda just said I love you. “Really?” Your voice sounds small and hopeful. She tearfully smiles and nods her head. “I love you so much.” She kisses you pouring all the love she has for you into that one kiss leaving you breathless. “I love you too.” You whisper, pressing your head back against hers. The room fills with both of your giggles at the confession. As your giggles die down you both stay there heads pressed together as you bask in the closeness and love.

“I’m sorry I was being so cold and rude I didn’t mean to.” You break the silence. Wanda shakes her head with a small smile on her face. “Detka I know it is hard for you sometimes. There is absolutely nothing wrong with you. Know that I will always be here for you even if we disagree or argue. I will be patient and understanding of your needs.” You can’t help that more tears are shining in your eyes and you look down. “Thank you Wanda. I-I want to be here for you too.” She lifts your head back up for a kiss.

“I love you.” Wanda hugs you closer as you bury your head in her neck. “I love you too.” You mumble smiling into her neck. This wasn’t how you thought any of this would go. This is when you know you have the best girlfriend in the world and want to spend the rest of your life with her.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda marvel #wanda fanfic #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff fic #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda maximoff comfort #wanda x fem!reader #wanda x you #wanda x y/n #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x female

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justauthoring · 4 months

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and i wonder... who? [5]

somehow, you find yourself torn between the two hottest guys at your school and you have no idea who to choose. loosely based off of operation: true love where geto is eunhyeuk and gojo is dohwa :)

a/n: sooooo satosugu won the poll so this is officially a satosugu x reader series! (just might be a bit of slowwww burnnn)

pairing: geto suguru x f!reader, gojo satoru x f!reader, satosugu x f!reader

tag list: @username23356-blog - @anxious-chick - @novacaneformybrain - @mandysfanfics - @rottmntrulesall - @voiceofnoreturn - @rh-tg1 - @ky0mybeloved - @black-swan-blog27 - @ladytamayolover - @the8ate - @maybe-a-bi-with - @dudalo100 - @reese-is-right - @6lonely-town6 - @its-a-damn-blue-brick - @kimi01985 - @dorusken - @siimp4youu - @catobsessedlady - @paper--angel - @animechick555 - @meshiinuma - @xxannyxx - @kaeyaviado - @kochochan-shinobulvrrs - @ichikanu - @valeriinee let me know if you'd like to added! also i still don't know how to fix the tags - it works in editing but doesn't link some when i post it. if anyone knows how to fix this, please let me know!

It was hot.

Blindingly so.

Still, you refused to take off your sweater even if you desperately wanted to. You were just thankful that your school allowed you to wear sweaters and hoodies over top of uniforms without getting in trouble for it and although normally that was something you only had to worry about in the winter, you had no choice but to today.

If you took off your sweater, then people would see the finger-sized marks across your arms from Sukuna yesterday and really, you just didn’t have the energy to deal with the questions that would inevitably follow. Nor did you want to… let it escalate any further. Sure, you’d managed to get away yesterday and had somehow gained the courage to make your breakup clear to Sukuna, but it didn't erase the fact that he’d scared you last night. And you didn’t want to imagine what would happen if somehow people got word that the bruises on your arms were from him.

It was over, anyways. You’d done it. You’d broken up with him and could now move on from him.

Move on with your life.

“You look hot,” Shoko comments from beside you, regarding you with a raised brow. “Why are you wearing a sweater when it’s blistering hot outside?”

Meeting her eyes, you shrug. “It isn’t that hot.”

“You’re sweating,” she deadpans.

Biting your lip, you choose to ignore the fact that she is very much correct. Your sweater is sticking to your skin from the obnoxious sun that is beating right over your head and the need to relieve some of the heat is more than tempting. But the sight of Sukuna running past you, meeting his dark and intimidating eyes just briefly, reminds you of why you’re keeping your sweater on.

“I just finished running,” you explain which, you guessed, wasn’t completely a lie. You were sweating because you’d just finished running but you were sweating a lot because of that and the fact that you were wearing a sweater… Shoko didn’t need to know that though.

Meeting her eyes from the corner of your own, you nod to yourself. “I’m actually a little cold.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Y-Yeah,” you breathe, fighting the urge to break under her intense stare. You didn’t even need to be looking directly at her to feel the intensity of it – if there was one thing Shoko was good at, it was seeing through your every lie. You figured that talent came with knowing you for as long as she had… still didn’t make it any less scary thought.

“Like a cold sweat.”

It’s clear she doesn’t believe you, the suspicious gaze in her eyes never wavering but she has the decency to leave it at that.

You’re incredibly thankful for that fact.

“So, you really did break it off with Ryoumen, huh?”

The two of you are standing by the bleachers while the boys have their turn playing soccer, as per your teachers instructions. The game has been going on for about five minutes now (you only just finally feeling like you’re not about to pass out) and you’ve been spending those five minutes idly chatting with Shoko and desperately trying not to ogle Geto who looks a little too good on the field right now.

Seriously, when did you start to find him attractive?

It wasn’t like you didn’t know he was attractive — of course you did. The whole female population of your school knew that Geto Suguru was attractive. You’re pretty sure he had his own little fanclub of girls that followed him around and you swear you’ve caught one of them asking him out in the hallway more times than you care to admit. So yes, objectively, you knew Geto was attractive. Incredibly attractive.

But you hadn’t really paid any of that mind until now.

It was like a fact. A statement. It hadn’t had any impact on you previously, and yet, here you were, practically drooling at the sight of him.

“–Hello? Y/N?”

A hand falls on your shoulder, the sudden touch making you jump as your eyes snap to Shoko. She’s staring back at you in concern, head tilted and brows furrowed as you blink over at her.

“I asked you a question?”

Had she?

Eyes briefly glancing back at Geto before focusing on her, you rub the back of your neck.

“Whoops,” you mumble bashfully, “sorry. What was it again? I… spaced out.”

Rolling her eyes, Shoko just snorts; “I asked if you really did break things off with Sukuna.”

“Oh!” Your eyes instantly brighten up, turning to face her fully. “I did!”

Shoko grins; “yes!” Pumping her fist in the air, she turns to you. “I’ve literally been waiting for you to do that forever.”

Rolling your eyes, you just snort. “I know, I know,” you wave her off, before pausing. You had no intention of telling her about how angry Sukuna had gotten, but it would be good to get it off your chest even a little. You just wouldn’t mention the bruise thing—besides, Shoko had said she wanted every little detail.

So, turning to her, you grin; “it was so awkward though and—”

“Shoko!”

Lips left parted in the middle of your sentence, both you and Shoko glance behind her, only to see a group of girls from another class waving at her to grab her attention. The excitement on your face fades somewhat at that, leaning back on your feet as Shoko waves back at them before glancing over at you apologetically,

“I—”

“It’s all good,” you brush off before she can apologize, waving her concern away. “Go. I’ll wait here for you.”

Shoko hesitates. “Are you sure?”

Shaking your head, you squeeze her shoulder; “of course. Go.”

With one more hesitant glance your way, Shoko nods, mouthing a ‘thank you’ before making her way over. You watch her for a moment longer before letting your eyes fall around, eyes momentarily meeting Sukuna’s and swiftly turning your head away, you move, making your way over to the bleachers on the side of the field. A few of the other girls from your class have sat down, chatting amongst themselves, and with nothing better to do, you take a seat near a corner, pulling your legs to your chest and opting to simply watch the boys.

You knew Shoko cared about you, just like you cared about her but it sucked knowing that some of the other girls wanted to be her friend but didn’t want to be yours. Anytime you’d tried to talk with her other friends before, it had just been awkward. And not something you wanted to repeat.

Sighing, you let your head fall on top of your knees.

At least you could watch Geto with no interruptions now.

“Boo!”

Or not…

Flickering your gaze to the right, your lips part when you realize it’s Gojo sitting beside you.

“Gojo!”

With a wide grin and a wink, Gojo offers you a wave.

You glance around before settling back on him, baffled. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh… here for gym class?” Gojo explains with a snort, using his thumb to point behind him and following his direction, your lips part when you see a group of girls occupying the field next to the one you’re sitting in front of. Focusing back on Gojo and the line sheen of sweat covering his skin, you put the pieces together.

“Oh,” your lips form a ‘o’, “I forgot other classes had gym at the same time as us.” Cheeks warming, you bite your lip, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear in embarrassment.

Gojo takes a moment to eye you before laughing; “you’re weird, you know that?”

Lips parting in offense, you shove at his shoulder; “that’s rude!”

“No,” Gojo laughs, your shove barely moving him an inch, “what’s rude is you calling me Gojo.”

Confused, you turn to him; “is that not your name?”

“It is,” he assures, “but it’s too formal. I thought I made it clear; call me Satoru.”

You’re sure your face grows hot at that.

“B-But! That’s too friendly!” You argue, waving your hands in front of you widely. “We only just started talking and—”

“And we’re already close,” Gojo cuts in, smiling cheekily. “So what’s the problem?”

Shoulders slumping, you just frown at him. “You’re ridiculous.”

Gojo just takes the insult in stride, leaning in close so his face is right in front of yours. You instinctively lean back, surprised by his sudden closeness as you press against the side of the bleachers. It doesn’t seem to bother Gojo who only grows closer; you can feel his side press into your arm and his leg knock into your folded one, not to mention all you can see is those bright, beautiful blue eyes staring at you.

“U-um…—”

“And you’re adorable.”

Okay, now you’re sure you’re red in the face.

“G-Gojo–!”

“Satoru,” he cuts in, waving his finger at you. “Repeat after me. Sa-To-Ru.”

You stare back at him, wishing he’d back up even a little because he was too close and it was making you feel a way you didn't know how to react to. You’d already been sweating because of the damn sweater before, but now you probably look like a hot mess and your mind is running a mile a minute just to come up with something to say.

“Come on,” Gojo sings softly, voice low so only you can hear but still sweet and soft. “Say it.”

Lips parting, you ignore the racing of your heart; “Sa… Satoru.”

With a sudden jump, he’s pulled back, sitting up straight next to you as he grins wide, ear to ear; “see?” He exclaims, “that wasn’t so hard. It’s much better if you just call me by my first name, kay, Y/N?”

You’re frazzled. You know you’re frazzled. Even though Gojo has leaned back like you wanted him to, your heart is still racing and you feel flushed.

Was it just your imagination or had he also smelled really good?

“O-okay.”

Pleased by your answer, Gojo finally lets his eyes wander down, pausing when he sees what you’re wearing.

“Aren’t you warm?”

Oh god… not this again.

“No,” you deny with a shake of your head, hugging yourself. “I’m perfectly fine.”

Gojo just quirks a brow. “You look warm.” He states bluntly.

You huff — what was with everyone questioning you on wearing a damn sweater? Was it that hard to believe?

“For your information—”

You stop what you’re saying the second a shadow falls over you, completely blocking the sun from falling over you. Confused, you turn, only to pause when you see it’s Geto. You blink at the sight of him, confused, not having expected to see him, glancing over his shoulder to the field to see, like you thought, the rest of the boys are still playing and yet…

“Geto—”

“Did you bring my hoodie?”

His voice is harsh. Harsher than you expected. By the way he falters the second he meets your eyes properly, you figure he didn’t mean to sound that angry but you’re still confused as to why he even would be in the first place.

Was he upset you hadn’t given him the hoodie back earlier?

You also have not failed to notice how still Gojo is beside you suddenly.

“U-Um… Yeah, it’s in my bag. One sec.”

Reaching behind you to grab your bag, you’re oblivious to the way Gojo and Geto glare at each other, each with a certain fierceness and determination in their gaze before swiftly glancing away the second you turn back around.

“Here,” you call, smiling up at Geto as you extend his folded sweater to his awaiting hands. “I made sure it didn’t have any stains on it or anything after I washed, so it should be good. Thank you again for letting me borrow it.”

Geto’s face eases as he meets your eyes and he smiles softly; “it’s no problem. Thank you for washing it.” Then, as if almost an afterthought, he adds; “I’m sorry I couldn’t stay longer at your place to wait for it.”

You miss the way Gojo straightens at that.

“Oh, no!” You brush off, shaking your head. “I’m sorry you had to even give it to me in the first place.”

“Um,” Gojo cuts in, pulling your eyes on him with a blink as he shifts his gaze from Geto to you, offering you a somewhat tight-lipped smile. “Why did you have Geto’s hoodie in the first place?”

You’re a little confused as to why he cares, but—

“I accidentally spilled my soda on her and it made her shirt see-through and she was cold, so I offered it to her.”

Well, he didn’t need to go into that kind of detail—

“Oh?” Gojo asks, but something about his tone sounds strained and tense. “Is that so?”

Lips parting, you watch as the two of them glare at each other.

“U-um,” you speak up nervously, shifting forward; both of their eyes instantly fall on you, features softening. “Do you two… not like each other or something?”

The two glance at each other again.

Gojo’s the first to speak up; “not particularly.”

“We’ve never gotten along,” Geto elaborates. “That’s all.”

“I see…” You mumble, before your eyes brighten with a sudden idea; “well, hey! There's always a first, right?”

And the answer is clear to them both;

No way in hell.

Still, for you, they hesitate.

“Maybe,” Geto shrugs, brushing a bit of sweat off his forehead.

Gojo sighs dramatically; “if I’d have to.”

You’re oblivious to it all — eyes twinkling with excitement, you smile brightly. Truly, a brilliant idea has come to mind.

“Isn’t that amusement park opening up soon? I think… this weekend?” You ask, “you two should go together!”

Geto and Gojo frown at one another.

If there’s one thing the two of them can agree upon, it’s that that seems like the worst idea.

The two of them? Alone? At an amusement park?

What could honestly possess you to think that’s a good idea?

Geto, however, looks at you a moment later and smirks, clearly proud of himself; “I dunno about him, but I’d go with you.” And he sends a smug grin Gojo’s way, clearly thinking he’d effectively worked his way around not only having to disappoint you by saying no to your original idea but, getting you to go with him instead.

Gojo gasps, as if thoroughly offended.

“Really?” Your eyes brighten.

Geto smiles, nodding.

“Then let’s go!” You exclaim excitedly and Geto is just about to turn to Gojo with a victory smirk, before you add; “the three of us! When are you guys free next?”

Wait–what?

Geto is not really sure how he got himself into this situation.

Like really – how?

“She’s late.”

Pressing a hand to his forehead, Geto resists the urge to let his annoyance get the best of him. But really–truly–he was at his final straw.

“You’ve said that three times,” Geto grumbles, offering a quick glance beside him at the white-haired bastard that just couldn’t help but take you up on your offer. Then, imagine Geto’s surprise when he shows up at your agreed upon time just to see that you hadn’t shown up yet but Gojo had—and Geto’s pretty sure that the guy was normally late to everything. Late to class, late to tests, meetups, hangouts, etc. so of course it was just his luck that today is the day Gojo decides he’s going to show up on time.

And you aren’t.

Letting out a whine, Gojo pushes off the wall he’d been leaning against, moving until he’s directly beside Geto and the two of them are now staring out at the entrance way, waiting for you.

“It’s true, though,” Gojo mumbles, and Geto can distinctly see him pouting out of the corner of his eye. “She’s ten minutes late.”

Geto just huffs.

“What exactly is your problem?” Gojo asks instantly, and Geto can feel him shift to face him. “You’ve been glaring at me this entire time.”

Feeling that final straw snap, Geto spins to face Gojo in return, narrowed eyes focusing in on his own as Geto shakes his head. “You aren’t supposed to be here.”

Gojo just laughs; “I was invited, wasn’t I?”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Geto scoffs; “not by me.”

“Still butt hurt that Y/N invited me along?” Gojo taunts, looking entirely too smug as he steps closer to Geto. Gojo might be shorter, but only by an inch, and it isn’t hard for him to size Geto up just as easily as Geto is trying to size him up. “You think I’m all that happy about you being here either?”

“Then leave?” Geto questions, as if that was the obvious answer–which, obviously, it was. “I’m the one who asked Y/L/N first so really, you aren’t needed here whatsoever.”

Gojo just leans back; “if I left I’d be doing exactly what you want. Last I checked, Y/N does want me here.”

Feeling his head hurt and his body tense, Geto shoves at his shoulder; “what’s with the lack of formality? You refer to Y/L/N so casually, I didn’t realize you guys were that close.” Pausing in thought (for dramatic effect), Geto glowers at Gojo. “Last I checked, Y/L/N didn’t even know who you were before a couple days ago.”

“What?” Gojo raises a brow challengingly, “jealous we’re close enough that she calls me ‘Satoru’?” Shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants, Gojo leans back. “She says it so prettily, too, don’t you think? I mean, I absolutely love the way she says my name.

He truly was unbelievable. Geto didn’t realize there could be someone who pissed him off so damn much… He’s never really liked the guy, and despite the fact that for most of his life Geto has unfortunately gone to the same school as Gojo, his level of hatred was reaching a height it never had before.

Before, Gojo was just some annoying guy Geto didn’t bother to pay attention to. Not if he didn’t have to.

He can still remember the way he’d felt seeing the two of you laughing and talking that day on the bleachers – Geto was positive that he’s never seen the two of you talk before and certainly not enough to warrant such a friendly interaction. If Geto hadn’t calmed himself down before, he was sure he’d have made a fool out of himself when he interrupted the two of you but taking the calm approach seemed to have it’s rewards and Geto will never forget the look of stunned disbelief on Gojo’s face when you handed him his hoodie.

He’d definitely have to give you his clothes more – this time, have you wear them where everyone could see.

And then he’d thought he’d perfectly worked his way around your silly suggestion of hanging with Gojo – and then you just had to go and invite Gojo with the two of you?

Geto didn’t realize you could be so oblivious.

Honestly—he’d told himself he’d try to play nice with Gojo, for you. Even if Gojo was there, it didn’t change Geto’s plan of trying to woo you and catch your attention. If Gojo wanted to hang back as a third wheel then that was his choice, Geto wasn’t going to let that stop him from making a move on you.

But really, he was at his limit.

He couldn’t even think of ‘playing nice’ with Gojo when he was this egotistical.

Inhaling sharply, Geto moves to take a step towards Gojo, Gojo straightening out in response, before your familiar voice calls out;

“Ooh! I’m so sorry!”

Both Geto and Gojo freeze at the sound of your voice, eyes shifting to fall on you as you come to a slow step before them. You’re panting, pressing a hand to your chest as you try to catch your breath, making it clear you’d run here, but what really catches Geto’s attention is what you’re wearing.

A flowery, pink sundress. It had cute puffy sleeves and the material bunched around your chest with a bow, with the length of the skirt stopping just above your knees. It swayed gently in the wind, brushing upwards to show the faintest hint of your upper thighs. The whole outfit was put together with some accessories, cute sandals and a hairstyle Geto had never seen you wear at school before.

Geto, despite himself, feels his cheeks grow pink, a flush hitting him as he quickly glances away from you to situate himself. It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought you were pretty before (that was abundantly clear given his actions) but it was a little different seeing you in something other than your school uniform. And, technically, the arcade hadn’t counted—given that he’d dumped soda all over your blouse before he could properly take in what you were wearing.

A quick glance at Gojo tells him his reaction isn’t that much different.

“My mom needed my help with something and I completely lost track of time!” You explain, turning to them with a worried expression as you finally manage to catch your breath properly. “Were you guys waiting for long?”

“Not at all–!”

“No–!”

Lips left parted, Geto glares at Gojo out of the corner of his eye—Gojo returns it with ease.

“O-Oh,” you mumble, briefly glancing at the both of them in confusion before taking a step towards them. “Well, then… should we get going?”

Without hesitation, Geto steps forward before Gojo has the chance to and flashes a soft smile in your direction; “let’s go.”

#jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #getou suguru x reader #getou suguru #geto suguru x reader #satosugu #satosugu x reader #gojo x reader #getou x reader #otl #operation: true love

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laenordeservedbetter · 1 year

Note

For Sam x reader.

Ghostface is back and had followed the Carpenters, the twins, and Amber's older sister, Reader, to New York. No one trusting her because of the fact that her little sister was Ghostface, Reader is in disbelief, and Sam breaks up with her on the spot. Fast forward to the end, where Ghostface is dead, everyone's being treated by paramedics, Reader is seen walking away from the scene alone. Kirby asks where she is, Sam then sees her walking away, holding her broken arm to her body, and runs after her and apologies for not trusting and believing her. (Reader saying it's too late for sam to apologize. She then walks away from her friends, from Sam.)

You're Somebody Else

Words: 1.4k

Pairing: Samantha Carpenter x Fem!Freeman!Reader

Synopsis: You were told that the biggest betrayal comes from the people you care about the most, but never did you expect it to hurt so much.

Warnings: scream vi spoilers, violence, spitting, cussing, angst, no happy ending. lmk if I missed any.

A/N: I wrote this at a coffee shop. I'm still here rn, so we'll see how many fics I can post before I go home. (This will probably be the only one)

not my gif. || masterlist || previous work

You stood before Amber’s Ghostface outfit, reaching out to touch the fabric before you remembered where you were -- who you’re with. The glares given to you by the rest of the group burned at the back of your skull. You can practically sense their judgments. Since the first Ghostface attack in New York, they pointed their fingers at you. You understood, given what you've all been through. Can't be too careful. You didn’t care that you saw the contempt on your own girlfriend’s face. You stayed by her side, understanding where she was coming from.

Being related to a previous Ghostface was something you and Sam had in common. When you are linked to a person with that track record, it sticks with you even if you are different from them. Trust becomes hard to give. And out of everyone, you figured your girlfriend is the one who understood the most about what it’s like. However, it looks like the sentiment isn’t shared.

She approaches you, getting the courage to ask, “Can we talk?”

You can tell what’s about to happen before Sam can utter what she wants to say to you.

Nothing good ever comes out of conversations like these.

“I’m sorry.” Sam stares, her gaze cold, nothing like the Sam you fell in love with. With each deafening step she takes away from you, your heart shatters just a little bit more. You are wounded by the way she’s looking at you. Any wound or injury you might sustain in the next few minutes will not compare to the poison laced in the invisible knife held against your throat by the woman you love. “I can’t take any more chances. I can’t trust you. We’re done.”

You scoff, glancing towards the group in hopes that they would back up your claim. “Sam, you know me. I would never hurt you or Tara or. . . Anika.”

Mindy flinches at the mention of her girlfriend’s name. Her stare hardens. “You have no right to say her name. We know you did it. You killed her.”

“Mindy…” Your voice breaks as your throat feels like it’s closing up. You can’t do anything to convince them, letting the stream of tears flow from your eyes. No one came to your rescue to prove your innocence. None of them trusted you. You felt pathetic, humiliated, embarrassed. Your eyes settle on Sam again. “Really? After everything we’ve been through together, you-”

Sam glowers. “It’s over, Y/n. Please, stay away from us.”

“Fuck you.” You turn your back, the hurt in your tone clear as day. “I don’t know you at all.”

“Maybe we didn’t know each other as well as we thought.”

It was one thing for you to walk away and another knowing that Sam would not be going after you.

“It was easy luring you away from the group. Guess we really can’t choose our family, huh?” Ghostface makes a tsk sound, the voice changer turned off.

He takes a step forward, but you stay positioned adjacent to the wall. That voice…

“Ethan?”

Ethan removes his mask, holding the voice changer to his lips, “Didn’t expect that?”

Of course it was him. Little by little, the pieces fall into place. The apartment attack -- that was probably Ethan. He wasn’t with the group. Not even the skeptic Mindy questioned his whereabouts. Your tears haven’t dried yet and you were as sure as hell they weren’t going to stop now. You bring your hands together in a slow clap. “Oh, wow, that’s… Fucking brilliant, actually.” Clutching your stomach, you let out what sounded like a painful cackle. “This is the part where I die.” You say. It wasn’t a question, but a statement.

“Oh no, no, no. See, that’s where you’re wrong.” Ethan smirks, gripping your left arm, applying pressure to where you had been previously injured a couple nights prior. “You are our scapegoat. I must give credit to Mindy for the idea. You have the perfect motive to be Ghostface! It was just gonna be Sam, but… The press would go crazier if it was a Bonnie & Clyde situation. Not that I care about that sorta stuff. It just works.”

You collect the saliva from your mouth, spitting in his eye. “Jokes on you ‘cause we’re not together anymore.”

“But they wouldn’t know that because by the time you get ‘caught’, all of your friends will be dead and you would look like the asshole trying to save yourself if you attempt to say the truth.”

Ethan places his free hand on your shoulder, pulling your arm with more force than necessary to guarantee that it would break. You stand there, biting your lip in order to hide the pain. If I screamed, it wouldn’t make a difference anyway, you said to yourself bitterly. There’s not a single person who’d give me the benefit of the doubt. In fact, they’d make me suffer worse, believing that Ethan did the right thing. Who knows what creative scenarios he came up with already.

The paramedics found you slumped down beside a row of chairs after Sam and the rest of the group defeated the three Ghostfaces. They wondered why you weren’t with the others, but with a quick word from Kirby, they left you alone, guiding you outside to treat your broken arm. One of the paramedics - Theo (that’s what you heard Kirby call him) asked if you wanted a ride to the hospital. You declined, insisting that you could get there yourself without anyone’s help.

You spare Sam a glance, observing her interact with Mindy, Chad, and Tara. Core Four. Good for them. Although you were glad that they are are still extant, you can’t stop the rancor that you feel as you stare at the four. You want nothing more than for this day to be over, move to someplace else, maybe change your name. Anywhere is better than here. It’s become clear to you how unwanted you are in New York. A change of scenery might do you good.

Kirby (the only person who hasn’t treated you like scum) situates herself in front of Sam, “Hey, where’s Y/n?”

Sam only notices your absence when Kirby pointed it out. “Shit. I…” She scans the area in search of your familiar eyes, guilt eating at her knowing that she accused you of being a killer. Because of that, you got hurt. She’d never forgive herself for it. “I'll be right back.”

The blonde detective nods in understanding. “I’ll stay with Tara.”

“Thank you.”

You were on your way to the hospital when a hand grasps your injured arm. Recoiling from the touch, you look back to curse the one responsible for hurting your limb only to meet Sam’s pleading gaze. “What do you want, Samantha?”

“Y/n, I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for being careless, for not trusting or believing you. If I had, you wouldn’t have gotten hurt.” Sam touches your good shoulder this time, expressing her genuine apology.

But no matter how many ‘I’m sorry’s’ she will direct at you, it won’t take away what’s been done. “It’s too late, Sam.”

“What? No. We can try again.” She pleads desperately.

You couldn’t bite back the words the words that are on the tip of your tongue, feeling the last ounce of self control fray away. “Try again? Do you hear how ridiculous that sounds? You broke up with me because you didn’t trust me. You didn’t even try to understand my side!” The news reporters turned their heads at your outburst. They point their cameras to you, but you don’t make an effort to cut off your ebullition short. “All of you pointed your hands at me because what? I’m the sister of a killer?! If we’re basing our suspicions of all the Ghostface’s relatives, you should’ve been on the top of the list. The only thing I asked was for you to stand by me and you failed. So, no, we can’t try again. We’ll only end up worse than where we left off.” You finish, walking away from everything (not for the first time). “I’ll get my things out of your apartment tonight. After that, you won’t have to see me again.”

Sam stays still while you leave, clutching your arm in the process. That limb will heal, but the words that Sam has spoken won’t. There will remain a constant reminder of how you were betrayed by those you would give everything for.

So much for trust.

#samantha carpenter #sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter #scream 6 #scream #mindy meeks martin #anika kayoko #ethan landry

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denaliwrites · 10 months

Text

Don't Turn Your Back

Tenth Doctor x GN!Reader

Part 1: Don't Blink Part 3: Don't Look Away Part 4: Dreams See Us Through

Summary: If you never see a Weeping Angel again as long as you live, it'll be too soon.

Requests: Open!

Tag List: @nyxiethesimp

Warnings: Weeping Angels.

When the Doctor said "Let's find out why this Weeping Angel is stalking and torturing you," you weren't exactly sure how he intended to do that.

You were not expecting him to propose establishing a psychic link between you and the Angel in question.

"Absolutely not," you'd said, adamantly. "Find another way -- I won't have that thing inside my head."

"It's the only way," he'd said, and damn if he wasn't a bloody good liar.

"I hate you," you'd said.

To which he'd smiled and replied, "You know you're dying to know." And damn if you weren't convinced he couldn't read your mind, sometimes.

So now, here you sat, with some odd machine he'd fashioned out of scraps sitting atop your head. "I don't like this," you told him nervously.

"Oh, but you look great," he told you with a smile. Despite his blasé attitude, you remained unconvinced. He was a little too casual, yet for some reason he wouldn't meet your eye.

"What's wrong Doctor?" you finally asked as he adjusted the machine you wore. "Why won't you tell me the other options?"

"Because there aren't any," he said, yet again.

"Doctor, I know when you're lying."

"Because the only other option is to let you die," he snapped, voice broken and movements suddenly jerky as he was overcome with emotion. "And I will not let you die."

"Oh."

You regretted asking. And yet, you persisted.

"So this is safe?"

"No," he replied with a sigh. "But you have a better chance if we do this than if we do nothing. If we do nothing... the Angel will get bored, and..."

"It may not send me back... like the other Angels do."

"Are you ready?"

"No."

"Starting on the count of three."

He counted down, turned the machine on... and then everything went black.

You could tell something was off even before you opened your eyes, but opening them certainly confirmed your suspicions. You found yourself back in your flat, but the world around you was strangely dark and covered in thick mist -- even though you were inside.

Not a fan of that, you decided.

Walking through your flat didn't reveal anything out of the ordinary, besides the darkness and the fog. There were no ghosts, no angels, no Doctor, no... anything.

You were alone.

How were you supposed to tell him? How would he know to pull you out? Those thoughts, among others, ran through your head as you made your way outside to look around the garden. Finding more nothing, you moved on to the street.

You saw the TARDIS on the other side of the road, its light dim and ominous in the oppressive dark of whatever Hell this was.

You wanted to run towards it, and into the safety of the TARDIS, but movement to your left caught your attention.

Oh.

The Angel.

You sucked in a steadying breath and walked towards it.

"Why are you doing this?" you asked as you neared. You hadn't expected your voice to echo. It freaked you out a little. This whole place did. The situation, too.

The Angel didn't answer you.

"Oh. Do I need to turn away?" you asked, genuinely. You blinked and when your eyes opened you could've sworn the Angel's lips were slightly more upturned. "Okay. I'm here to talk. I'm here in good faith. Please don't kill me... I... I'm trusting you."

It was a terrible decision, really, but what choice did you have?

So you turned -- and closed your eyes for good measure.

"Why are you doing this?" you repeated.

A voice not unlike two rocks grinding against each other whispered in your ear, "Revenge." And as quiet as that single word was, it still echoed around you.

"But I've never seen a Weeping Angel before," you whimpered. "How could I have done anything to you worth revenging over?"

"Not you," the voice whispered.

Oh. Well, the only other person that left was the Doctor.

"What did he do?" you asked, even though you didn't actually want to know.

"He killed my sisters."

"I... I'm very sorry," you started, swallowing thickly. "That must've been... terrible. I can't imagine."

"He took something from me," the voice continued, "something I loved. So now I will take from him something he loves."

A nervous laugh bubbled out of your throat. "The Doctor doesn't love me."

"Foolish human," the voice said, and there was just enough threat in those words for you to instinctively open your eyes and turn around.

The Weeping Angel was gone.

Nerves alight and mind about a hundred times more exhausted than it was when you first entered this place, you sighed and wearily turned to the TARDIS. Walking inside revealed that it was just as dark, misty, and creepy as everywhere else.

But you could see yourself sitting in one of the seats by the console, unconscious. The Doctor hovered beside you, his hands clutching yours desperately. He kept whispering to himself, but in this place they echoed right over to you, clear as day --

"Come on, come on, come on."

Over and over, just those two words.

You watched sadly for a moment before you made your way to... well, yourself. You weren't really sure how to wake yourself up, but were willing to try anything and everything that came to mind.

Which was how you found yourself going through a series of ridiculous attempts that included yanking on wires, chanting in Latin, screaming in your face, slapping your face, and dancing the hula.

After everything you tried failed, you dropped to the floor with a whimper and closed your eyes.

You awoke with a jolt, gasping desperately as if you'd been holding your breath for several minutes.

The first thing you saw was the Doctor, still hovering over you. He looked incredibly relieved to see you back, unharmed. You let him take the machine off, and though you felt incredibly heavy suddenly you let him pull you into a hug, too.

"What happened?" he asked as he pulled away. "What did it say?"

"It..." God, you were so tired. Why were you so tired? "It says it wants to kill me because you killed its sisters...?"

You could see him pondering that, eyes searching the air as he tried to recall a time he may've killed some Weeping Angels. All the while, his hands still held yours. It was a small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless.

If he remembered at all, he did a strangely good job of hiding it, though you supposed it helped that your sudden swaying drew his attention away. "Hey, hey," he cooed, pulling you up and into his chest. "Let's get you to bed, eh?"

You shook your head, pushing yourself gently away from him. "I need... to think. Erm. I'm gonna take a shower. And then I'll go to bed..." You nodded tiredly but resolutely and made your way to your bathroom.

The shower you took was long, just shy of blisteringly hot, and not nearly as productive as you'd hoped it would be. Your thoughts kept running in circles, or else running away from you altogether, and chasing them only served to wind your anxiety up like a rubber band about to snap.

And snap it did.

You hadn't even realized you were screaming until the Doctor was pulling you out of the water and gently shushing you. You only sort of quieted, your screams simmering down to sobs as you clung to him. He held you firmly, protectively, whispering such gentle words of comfort and encouragement in your ear even as your cries filled his.

"Oh, it's all right now," he soothed, petting your wet hair. "I won't let it hurt you, eh? I promised I'd keep you safe, didn't I?" He sighed when the only response he got was a sob, and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

Carefully, and much to your confusion, the Doctor managed to move to a stand with you cradled in his arms. You didn't protest as he carried you to your room (again), nor as he set you down and swaddled you up under the covers.

As you started to come down, you realized you were still naked -- that the Doctor had pulled you out of the shower and held you and carried you all while you were naked, but honestly dealing with that would have to wait until you weren't exhausted.

Once he was, seemingly, satisfied with the cocoon he'd surrounded you in, he leaned forward and pecked your forehead, then moved to leave.

"Doctor, please don't," you begged quietly, still sniffly.

He paused for only a moment before he turned back to face you, before he came to sit on the edge of your bed, before he scooted in next to you and laid beside you.

He didn't even need to speak for you to feel comforted. Even just turning to face him and nuzzling up to his shoulder had you feeling immensely better.

He rested his cheek against the top of your head and silently stared up at the ceiling as you yawned and sank into him. It took a long while for sleep to come for you, but when it finally did, it came hard and fast.

You were haunted by nightmares of moving statues.

#tenth doctor x reader #tenth doctor x you #doctor who x reader #the doctor x reader #the doctor x you #reader insert #doctor who fic #doctor who fanfiction #doctor who #the doctor #david tennant #canon typical peril #weeping angels

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reiderwriter · 1 year

Text

♦️Pardon The Way That I Stare♦️

Chapter 8 of That's What You Get

Prev Chapter || Next Chapter

Summary: After some encouragement from Emily and Penelope, you try to explain your reaction to Reid at work. Until you find yourself reacting to him more and more, distracting you from doing your job. Warnings: Alcohol consumption, mentions of sex, Reader is just really horny for Reid (REAL). A/N: We're getting closer to the climax and I'm SO beyond excited for everyone to read the next chapter because I think it's going to be so good but also so evil and I enjoy that very much. If you like the series, let me know by dropping a message in the replies or in my inbox, and follow my other account @reiderslibrary for just fics from me without my random thoughts and bullshit in between... You can find masterlist here, and the series masterlist is linked here!

You were stupid, there was no other logical explanation for it. Staring at Emily on your doorstep as your brain stood there, slack-jawed and wide-eyed, trying to process the words she’d just said to you, there was really only one thing running through your brain.

“I’m a fucking dumbass.” you groaned, your hands coming up to your head as you pondered your next move.

“There’s no chance that you’ll believe this was all just one practical joke that I’ve been playing to test how quickly you could turn up at my place with wine?” You looked up hopefully at Emily, and she returned with a concerned look of her own, that silently communicated ‘No, I wasn’t born yesterday.’

“Worth a shot, come on in.” You opened the door wider for Emily and grabbed a second glass from your kitchen to share the wine before she could start her interrogation.

“So,” she prompted as soon as you returned to the couch, and you sighed heavily as you nodded and began.

“I married Reid in Vegas.”

“Yes, I got that from the text, what I didn’t get was why, what, when, where, who, and how! Question words, Y/N, important information if you please.” You chuckled at Emily’s tone, and you melted a little into your couch. Just like with Penelope, letting others know had comforted you. You’d never been one to bottle up your emotions, and you couldn’t exactly tell Spencer how you felt about him, so your dearest FBI-assigned best friends were a welcome compromise.

“You promise not to tell anyone? Penelope knows, and so does Rossi, but no one else does. Well maybe someone else but I don’t know who that someone is - long story.” You rambled, still aware of the promise you’d made with Spencer, and knowing that you’d actually broken it twice now.

“Scouts honor, now get on with it.”

“You were never a scout.”

“That’s beside the point, Y/N, now spill!”

“Do you remember when we finished the case in Vegas last weekend, and we all wanted nothing more than to go home, but the jet was landed?” A small nod encourages you to continue. “Well, Reid offered to show me this bar that he thought I’d enjoy, and honestly, I’d had a tense phone call with my mom and was feeling a bit crappy, so I thought a drink wouldn’t hurt.”

“A drink might get you married though.” You glared at her at the interruption, and she held her hands up in surrender as you continued.

“The bar was amazing, and he noticed I was feeling down, and I don’t know, he just has this way of making me feel calm and fully together. I was a mess earlier that day, but with like one short conversation, he kind of turned my mood entirely around.” You flushed then and decided to ignore Emily’s next interjection.

“Oh god…”

“Apparently after that, we went to a casino or another bar or something, but honestly, I drank so much I don’t remember any of that. But at some point, we bought a very expensive engagement ring, made our way to the Bureau for Wedding Licences and then a chapel and now we’re legally married.” You tried to end your story there, but Emily wasn’t having that.

“No, you’re not stopping there. You said you kissed, and you ruined everything, and you mentioned a wedding night in that text, do not shortchange me now, Y/L/N. Wait, should I be calling you Reid now?” She grinned at the flush that coated your entire body with that, and you buried your head in your pillows.

“Okay, okay. Well, we’re trying to figure out who the witnesses to our wedding were. We know that two team members were there, and Penelope was one of them, but Spencer doesn’t know that yet. Again, another long story.” You let your words sink in as you realize the tangled mess you’d spun for yourself in the last week.

“We spent some time researching our options on Saturday night, to see if we could get our memories to come back and I might not have left until a couple hours ago?”

“Y/N! You’ve been banging Reid for the last three days?”

“No! No, nothing like that, we didn’t- well, we did just not at his house, but also I don’t think you want to hear about that.” You spilled all the details about your last few days with Reid, his touches, his care, the dates you’d been on, the way you’d wrapped yourself around each other in your sleep, but still woken up to an empty bed, all the way up to that fateful kiss and your stupid reaction.

“So there, I’ve ruined it.” Emily looked at you pityingly and started to say something when your doorbell rang a second time.

“That’s reinforcements,” Emily said, standing and moving to greet the newcomer herself. You were relieved when Penelope Garcia came marching through the door, ice cream in hand and mouth already moving.

“Have no fear, your guardian angel is here. Emily texted me en route and I disentangled myself from my plans with a now very suspicious Derek Morgan to race over here. I think I managed to throw him off the scent by mentioning my ukelele lessons with Sam though, he always kinda glazes over whenever I go into heavy details about that.” She perches herself on the couch beside you and starts organizing things on the table, pulling out three tubs of ice cream and locating adequate spoons in the drawer.

“Pen, you didn’t have to do all this…”

“Yes, I did. Emily tell her I did. I need all the details that you suddenly remembered Y/N or I’m going to go crazy, and let me tell you, I am not an effective tech analyst when my mind is all aflutter with wonder.” You smiled awkwardly at the situation. You’d glossed over the details of your wedding night with Emily, going no further than insinuating that you’d had sex, but now the pressure was on.

“We just want to help you, Y/N. And we’re morbidly curious.” Emily joined in. Both of their eyes were trained on you in a hopeful expression, leaving the ball firmly in your court as you fought down the embarrassment rising from the back of your throat.

Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath.

“I think it was the best sex I’ve ever had in my life,” was all you managed to squeak out before they were reacting, asking twenty questions each in the space of a minute as your body both caught fire at the memory and shrunk down to the size of an ant at the attentions.

“Calm down, calm down, I’ll tell you more but you have to calm down.” They stilled themselves and bit their tongue, and you continued.

“Well I don’t want to get into the, uh, specific details, but let’s just say that he’s very good at putting theory into practice. That or he’s actually very experienced in sex and nobody ever realized, because the things he was doing were like, expert-level maneuvers. I didn’t think I was that flexible until he was hitting from-”

“OKAY not that much detail, this is still Reid we’re talking about.”

“Sorry,” you giggled sheepishly and decided to spare them all the details. “All I’ll say is that we both finished multiple times. And I might have stupidly let him finish inside of me.”

“Y/N, you should know better! Safe sex is really important, especially if you’re fucking in a hotel room in Vegas.” Emily half-chastised you, but you could hear the humor in her voice and just rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t exactly having sex with a stranger, I was having sex with my husband.” That got you a teasing cooing from the two women and you buried your face in your hands again.

“So he’s your husband now, is he? How long have you been married? Like three days?”

“Five. Fuck, we’re running out of time.” The length of time that had elapsed since you’d walked down the aisle shocked you as soon as you’d acknowledged it, and you downed your glass of wine as your brain ran rampant.

“Rossi said that if we didn’t tell everyone in a week, he’d do it for us so we didn’t lose our jobs, and we need to file for an annulment soon so we don’t have to get a divorce but there’s like… a one week window, and it’s already been five days. Shit. shit shit shit shit.”

“Hold on, Y/N, you said he kissed you earlier today, right? I wouldn’t exactly recommend getting married and then dating your partner, but it sounds like you both at least like each other enough to pursue this relationship, why would you need an annulment?” Emily’s confusion only served to remind you of the reason they were both here in the first place.

“That’s the problem. I think he thinks I don’t like him like that. And it’s totally my fault that he thinks that, because when he kissed me I didn’t react well and then he just left, and I think I ruined everything.”

“Define not reacting well,” Emily probed further.

“I pushed him away and slammed the door in his face. But that was only because I remembered everything that happened between us on our wedding night, and remembering the most satisfying experience of your entire existence while face-to-face with the man who you’d hitherto never thought capable of that, and having it occur in like 0.02 of a second is a paralyzing experience.”

“Oh my god, you’re an idiot,” Penelope whispered from her side of the couch and you nodded heartily in agreement.

“And what, he just left?” Emily asked again, tone incredulous with all the information she was receiving.

“Well when I’d had my moment and realized what I’d done, I opened the door again and he wasn’t there. And that was only like a minute later. He messaged me this after he left.” You grabbed your phone and opened it up, showing the girls the message and noting their winces in reaction to his words.

“It’s bad, right?”

“No! No, this is salvageable! You just have to… be brave?” Penelope didn’t seem to believe her own words as you pulled your phone back and poured yourself another glass, ready to drown your sorrows once again. Emily was a little more confident.

“Okay. Here’s what you do. I’m going to talk to Rossi for you tomorrow morning at work, get him to hold off on his big reveal while you go and explain everything to Spencer. How does that sound?”

“That sounds doable, I guess.” You sniffled a little, rereading the text having made your emotions jump back up to the surface again as you fought off tears.

“Brilliant. And then you can stay married and continue having wonderful sex, and make some genius babies and make me their godmother.” You threw a pillow at Penelope that she was just too slow to catch, and filled the rest of your evening with wine, ice cream, and good company.

–X–

Emily sends you a thumbs-up text after she talks to Rossi the next morning, and a weight falls off your shoulder. One step down, one to go right?

You’d arrived at work probably a little bit too early, having spent the night tossing and turning and playing every possible outcome in your mind over and over again. It had been half an hour before the next person turned up, and Hotch had only given you a confused half-nod in greeting before secluding himself in his office. Rossi had been the next to arrive, about twenty minutes later, and he too had questioned your presence but not in so many words.

“Early morning, Y/N? Settling into new routines in your newly-wed life, are we?” You’d stuttered out an answer but he was halfway up the stairs by the time you finished, obviously meaning the comment to be rhetorical.

Morgan, Emily, and JJ were all next, showing up only a few minutes before your shift officially started, but there was no sign of Reid, and you were running out of time - and privacy - to talk to him.

Then at 9 sharp the elevator doors opened, and from your seat at your desk, you watched him step out, feeling your tongue grow thick and your heart beat faster as he made his way into the office. This wasn’t how you were supposed to feel, this was cartoonish like a teenage boy in a brat pack movie watching the hottest girl in the school walk down a corridor. This was Spencer, your husband, and your best friend, and here you were feeling giggly and shy.

You almost felt like texting Emily back, telling her if you started giggling and twirling your hair, to take you out back and put you out of your misery.

He didn’t make eye contact with you as he settled into his morning routine, pulling off his scarf, putting his bag away, and then moving to the kitchen to fill up on his morning coffee. You did your best to covertly follow him, trying not to alert the others to your heart eyes as you looked at him and forgot everyone else.

“Spencer, can we talk?” You blocked off the entry to the kitchen as he spun around to face you, a bittersweet smile playing on his lips.

“Sure, Y/N, what’s up?” His voice didn’t betray any of his emotions, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes, and you could tell you’d hurt him the day before. You took a deep breath and walked closer to him as he continued making his coffee, again refusing to look you in the eyes as he continued as normal.

“It’s about yesterday-”

“We probably shouldn’t talk about this here, right?” He cut you off in a whisper, his voice sending shivers down your spine as you gripped the countertop beside him for support. You’d gotten closer than you expected at first, somehow magnetically drawn to him, your body language just as open to him as he was closed to you.

“I think we need to, Spence. I’m sorry, I panicked.”

“No, it’s my fault, I shouldn’t have done that-”

“Spencer I got my memory back.” His eyes widened and he blossomed in front of you again, attention entirely on you now as he took in your words.

“You did?”

“Partially, only the… Only the memories of your hotel room.” His eyes darkened in understanding, moving unconsciously closer to you, placing a hand next to yours on the counter as he effectively trapped your body in.

“Oh. Those memories.”

“Yeah. So you can see why I was a bit distracted.” He nodded at your words, but he was still coming closer to you now. Your body felt weak underneath you, entirely reacting to his closeness, the warmth rolling off his body, the electricity sparking between you despite him not touching you anywhere.

“Distracted?” His eyes darted to your lips as he grew closer, and your legs chose that exact second to give in underneath you.

Your knees hit the ground uncomfortably, as he reacted to your sudden movement, trying to grab you and pull you up, but only managing to grab the hand that was already holding the counter above you, awkwardly twisting and pinning your arm up.

“Oh my god. Oh my god, I’m sorry, I think… I think I should go,” you were face to face with his crotch, and looking up at him in that position was certainly giving you unwholesome thoughts. He jumped back as you scrambled out from underneath him, begging whatever god was out there that none of the profilers you worked with would question the dazed state that would follow you for the rest of the day.

–X–

Despite your need to straighten things out with Spencer, you’d avoided him for the rest of the day, and, having been called out on a case, you spent the better part of the week avoiding him as well. After literally falling for him, you’d decided that maybe in your newly weakened lovesick stage, it was best for everyone on the team that you try to stay as clear-headed as possible.

Not everyone on the team, though, agreed. He’d trailed after you like a lost puppy for days now, and you wanted nothing more than to give in and throw yourself in his arms. But there was a murderer on the loose and you needed to give your entire attention to it.

He’d tried multiple times to get you to help him with some work, suggesting that you go through some files together, or check out one of the witnesses together, much to your discomfort. Luckily, Hotch had picked up on some of the discomfort between the two of you and had kept you somewhat apart, not asking questions.

But the last night on the case, he’d cornered you, and you had to work twice as hard to extricate yourself from the situation.

“Y/N, why are you avoiding me?” He’d caught you alone in the hotel lobby, pulling you into a dark corner without much foot traffic to confront you. “Is it because of the kiss? Because the way you talked about getting your memories back the other day made me think we were okay about that again, but if we’re not then I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable.”

“It’s not the kiss, Spence, and we really shouldn’t be talking about this here.” You tried to turn and leave, but he grabbed your elbow and spun you back into him, bodies pressed flush up against each other now.

“Spencer let go, someone could see us.” Even you knew your voice sounded half-hearted, not really wanting him to stop touching you at all.

“If it’s not the kiss, then why are you acting like I don’t exist?” His face was close again, and you felt your body reacting the same way it had done in the staff kitchen. Your knees went weak again, but he was prepared this time, holding you up in his arms, gently maneuvering you so you were pinned against the wall.

“Is this it?” He asked, letting his hands trail over your body as you whimpered under his touch. “Your reactions?”

Your brain was empty of a response, so you just held still, desperate to see what he would do or say next.

“You know, the deadline on our annulment has passed. It’s been over a week now,” he said, his forehead resting on yours as he brought his hips ever closer.

You were the one that gave in first, pushing your head up to capture his lips in a crushing kiss, needing him the way you needed water, food, and sleep. You’d deprived yourself for so long, and now you were hungry, ravenous, and he was the same. Your lips opened, and soon his tongue was snaking in, caressing you in ways both familiar and new, and your entire body heated up to its boiling point.

You moaned under his touch as his hands wandered, silently begging for more of him. Your brain only kicked back into gear when you registered the sound of voices about to turn the corner. Quickly pushing him off, you pulled yourself together just as JJ and Morgan found you there.

“Y/N, Reid, Garcia got a positive ID on our unsub, we’re about to go SWAT his house, get your gear ready.”

Either you were very good at masking your emotions and the physical outburst you’d just shared, or Morgan was just too caught up in getting his job done that he didn’t look too closely at the way Reid’s tie was half undone, your lips were pink and swollen and that both of you were breathing abnormally. Whichever it was, you were just thankful that neither of them questioned you as you all left to go and do your job.

–X–

To your detriment, you’d avoided him on the jet back as well, choosing to wrap a blanket around yourself and sit in a single seat at the end of the plane rather than risk his hands on you again like last time. You already couldn’t be trusted around him, and you wanted to take no risks with everyone else present.

He’d sat in your line of vision purposefully though, making eye contact every now and then to remind you that he was still watching you. You’d feigned exhaustion and pretended to sleep in the end, despite the flight duration only being a measly two hours. He’d let you exit the plane alone though, and said a general goodbye to the team upon landing, giving you a second look and wave before taking himself home.

The ball was firmly in your court.

“What the hell was all that?” Emily whispered in your ear as you both watched him leave alone. “What happened to the plan?” You smiled awkwardly, not wanting to admit how fucking horny the man made you feel, and how it was affecting your work performance so badly that avoiding him was the only way to keep your job.

“We had the talk, everything’s fine.”

“The two of you aren’t walking out of here hand in hand, so obviously everything is not fine, Penelope, tell me I’m wrong.” The other woman had stumbled into the bullpen upon landing and Emily had immediately drawn her into your hushed conversation as soon as Morgan had made to go home as well.

“What’s going on, hot stuff, I thought you’d be enjoying every second of your marital bliss by now.”

“He’s too distracting.” You whisper shouted at him. “He kissed me again last night and I almost let him take me in the lobby. And Morgan and JJ almost caught us, so yeah, he’s too distracting.”

“Oh god, you’re horny for Reid.” Emily laughed slightly at the implication as if it had just dawned on her and you hadn’t had an entire conversation where you fawned about how good in bed he was.

“Yes, I’m horny for Reid, okay, now please stop laughing, I’m in pain.”

“Well you know there’s only one solution, right?” Penelope said as if it were clear as day. “You need to go have sex with him again. See if you can be normal with him when you’re not so pent up.”

“I don’t know, Pen….” You were still staring at the elevator doors, even after it had been so long since he’d left.

“What is there to not know? You like him, he likes you, you’re married. Like you said before, it’s not like you’re having sex with a stranger, he’s your husband.” Having your words thrown back in your face gave you the boost of confidence that you needed, and you sprang from your chair.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Emily repeated and you looked back down at the two women.

“Okay, I’m gonna… I’m gonna go seduce my husband, I guess?” You turned on your heel and left, marching out to the sounds of whoops and cheers from the two women behind you.

🏷️ @w-windyy @multifandom-on-the-side @reidandhotchsgirl @babybluecakes @hugyourlungs @prentissesredtanktop @reidscaffeine @bethanyhaas01 @average-sunflower @academiareid @sailortongue @daddy-dotcom @high-functioning-cosplayer @anniewhalelover @abbyshmaby @isabel-ffl-xoxo @sujan39 @frxcless @bluestuesday @busy-buzzing @breadbrobin @maxinehufflepuffprincess @l0v3cam @booksandwonderlands @myescapefromthislife @ferrjulie @scoobydoopoo @aelinismyqueen @littlesingingbean @jamiemuscatosslut @xohoneybun @anchovy89freya @dysphoricsanity @ghostheartbeat @casss2111 @rebloggiest-reblogger @wishyoudaskme @imawhoreforu @academiacoffeelover @softservepunk @andiebeaword @r-3dlips @wakaladjarin @ratbastardchild @mcira @danika1994 @stargurl99 @whovianwholikesgirls @its-not-too-late-for-coffee

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid series #criminal minds self insert

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somehow-a-human · 5 months

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The angels don't have to ask to enter the bookshop.

DO NOT ASK NEIL ABOUT FAN THEORY.

We've been operating under the assumption that BOTH the angels and demons have to ask to enter the bookshop, but I don't think that's true. I'm pretty sure it's one of our red herrings for season 2.

Continued under the cut.

When Gabriel shows up to the bookshop nude and oblivious, the doors are closed and (I believe) locked. Gabriel doesn't even know who or where he is, so he does what the default is... he knocks, and asks "Can I come in?" Aziraphale is frightened at first and tells him he can't come in but eventually our angels empathy wins and he says "Alright! Just... just get in!"

>> It's never clear that Gabriel would have physically been unable to come in otherwise.

When the Archangels show up Aziraphale literally cuts them off before they reach the door of the bookshop. Saraqael suggests, "Shall we discuss this inside?", and Aziraphale continues, "By all means. Would you like to come in?"

>> If Aziraphale hadn't rushed out to meet the angels, why wouldn't they have just walked into the bookshop like they did numerous times in season 1? Additionally I am fairly certain Aziraphale's "By all means. Would you like to come in?" was added in post via ADR. That doesn't necessarily add credence to anything, just an observation.

When Muriel arrives to surveil Aziraphale they ask, "Great! Well, could I come in and do it inside please? Only cause it's really noisy out here and I can't hear anything." Aziraphale replies, "By all means."

>> Muriel is an endearing angel who doesn't know much about life on earth, but had the shop been open and unlocked at the time of their arrival, they might've just wandered in as well.

We're never told the angels *can't* enter the bookshop explicitly like we are for the demons. We've always just assumed the same rules apply to all of the ethereal and occult beings.

But then, might I ask, why does Aziraphale tell us "Technically, this bookshop still counts as an Embassy"?

If the bookshop is still an embassy, the angels wouldn't need permission to enter, they would still have jurisdiction, and would still be able to monitor what's going on there... yes?

Let's compare this to the demons attempts to enter the bookshop, because Shax states clearly that she can't enter without permission. We see this again when she tries to get into the Bentley after it's canonically 'our car', and therefore at least partially owned by an angel.

I'm pretty sure John and Neil make a point of having the angels all ask in some way to enter, and Aziraphale seem to grant them permission as a red herring. They don't need to, but they want us to assume a false sense of security, to think that the bookshop is a safe space for our duo, outside of the reaches of both Heaven and Hell.

Technicalities are big in season 2 and I definitely think they're a huge underlying string running through all of Good Omens. In season 1, Crowley and Aziraphale stop Heaven and Hell from trying to restart Armageddon on a technicality. Gabriel and Beelzebub don't technically know if the great plan *is* the ineffable plan! It's definitely a favorite trope of Terry and Neil's to mock unfair, broken, bureaucratic systems, and Heaven and Hell are a PERFECT example of this.

**Somebody has written a meta on technicalities, I know I've seen it but I cannot for the life of me find it so if anyone could tag me so I could link it that would be brills! (Yeah that's right I'm adopting that from Charles from Dead Boy Detectives, 80's british slang ftw, I'm obsessed; please watch it, please, I need a second season.)

Neil has mentioned that the plot for season 3 might've had to be changed from he and Terry's original vision a bit, based on the political climate of the current day, and I'm sure that means we'll see some technicalities being the downfall of Heaven and Hells systems in Season 3 as well. I don't think the metatron is a villain, nor any of the other angels or demons. They're just fulfilling their function, following a set of rules, very much to a fault. This is all just God's big experiment after all, freewill, choice, eating the apple, and the angels and demons aren't exempt.

I wouldn't be surprised if there's some sort of technicality about the angels and demons themselves in season 3. We've seen that they're of the same stock, and we know Crowley at least is technically still the same person he was when he was an angel... more or less. Could the book of life end up revealing something like that the demons still exist perpetually as their angelsonas? A technicality, if you will?

Given the bookshop is still technically an embassy, is everything that happens inside observable by Heaven? Can they access the bookshop in their Earth Observation Files? There is some questionable blocking surrounding the bust in Aziraphale's bookshop, coupled with a curious record cover from Maggie's bookshop pointed out by @noneorother

Anyway... Let me know your thoughts. I haven't been posting as much, I have been mega busy and I'm trying to be thankful for it. Love you all, hope you have something nice happen for you today! <3

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens meta #aziraphale #crowley #michael sheen #david tennant #crowley x aziraphale #good omens theories #good omens clues #good omens theory #good omens fandom #good omens clue #good omens 3 #good omens season 3 #ineffable husbands #ineffable idiots #go2

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screamingcrows · 2 months

Text

Start Carvin' Darlin' - Dottore x f!reader

Note: I've never suffered this much anguish just to make a single bad pun. I do want to write their first encounter buuut we'll see if it ever happens. Bear with me, I know it makes little sense. By all that is important- please heed the tags.

~7k words

Tags: dead dove do not eat, nsfw, dark content, fem!reader, cannibalism adjacent thoughts, manipulation, coercion, noncon, drugging, medical malpractice, power imbalance, age gap, somnophilia, sexualised dissection, fingering, needles, blood, gore, dacryphilia?, drowning, no aftercare, thoughts of death, thoughts of murder, brief choking, no pleasure for reader, Il Dottore centric MINORS DNI - I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH

There were few things, and even fewer people, Dottore would consider faithful companions. The world had made clear that nothing could be trusted and any gesture of kindness was bound to come at a price. The rest were blind to their perils. After all, so long as it was woven tight enough, even a tapestry of lies would be beautiful.

Hunger was different in that regard. Its claws had always nestled deep within his flesh, ripping through muscle and sinew to carve out a space for itself. He'd known every flavor it had to offer, from light tingles creeping down his spine to the dagger that had been lodged and twisted between his ribs, unbearable when he'd dragged himself through the scorching dunes that refused to be a home.

His eyes flickered to the scalpel held loosely in his gloved hand, the light reflected in the metal devoid of warmth. There was no real reason to wear them, the broken husk atop his table served no threat, and contamination from himself was a wholly irrelevant concern to the present analysis.

Force of habit was what he reasoned, the motion of putting them on coming almost as naturally as shushing the commotion in his, their, mind. There had been quite enough of that lately, only worsened by his own souring mood. Cutting the link off for the day would be best for them all.

That torment and the hunger accompanying it was but a faint memory now. Much more vivid were the tendrils that had coiled around his gut so long ago and punctured the fragile organ, leaving holes that would never be filled no matter the knowledge he devoured.

Every form of craving was a base need that Dottore had long since catalogued and archived in the back of his mind, giving him control whenever they surfaced. Desires were a potent tool when wielded right, something to use and then push away, a drive he'd discovered far more difficult to replicate mechanically.

What good was fear of decay to something that had never truly been alive?

It wasn't before you entered his life that Dottore understood what it meant to be truly starved. Four weeks. That was how long you'd been gone, a speck of dust compared to his solitary existence. It would likely be another two before you returned. Living as a famished man had been all too easy before the taste of sunsettia lingered on his tongue in the dead of night, the sweet fragrance in the air cloying despite every window letting in the frigid Snezhnayan air.

Ichor poured forth from the incision, rich in color as it stained everything in its path. Light reflected across the surface of the syrupy liquid, creating millions of constellations one second and replacing them the next. How would it feel on his tongue? Look running down your throat? It enveloped his fingers in a welcoming embrace, spilling over the edges as it made way for curious probing.

Crimson eyes refocused under the mask, shattered remnants of crystalline mimicry laying separated from the sharp casing. Rarely did a delusion crack. Even in death, the poor thing still clutched it with fervor. Each delusion was a testament to progress, every shard a strict reminder to never grow complacent. In time, he'd examine the shards for impurities, but for now, the cold flesh bearing the consequences was his priority.

Selfishness ingrained after hatred burning too brightly, his recklessness had long since settled into carefully calculated moves. Still, the temptation of your flesh had been too much. By no means were he a weak man, yet the promise of warmth in the otherwise cold halls had caught him unaware.

It's lungs were expanding almost desperately to accommodate the growing pressure of death upon the air. That was another faithful companion, silent and ever watchful, no doubt waiting for the most opportune moment to strike. The ashen skin was beautiful and had he known no better, it would've seemed obvious to write off the limbs as carved from stone. But there was no reasonable way to make that assumption, not with how the remaining muscle still moved under his touch. How it stretched when tugged. As tenderly as a lover, the sharp metal severed a piece to call it's own.

It hung from his palm, no longer part of anything that could have held importance, the tempting pink that was so familiar tainted by a vulgar discoloration, no doubt caused by the elemental energies it had been forced to absorb.

It bordered on obsession with how his thoughts would always circle back to you. He'd seen that color in the bruises he left on your body, in the plums you so enjoyed, pearly whites ripping through the skin and piercing the soft flesh underneath. You were always messy, with juices running down your chin while you perched so prettily on the cold metal tables of his workshop, nodding along to anything that left his lips. His eyes focused on a single drop running down his arm, deceptively anonymous in origin if seen in isolation, it might be a believable substitute for licking sweet nectar from your lips. He wondered if you were still as sweet as your favorite fruit. If it would sate the longing that gnawed at his insides the same as your presence did.

"Lord Harbinger? I- please excuse my intrusion, I'd been led to believe you weren't otherwise occupied."

You'd come to him as a wide eyed recruit, having had the misfortune of being made a cog in their machine. Such had become the fate of most, ironic that all they would see accomplished in their lifetime was trading who held the reins of their suffering. His wooden doors had creaked on their hinges as you tried to be discreet, trembling and clumsy with the salute, clearly still trying to come to terms with this new fate. You were everything he'd despised; weak, helpless, naïve, and so willing to throw yourself at whatever would have you and keep you safe. It fed something selfish.

"I am always busy. Quit wasting my time and state your purpose."

"I'm supposed to report for a health examination before they finalize the recruitment…"

Under normal circumstances, he'd have punished a disturbance like that, especially when paired with such ignorance. A medical exam. That was what you inquired about, and while he knew it to be true that every acquired asset must be examined, it was laughable that you'd fallen victim to some superiors directing you to his space.

Dottore had been in a good mood, finding himself willing to entertain the misunderstanding, if nothing else, it had provided a good distraction from the failures that had haunted him. Not even an hour after you'd left had he requested your transfer to his command, deeming you suitable for a few impending projects.

There was nothing sentimental left in him, all that had been forsaken, turned to dust when he broke himself into pieces. That was the truth as he willed it.

Another chunk of red left the body on his table, nimble fingers peeling back a layer of epithelia to trace the vessels that permeated it. They too had been contaminated, their walls glittering preciously in the sharp light. Steady hands held a syringe filled with water, letting it perfuse the artery before he gingerly collected it. A sample of blood for purification would be necessary as well. A pity the body had been left long enough that tracking the spread of energy would be useless through the crimson liquid, tissue damage would be the most reliant evidence.

Nothing remained of his past self, the parts that still clung to a desire for belonging, not satisfied by only the unity of ambition. It had been your eyes that revived it, looking upon him as if he held the sun in his palm and brought forth the dawn. As if he held all the secrets that would bring salvation.

Undoubtedly, you were one of the healthiest subjects to find themselves on his tables. And that was the justification he'd used that first time his hands had roamed the expanse of your skin, checking for any deformities and writing down scribbles on a sheet of parchment. It was both to placate your nervous mind, betrayed by the wobble in your lips and fidgeting hands, and to record your initial state, in case an opportunity to bring you back regularly and monitor any changes presented itself.

His fingers pushed inside, pliant flesh parting around his digits and swallowing them whole. It was a mesmerizing sight, his free hand twitching briefly before mindlessly wandering to unclasp his mask, as if the removal of it somehow made the wetness now coating his fingers glisten all the more. A shuddering breath passed his lips, forced out by the growing pressure in his chest as he remained unable to pry away his eyes. How utterly beautiful a sight it was. Unable to hold back, his fingers spread out to better stretch the opening, viscous liquid slowly oozing out as he engaged his other hand.

"a-ah I don't think that-"

"Good, keep it that way, there's no need for you to think. The more you squirm around, the longer this will take. Although, from the sounds you're making, it almost seems as though you are enjoying yourself?"

"No I'm.. Hurts.."

"Relax for me then."

Dottore had wondered since that day whether you were truly that clueless, or if you'd excuse yourself with the anxiety he'd seen choke your thoughts so often since. While he could grant you the benefit of doubt concerning the implications of his title, surely you'd know that a Harbinger had far more important obligations?

Entertaining whims had a habit of bringing more trouble than the brief euphoria indulgence could ever warrant. That had been his first mistake pertaining to you.

A flick of his wrist and the liver was easily removed, threads of adipose tissue clinging to the engorged mass as if unity would somehow save it. How tragically still it all was, the clockwork driving it forward had long since ceased operating, leaving only obsolete parts in the wake. The liver had been discolored, electro particles having seeped into the matter, it was made even more noticeable by the crisp white fabric it came to lay on. One of the segments could prepare biopsies from it, check if the energies had disrupted or otherwise changed the structures.

They already had an understanding of elemental overloading in organic matter, but it was a rare chance to observe internal damages caused by high loads over a short time rather than the prolonged use cases of their regular agents. Dottore had come to understand that no matter his insistence and want for knowledge, the soldiers wouldn't carry their dead with them, and he hardly had time to waste collecting material himself, no version of him did. Not with how close they were to their objective.

You had understood his desires and promised to try. The distaste had been palpable in the slight twitch of your eyes and wrinkled nose. It was the desire to try that fed his hunger. The silent promise of wanting not to understand, for how could you ever, but believing when he said the benefits were worth the hassle.

That he was worth the hassle.

Ah, how lovely you were. Keening moans and gasps of his name feeding into his budding obsession. The sounds had been enough to distract him from the churning feeling in his gut, barely able to handle how warm your insides had been, how tightly you squeezed his fingers. The feeling reminded him of reaching into a bed of roses, thorns puncturing his being and forcing his breath heavier.

It had been nothing but slow, languid movements, meant to explore and not fulfil, the sweet pleas that left your lips were simply a tacked on bonus. Dottore could only hope that you were left aching and wanting far more than him and that you hadn't seen how his cock had strained against the front of his pants, throbbing in tandem with your mewls. It was unbefitting.

"Two doors down the hall, on your right. You should fix your attire, it wouldn't do for a recruit to look as disheveled as that on their first day."

"I will, Lord Harbinger, and thank you… Did you fill out a form or something I should bring?"

"Consider this a preliminary inspection, the actual one will be done by a physician two doors down the hall."

How unfortunate that those The Mayor promised a better future were also the ones who would never see it come to fruition. They gave their lives, some more willingly than others, for a reward they could never reap. It had already caused a disease to run through Snezhnaya's people, unrest and distrust filling the veins of their nation instead of the wealth and prosperity they'd been assured would come. Dottore had found it most useful in handling you, a little taste of false certainty accompanied by the promise of power to protect yourself. Your gaze had rested upon him with nothing but devotion.

Another chunk left the body on his table, almost tossed aside without the faintest hint of grandeur, the heart was of no use to them This was far from his preferred medium, more durable constructions would always be at the forefront of his interest, yet there was still appreciation behind his mask at the delicacy. It had stopped the moment a flash of electro singed the nerves. He briefly wondered how its now blighted lifeblood would feel atop his tongue, would it prickle? Burn the roof of his mouth?

How he longed to taste yours again, feeling the tension in his jaw at the memory of biting a little too hard, that's what he'd called it anyway, an accident. In truth, he would not hesitate to drain your blood in seconds, the thought of your reliance on something apart from him made a feeling better left unidentified carve a path through his lungs, leaving the structures to collapse without air.

Every time his hands had touched you, tears had been rolling down your cheeks. How long before you learned that compliance was the logical path, that he wanted to gag every time his hands were forced to harm you?

Threats of missions far above your qualifications kept you in line for the most part, pliant enough that the restraints kept for livelier subjects rarely saw use.

Despite his best efforts to keep everything under wraps, Tartaglia had grinned brightly, not a care in the world when he'd approached, having the gall to simply barge in, to inquire about what promising new people he'd taken on. 'It had barely been a week' was what he argued, commenting how surely you must be something special to rouse The Doctor's interest so. Any reaction to his taunts would simply play into the ginger's hands, a game he was always surprised the young man knew how to play.

Something wet slid down his wrist, immediately drawing his attention back as he pulled his hands from the bloody mess. His lips curved downward, observing exactly where the edge of his glove had been pushed down, leaving the marred skin beneath vulnerable. With a huff, Dottore stepped away and discarded the gloves, letting cool water rinse away the icky feeling now writhing under his skin.

"Come now, Doc, why won't you let me have a friendly spar with you newest acquisition? It's so rare for you to take a special interest in anyone, surely you can understand why I'm curious?"

"That is exactly why. She shows promise, and I cannot have you breaking her prematurely."

"That's a promise then! When the time is right!"

"Get out, Tartaglia."

"I heard she's been coming in for regular 'inspections', you have to admit, that sounds a little unsavory. Does she actually think you're a real physician? Oh I know, tell her you studied medi-sin."

"That was an order. Out, now."

The water in Snezhnaya had an edge to it, as if pieces of glass were contained within. It left one feeling raw and aching despite no physical proof persisting. If it did, his hands would've been torn open days ago. There had been too many small mishaps lately, too many times he'd needed to cleanse himself after his mind had wandered. Despite how clearly the words echoed in his mind, no part of him would admit to their truth.

You'd done this to him. You'd instilled in him a weakness, a beast that wouldn't let him rest when you were gone.

A soft knock followed by the click of a lock behind him cleared his head in a flash, clean gloves swiftly tugged into place with newfound anticipation bubbling under his ribs. None of his segments knocked. No one else had a key. His body remained still, awaiting an announcement from the intruder, willing patience to persist even if the idea of feeling your skin under his uncovered palm was clawing at his muscles to move them.

"Doctor, I don't feel so good," weak and pitiful was the voice that reached his ears, it should've made him recoil.

Instead, Dottore found himself struggling to keep his movements languid, the image of a predator barely conserved in the slow turn of his head. He had no doubt you'd be scared if you could see how his eyes lingered upon your silhouette.

"You're making a bad habit of returning in a state of disrepair, there is only so much I can do to keep you patched together. Disrobe while I clear a table."

It would be a shame to discard the rest of the opened body already, there were still so many secrets to be pried from its cold grasp. Perhaps he could get you to-

No.

You would adamantly refuse, already he could sense the unease rolling off of you in waves at the putrid stench of death. Instead, the remains were wrapped tightly and brought to an adjacent room, the air misty from the cryo applicator installed inside, ensuring it could rest unaffected by decay while he tended the living.

A chuckle passed his lips upon seeing the way you were eyeing the metal surface as if it'd dissolve skin and bone. The sound alone was enough to stir your body, movements stiff as you sat on the edge. Such obedience was an admirable trait, one that would make the investment well worth it when he would one day enhance your form. He would. That's what he had to tell himself, even if the thought of peeling back your skin and rewiring everything inside was tied so intimately with an odd sense of loss.

"Finally…" his words had no real bite, only mild impatience.

Still, you hid yourself from his gaze, shoulders slumped and arms wrapped around your chest. As if he hadn't seen it all already. Dottore let himself take a moment to simply rake his eyes down the shapes constituting your body, careful to let none of the flames eating away at his insides show. Would you be able to discern it in his eyes should he discard the mask? Light fingers traced down the mock beak, briefly contemplating if he should let you try, it would be nothing but torture no matter what.

Being able to put a monstrous form to everything you'd heard about him, everything he'd done to you, it coiled in the pit of his stomach and upheaved anything on its way. He would never admit to being afraid, but the thought of being regarded with repulsion by you sent a shiver down his spine.

The injuries you'd sustained were minor, shallow and located at safe distances from anything vital. Even so, it wouldn't hurt to play a little, the table had already been cleared and he might as well take the break. Lips set in a scowl, his hands found your shoulders and pushed you back, already relishing in how perfectly the curvature fit against him, how little resistance there was in the movement. Made for him. That's what he would make of you. Scarlet lines had been drawn along your skin, urging his fingers to trail along the wetness.

"Do explain what, precisely, led to you looking like this," he kept his voice frigid for now, knowing how much more responsive the thought of having upset him made you.

"We were on our way back from taking care of-"

"I'm aware of your assignment, do not forget who signs off on your outings, give me the specifics."

A curious finger brushed over your hardened nipple, hearing the words catching in your throat.

"Treasure hoarders. I failed to block a strike and-" your body tensed as it wrung out the words.

"You failed to block a strike from such vermin?" He tutted, hand squeezing a little tighter around the soft flesh of your chest, seeing it spill out between his fingers, "That hardly warrants returning all cut and bruised, clearly, you lack the perseverance I thought I'd observed in you. Soon enough, you'll be nothing but nutrients for the wayside flora, is that what you'd like?"

Dottore wanted to laugh at your pitiful expression, a kicked puppy laying at his feet and wordlessly pleading for forgiveness, unknowing that it had already been granted. It was deliberate that you were never sent away far or for long, but there was no reason for you to know. Fear fostered obedience and your obedience was always pleasant, speeding up the process of cleaning the wounds you'd sustained with minimal squirming.

That didn't mean one hand wasn't constantly splayed over your sternum, pressing down to keep your body pinned. Already, a faint buzz was crawling along his bloodstream, months of conditioning catching up in the most frustrating manner as the front of his pants tightened. He had to swallow hard, forcing his fingers to relax before he left bruises. How would it look, he mused, if his nails could dig into your flesh? At the mere thought of those red crescent, a wave of heat washed over his body, accompanied by images of what other marks he could leave upon the canvas of your body.

Could he replicate and improve how pliant your thighs were under his grasp, would new vocal cords make sweeter sounds, added nerve endings would no doubt make for interesting results, if your muscles were synthetic the force they could exert would be greater meaning-

Not yet.

Dottore willed his focus to return, threading a needle as his disinterested voice rang out in the otherwise silent room.

"Do I need to strap you down?"

There was no need to look, knowing you were already oh so bravely shaking your head. An amused smile graced his lips upon seeing your teeth sink into the dirty uniform. Such foresight deserved praise, a small nod of his head accompanied by a finger rubbing along your collarbone in an almost soothing motion.

Having done it countless times before, the needle went effortlessly through your skin, thread pulling the flesh tightly together whenever he tugged. A hand kept returning to your no doubt soft locks of hair, carding through it and pushing back the urge to give a tug. The few tears that had fallen were swiftly brushed away by his fingers, the taste almost cloying upon his tongue.

Dottore sighed softly, tapping your side to get your attention back to the present, seeing your glassy eyes and the small shivers that ran down your body. He could already smell your arousal in the air, the scent growing in strength every time your hips shifted.

"That's it for now," his hand skimmed along your bare stomach, ending atop your sternum and keeping you down, "however, some of the lacerations appear to be in early stages of infection."

How he'd missed the little hitch of your breath, the stutter of your heart underneath his hand. Unceremoniously, Dottore put more weight into the hand, feeling your pulse echo throughout his own body and letting every beat slowly fill the gaping pit beneath his ribs with hollow promises.

There was no infection, of course, but he needed something to placate you before an injection. And the sedative would be invaluable. After weeks of being famished, there was no guarantee your comfort would be at the front of his mind, and it was so much more pleasant when you didn't struggle. Last time had bitterly taught him as much.

"But you can make me okay, right?" There was a sweet tremble to your voice, always so scared of death.

"The mere question is an insult to my abilities," he practically purred, excitement bubbling as his chosen objective for the day moved closer, "it'll just be a little prick and then you're safe. Now, sit up for me."

He'd already turned around, hands aching to return as he rummaged through a few drawers, eventually pulling out both a vial and syringe. Your body came into view reflected in the clear liquid, barely having sat up and already exploring the stitches.

All it for your eyes to lock on the syringe was two taps to the glass, unease so plainly written across your face while he pressed the plunger to clear excess air trapped inside.

His hand encircled your arm, tugging upwards and tutting at the grime that clung to you. With the syringe between his teeth, he wiped the area down, satisfaction flooding his system when goosebumps spread. It had been so long since he'd had you properly.

"There. Now, you need to stay here a little so I can ensure that there are no immediate adverse effects. The blanket is in the usual spot."

It would have been far more practical for you to put the uniform back on, but Dottore trusted that you'd follow his directions regardless and without fuss. When he caught the rattling of metal buckles, he wanted to laugh at your naivety, were you truly not accustomed enough by now to know what he wanted?

"I said; the blanket is in its usual spot," the icy sneer left his lips without a second thought, and oh how beautiful your widening eyes were.

"Well, I know, but it was just-" your voice was already a pitch higher, the irrational fear further irking him.

"Should I consider this insubordination?"

Already, Dottore had crossed the distance and wrapped a large hand around your jaw. It was no secret what happened to cross subordinates. He was well aware that your little slip hardly warranted this reaction, but it was difficult to hold back when the urge to sink his nails into your skin screamed and begged, fighting to drown out every other thought.

"N-no, please…"

It would be all too easy to squeeze a little tighter, hear the crack of your mandible as it would threaten to give out. His fingers stretched to move further up, pressing against the condylar processes, feeling around the joint as images of you with your jaw agape crashed over him.

Dottore knew how little force it took to break. And how a replacement could be crafted and implanted in less than a day, stronger and sturdier than what occupied the space now.

"Remember your place, and be thankful I don't leave you to wilt," the words were spat out with more disdain than anticipated, his fingers giving a last wanton squeeze before releasing your jaw.

With a small scoff, Dottore returned to one of the workbenches that lined the walls, feigning disinterest as his hands automatically began tinkering with the closest contraption, barely willing to divide enough attention to ensure it wasn't something that required further protective equipment for handling. Of course you'd know there were proper medics within the ranks, the most accessible ones located a few rooms away, but they couldn't offer what he did, and the reassurance that you always came back for him to lick your wounds with his barbed tongue, it was enough to pacify any frustrations with your brief moments of hesitation.

Five minutes of pretending to be distracted and Dottore found himself a little impatient.

Ten minutes and it had built to irritation, glassware scraping along the surfaces as he pushed it around, mindlessly 'reorganizing'.

By fifteen something would have been thrown were he a lesser being.

Sweet relief came at the quiet sound of your voice shattering the thick air, the words slurred as if you couldn't quite make out the correct shapes with your lips.

"Am I s'posed to feel tired?"

A small chuckle wormed it's way from his lungs, nonchalance fully restored now that he could turn to gaze upon your slumped body, fingers tightly clutching the fuzzy blanket that enveloped you in a flimsy haven.

"You've just returned after weeks in the field, having sustained injuries and all," Dottore spoke calmly, betraying none of his greed as he gestured to the trace remnants of blood on the table, "it is no wonder that exhaustion would begin to take hold now that you are safe."

The question was plainly written in your eyes, making Dottore incline his head in silent motion to continue, preemptively stepping closer to catch what would no doubt be a whisper.

"Should I go back to the barracks?"

"Would you prefer to go?"

You wouldn't be given the opportunity to go, of course not, but there was no need to be forceful when he could already see how valiantly you fought to keep your eyes open, how your body seemed drawn downwards. It couldn't be more than a few minutes now.

Irritation briefly sparked in Dottore's chest at the little shake of your head, it would've been far more fulfilling to hear you say it.

No attempt was made to make your way through the laboratory to reach the modest cot that stood tucked away in a corner, crates of supplies and projects on hold usually hiding it from view. How ethereal you looked, head lolled to the side and the blanket slowly slipping from your shoulders as a false slumber curled its gnarled limbs around you.

Whatever conclusions you mind would reach were of little consequence, the sedative would take care of that, countless tests indicating that it always left the recipient's memory riddled with inconsistencies, making it easy to dismiss any unpleasantries as imagined.

Dreams.

The risks associated with using the modified Akasha were still too great, even if the possibility of directly rewriting the barrier between truth and fantasy was a tempting one. This way would be more satisfying in the end, having had to put in a little work and flex muscles that had been allowed to atrophy since his days in The Akademiya.

Dottore showed extra care when he hoisted up your unconscious form, grip unyielding as he closed his eyes to revel in the weight against him. In a past that mattered little, others had sworn the ego he carried around was inflated enough to see him ascend in any way but the desired, perhaps this would've been enough of a tether to their reality. For this alone would he allow himself to be held down.

Perhaps things could have been different had that lone island in the sky not decided for his fate to be nothing but misery. Thus logic dictated that you too would be lost. A soft tremor reminded his fingers to relax, gently stroking over the crescents they'd left.

Your breath warmed him far more than it had any right to, coaxing forth memories of a soft summer breeze, rose petals velvety between his fingers as they were plucked from their stem and plummeted to their inevitable demise. And an inviting sound, bubbly and sweet that had, for just a night, filled his veins with the toxin your presence had reignited.

Having you clean would be preferable. The emergency shower would hardly be sufficient, not with how the filth seemed to have embedded itself in your skin. With you unconscious, there was no reason to school his expression, the notion only serving to exacerbate the scowl his face set in.

A soak would be easiest.

There was nothing pompous about the washroom attached to his quarters, and a pang of regret had the idea of bringing you to The Regrator's briefly surfacing. The sentiment didn't linger, an unwillingness to be indebted quickly reigning in the myriad of thoughts cluttering his mind in much the same way towels and clothes were currently strewn around the room.

It made a pretty picture, your body curled up against the side of the tub, a few rays of pale light slithering through the lone window to caress your face. A feeling that had never quite been within his grasp lingered in the rays of light, coaxing something painfully unfamiliar to tug at his shriveled heart.

Just a little longer before the tingling in his fingertips would be sated.

Quick work was made of disrobing himself, a watchful eye making sure your head remained above water. Dottore let a weary sigh hang in the otherwise empty silence, hating the hesitation that riddled his movements as his clothes fell to the floor. There was no reason to be reserved about the results of a life lived, the chances of you regaining consciousness would remain negligible for a while.

Finally settling with your weight in his lap was undoubtedly the closest to rapture Dottore had found himself. Arms securely around your midsection, your back flush against his heaving chest, had every uncertainty draining into the water.

Dutifully, one hand tore itself from your form to reach for a clean cloth, struggling for a moment before muscle memory took over, fingertips gracing the fabric without the need to tear his eyes from your parted lips. It was nothing short of tranquil, letting the cloth scrub away the remnants of your excursion with meticulous care.

Dottore saw how your skin turned red from the continued friction and consciously ignored it, some small voice wanting to rub it off completely and leave you a blank canvas.

He looked instead at his reflection in the water, vermillion stare drawn to its counterpart, noting briefly how it wasn't nearly as comfortable as being under your gaze.

At least his subconscious mind had the decency to have left the few areas he'd stitched together alone, not that they mattered in any practical sense, but you'd be distraught if they were gone when you woke. With time, would you be as broken as him?

Only once you'd been scrubbed clean were thoughts of his own desires acknowledged, cock throbbing against your back as soon as attention was diverted to the feeling. A small hiss mingled with the steam from the water, Dottore easily repositioning you to let his length slide between your thighs.

Already, satisfaction rumbled in his chest, vision engulfed by white for a moment upon repeating the soft motion of his hips. Your thighs easily gave way when tugged apart, body every bit as pliant as previously. Having made peace with his impatience long before, his lips were immediately descended upon the crook of your neck, stifling the groans that spilled forth as he aligned himself.

The water provided additional friction, a slight burn dancing against his sensitive tip upon breaching your tight entrance. Soap met his tongue, disgustingly sterile as it danced along his taste buds, only spurring him on to mouth at you with renewed vigor, desperate to taste the sweetness he knew lay buried underneath.

His hips snapped up as the familiar taste invaded his senses, eyes rolling back at the pleasure of being buried to the hilt. Had his faith been intact, a prayer to the archons for your silence would have tumbled from his lips. Warm droplets carved out paths alongside old scars, gathering at his chin before being caught in the soft locks of your hair. Dottore felt his skin crawl as traces of a pained howl bubbled in his throat, body trembling in time with every squeeze of your insides.

If time would remain forever frozen as the land just outside the walls perhaps everything would be more bearable then. Would it banish both the threat of separation and the burden of remaining what he'd made of himself in spite of reality?

Another sound crawled from his lungs, foreign and intrusive when it met his ears, wanton in a way that caused nothing but dissonance. Dottore curled his body around you, panting heavily against the nape of your neck as he sought out some form of relief, his muscles straining with the increased pace.

Stagnating would be of no use, pleasure was fleeting, worthless without contrast.

Dottore felt euphoria flood his system, spine tingling mercilessly as his sharp teeth tore into the pliant flesh beneath. It was a thoughtless action, driven only by the need to claim and consume, satisfying the desperate desire to be whole. Water sloshed against the edges with every rut of his hips, driving himself deeper into the warmth you so selflessly provided.

How much time had passed felt secondary, the only thing truly worth attention being the rapid tightening in his abdomen, pleasure steadily building with every movement. Seeking more, Dottore found his hands had moved down to grasp the curve of your hip, easily hoisting you up to twist your body around.

With a ferocity that should by all means have been concerning, his lips sought a home against yours, relishing in how they had already parted for him. A hand in your hair was all that was needed to stabilize your head enough that he could delude himself into thinking you awake.

That the little puffs of air that passed into his waiting jaws were instead keens and broken moans spilling forth. His tongue pushed into the waiting heat, wanting if he could to explore deeper, have your throat squeeze around his tongue as your body did his cock. Before he could hesitate, the curve of your nape rested in his calloused palm, the appendage twitching with budding excitement.

A light press was all his mind would allow, knowing all too well how little it would take to snap such a precious thing. As intoxicating as holding the fate of another in his hands were, this was wrong, without reason.

It was the way your thighs quivered around his hips that brought order to all those thoughts, tugging your head away for a breath of fresh air to stifle his burning lungs. Only a single breath afforded, diving back in for more as all else lost meaning. He needed more, needed to hear you beg him, needed your hands to tug at his hair, needed-

Water splashed over the edges as he pushed forward, hands grasping for the back of your knees to push them against your chest. His chest heaved at the sight underneath him, growling like a wounded animal as he reaped what he'd cultivated, one hand keeping a leg pinned while the other covered your nose and mouth.

He was so close.

Close enough that every clench of your slick heat choked his thoughts. Close enough that he threw back his head, willing the image of your eyes briefly opening from his mind, focusing instead on the water soothing his burning skin as he gave a last few thrusts, cursing as the thread snapped and released washed over him.

It would've been no surprise if the tub had cracked from the force, even less if you had cracked, his body still shaking from the force of his release, milky white leaking out into the water and dispersing. Your body was swiftly pulled above the surface as Dottore sat back, once more cradling your head to his chest, trying to ignore the emptiness that wanted to force itself along the clarity that came in the wake of euphoria.

He laid your no doubt exhausted frame onto the cot, hastily tossing the grey blanket over your form. The harsh light of the laboratory did little to hide the marks that littered your body, blooming purple along your thighs, fierce red at your shoulders, already tempting him to reach out and touch again. It was a matter of creating distance, unwilling to let attachment fester and consume more, already now the gnawing had returned, weaker than before but far from sated.

By all means, he should've swung the door shut with more force, knowing at the back of his mind that the lock never clicked. It did nothing to stop his body from collapsing onto his unmade bed, pushing at the covers before crawling further up. He didn't find himself opposed to having you drape yourself against his body, rest in his arms.

Would you seek him out by yourself once the sedative wore off?

Would that finally stave off his hunger?

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tervaneula · 6 months

Note

u said leoichi drabble prompt request. consider. one injured and the other protecting them and then the injured one has to calm them down bc 'they're okay, really, promise, rest now'

OKAY SO this fused with a ghost of an idea I've had for a while and it ended up being a bit more serious than the prompt called for and a lot longer than just a drabble. (It's ~1120 words.) CW: blood and injury

Also I made a silly header thing I don't know what to do with, so I'm putting it here since this fic doesn't come with art of its own :'3

“Yui, I’m okay–”

The rabbit turns his head to look at him, furious.

“I heard your shell crack, Leonardo, and I'm not an idiot! Now stay down and let me handle this!”

He falls quiet for a moment before redirecting his glare towards their adversary and then adds a muted, “Please.”

There's no compromising with Yuichi in this state, apparently, and Leonardo stays right where he got crushed between metal claws and the concrete, splayed on the ground next to those very same claws which had gotten swiftly cut from the wrist for their transgressions.

He does roll onto his side to get his body weight off his shell, and yeah, alright, one or more of the old cracks that never healed properly must have split open again. It's tough to breathe and his back feels… His kimono is sticking to his shell and his back feels wet now that he's paying attention, and that. That is not good.

Just his luck to run into a massive mecha wreaking havoc on an otherwise lovely day, huh. He wasn't even supposed to be on patrol and thus is embarrassingly swordless.

Good thing that his date and their resident samurai always carries his.

The slider watches as Yuichi does quick work of the metal hunk's wiring behind its knees, his frighteningly sharp katana slicing through the cables like butter. The mech falls with a ground-shaking rumble, unable to rise again, arm flailing as it tries to catch the rabbit. It's no use, Yuichi is much smaller and faster – and as soon as he reaches the mech's head, it's already rolling. The construct immediately loses power and Yuichi wrenches the windowed hatch in its chest open. Turns out there's no pilot, just a program-operated dashboard, and he makes sure that none of the controls are functional after he's done with them.

Leonardo thinks he could watch Yuichi trash villains all day long, he's practically mesmerised by the strength hidden in that soft frame despite his shell throbbing unpleasantly in tandem with his heartbeat. He sighs, lovestruck.

As his final move, Yuichi thrusts his katana into the heart of the mecha and Leonardo sees a spray of ink-black oil splash all over Yuichi's face and the front of his kimono. It makes him laugh and he realises his mistake too late, his lungs struggling to draw breath again as he finally gets hit with the pain, his body trying to stop him from moving; from causing any more damage. Shit, shit, shit.

He had hoped he wouldn’t need to bother any of his brothers today since he was supposed to spend the whole day with Yuichi but he knows to pick his battles, now. He opens the comm link embedded in his prosthetic, contacting someone who he knows will pick up.

“Che~ello!” comes the cheerful answer in just a few seconds, and Leonardo can't help but smile.

“Mikeyyy, hermano, I'm in a bit of a pickle,” he wheezes, feeling the shift in his little brother's energy as soon as he hears the strain in his voice.

“Leo? Are you okay?”

“Not really, no,” Leonardo grunts. “Got into a scuffle with some big haywire robot– don’t worry, that’s taken care of. I suspect Donnie will want to scrap it for parts. Um. My shell’s– my shell’s cracked though.”

Leonardo can vividly imagine the colour draining from Michelangelo's face and it would be funny if he wasn't acutely aware of a broken shell coming with the very real possibility of his innards turning into outnards.

“I'm calling Draxy. Stay put, I'll get Lee to pick you up.”

“Right,” Leonardo sighs, the line going out just when Yuichi is finally done with the mech and rushing to his side, face haphazardly wiped from oil. His gaze is sharp as he kneels next to him, sweaty and out of breath, and Leonardo thinks he looks like a knight. Or maybe like a samurai of the old, in this case.

“There’s my hero,” he coos before Yuichi can get a word out and the rabbit’s brow furrows.

“Don’t start,” he snaps but his tone softens almost immediately, “I saw you calling someone. It’s bad, isn’t it? It… it looks really bad.”

“Yeeeah, this kimono is definitely ruined,” Leonardo laments, “unless you know how to, gh, get blood out of corduroy? No? Or the obi?”

Yuichi stares.

“A– a shame, really, I did like this one a lot–”

“Leonardo!” Yuichi interrupts him and grabs his bicep, looking two seconds away from crying. Leonardo frowns. He knows he’s getting a little delirious but he was sincerely trying his best to lift his mate’s mood.

“Leon, please, you’re rambling. Is someone coming? Can I do anything?”

“‘m not rambling,” Leonardo grumbles, hissing when he fills his lungs again. “Leo’s coming to get us, Draxy– Draxum will treat the shell. And no, better keep the obi in place until we get to the medbay.”

Yuichi’s shoulders slump and he sighs, most likely relieved that he’s not going to have to figure out how to deal with a cracked shell. Leonardo does not like the lingering worry in Yuichi’s gaze one bit, though, and he offers him a grin. It’s a little shaky but whatever.

“Heeey, bunbun. Listen. This is nothing I haven’t been through before. I’ll be fine.”

Yuichi gives him an honest-to-God kicked-puppy look and Leonardo thinks it’s the most adorable thing he’s ever seen in his life. He almost tells him so but Yuichi cups his cheek and his forced grin melts away into surprised silence.

“I hate seeing you hurt,” Yuichi murmurs, leaning down to press his forehead against Leonardo’s. The slider’s eyes flutter shut and he lifts his hand to hold onto Yuichi’s wrist.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I mean it. I should’ve been more careful.”

Yuichi huffs and leans away to gently bump their foreheads together.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“Maybe, but ’m still sorry. Didn’t want to worry you.”

“You’re an idiot,” Yuichi says, exasperated. “You should know that at this point, I’ll always worry.”

Leonardo grins and this time it’s genuine. Breathing in his partner’s scent is like a balm to him, even if it’s tinged with the bitterness of motor oil, even if his body currently thinks that breathing is overrated. Even if he just got called an idiot by none other than said partner.

“Raincheck on the date?” he mumbles, and finally he gets a chuckle out of the rabbit. Yuichi straightens his back and flicks him on the nose.

“Like you even needed to ask. Idiot.”

Before Leonardo can express his displeasure of being called an idiot for a second time there’s the familiar electric hum of a portal opening behind him, and someone whistles.

“Sheesh, old man. That kimono is definitely ruined.”

#NOT PROOFREAD I had to stop myself because every time I tried to check this over I kept writing MORE and that's just not sustainable #sdfghhsfghjafsfd #anyway these peepaws gay #rottmnt #rottmnt fanart #rottmnt fanfiction #leoichi #peepaw leo #peepaw yuichi #other characters mentioned + a cameo from #rise leo #future leonardo #future leo #samurai rabbit #usagi chronicles #yuichi usagi #usagi yuichi #tervdraws #tervdrabbles

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tin-wufborf · 17 days

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Tin's Favorite Sterek Fics (Part 17)

Hello, and welcome back to Tin's Favorite Sterek Fics! Apologies again for the huge delay. I've had a busy last couple of weeks, but also...well, I posted about this earlier, but I hath been consumed by the beast that is Deadpool & Wolverine and have fallen back into my Wolverine obsession. I won't go on too much about that here, because that's not what you're here for, but I am letting you all know that it is definitely the most to blame for why this is so late lol.

But enough about that! Back to the real reason I have these little openers: thank you all so much for your support of this series. It's crazy to me that anyone at all cares about what I've read and liked, but that so many of you have taken an interest and even shared these lists is truly mind-blowing. So, truly, thank you all so much.

I hope you're all having as good a day as you can, if not a great one.

Smoochies and squeezies!

List and links to previous parts below the cut.

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DISCLAIMER: This is me warning you all that some of the fics I've included in this list may cover explicit, dark, and/or "taboo" subject matters. I cannot express enough how little I care what anyone thinks about any of that; all I want is for you to use caution when reading anything I've listed here and to please review and heed whatever tags the authors have provided in order to keep yourselves safe. Your experience from this point on is your own responsibility, not mine and not the authors'.

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Broken Things (It's Complicated) by PalenDrome (nerherderette) (G | 1/1 | 3,880)

It's been fifteen years, and Derek still has feelings about that Jeep.

[excerpt] “Stiles loved that Jeep,” the Sheriff says with a wistful smile. “It was Claudia’s. When he left it behind…” He turns his gaze elsewhere, at some distant spot beyond Derek’s shoulder.

Derek feels a claw rip through the fragile paper. He’s not sure if the Sheriff changed his mind about allowing Derek to take the Jeep. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if he did.

“I’m doing my best. And I know; I want to get it up and running.” Derek wonders whether the Sheriff thinks he’s fixing it up for resale, or souping it up for an off-road joyride. Both possibilities leave him with an icy anger in his gut.

The Sheriff must understand what he feels, because his face softens. “What I meant is that Stiles loved that Jeep. He put whatever little savings he had into keeping that thing running. So, if he left it behind…” He runs his hand through his hair and sighs. “Sometimes, things are too broken to be fixed.”

Derek nods slowly. He understands. But he also knows it’s not just that things break down. It's that sometimes, people give up on them, too.

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Sure of You by inhystereks (G | 1/1 | 4,129)

The Sheriff knew Stiles had found his not-so-little surprise when he went completely silent.

“Dad?” he called.

“Yeah, son?” John called back.

“Why is there a werewolf in the living room?”

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Shine Bright Like a Unicorn by HappyJuicyfruit (G | 1/1 | 5,392)

Stiles never stopped seeing his imaginary friend, Benji the unicorn, he just stopped talking about her.

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how to court a werewolf by graveltotempo (G | 1/1 | 6,592)

Stiles accidentally begins a courtship with Derek. Wary at first, the werewolf accepts, and Stiles ticks off all the boxes of a traditional Hale werewolf courting - oblivious to the whole thing.

Because of course he is.

Peter thinks the entire thing is hilarious.

Cora thinks that they deserve each other.

(spoiler alert: they do)

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Stiles' Annual Halloween Prank by LuneFaitLaFolie (T | 1/1 | 6,736)

Working the graveyard shift on Halloween night, John spends most of his time waiting for the phone call that Stiles and Scott have been caught attempting their annual Halloween prank.

He isn't expecting that call to come in the form of a neighbour seeing a group of people covered in blood and dressed as werewolves potentially breaking into his house. Checking up on it himself, he really isn't prepared for the absolute mess unfolding in his kitchen.

Maybe those traumatised teenagers caught smoking weed in the preserve knew what they were talking about when freaking out over werewolves and witches and a psycho with a bat...

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Special Delivery (subway edition) by FiannlyPhoebe (NR | 1/1 | 7,630)

“You’re what?” Stiles yells.

Derek jerks the phone away from his ear and waits a few beats before putting it back. “I’m adopting the baby I found on the subway last month,” he repeats.

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Oh, Alpha of Mine by whentheywrite (M | 1/1 | 9,806)

When the alpha came for him, it was at the library. But Stiles had never wanted the bite.

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A Heart That's Overgrown by Justagirlwithapen (E | 5/5 | 14,852)

When Stiles is five, he meets Derek Hale. When Stiles is seven an itch begins in his throat, and when he’s ten he can no longer ignore it. When Stiles is 11 and a half, he coughs his first petals. When he’s 12, Derek Hale leaves town and when he’s 13 the petals stop and the itch lessens. But at 16, the shit hits the fan. At 16, Derek comes home.

The disease is progressing at a rapid rate, Derek is focused on revenge and his betas, and Stiles can barely admit his feelings to himself let alone anyone else. But flowers are crawling up his throat, and something’s gotta give.

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One More Again by HelloWhyTheFuckAmIHere (NR | 16/16 | 22,238)

When a strange man appears in the Hale Pack territory with an unusual proposition for Stiles and Lydia, Stiles is unable to resist going back in time to stop the Hale House fire.

Even after a few bumps in the road, Stiles finds himself in the past with one nearly-insurmountable goal - getting Talia Hale and the rest of her family to trust him with their lives.

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New Family series by DarkJediQueen (3 works | T-E | 26,986)

1. Life with the Hales (T | 1/1 | 9,681) Stiles finds a family that likes him for him. No change needed. He latches on with both hands and his heart. 2. Life with Derek and Cora (M | 1/1 | 9,240) Derek is more than happy to have Cora and Stiles with him in San Francisco. With them close again, he can start his courtship of Stiles. 3. Life in the Shop (E | 1/1 | 8,065) Stiles is back in Beacon Hills, living full time and opening up his new shop.

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Morning Light by heartsdesire456 (T | 1/1 | 27,272)

After two years as a deputy for the Beacon Hills Sheriff’s Department, not to mention a lifetime of being the kid of an officer of the law, Stiles had seen some things in his time. Some weird shit happened in Beacon Hills, really. However, no amount of animals mauled in the woods, people going missing, psychotic teenagers going on killing sprees with their trained pet mountain lions (or so the official report stated; Stiles didn’t trust his dad’s account of that night back when he was in high school) could prepare Stiles for the sheer ‘what the hell?!’-ness of waking up at six in the morning for his shift, pouring himself a cup of coffee, and then noticing that outside the back window there was a little girl playing in his flower beds.

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Here We Are Again series by crossroadswrite (2 works | G-T | 27,528)

Basically I listened to Taylor Swift's All Too Well, got feels and this happened.

1. You Remember It All; When I Loved You So (T | 1/1 | 21,413) Derek takes a step forward and then stops. Stiles can see the way his muscles tense and tremble like he’s holding himself back by a hair. “What-“ his voice breaks, he gets a little choked off and has to drop his eyes. It’s been one year. He doesn’t think he can look at him after one year. “What are you doing here?” he mumbles into the floor, knows that Derek will hear him. “I-“ 2. I Can Picture It After All These Days (G | 1/1 | 6,115) Derek’s not nervous. He’s done this a thousand times. He just has to knock on the door, greet Stiles and somehow try to convince him to take his sorry ass back so they can date and live happily ever after. Derek shifts a little on the porch, shaking out his arm like he’s loosening his muscles for a fight. He can do this. He can totally do this.

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don't know what i'm supposed to do (haunted by the ghost of you) by crazyassmurdererwall (smartalli) (T | 1/1 | 30,926)

Stiles sees dead people. Yep. Seriously.

(He’s got this. He’s totally got this. So what if one of them is Derek’s mom?)

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Hold The Day by Daisyapples (NR | 1/1 | 38,405)

Derek froze, fear and anger battling inside of him.

“Personally, I’m very protective of the things I love,” Argent continued. “But that’s something I learned from my family. And you don’t have much of that these days. Do you?”

“Wow, man.” Stiles suddenly rounded the petrol pumps and put himself between Argent and Derek. “Low blow.”

It was almost amusing to see how put out Argent was; he shifted on his feet, hands clenched into fists as if he wanted to hit Stiles. Derek wanted to grab the boy and put him behind him but he also liked having a shield between him and the hunter.

“You know who this is, right?” Stiles gestured wildly, almost hitting both himself and the Camaro. “Little orphan Annie here lost almost his whole family in a house fire. You wanna learn a bit of tact?”

Derek was almost amused at the boy who had just called him little orphan Annie preaching tact.

Almost.

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Timing is Everything series by ChloeWeird (ChloeBYoung) (5 works | T-M | 63,159)

Starts off as accidental baby acquisition, then morphs into full-fledged domestic fluff with bonus angst.

Series is complete, but there might be a couple more little ficlets in me, just timestamps on the series.

1. Perfect Timing (T | 3/3 | 9,613) Nothing had tried to kill them for three whole years. His dad stopped updating the "Supernatural Accident Free for X days" counter. The pack was stable. The timing was perfect and they could totally do this. Stiles just had to convince Derek. Somehow, taking their relationship to the next level doesn't go as planned. 2. Comes With Time (M | 7/7 | 22,787) Four months ago, Stiles and Derek rescued a terrified young werewolf from an animal shelter, and now, they call him their son. But loving him may not be enough to help him heal from the trauma of months in captivity. 3. Borrowed Time (T | 1/1 | 3,014) Stiles gets a harsh reminder that their son wasn’t always theirs...and that Teddy’s family was never located. 4. That Time Again (M | 6/6 | 11,713) Stiles and Derek decide that they want to add to their family. But life doesn’t always work out the way they want it to. 5. Time Outs (T | 8/8 | 16,032) 1k-2k ficlets set in the "Timing is Everything" Universe. May be updated if I get inspired, but I'll mark it complete for now.

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The Moon's Gonna Follow Me Home by turningterrific (E | 2/2 | 82,866)

Derek doesn’t want to call the window repair guy. He doesn’t want to sweep up the glass. He’ll inevitably miss a few shards and pull them out of the bottom of his bare feet for weeks.

He doesn’t want to try to make this place feel like home when it isn’t.

Derek stayed in Beacon Hills and tried to make it work because he wanted pack, wanted purpose. He gave his best effort and found himself back where he started: alone, with a few begrudging allies. He’s tired, and even though his werewolf body heals quickly, he feels the weary ache down to his center.

He packs his car with the few things he cares about enough to drag them from place to place. He locks the loft and calls a realtor about listing the building he’d bought in a misguided attempt to secure a future.

And then he leaves.

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southpaw series by elisela (13 works | G-E | 83,390)

Hello, 'tis I, Tin. Once again, Tumblr is throwing a hissy fit about me including all of the series summaries for the individual parts of this series. Usually when this happens, I give you my own little synopsis of the series in effort to entice you, but I'm going to do it a little different this time. Instead, I offer you the summary for the main story that I think is the perfect enticement to the series as a whole--

From part 2 of this series, "ahead of the count":

“Yankee fan,” Derek says, laughing when Stiles makes a disgusted face. “The Bronx Bombers, Stiles, you can’t be a New Yorker and—” “Stop talking right now,” Stiles sighs, shaking his head. “I can’t believe I still want to kiss you after that,” he says, pulling Derek in by his coat. “This is making me rethink everything." “I’ll never watch them again,” Derek promises, and Stiles laughs against his mouth.

Or: Stiles is a starting pitcher for the NY Mets when he meets and falls in love with Derek. Derek doesn’t know.

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Where the Real Beasts Are by kaistrex (weishen) (E | 12/12 | 109,100)

Crown Prince Stiles is gifted a direwolf on his eighteenth birthday by King Gerard I of Venatia. The only instruction? Never remove the collar.

Stiles never has been one to do as he’s told.

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Shut Up and Help Us series by HelloWhyTheFuckAmIHere (2 works | NR | 144,162)

1. Of Course It's Fairies (NR | 54/54 | 100,257) While still suffering from the after effects of the Nogitsune, Stiles and the pack stumble upon and save a trapped fairy. The boy's parents, not wanting to be in the pack’s debt, offer each member of the pack who assisted in the rescue, the opportunity to bring a loved one back from the dead. Having been blissfully reunited with several of their once-lost friends and family members, everyone must work together to figure out how to function as a new pack, and how to defeat a new incoming threat. [I did not include the Fae & Fairies tag because after the first three chapters or so, they do not really play a large part in the fic, so I didn't want to mislead anyone!] 2. Survival Is A Habit (NR | 31/31 | 43,905) Nearly a year after the Hale pack defeated their first real threat, Talia gets a call inviting them to attend the Triennial Pack Convention. They gladly accept, hoping to use the TPC as one last celebration before the younger members go off to college. But when a series of events puts the pack at risk, they find themselves in desperate need of allies.

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What I Did On My Summer Vacation by grimm (E | 4/4 | 118,749)

There's something weird about Beacon Hills that Stiles can't quite put his finger on. The way everyone in town knows his name the day he arrives. The way they insist the melancholic howling that echoes through the forest every night is just a dog. The way his dad denies getting a dog, even though Stiles comes home to find one sprawled across his bed, some big black thing whose eyes gleam red in the right light. The way that massive oak tree out in the woods vibrates under his touch, pulsing with sickly life.

There's something weird going on in this town, and Stiles is determined to get to the bottom of it.

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#teen wolf #sterek #derek hale #stiles stilinski #sterek fic rec list #sterek fic rec #fic rec list #rec list #fic rec #tin's rec lists

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orikiys · 1 year

Text

✿ ✿ 〞 voicemails with han on your wedding day

✰ pairings: bsf!han x fem!reader

✰ genre: angst, fluff if you squint and romance

✰ word count: 1.3k+ words

one 𖨂

first off, i’m sorry i made you cry like that. i’m sorry that i intentionally hurt you even though i didn’t mean to. i guess it’s time to spill the beans, huh? it’s been what– like 6 years now? 6 years of constantly pining over you. 6 years of falling in love with every bit of you. and 6 years of watching you fall for several people and get your heart broken. i’ve seen it all. lived it all as well, right by your side just like always. it wasn’t easy of course, watching the love of your life kiss someone else, hug someone else or cry over stupid exes who didn’t deserve you. but i did my best to hold it in. but now . . . i don’t think i can. i love you so much, more than you’ve ever now and more than you ever will. your fiancé is lucky. he truly is. for being able to marry a girl like you in less than a few hours. and you must be wondering why i’m sending you these voicemails 3 hours before your wedding. well it’s because you don’t have your phone with you right now as you’re very much busy, which is a golden opportunity for me.

two 𖨂

i hate you. so so much. i hate you so much for making me feel this way. i hate you so much for running through my mind the entire day. i hate you so much for making me feel all excited and giddy whenever you smile at me, but your eyes. . . they have love. not the romantic one, the platonic one. and that’s what hurts me the most. i even thought of telling this to you earlier but i couldn’t. not when our friendship of 8 years was at stake. never. nothing is more precious than that. but sometimes i do wonder whether your heart used to beat fast when i stood close to you. or whether your cheeks used to feel warm when i touched you. did it ever happen to you? i guess not. how could you love a guy like me? you, who are literally the perfectionist and me who learnt from you. doesn’t match right? i wished it did. i truly wished it did.

three 𖨂

i never lost hope, you know? instead i clung onto it until the very end, which is today. i hoped for you to fall in love with me little by little. and even though you couldn’t reciprocate my love for you, i wish we tried. but i fall in love with you a little bit more day by day. and now my heart is swelling with immense sadness that it even hurts to laugh without letting out tears of pain. it hurts to see you smile knowing i’m not the main reason anymore. i’ve become a side one. and it hurts to see you so excited for your wedding. and i hate myself for that. i hate that i can’t even pretend to be happy for my best friend who finally found true love. best friend. that’s all i mean to you right? nothing more, nothing less. but i don’t blame you. i could never. so i hope he doesn’t hurt you ever. because i might not be sufficient for you whether it be now or 10 years later. just know that.

four 𖨂

as i stand wearing my tuxedo, i wonder how it would look to have your arm linked with mine. to have your eyes shining with joy, for me. but that can never happen, can it? i see the way you look at him. the way you talk about him. and when you’re angry at him, it hurts me even then. oh, how i wish i could be him. standing by your weeping side and wiping your tears. or perhaps, holding you in my arms under the moonlight. it sounds heavenly doesn’t it? at least it does for me. which is the exact reason why it isn’t real. and i can’t imagine what would happen after you hear these. just don’t hate me please? i beg you. it took me a lot of courage to say this. and i would die if i ever knew that you hate me. your man, he’s perfect in every way. i tried to find any flaw but there isn’t one. he’s madly in love with you too but not longer than me, try to beat that. he gifts you all his love and never his anger. he treats you like a delicate vase, if handled improperly, you might break. he engulfs you in his love and you can practically drown in his eyes with the amount of admiration it contains for you. all for you, my angel.

five 𖨂

i’m back, hiding in the bathroom as i speak. your wedding just ended– and i don’t think i could see you two kissing. i’m so sorry angel. so so sorry. i didn’t want to be that bad friend who falls in love and starts acting as a homewrecker. never. i’m so sorry for falling in love with you. if only i didn’t look at you while you were doing my makeup, this wouldn’t have happened. i danced with you although, and when you asked why i was getting emotional i could only smile with tears. this was the last time i held you like i loved you. the last time i twirled you, and the last time i caught you. because now, i’m throwing away that hope from my life. and i’m letting you go now, my love. i promise. i won’t ever try to love you again the way i did and i’ll punish myself if i ever do that once more.

six 𖨂

at times i even thought i don't want to love you anymore. you tore my heart out in the summer and tossed it aside with a carefree laugh and that crooked smile, before sauntering off to meet your new partner before classes began in the autumn. i don't want to flinch every time i hear your name escape someone’s mouth. i don't want to keep getting hurt every time a memory flashes in my mind like a blaring siren, a loop of playful moments and the moments where i fell deeper. i want to not care about you anymore. i want to be perfect strangers, but i couldn’t just not care when you knocked on my door at 4 am, drunk and a sobbing mess, i just took you in my arms. i held you for hours till the moon disappeared, replacing itself with brightness. not for me. not when you couldn’t even remember how i cared for you or how we went back to being best friends. maybe it was selfish of me to for the night knowing you saw my worth only in your drunk state. but it was enough for me. you were enough for me. and my heart shattered every time knowing i wasn’t.

seven 𖨂

i’m finally letting you free, from the love i had buried deep in my heart. i wish you a happy married life, my angel. and i’m sorry but i will be leaving tonight. i’m going away for a while. for good. and even though i have many excuses i won’t tell them to you. i need time. away from you. away from those feelings that keep bubbling out just by hearing your laughter. i know i’m late. very late in fact. but could you try and not hate me for this? please? it’ll be my last wish before i go. and now, suddenly, everything seems like a goodbye. the last dance, the last hug, the last smile, the last kiss on my cheek and the last moment where i add a full stop to this unrequited love of mine. congratulations angel. though i wished i could call you mine.

#ॱଳ͘#k labels #stray kids x reader #skz scenarios #skz fluff #skz angst #han x reader #han jisung #jisung x reader #skz fanfic #han angst #skz han #skz jisung #stray kids reactions #stray kids imagines

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imagineredwood · 2 months

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Would it be possible to get an HC or would include of Yandere Juice who's readers best friend and he (somehow) convinces reader to have sex with him and he pokes holes into the condom without her knowing? Thank you for giving us all the dark boys lately ☺️

**As you can tell from the request, this is not gonna be everyone’s cup of tea ***

This is obviously triggering content to some people so please please please don't read it if the subject is off-limits or triggering to you. It's yandere Juice who like anyone in that realm is crazy, obsessed, and unhinged and is not by any means a healthy depiction of a relationship. If anyone were to display these behaviors, RUN. That being said, the sex in the HC is consensual, it's the pregnancy that the reader hasn't agreed to obviously because the reader doesn't know. And one could say she was slightly coerced by being horny. (I did tag it for a TW for the R word since she didn't consent to unprotected sex but PLEASE tell me if there are any other tags for triggers I need to put in this post.) If you're on the dark fiction taglist and there are specific topics you don't want to be tagged for please also let me know. I also tagged it for categorization purposes on my page, but if anyone thinks I should remove them so they don't show up in the shows/characters tags please let me know. I'm still new to this type of content and want to make sure I don't do anything wrong.

He’s wanted you for so long

Wanted to marry you and spoil you and show you off as his

He loves you so much and has for so long

But you're just friends

Something you always made sure to remind him of whenever the joke flirting got to be a little too serious

You loved him, no doubt

But you were always hesitant, not knowing if he could be faithful when surrounded by so many other beautiful women so often

You didn't want to risk a broken heart

And he would rather have you only as a friend over not at all

So he never pushed

Only making half asses offers, hoping that one day you'd bite

It was one night when the conversation turned to sex again that he saw a golden opportunity

You admitted that you had never tried one of his favorite positions

Never saw the appeal

And he knows this is his chance

"You'd love it. I know you would. Once you try it, you'll understand. "

He'd go into detail more and more, slowly

Explaining exactly how he does it

How he'd touch you

How he'd position you

How good you would sound

How he would make you see stars

And he can see the way your eyes glaze over ever so slightly

It's the narrative as he explains and the way your mind plays it out that has your thighs squeezing

You think it's subtle enough that he'd never notice

But he notices everything

And he needs you to see how good he could be for you

"Come on. Just trust me. We'll go right back like nothing ever happened right after if you want. Think of it as a learning experience."

And before long, he's got you agreeing

"Just so I can try it out."

He nods and agrees, going into the nightstand and grabbing the one single loose condom that's out of the box

The one he kept for just this very moment

A baby is like an eternal link

Even if you decide eventually that you wanted to leave him, he'd always have access to a part of you

A bond that would be unbreakable

The mother of his child

He'd be a wonderful protector and provider

You'll see that soon enough

Dark fiction taglist

@whitetxilwxlf @kikijackson-blog @ben-c-group-therapy @ravennaortiz @mama-mischief @pekusofixus @shellofashadow @flowercrowns-goodvibes

#dark hc #tw: coercion #yandere!juice #dark!juice #tw rape #dark content #tw coercion #sons of anarchy #juice ortiz #juice ortiz x reader #tw baby trapping #baby trapping

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simpcityy · 9 months

Text

I'm Not Her Pt.6 (Father Miguel O’Hara x Teen! Daughter Reader)

Summary: Miguel O’Hara is your biological father but it’s not great being his daughter when he’s hooked in the past still.

Disclaimer: I do not own Marvel or any of its characters. This short One-Shot has made it into a series! Read part one, two, three and four please to understand the prompt better. (Linked Below) This chapter is full on Miguel's POV.

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: Use of female pronouns, Use of (Y/N), angst, Father Miguel, overall, it’s just sad for now. Other dimensional Miguel… cursing, maybe consider yandere behavior from other dimensional Miguel ...Uhhh...angst... I think that is all for now.

Notes: So, this is the LAST chapter, thank you so much for those who commented to form ideas! I love you all! Also, I am working on a new series from Baldur's gate 3 with a certain Vampire Spawn, first part is out so please check that out.

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt.6

Chaos was happening around in the apartment, variant Miguel chases you, blocking each time you try to run to the front door. “ Te lo prometo (Y/N)” he says, being on the other side of the coffee table as you stand on the other end trying to decide which way to run. “I’ll be the father you always wanted; I already proved you before you found out. Piensa en lo feliz que estabas!” He exclaims. You only shook your head, “ No! I…you…it can’t happen!” You ran to the right only for him to tackle you down. “ Solo escucha!” he roars, hugging you tightly, not letting you go despite how much you try to push away. “Let me go!” You tear up feeling so conflicted, he had a point, you were so happy. Able to spend time with this variant thinking it was your dad. It would be nice to experience this every day for the rest of your life…but no, deep down…you knew it was wrong. Even if that dimension (Y/N) is long dead, it felt so wrong, as if you were taking her father, especially his grief for her. “No!” You yelled before gasping as a web gets shot at his face, breaking his hold on you.

You were feeling overwhelmed, you felt weak how can you be part of the Spider Society when you can’t fight this variant, was it because he looked just like your father, your mind was telling you it’s not him, you can inflict some punches on him but your heart was being blinded how identical he looked as your real father. You look at his eyes, they hold so much regret, you wonder, does your real father feel the same way now that you’re in this situation. “ I am not your (Y/N)” You whisper before kicking him off you with all your strength which surprised you. That’s right, this variant isn’t the same as your father. This Miguel was just a normal guy, no spider powers, you can’t hurt him. Quickly getting up, you looked at him “ Please…you have to go back. You don’t belong here.” You whispered. “ Soon everyone will be here and they will hurt you…in a hero type way but still…it’s going to hurt…and I don’t know what they’ll do once they have you captured.” “No, I have given up everything to be back with you…I need to make up for everything.” He whispers looking at you with a broken look, “ I don’t care what they do to me.”

Miguel looks around the apartment, seeing items on the ground or broken. There was no sign of you or the other Miguel. “(Y/N)!” He yells calling out to you. He walks into your room, seeing if there are any signs of you. He felt as if the universe was taunting him, feeling the same overwhelmed emotions on the day he lost Gabriella. “Lyla!” He calls out before looking over to see Peter walk over a note on his hand. “Here…it’s for you.” He hands him the note that Miguel knew was yours. The same handwriting as the cards you would give him on his Birthday before stopping. The day you stopped giving him cards, was the day you slowly distance yourself from him. The day you stopped trying to salvage the father and daughter relationship. He grabbed the note, his eyes scanning it over quickly.

“I know you might be wondering where I am. You don’t have to worry, I am safe and have no reason to go find me. I decided that it’s better if I go with this variant and no, he is not holding a knife to my neck as I write this. This is my decision and no one else. The day you left…I was too young to understand why but as I grew up, slowly I was learning the truth…the painful truth. This other version of you…was speaking the truth…that I deserve better…that I should be selfish for once. You had no idea how badly I wanted to run away each birthday…celebrating alone or with the others which I thank them…but I always wanted you…I want my father…there’s a part of me…the little girl in me wanting and reaching for your love…but everyone has their limits as you told me before. I reached my limit and I decided to think of myself…my health…my happiness…dad…As much as the other variant wants me to hate you… I will still love you…no matter how shitty you are. You are my dad but for once…I am letting this inner child have what I wanted, a father. I fixed my watch, so I won’t glitch in the other dimension and took off my location. This is goodbye…I finally came to the conclusion that I’ll never be her…you see me as Gabriella sometimes but it’s time you learn…I’m not her.”

Miguel only stood quiet before slowly sitting on the ground gripping the paper. He makes his holographic suit turn off his mask. He looks up at the frames you had hung on your wall. He reaches over to your nightstand pulling off one frame you had. He held the photo of you close. Peter stood at the door, watching Miguel before walking into the living room to report Jess what happened. He flinched hearing Miguel tearing things down cursing out in Spanish before hearing the man sobbed. He looks down, knowing it must be painful to lose a kid. He knew he would feel the same if anything happened to Mayday, but he knows this pain is much stronger since Miguel once again lost another kid.

You look out through the city of this new dimension, looking at people being passed as you ride the bus. Feeling a warm hand on your shoulder, you look up seeing the variant Miguel smile “Don’t worry, it might be different, but I’ll be here to guide you.” He smiles. You only nod looking out the window again before down at your watch. Biting your lip, trying to hold in your tears. A part of you felt guilty but you didn’t want a repeat of the same empty feeling. You only lean your head into Variant Miguel shoulder while he holds you close, rubbing your back as you weep silently on the bus.

'I’m not her and she’s not me.' You thought, always wanting him to see that but you gave up on waiting. You could only hope this new life would heal you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author Notes: SOOO I know and I'm sorry if the ending isn't what you were thinking. maybe...maybe we could make a sequel...depends on if you all want it. Also again, I started a little Astarion x Fem!Reader so please check that out if you are a Baldur's Gate 3 fan. Thank you all so much for the support!

Spanish Translation: 1. Te lo prometo: I promise you 2. Piensa en lo feliz que estabas!: Think about how happy you were! 3. Solo escucha!: Just listen!

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#across the spiderverse fic #miguel o'hara #miguel ohara fic #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel ohara x fem!reader #father figure miguel ohara #miguel ohara x platonic reader

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