#well...fic ideas that i probably won't write in full

[birbleafs]

For Liz, because she enables all my Kavetham brainrot ideas lol 🔥 We were keysmashing on twitter 2 days ago about a True Love's Kiss AU, with my spin on unconventional love declarations/proposals + Kaveh's propensity for intrusive bad thoughts... and this edit happened. Dialogues here are all written by me this conversation sounded funnier in my head, sorry not sorry lol.

Copy-pasted details about our ramblings under cut for posterity:

True Love's Kiss AU, wherein Kaveh would rather travel the world, braving all the dangers of the wild and fighting monsters to search for Alhaitham's "true love/soul mate" than to face and accept his own real feelings for Alhaitham lol. Kaveh searches all corners of the world for weeks, all while reflecting over his complicated relationship with Alhaitham. But being no closer to finding an answer, he finally brings home someone he deems an ideal mate for Alhaitham—only to realise how he still simmers with the pain of envy, internal conflict, and a strange sense of loss when he sees the chosen mate getting along fairly well with Alhaitham over time. There and then at the altar, when Nahida begins reciting the marital rites, Kaveh suddenly comes to the realisation that Alhaitham has not looked at said chosen mate even once the moment the ceremony began. Instead, Alhaitham’s piercing teal gaze is fixed upon Kaveh’s the entire time—impassive, unreadable nearly to all present; but to Kaveh, the barely imperceptible tenderness, affection and deep yearning is mirrored and burning tenfold then in Alhaitham's expression, akin to that very same ache that's pulsing within Kaveh’s own heart. Unable to bear the weight of Alhaitham's unguarded gaze, Kaveh finally, finally realises that Alhaitham is his true love. He raises his hand and voice to halt the ceremony, already midway through apologizing to all present for his awful behaviour and the disruption when he suddenly realises that Alhaitham had also raised his hand at the same time as Kaveh to voice his own objection. Tl;dr they finally both accept their soulmateism, share true love's kiss and got married. The End.

[etheries1015]

Hello! I hope your having a good day while reading this but I was wondering if you could write a fic about the housewardens reacting to their s/o koala holding them when they sleep!

Awee that's a cute idea! The house wardens with their little Koala humans heuheu.

TWST housewardens react to their s/o holding them while they sleep

Warnings: Gender-neutral reader, probably shorter than you may have hoped, I'm sorry :( But I hope you still like it!

Riddle Rosehearts

The first time you two slept in the same bed, he was caught off guard when he was suddenly engulfed by your arms. I see him as the type to sleep on his back, still and quiet, and suddenly that is disturbed by the significant other grabbing hold of his arm and utilizing half of his body to be subjected as your personal body pillow. He may find it uncomfortable initially, however, he finds a happy medium by adjusting his form to work with yours whilst still giving him a full night of proper rest. you of course weren't in control of how you slept, and was rather grateful you trusted him as much.

"Were you aware you tend to hug me in your sleep?" He chuckled, "Huh? No, I do not mind. I found a comfortable position to sleep in so that we both got what we wanted. You don't need to sleep elsewhere, I feel...strangely comforted by your embrace..."

Leona Kingscholar

you don't even get the chance to do it first, he already has you beat. He is most assuredly the first to fall asleep between the two of you, his arms are wrapped around your waist and head propped against your shoulder before you had the chance to reciprocate. HE is the koala between the two of you. However, when you wake up in the morning you find that you're now facing him, a tangle of arms and legs as if during the night you both sought to be closer to one another. One big cuddle competition. Yet it was oddly comforting, how you both slept very similarly. Sometimes you're more aggressive than he is though, with your legs bent and holding him in your grasp on the odd days you fall asleep first. It restricts his movements from being able to adjust himself the way he wants, so he isn't shy to wake you up.

"Oy, wake up. I wanna move. Eh? You're comfortable like this? I don't care, let me hold you instead."

Azul Ashengrotto

I will die on this hill when I say that Azul sleeps kind of like an Octopus in his human form, with his arms and legs spread out on the bed. it's his highest form of vulnerability and trust in you for you to sleep in the same bed as him, so of course he will want to practice the same for you. Even when you grab hold of one (or a few) of his limbs and cuddle him as if you were the koala and he the branch, he doesn't mind whatsoever. He is a very still sleeper, so he doesn't feel his movements to be constricted whenever you cuddle him in such a way.

"Do I mind the way you grab hold of me while we are sleeping? No, not at all. If I am being completely honest, it's rather nice..." He falters, "I see it as a form of affection and trust, a sign that you feel safe with me. I rather that not change."

Kalim Al-Asim

He thinks it's the cutest thing in the entire world he has ever seen. The way you grab hold of him in your sleep as if you were claiming him to be yours, he thinks it's wonderfully splendid! It's as if you were being possessive, or you found him to be a soft pillow to grab hold of at night and cuddle with. Honestly, the first time it happened, he got so excited he had to hold in his squeals of satisfaction and joy to not wake you. He revels in this, his head leaning against yours as you use your entire body to hold him close to you. Kalim honestly can't think of a cuter habit for someone he loves to have.

"When you grab hold of me at night, it's the best feeling ever! Oh oh, tonight, can I hold you instead? let's reverse the roles! I want to hold you too- Oh, you won't get a good night's sleep that way? well, that's alright! I'll be your personal pillow as much as you want! Hehe!"

Vil Schoenheit

Vil always had a strong disposition to have a good night's rest. He had his reserves about sleeping in the same bed as you for a while, however, his desire to be close to his beloved outweighed his desire for model sleep. He finds it rather cute when you are in a deep sleep and your arms and legs automatically take him in your grasp. He never thought he would be able to properly sleep with another person by his side, so he is pleasantly surprised when the soft warmth of your body actually helps him get a better rest than ever. He feels safe and at ease in your arms, a strong contrast to the craziness of his everyday life. Being in the public eye he isn't fond of PDA, so at night when it is truly just the two of you, he savors every moment you bless him with your embrace. It's a truly peaceful feeling for him, the way you cutely cuddle into his body without a care in the world about who he is, how he sleeps, and what he looks like in his vulnerable state. It's just... you and him. Nobody else. It's a very intimate time for him.

"Your sleeping habits? Hmm...well, you grab hold of me every night. What? No, it doesn't obstruct my sleep. If anything, I have been feeling much more energized in the mornings...don't overthink it and come over here, my potato. It's time for bed, and I expect to be very thoroughly cuddled."

Idia Shroud

Oh my gosh. You have claimed him. Now he can't move a single muscle, like a cat you have made him your property. If he moves even a single inch, he knows it would ruin the flow and there would be a possibility of you moving, and he doesn't want that. It's like having a cat on your chest, and the second you move even a toe, the cat decides it's tired of you and moves on. Idia doesn't mind if he looses a little bit of sleep staring at the ceiling to allow you the majority of his body to cuddle, he's never been more elated about being in the same bed as someone before. He likes it a little too much, there was one time you were scrolling on his phone to find pictures of you cuddling him at night. An entire photo album in his gallery, in fact.

"N-n-nothing! that's nothing! Don't look, it's not...it's not what you think...oh jeez, you probably think I'm a total weirdo who takes pictures of people when they sleep-- no! not other people, it's just you! I- wait. That was a trap. You set me up for failure with that comment. Ahh, this is so embarrassing...please don't stop! I...I just like it so much when you hold me tight when you sleep...ugh. I can't believe I just said that, I sound like a corny male lead. Don't read too much into it, can't a man just enjoy his significant other's sleeping habits? Jeez..."

Malleus Draconia

You don't get the chance to cling to him, when you sleep with a dragon, they decide to do that for you. When you first slept together in the same bed, he was grabbing hold of you tightly, wrapping his body to be the koala and YOU the branch. There was only one particular night when he slept with his tail free, and you grabbed hold of it in your sleep. He woke up to feeling something pressed against his tail, looking back to see you had taken upon yourself to fully engulf your arms and your legs wrapping around to match. He was fully in your trap! After that, he found a way for both of you to be happy. Holding you in his arms, he adjusted his tail to fit snuggly in the middle of you two, enough for you to grab hold of it in your sleep whilst he was simultaneously holding onto you. Malleus would have preferred wrapping his tail around your body, however seeing you so at peace with it within your grasp, he made an exception.

"Be careful, my dearest. I wouldn't want my tail to hurt you by mistake, so you must be gentle. Ah- my lockscreen? Yes, I can't help but smile every time I gaze upon this photo I had taken, so I had Diamond assist me in changing my mobile device screen. Perhaps I shall take a few more photos, you are rather adorable grasping onto me like a babe to a blanket."

~~

Link to my masterlist

[imperishablereverie]

is it too early to ask for kook!art x bitchykook!reader who has art practically worshipping the ground she walks on..

never too early, this idea is so yummy! i wasn't sure if i should write a fic so here's a little something (idk what these are lmao.. headcanons sort of?) i'd love to make a full fic off of this if anyone wants it. i hope you like it anon!!

art donaldson has a yacht named after you.

well, not your actual name—too obvious—but the nickname you once sneered at him in the eleventh grade. golden boy. he had it etched in gold leaf on the back of his sixty foot chris craft that he only ever use when you agree to come onboard—which is rarely. "your obsession is embarrassing," you tell him as you slide your sunglasses down your nose, eyes scanning the decks like you're deciding whether it meets your standards or not. art, leaned against the railing in swim trunks and a boyish grin, shrugs. "you're worth it." you roll your eyes so hard he swears he hears them rattle. "pathetic." but you don't leave. you never do.

𓇼

everyone says you're a bitch. his workers. his friends. hell, even his mom—who whispered it to him once after a country club dinner when you gave her a perfectly timed compliment that somehow sounded like a threat. "she's cruel." his mom said. "she's perfect." art replied, and meant it.

𓇼

"you're like a dog." you told him once, sipping from a coupe at some ridiculous kook party while he stood beside you like your bodyguard/boyfriend/silent servant. he didn't argue. he wants to be your dog. your lapdog. your guard dog. whatever gets him the closest. "you fetch, you follow, you'd probably sit if i told you." he smiled, eyes half lidded like he was drunk on you. maybe he was. "say the word." you scoff. "you're lucky you're hot." he leaned in, voice low, a pitch away from excitement "you think i'm hot?" "don't get excited." too late.

𓇼

you text him when you're bored. or drunk. or both.

this party sucks need uuu come pick me up bring vodka pls

he's out of bed before you even finish typing. once, he left a family dinner with his dad mid toast to pick you up from a beach house a town over. you didn't even say thank you—just climbed into his passenger seat, skin dewy, eyes glossy, wearing his hoodie like you forgot it was his. he almost crashed the car watching you put lipgloss on in the mirror.

𓇼

you don't give affection as much as you allow it. you'll let him hold your hand when you're drunk. let him press a kiss behind your ear when no one is looking. let him sleep in your bed after a party, fully clothed, curled around you like you're the sun itself. you even let him kiss you once on your birthday. you tasted like champagne, cherry lipgloss, and disinterest. afterward, you patted his cheek like a dog. he would've followed you into hell. you never say 'i love you'—but you never tell him to leave either.

𓇼

one night, you show up at his house, barefoot, mascara smudged, mad about something you won't explain. he doesn't ask. just opens the door, gives you his sweatshirt, and takes you upstairs. he leads you into his room with your hands laced together, a silent way of telling you he's there for you. "you're so fucking easy." you mutter when you crawl under his duvet like you own it. "i'm yours." he says quietly, following suit. you pause and look at him—really look at him. you reach out and gently comb your fingers through his curls. "yeah. you are." he leans into your touch and when you kiss him it's soft, tentative, different. it's real.

𓇼

in the morning he's up before you, caressing your face like he's cherishing the rare peace. when you finally open your eyes, he pulls back and you sit up. he goes in for a kiss but you turn your head. "gross art, morning breath. i'm hungry, make us something to eat." and just like that, it's back to normal. he doesn't complain—just smiles and kisses your forehead, already getting out of bed.

taglist: @fwaist @pittsick @cowboyfaists @manipulatemedonaldson @nozhdyved

[shhhsecretsideblog]

They had been trying for a baby for a while, when finally she was looking at a positive test. Unfortunately, there was only one time it could have happened. A bit too much to drink, a few confessions that she'd sometimes thought about her husbands best friend in some of her more intimate fantasies, and just like that his little secret had taken root in her belly.

She was excited to be a mom, but can't bring herself to tell her husband she's expecting. Hiding her bump as best she can, not letting herself be intimate with him in case he noticed her beautiful changing body, how firm and heavy her belly had gotten. She has a plan. Give birth in secret where he won't find out, and then claim someone left the baby there. "Probably some teenager or something, can't imagine how she could raise it." Of course, since they're struggling to have one of their own, it's all but a sign. Of course they should take it in.

A perfect little plan for the eager mom to get out of her bad choice concequence free.

At least, it would be, if her waters hadn't broken in the shower, and the contractions were starting to get worse and worse, no matter how she tried to pretend otherwise and act like nothing was happening...

Extramarital Consequences

AN: I just wanted to write a short little rp drabble, but instead it comes out as a full scale 3k word fic. Thanks for the prompt MuchBirth, it was a great concept. Hope you like it. [fpreg, tw: vomit, tw: cheating]

“Are you alright in there, babe?” My husband's voice sounded through the bathroom door and I tried to swallow the groan that was sitting in my throat.

Why now, why today?! I had done so well concealing this pregnancy from everyone, thanks to the cold winter and the abundance of thick oversized jumpers and coats. And for the fact I was carrying a rather modest, if heavy, bump. Said bump had dropped in recent days and I had hoped the baby was merely getting prepared and wouldn’t be coming for another week when Daniel would be away on business. The baby, it seemed, had other ideas.

The contractions had started in the early hours and I laid beside my husband quietly breathing through each pain and praying it was just braxton hicks. But they just kept on coming. Every 40 minutes… every 30 minutes… and when they got down to 20 minutes apart I knew I had to move.

Hiding downstairs in the dark, I paced around our living room and kitchen as the contractions got closer together and more and more intense. Why couldn’t it have been a work day?! Daniel would leave the house early and I could labour and birth this baby in secret just as I’d planned. But it was Saturday and we were scheduled to go to a family event that afternoon. The heavy weight of the baby sitting low in my pelvis confirmed there was little-to-no chance of me making it to that party.

I paced around the downstairs of our town house until the early morning with its first glimpse of a rising sun filtering through the windows. Bracing myself against walls, tables, all manner of furniture, I spent hours swaying my hips through each agonising contraction that struck, praying they would eventually stop but they never did. I heard Daniel get out of bed and jump in the shower and I busied myself doing the dishes when he came downstairs. He looked at me curiously, seeing my sweaty and flushed face and asked if I was coming down with something. I assured him I was fine as he made his morning coffee, but soon had to twist back around to face the sink to hide the grimace on my face as another strong contraction barrelled its way through my womb. My hands gripped the counter in a white knuckle grip and it took everything I had not to whimper from the pain.

After assuring Daniel that I was alright, I disappeared quickly back upstairs and locked myself in the bathroom. I turned on the shower, the tiled room echoing the loud noise of the powerful jets, and allowed myself to groan deeply through the next contraction. They were less than 15 minutes apart and had the ability to steal my breath away. Gripping the sink and panting heavily, my mind began to spiral and panic. How the fuck was I going to keep this from Daniel?! We were struggling to conceive, if his discovered this pregnancy there would be no way I could pass this baby off as his. He would find out I slept with his best friend and my dream of a suburban family life would be destroyed. The baby sank lower in my hips and my knees dipped into a semi-squat from the increase in pressure. We were supposed to go to a party later, with family and friends, and Daniel would be by my side all day. But this baby was coming, soon if the pressure between my legs was any indication.

I stepped into the shower, attempting to ease the pain knifing at my lower back. Cupping my protruding belly I whispered a plea to the baby to stay put a while longer. I loved my pregnant body and was sad not to have shared this experience, to marvel at the incredible changes of pregnancy, with my partner. But there was an alluring excitement in keeping the baby secret - something just known by them and me. I couldn’t wait to meet the life I had been growing.

My thoughts tempted fate and the next contraction was soon upon me and I doubled over in the shower bracing my knees. The pressure between my thighs was building, the steaming hot water doing very little to ease the pain as it crested, my belly turning to stone and pushing everything downward. “Mnghhhhhhh!!” I grunted, involuntary, and almost dropped into a squat as the urgency built. No… baby, not now.

The water at my feet turned a pinkish murky colour and I knew from the release of pressure that my waters had just broken. Fuck.

When the contraction faded and my legs stopped shaking I carefully stepped out of the shower. Okay… my water’s broken but that doesn’t mean I’ve run out of time. I just need to think of a way of getting Daniel out of the house. I could feel the baby shift and kick within my womb, protesting the situation as much as I was, its head pressing eagerly against my cervix. “Hoooo… it’ll be okay little one. I promise— mnnnnhhhh…” Every breath, every word, that slipped past my lips now laced with a pained groan.

“Are you alright in there, babe?” Daniel asked from the other side of our bathroom door. I clamped my mouth shut and swallowed the involuntary noises from escaping.

“Nng— yeah— fine.” I somehow gritted. The weight and pressure pushing down in my pelvis was quickly making me nauseous.

“Are you sure? You weren’t looking too great downstairs.”

Damn him and his caring nature, just move away from the door before I scream! A contraction struck mere minutes after the last and I couldn’t stop the gasp as my belly visibly hardened and contorted inwards. The pressure was mounting, expanding like a balloon about to burst, my pelvis being shoved apart to make space for the large head that was pressing atop my cervix. I couldn’t breathe, the sensations overwhelming my senses, my stomach rolled and my throat gagged. I was going to be sick.

Dropping to my knees, naked on the floor, I hunched over the toilet bowl and promptly vomited the remnants of last night's dinner into the porcelain. My whole torso contracted in on itself in more ways than one and I completely lost all semblance of control. My taut belly, hardened by labour pains, convulsed and I heaved and coughed loudly. The force of throwing up also resulted in my womb squeezing against the bowling ball in my pelvis, bearing down on the already low head and pushing it into the birth canal.

“Oh sweetheart, are you sick?” Daniel asked through the door. “Let me in honey.”

“No, just— give me a minute…” I gruffed, laying my head in the crook of my elbow.

“We don’t have to go today if you’re not well. I can stay here and look after you.”

Hell no, that is the last thing I need. I asked him to get me some water from the kitchen, to buy me some precious time to gather myself. When the sickness passed I hesitantly put a hand between my legs… the baby so low it felt like it was about to fall out at any minute. I had pushed. I didn’t mean to, it was automatic. But still my body had pushed the baby lower towards its exit. Thankfully it was not as low as it felt as I couldn’t feel a head, but I knew it wouldn’t be long. Wrapping myself in a fluffy dressing gown and schooling as neutral a face as I could, I unlocked the door and greeted my husband as he brought me the requested water.

“I don’t think I’m going to go today, I feel like shit.” I said honestly, taking a sip and slowly walking towards our bed, careful not to waddle from the massive head lodged in my pelvis.

“It’s okay babes, we can cancel. I’ll call your parents.” Daniel offered, helping me to sit.

“No—” I said a little too quickly. “You- you can still go. I’ll just take it easy and s-sleep it off…” He looked at me curiously, trying to ascertain just how unwell I was and if I could be left alone. “Really,” I pleaded, “I’ll be fine. Go, have fun.”

“Well, if you’re sure.”

“I am. Really—mmhh…” My hands clenched tight as another contraction was beginning to appear, my fingernails burrowing deep into my palms. “W-why don’t you go e-early… see if they need h-help setting up.” My stomach tensed beneath my fluffy dressing gown and I shifted subtly on the bed as an immeasurable pressure returned with the pain. This baby was not waiting until the afternoon for Daniel to leave for the party, I desperately needed him to go now.

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” Daniel joked, tucking a frazzled lock of hair behind my ear. “I want to stay and look after you darling, make sure you’re okay.”

“Mnnn… I just need to lie down…” I huffed, trying to keep the strain from my voice. My body was itching to move, to sway and move my hips, to open up for the emerging baby as the contractions worked hard to deliver the child. But I had to fight against the instincts, ignore all the cues in the recess of my brain. Slumping sideways down on the bed, I curled over my contracting belly and arduously moved to lie under the covers. My skin was radiating heat but I couldn’t remove my dressing gown, couldn’t risk exposing a glimpse of my pregnant body. Had to stay covered, had to hide this baby, had to stay sweating beneath the fluffy gown and duvet covers.

Daniel stroked my hair as I curled up and I couldn’t help but scrunch my eyes through the pain barrelling between my hips. Oh baby, wait a bit more… please.

“Are you sure you’re going to be alright hun?” Daniel questioned once more and I managed to gruff out an assurance, stating that I’d be fine and just needed to be alone.

Thankfully I felt the bed shift, my husband getting up and leaving the room saying something about calling the family and giving me space to rest. I sighed in relief at the sound of the bedroom door closing.

Lying on my side helped the constant stabbing pain in my lower back but it was doing nothing to prevent the baby from making its way further down. I could feel it pressing against every nerve from the inside, pushing its way through the narrow space. I tried to squeeze my thighs, to clench everything I could to stop its movements but nothing worked. The pressure was constant, sitting heavily and urgently at the apex of my thighs. Rolling forward I buried my face deep in the pillow to muffle the rattled groan that came from the pit of my stomach. The baby was right there, its imminent arrival clear by the agonising pressure consuming me. I tried to fight it, meeting every wave with defiance, but my attempts were failing. I needed to push.

Before I was even aware of what was happening my whole body tensed and bore down with the peak of the contraction. It felt…satisfying, to give in to the urge and push alongside the tensing muscles, to work with my body instead of against it. Gasping a ragged breath, I pushed again, more forcefully this time. It was moving, inching closer towards my folds. Without thinking I grabbed my leg, still wrapped under the layers of clothing and duvet, and I pulled it towards me so my thigh was beside my contracting belly. I had to make more room, I needed to open myself up for the emerging babe. The back of my knee was damp from sweat and I gripped it tight, opening my hip beneath the covers, and gritting my teeth I pushed again.

It was coming, I could feel it! The contraction soon ended and I let my leg fall back against the other, curled up sideways on the bed and panting frantic breaths. A knock on the bedroom door brought me out of my birthing bubble, suddenly remembering Daniel was still in the house. Oh fuck, what if he heard me pushing?!

“Honey..? Can I come in?” His tentative voice asked and opened the door a crack. I groaned, neither an acceptance or refusal, but it was all I could manage.

Daniel stepped in our bedroom softly. “I’ve spoken with your parents and I’m going to head over there early and help them set up. I know you like to be alone when you’re unwell.” I nearly cried with relief.

“But I’ll come back to check on you before the party starts, okay?” Daniel perched on the edge of the bed and brushed his fingers through my sweaty hair. I nodded and exhaled heavily, hoping it looked like I was just fighting nausea and nothing more. “I’ll get you a bucket, just in case.” Daniel said sweetly and disappeared into our en-suite bathroom.

The contractions were right on top of each other now, the baby was sitting right between my legs desperate to get out. The next wave hit when Daniel was out of sight and I panted as quietly as I could. Don’t push… don’t push… don’t push… I thought over and over again. Curled up on my side my legs drifted apart, one leg bent at the knee, the other straight down the length of the bed. The pressure was slowly killing me; the strain of holding everything in, the baby slipping lower, pressing gently against my labia despite my efforts. Fuck I needed to push, but I daren’t. Daniel was still here…. Breathe… don’t push… breathe… don’t push… Even with the mantra my body did not adhere to the instructions. At the end of each measured breath I could feel my muscles bearing down and pushing the baby, its head starting to part my sensitive lips.

Daniel came back into the room and placed a bucket beside the bed, right next to the pillow where my face was half buried. “How you holding up?” He asked affectionately. I couldn’t speak, could barely breathe, every ounce of strength going into not actively pushing. Instead I closed my eyes and tilted my face further into the pillow.

In the faint background of my personal hell I could hear my husband slowly pottering around our bedroom as he got himself dressed and ready to leave for the party. Every minute dragged on for hours, as he found his trousers and shirt, muttering to himself, all the while I wanted to scream and howl and push! The baby was parting my folds, its head surely poking out between my thighs. Tears dampened the pillow and I was trembling, trying desperately hard not to push. But even without my participation, the baby was slowly making its way into the world. I nervously lowered one of my hands beneath the heavy covers, feeling between my legs. Oh my gosh… that’s my baby I thought as I felt the slimy surface of the partial sliver of its head. It was moving down, every contraction squeezing it further out of my body. My palm clamped hard over the emerging head… don’t… don’t pushhhhhh… a weak groan rumbled my throat as my body uncontrollably pushed, hard.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Daniel asked.

I was far from okay, I was pushing his best friend's baby into my own palm for fucks sake. In between pushes, I gulped a breath and offered a short and snappy “uh-huh” before my body was forced to bear down once more. My hand remained steadfast in its position between my legs and thankfully the baby didn’t slip out any further. Once the contraction eased I panted a relieved sigh.

“I’m heading out now babes.” Daniel stated aloud. “I’ll be back to check on you later. I love you.”

“Ngghh— love you too—” my rasped voice came from under the covers. I was in too much pain to notice the guilt that twisted in my chest.

I remained frozen in the bed, my ears listening desperately for the sound of the front door to close and his car to start. The roar of the engine, the glorious sound, slipped through the vents in the bedroom window and I sobbed with relief. He was gone!!

Immediately I threw the covers off my sweaty skin and tore myself out the tangled mess of my dressing gown. The baby was partially crowning and my gods I needed to push. Everything hurt, everything ached, I needed to move but there was no strength left in my body to get up. Hooking a leg over the edge of the mattress I rolled off the bed and slipped down to my knees on the luscious carpet.

With my elbows on the mattress and my face buried against the sheets, my knees widened on the floor and my hips sank downwards as I pushed with everything that I had. Burning fiery pressure erupted between my thighs and I growled through the excruciating pain, pushing and pushing and pushing. I couldn’t take it anymore, this baby had to get out. My entire body trembled as the baby stretched me open, but I kept going push after push and with a primal grunt the head finally slipped out. Relief flooded through me as the pressure eased. Panting, desperate for air, I was barely aware of any of my other senses; of the now-damp carpet under my knees, or the sound of the engine returning to our driveway, or the creek of the bedroom door being opened.

“Honey?… I errr… I forgot my phone and then I heard you scream. What’s… what’s going on?” Daniel asked, frozen in shock at the door.

“…um… I erm…” I stuttered, speechless and naked beside the bed, an illegitimate baby hanging between my legs. “I umm…I— I— ohhhh… oh I need to push….!!!” Before I could think of an explanation my body was bearing down once more, birthing my husband’s best friend’s baby right beside our marital bed.

[marchsfreakshow]

Poems Of A Killer [James Patrick March]

Angst / suggestive at the end

You were always interested in how ghosts work. Your blog led you to The Hotel Cortez.

Oops I got inspired by @fear-is-truth 's James cai bot where you're trapped in his room bcs the conversations I had w that bot were delicious sorry.

Blogger!Reader

Words - 5.3k (holy shit guys-)

I went through hell and back for this fic I rlly hope it's worth it. I'm proud of it in the end. ♡

No one's perspective

⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷

"So, ghosts roam these halls, correct?"

Liz was taken aback by your question. They weren't the first words she expected from your lips, but they were welcomed like an order to her bar.

"Why, yes, they do. You are, in fact, talking to a ghost itself."

A gasp and a smile graced your face just as the sentences were spoken. A real, proper ghost! How exhilarating. You immediately started to blurt out questions, scribbling Liz's answers down like they were your lifeline.

You spoke together for what felt like hours. 3 pages of full notes about ghosts, the hotel and the tasty history of such a place as this. One firm handshake and key exchange later, you were up in you room.

Scribbling down potential essay ideas for... well, for yourself. Most people would probably think you were crazy if you uploaded the essay to your blog. Then again, it wasn't a terrible idea. Most of your followers were believers in ghosts. They loved the paranormal and the un-natural things in life. In fact, an anonymous telling you about The Cortez was the reason for your trip.

'Hey! Your blog is probably the best paranormal blog out there! I know you're LA-based, so how about the Hotel Cortez? It's known to be haunted as fuck and plenty of the ghosts are apparentally staff members. Definitely go look if you're not busy! -🩷'

Obviously, you knew about The Cortez. Everyone in LA did. It was famous, but you never had an intent to go there. You read over the anon over and over until you figured you should.

1 car, 2 notebooks, 3 ballpoint pens, at least 4 books and a ton of music in your car's aux. You drove from one half of LA to the other, thinking about just how much this hotel might be with the likes of Lana Del Rey and Hozier playing from your car's speakers. Secretly, you hoped the ghosts of The Cortez would like you and would easily take to you. Just play it cool. Nice and kind.

Most ghosts easily spoke to you if you asked a question. Mainly, you asked about the spirits. Who ghosted, how, when, and why. There were plenty of stories to go around. Two influencers, frankly, you had never ever heard of. Two Swedes who always walked around in their underwear with a Mr.Woo at their feet. They were pretty weird, but you took their story anyway. You took a few more stories. Their births, their deaths and how they ended up dying here.

"You want to know about me, huh? My life... my... annoying death and how I ended up ghosting this fucking rotten place?"

"Yes. Everything. It will be worth it, I promise. Let's start with your name. What's your name?"

"...Sally." Sally started talking hesitantly about her life. The drugs she invested in, the sex she had to get them. Iris. How Iris pushed her off a roof in the nineties because of Donovan.

"Does Donovan ghost here? I could write a tragic tale of parents and child with him and Iris' stories combined." You chuckled, attemping to find some humour in Sally's words.

"No, he decided to fully fuck off when he died."

"oh... Okay." Still, you wrote it down. "Are there uh, any ghosts you wouldn't recommend I talk to?" You asked mutteringly, still writing down ideas and notes from what Sally told you. She took a long, harrowing drag from that cigarette of hers. Every time she did, you were convinced she was thinking heavily about the fact she was stuck here for eternity.

"uh, there's...someone. Won't show you him until he thinks you deserve it."

"Oh?"

She gave a little 'mhm' and a nod, taking another long, thoughtful drag. "You might've heard of him."

It clicked in your head and you smiled down at the words on your page. Scribbled like a school child's words. The founder of such a place. The, artist of a building like this. Every brick and decoration. "Mr. March." You breathed out quietly, gripping hard onto the pen in your fingers. You were convinced he was the ghost to ghost all ghosts. Whatever the hell that meant. "Oh, oh that would be a conversation for the ages.."

"Well I doubt you'll get anywhere...he doesn't show himself lightly." She bit back, quite defensive immediately.

The conversation about James led on for a few hours. One topic of his life at a time. Your notebook was almost full already. There was so many things you could explore with his story of his life. His childhood...how he started killing... God!

You read through your notes in the evening, laying on the frankly, uncomfortable and creaky bed. You weren't even moving and the springs broke and bounced under your body. How on earth were you meant to sleep on this bed tonight? It made a groan leave you as you eventually decided to open your laptop, writing your notes up into a document to work on in the morning.

As you slept however, without any notice from you, someone stood, reading over your open laptop. How did you find out his backstory? Who told you his childhood? Who decided to give you information about his kills and his relationship with the lady in the penthouse suite? "Mysterious thing aren't you?" He murmured, leaning down to look at your notebook.

The day ran away with you. You spent almost the whole day in Liz's bar typing away at your laptop. Liz kept your hunger and thirst up. Happily providing you with snacks and soda pop as long as you promised good promotion and more publicity. Well, your blog had 5k followers. Atleast 1k were active with your posts. Someone had to take the bait and visit the hotel. "Sooo, how's the writing going? Anyone find interest in the hotel yet?" Liz asked

"Huh? No, not yet. I'm still working on a first draft for your story."

"My story?"

"Yes!" You exclaimed, looking up at Liz with a proud grin. "I think this could really get queer and trans people in this hotel for Pride."

She almost chuckled, lighting a cigarette of her own. The idea of people who were queer or trans in any sense of the words, coming to this hotel because they knew they'd be safe, it warmed her heart. "How many stories do you have?"

"um, let's see... Sally's. Iris and Donovan's. A lady named Elizabeth March. You. Hazel Evers'..." You continued your list with the ghosts you had met so far.

"Quite the chatterer aren't you? Well, I'm glad everyone is comfortable enough to open themselves up to you. Usually they aren't so welcoming to strangers, wanting their stories.."

You shrugged slightly, confident about the fact that the ghosts opened up to you so easily. It made you want to be cocky, but you were keeping it up this way instead. "I spoke for hours to Sally. She told me basically everything. Oh I loved talking to her, truly. The way she knows everything about every ghost here...it's wonderful. This notebook..." You held up one of the notebooks you brought with you quickly. "Was empty when I got here! Empty! Now it's basically 70% full of stories. It will keep everyone on the blog fulfilled...for months!"

"Very nice, very nice. Another Dr.Pepper?"

"Yes! Please."

And yet you continued to write. Sometimes you'd squirm in place. Like something was burning the clothes on your back. It was mildly uncomfortable and odd, however, it was a feeling you'd gotten used to quickly throughout the night and the day. Maybe some ghosts didn't want to show themselves to you, refused to acknowledge the living. It seemed to be common and that was fine with you; another thing to add to the collection of stories about the undead souls here.

"Keep an eye on my laptop please Liz, I just remembered something." Liz agreed as you quickly got up and headed for your room. Maybe you left a pen, or you needed some charging block for your laptop.

"I find their energy, quite exhilarating, don't you?"

Liz shrugged a little. "If anything they're giving this place a little pep. I think publicity will do this place some good."

He nodded simply. "How long are they staying?"

"1 and a half weeks if memory serves me right."

"Hm." He hummed and then walked off, suddenly lost in some thoughts.

You went by him and you didn't even notice. Coming back with a charging block and the cable. Quickly, you plugged it in and immediately got back to work. Not speaking another word to anyone else in the bar. Liz's story was finished quickly, and you moved onto Sally's with unbridled haste. You were practically dead to the world, lost in the screen and the ghost's lives when they were alive.

It was probably your 5th day here when he decided to show himself to you. It was the evening. Your eyes were sore, tired and in need of break. Perhaps a full 8 hours sleep?

"Maybe, a break is needed?"

Your head spun around, and you made eye contact with him. "Oh. Um, maybe." Were the only words that left your mouth. Speaking without thinking. In your head, you weren't sure if you were making him up or if he was really there. "I'm almost done with a few stories though, and I just need to finish one up."

"Tell me, what are your stories about? I find myself intrigued by...your.." He paused, attempting to remember what you called that device that was on the table by your side. The thoughtful look on his face, mixed with your confusion dragged the silence on for a minute or two.

"um, laptop?" You said quietly after a moment, holding it up with a confused smile.

He nodded. "Of course. A, lap...top."

It almost made you chuckle. He must've been kidding...right? Then again, most ghosts here were either incredibly modern or were brand new to things like phones and laptops.

Oh you were so sweet looking... Bright eyed and bushy tailed is the phrase you would probably use. Either way, you agreed. In the back of your head you had this nagging to get atleast a little bit of sleep. Even just 4 hours would do. It made you sigh and nod, rubbing your sore eyes gently to make them feel less fuzzy. "I think..a break is due, actually." You muttered, closing the lid to your laptop and moving yourself away from the table.

He almost smiled. "That would be wise." Encouraging you to take a break and rest.

As you settled yourself into the uncomfortable bed, the springs digging into your side and legs, you glanced up at the man. "You look familiar. I do genuinely have a feeling I know you.." you murmured as your eyelids started to grow heavier. Taking a deep breath, you let your eye lids close, a start in attempting to get some sleep. Not like it would work well with the bed being as uncomfortable as it was.

The man kneeled down by your bedside, staring his dead eyes into your face as you attempted asleep. "I believe I am just the man you are looking for in this modern quest of yours." He said quietly. You hummed quickly as a response, not really listening to him. "...You are radiant when resting your eyes my dear."

James watched you sleep. Essentially.

He found himself intrigued by your reasoning for staying at the Cortez, and wanted to know more about you, yet never wanted to disturb your writing. Seeing your fingers work so nimbly against the keyboard and your eyes light up when you had finished one part was truly a beautiful spectacle. He had to have more. Have you as comfortable as possible in the hotel. Quickly, you were knocked out.

He brought you to his room, and everything you had brought with you. Courtesy of Ms.Evers of course. "Quite, pretty." He muttered, watching your unconscious body lie on his bed. Of course he would find you the most attractive when you've been knocked out... Ms.Evers gave a half hearted agreement. You were, a regular human to her.

Being a 'journalist' , as your dedicated followers called you, usually meant you were more observant. You noticed the stocked mini bar. The jumbled mess of your items on the bed next to you. What looked like a living room. And god, your head killed! It felt like someone was in your brain, trying to knock a wall down to escape or something. Fuck, it felt awful. Thank fuck the curtains were drawn though. "God...fuck me.."

"Ah, no need for such vulgar language. Here, some whiskey and medicine." He handed you a small glass of whiskey and two pills of paracetamol. Eugh..you didn't even drink Kopparberg, let alone something like whiskey. Your distaste for the alcohol was obvious to him, and it only made a slight laugh escape his lips. "I understand your distaste if you are not a drinker, however, this will only help you further."

Doubt that! Heavily...

Even though you turned your nose up to the whiskey, it was better than swallowing the pills dry. Begrudgingly, you picked up the small glass and took the pills out of his hand. "That headache of yours shall disappear in an instant, there is no doubt about that." He offered you a smile, and you only gave him a dull, neutral look before you placed the pills in your mouth. Deep breath. And you quickly shot down the whiskey, swallowing in one gulp.

Once you had gotten over the absolutely dreadful taste and burn in your throat, you blinked and looked back up. James Patrick March. Good...god.

He must've noticed the slight awe in your look. "I have, gotten used to that look in my time, yet it never fails to make me smile." James decided to take a walk around his room. "I hear you write for the modern world. You talk of the souls and the undead. Like the ones you have written for here. Even a story of me."

The silence lingered before he glanced back at you. Oh, right. You should talk. Respond with something. "Uh, yes I do. It takes me around the US. I went to a place called, uh, The Murder House. Lots of ghosts roam there and keep it clean. I um, it reminds me of this hotel." Nodding, hoping you weren't rambling about nothing.

You were so perfect. "Hm. Quaint. Tell me, what stories of mine have you collected?" James sat down by the table, already holding a glass of alcohol, swishing it around as he spoke. Swallowing some nerves, you adjusted on the bed and started talking his whole life story back to him. At one point, you got up and started reading back from your notebook. Every detail that you had been told about from the others here.

James was almost shocked by the fact you knew almost every detail. Almost. Some of them exaggerated parts to make him seem more intimidating to you. It only made him want you more. To keep you forever. Obviously, he wasn't going to tell you he wanted to keep you as his. No no... That would only scare you off. This was going to be difficult though. You were a, a blogger. Whatever that word was meant to mean. You needed to be outside more. With the stories you had collected, James suspected you could keep this blog of yours active for maybe a few months. Little white lies to add to the stories of the souls here, just to keep everyone interested. It had to work. Had to.

"...You truly are an interesting thing aren't you?"

You stopped your sentence at James' rehtoric question, and looked at him for a moment. A little blush appeared on your face, and a tiny smile almost ghosted your lips. One of your favourite rare compliments was being called interesting. "Oh, um...thank you Mr.March."

He almost smiled again, the faintest vision of lips turned up in the corners. "I find your formalities, almost unbearable. James shall be fine my dear."

"James..." Repeated softly. As if you were tasting a name. For the serial killer in front of you, 'James' tasted like old nicotine, alcohol and strong iron.

"I suggest it is a name you should get used to, I have a feeling you shall be here," he paused as he got up and walked a few steps towards you. Leaning down and looking in your eyes. "Until the last star in the sky has burnt out and crumbled this world to dust."

Time had lost its meaning. Sure, you could look at the date on your laptop and find comfort in that, but god, it felt like it didn't matter anymore.

Sighing, you rubbed your temples again before holding your face in your hands. "My dear, take a break from this bright screen. I have brought you something." James' voice cut off your scrambling thoughts as he reached over your shoulder and brought the lid to your laptop down. He had gotten used to it, even if he still didn't fully understand what it was. Looking up at James for a moment, you shifted in your seat to face him properly.

His rare gifts occasionally made you smile, but overall you were too focused on your writings to properly care. "Oh, um, what is it?" You asked as James placed the black box on your laptop. Great. Eventually, after some staring, you picked up the box. The box was velvet and had a white silk bow keeping it together. Well, at least he knew your taste. You pocketed the silk, definitely keeping it, just because. Gently peeling the lid off the box, there was a book. Seemingly homemade, shittily put together. It simply read 'Poems' at the cover.

James simply kept a sly smile on his face, watching your fingers work at opening the box up. Picking the small book up. He was desperate to see a new smile on your face, seeing how much you liked the effort he went through for this present. All he wanted was for you to like him. Not that you didn't have manners and didn't say thank you, obviously. Of course you did, that was just nice but never failed to make him happy and satisfied for the next few days.

Skimming through the book, you read a few words on each poem. They were, actually, decent. Pretty handwriting and sweet words on the pages. "Okay, James, this one is just Juliet's speech but with my name instead of Romeo's."

"Yes...A tragedy for the ages isn't it? I suppose the difference here is that I'm already dead. Haunting the hotel for eons to come."

"...You say that like you're planning to kill me James."

The silence was long. Uncomfortably extended. His hands were hesitating around the back of your neck. Like Patrick Bateman when he was hesitating to kill Luis Carruthers in the bathroom. It wasn't lost on you. "James?" The soft ask from your voice snapped the killer out of his fantasies, his hands retracting as you looked up and behind at him. Oh, that look in your eyes. Gentle fear, mixed with confusion and wonder. Such a look that internally melted James.

So, he had to lie. Keep you unassuming and unaware. "No, my hummingbird. I dare not harm you. The comparison of Romeo and Juliet is simply a sweet thing to keep you inspired. Keep your energies up as you write the stories you're here for."

"Ah, right. Well thank you James, I appreciate it." Nodding as you placed the book in the box, and shifting it away from the laptop. You needed to continue with a few stories, and if you got them done now. As much as you could get done while being stressed out and down with writer's block. Could journalists get writer's block? You certainly thought and believed so. It felt like it was killing you. You wished it killed you at this point.

That sleep was long, hazy and disturbed. There felt like there was a weight on your chest. Something pinning you down, keeping you as pushed down as possible. Well you certainly weren't going anywhere. You needed the rest. Even if it wasn't as amazing as the other nights. It was something, and not nothing.

Your night seemed longer than it already had been. The clock read 10am. Jesus, who let you sleep that long?! James kept waking you at 6 or 7am to try and keep up a firm routine for you. It was his way of caring for you, everyone told you. Making sure you had a routine and it was kept to whenever possible. He couldn't tolerate any slacking. "It will be good for you my dear, get your mind working at full speed again."

Staring at the bright laptop screen, the black words on a white page burned into your retinas, occasional blinking didn't help anything. It's not like you were particularly ignoring James, no... Your brain just felt, vacant I suppose you could say. It felt so empty and crushed, like every pure word of genius had been squeezed out of you. Milked for all it was worth and now only dust remained. James noticed this, of course, but didn't want to suggest anything. You just looked, so perfect and pretty. Dull eyes lit up by the white screen, your brain working on overdrive to finish a section of Donovan's story. If it were possible, he would have had someone photograph that moment, so he could look at it and find pleasure in your uninhabited mind.

The clock ticked. You watched hours go by. What was wrong with you? Usually you weren't like this. You weren't so... Still and figure like. Maybe you needed fresh air. Yeah, that might do you some good.

Shutting the lid to your laptop, you stretched to make sure you weren't going to seize up or anything before walking out of the room. Yawning as you headed down the halls, stood in the elevator for what felt like forever, and eventually headed for the door. "Ah, they do know they're-"

"They shall find out in their own time. Perhaps not letting them know of their death will make them inspired."

She stared at James with indifference. A hint of annoyance. The pair watched you take a deep breath and walk out of the door. Yet, you met yourself with confusion as you appeared back in the room you were staying in. "What on.." muttered before you took the same route. There was absolutely no way you were dead. No, this was definitely part of a dream. A really... Long... Deep... Dream. The repetitive walls only became tedious to look at with every heavy footstep.

You had heard of one such incident before. An attempt to leave proving fruitless until the right person came along. But, then again, Michael Langdon was dead. He could not save you like he did Queenie. Fuck. You wished he could though. However, you continued the loop. Time had lost it's meaning again.

"FUCK!" Erupted from your room and James only chuckled. He had felt a certain amount of satisfaction roll through his body at your screams of curses. Oh you were so cute. The killer figured you should have some alone time before he came to visit you. How much time had passed since you woke up again? It felt like days when realistically it was a couple of hours.

It was only a nightmare to you because you had bills to pay and a day job to go to. You couldn't call up your boss and go "hey, yah I'm a ghost now in The Hotel Cortez so I can't come into work. Sorry!" That was an insane idea and would only get you fired. Alright. C'mon, you're smart. You can figure it out.

You went over in your head for hours upon hours. Figuring out someway to tell others you had died without actually telling them and scaring them. But, you got it eventually.

Leaving you room hesitantly, you walked the long, exact corridors of The Cortez until you found Liz up in her bar again. "Ah, our resident journalist, how are you?" She asked with a small smile, wiping the bar top down gently.

A moment. Though, you found your voice and asked a question. "Is anyone here, who isn't a guest, actually, y'know alive?"

"Hm. Maybe. On what basis?"

"I'm dead."

"Yep."

You swallowed. You were.. dead. As the fucking doornails. Liz's agreement was just your verbal confirmation from someone else. You resisted the urge to scream fuck again. "Shit...okay. I just, I need someone to tell my boss that I'm dead. I can't really fucking tell him myself! That'd be crazy!" Liz stared at you for a moment. Then nodded, letting out a breath of cigarette smoke she had somehow acquired. Whatever pretend breath you were holding, you let out. Smiling as you rested your head on your crossed arms. "Oh thank you Liz... Thank you so much."

Quickly, you placed down your phone and opened it up to the contacts. Scrolling until you found your boss' number, then pressing call, handing it to Liz. The conversation was brief but informative. "Yes? Are you the boss?" She mentioned who she was calling for then continued. "I am the unfortunate one who must tell you that your beloved employee has shuffled off this world. This mortal coil could not, handle their pure love and devotion." She made you sound like a sweet sugar doll, which also caused your face to heat up until it felt like it was burning. That couldn't've been further from the truth in your head. But at least you tried.

After a few unintelligible mumbles from the phone, Liz hung up and handed the phone back to you. "Done. He sounded like he was devastated." Definitely an exaggeration.

"oh yeah totally. I was definitely his favourite employee..." You were not. The young new employees who were fresh faced 17 years olds were his favourites. There was an obvious connection there which you didn't want to think much about. It was gross and caused those younger employees to always get promotions before you. Fuck that. If that was what was happening now? You were glad you were dead. But, there was another question in your head. "Where...where is my body?"

"Slid down a chute."

"Fucking hell."

"Quite."

You let out long, dragging, throaty sigh. What on earth was there to say? No one tells you what it's like to be dead.

...

Tell a lie they do. Plenty of souls did. 'Thats' what you were there for. Talking to the souls of the Hotel Cortez, bringing their stories to light so people knew what the hotel was capable of. What horrors and extremities the hotel held inside. Like James. James was a devil.

Pure black soul inside and out. Nothing redeemable. Nothing good. You were sure the only reason he was nice to you was because of some fucked up version of lust he felt for you. Lust that had to be contained for years upon years. That serial killer was a man of tastes divine. Tastes that were fucked up and inevitable.

"Lost in thought.." Liz hummed, bringing you out of your thoughts. Glancing up at her, your eyebrows furrowed. "Thinking about Mr. March.. He has kept you here for eternity." Her words spoke wisely, and it made you feel insane.

"His poems are insane, Liz! T-they're nothing but old tales with the names changed to fit me and him! It's insanity!"

"It's love."

"It's fucked up is what it is." You ended the conversation there, standing up and walking away. Back up to your room, where there was a piece of fucked up, old looking paper ontop of your laptop. There was another poem on it. Seemingly original.

My dear,

You are exquisite.

My work of art.

A piece untouchable.

The stories you tell,

exhilarating.

The public will flock.

See how much time and love there is,

in a tall tale such as my own.

I do not say much,

In the terms of affection.

If you stay in here, however,

Next to me,

There may be a word i shall tell.

Bare me your soul, hummingbird.

There will be nothing to keep us apart.

- James Patrick March

"...what the fuck..?" You muttered a question, reading the poem over and over again. It was, well it was perfect. It was somewhat sweet, and telling of his personality.

The nickname, hummingbird, definitely struck something in you. It was so, nice. That was the only word you could think of. Nice. Somewhat flattering coming from the man who you supposed was your murderer. "My dear, you seem, somewhat flustered by the poem I have left for you."

Looking up, you stared right into James' eyes. The silence before you answered felt tense. Harsh and scared as your eyes bore into his. They were so dark. Black boba pearls that barely shined. There was nothing to say back to him. You scoured your mind for a response as you gripped the paper. Maybe too hard, as you felt your fingers dig into your palm. The paper crumbling up.

James walked towards you, eyes trained on the worry and the slightest shake of your fingers. "I haven't written anything since I was a young man I admit," He started, finally breaking eye contact. His hand met yours, placing down the crumbled and broken paper on the table. "But I hope it has satisfied since you feel so, aloof to the poems I had given you before."

"James..." You looked up at him from the paper, lips slightly parted. "I'm dead."

"That you are." Those three words of agreement felt somewhat unnecessary. "But one who died so eloquently. I almost, feel envious you died so beautifully my darling." His hand trailed up your arm, standing behind you as he spoke. Feeling you, making sure you knew how close he was to you. Gods, you felt so perfect to him. He was so glad he killed you.

"that... Weight on my chest.." You started, taking in deep breaths as one hand roamed you.

"That weight was me my hummingbird." He nodded, head dipping down to your neck. Despite being dead too, he took a breath that felt like an inhale. What he was addicted to. Needed to be addicted to. You couldn't leave, but even when you were alive, he didn't want you to leave. The undead addiction he craved to feel once again. It was a craving he could not satiate.

"You satiate me," James muttered into your skin. Your lips stayed shut, and eyes closed. While you barely had a response, it didn't matter to James. All you needed was to understand why. Understand the scribbled nonsense on paper in front of you. Letting James take. But you weren't giving. Not really. You were just, standing there trying to make sense.

"James..." You breathed out, head falling back against his shoulder. He smiled and let one hand fall to rest on your waist. They were so delicate compared to the rest of what James was about. It felt so, wrong. However, they felt in the right place. They felt so right, being placed so softly on your chest and your waist. What on earth could you do about this?

Letting the touches sink into your body. The coldness freezing your body. It made you shiver. It would've felt better if the both of you were alive. Warmth pressing against warmth... But no, you were cold. He was colder. Cold as dry ice. After a while it felt right.

Your positioning was that of Christine and Erik's. His hands holding you close to his chest, your hand over his, the other one hovering over his shoulder.

You were Christine. Naive, needy and talented.

He was Erik. A teacher. Smart and full of wit.

A phantom.

⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷

Taglist: @lacucarachapisser / @vi0l3tluvsu / @strawb3rrystar / @bohnerrific69 / @xrag-dollx / @r4fe-cam3ron / @pajaaa2005 / @saintlucretia / @taintandviolent / @phantommoondoll / @american-horror-whore

[captain-huggy-bear]

cooking together with clayton?

We all know none of them can cook for toffee, but hey, everyone can learn right? (I tell myself as mediocre cook, but a great baker) Big requests/full fic/big idea requests are closed but drabble and prompt requests are still open. Writing Masterlist

When you first started dating Clay you tried not to blink at the fact he had a personal chef who cooked all his meals for him. It was weird to you but it made sense, he had to eat a balanced diet that fit his career and lifestyle and probably wouldn't have the time to do that well on his own. You had enough trouble eating healthy with your own work let alone as a hockey player with real intense nutritional needs.

But part of you had assumed that he probably knew how to cook, he just didn't need to. You'd been so terribly wrong. Clayton Keller couldn't even cook a fried egg without it sticking to the pan or being undercooked and you had decided that it was your mission to turn him into a somewhat decent cook. Something he'd surprisingly gone along with.

You didn't claim to be amazing yourself. You weren't Gordon Ramsey, and when you were just leaving home for the first time your dinners had mostly consisted of instant ramen...until you started getting sick from a lack of nutrients. You'd forced yourself to learn how to cook, to be able to take care of yourself and sure Clay didn't need to. He had a private chef, after all...but what if? What if one day he didn't? Surely, it would be a good thing for him to be able to fend for himself? What if he wanted to make someone something? He couldn't cook pancakes for pancake day...he couldn't bake a birthday cake or even just make himself an omelette if he got peckish in the middle of the night.

Still, you severely underestimate just how hard it will be to teach Clayton how to cook and just how much he hates it, more specifically how much he hates not being competent and good at something.

The way your eyes widen at how Clay holds a knife is probably comical to an outsider but inside you're terrified that he's going to cut his fingers off. Hands reaching out to adjust his hold almost immediately from where his fingers had been outstretched almost begging to be cut into.

"No, no, not like that you'll take your fingers off..." You adjust the fingers of his free hand, the one holding an onion, bending them at the knuckle until his delicate little finger tips are out of the way of the blade, "Bend your knuckles over like this and then that way if you slip with the knife you won't take your fingers off, Clay." You show him, demonstrating how the knife slides off your knuckles, how it can't catch your nails or the tips of your fingers, before handing the knife back to him carefully.

Clay studies your form carefully, intently, like he studies a play in a hockey match, the sort of focus that tells you he's dedicating his all to this. Lip bitten between his teeth in concentration.

"Like this?" He puts his studies into practice, large hands perfectly copying you and the relief you feel at knowing he's not going to take a finger off while trying to make pasta is immeasurable.

"Yeah, perfect."

It goes quite smoothly for a while, the two of you chopping veggies for the pasta sauce, he even manages to cook the onions without burning them, while still letting them get soft enough to be enjoyable. It's really when Clay starts to smile, feeling like he's got this, that maybe he's not quite as shit as this as he thought, that things start to go wrong.

"Clay, your pasta is boiling over!"

"The sauce is going to burn!"

He's torn between two things at once, the pasta sauce that's starting to smoke and the pasta that's boiling over, water falling over the stove top. You try to help, seeing how he gets overwhelmed, lowering the pasta down, stirring it while he sees to the sauce but you can see how much it upsets him.

The way he grips the kitchen counter, teeth gritted because Clay's a quiet sort of angry. He doesn't really scream or yell, occasionally raises his voice to swear but never at you and you can see he's angry. Frustrated. Not with you, but with his inability to do this easily, how hard it seems to do something that he feels should be easy.

"Shit! Fuck...I hate cooking..." You're straining the pasta for him, letting him have his moment as you drain it of water.

Even in his state of frustration he still thanks you when you bring the pasta over and dump it into the sauce he's made, letting him combine it all together. It doesn't look bad, even with the near misses, the suspicious smoking from earlier, it still looks good...dare you say edible.

"No, you don't." You press your cheek to his back as he stirs, trying to provide some physical reassurance as you feel the tension there. Clay's shoulders are so taut that you're sure it must hurt, "You hate not being good at something right off the bat...you've gotten used to being amazing at what you do." You get it. The first time you ever started cooking? When you weren't good at it? It sucked because it felt like everyone else could just do it...like it should have been natural and easy.

"Well, I'm just a shit cook." He grumbles, rasp in his voice as he aggressively serves the pasta into two bowls. You move with him, arms wrapped around his waist because you can feel how the tension is starting to ease a little at your touch, at your reassurances even as he grumbles.

"Baby, how often have you cooked in the past? And I don't mean making a sandwich or instant ramen." You follow him as he moves across the kitchen, still attached to his back as he puts the two bowls down at your place settings. Even with his sour mood he still pulls your chair out for you.

"Not often..." Clayton concedes as he sits across from you, tongue rubbing across his top teeth like admitting it hurts. Maybe it does. Maybe the idea of admitting that he's not really done this one adult thing properly is a hit to his pride.

You wait until he looks at you, till you actually catch his blue eyes with your own, hand reaching across the table to press your fingers to his.

"Okay, so when you first got on the ice, when you'd barely done it, were you good at skating?" He knows where you're going, you can tell because he starts to flop his head back like he doesn't want to hear it. Even as he needs to.

"No..."

"So why would you be instantly amazing at cooking when you haven't got any experience with it?"

It's a long suffering look he gives you, under his lashes, if he wore glasses you'd almost imagine him looking over the top of them. There's wisdom, frustrating, irritating wisdom to your words. They sooth him when he wants to be angry about it, it doesn't help that you're rubbing soft circles into the back of his hand, the sort that make him want to go soft for you because you're so good to him. You're just trying to support him and how can he be angry at that?

"I just...I hate not being good at it." He turns his palm over, capturing your fingers with his own, locking your hands together. Clayton knows it's his stupid pride that makes him feel like he should be amazing at everything right away...but he can't help it. The need to be great at everything, the powerlessness of feeling like he's floundering.

"You're not good at it yet, but you won't ever be if you don't keep trying." You smile at him smugly because you know you're right and he knows you're right and even when he sighs at you he's starting to smile, dimple starting to pull at the corner of his mouth because if there's one truly impossible thing for Clayton it's staying in a bad mood around you.

"Stop being so wise, that's supposed to be my job."

"You asked me to cook with you, don't ask if you don't want my Yoda-like wisdom."

"You're insane." But, he's grinning at you. Straight white teeth peeking out from behind his lips, eyes crinkling at the corners because God, he decided to date a fucking nerd, but also maybe the best person he's ever met?

You take a bite of the pasta he's made, pausing for a moment as it hits your tongue because...well, it's actually kind of good. It needs more garlic and sure, the sauce has a slight smoky taste from it's near burnt experience, but compared to the inedible things he's made in the past? It's decent, you can eat it and maybe even enjoy it.

"Maybe, but this pasta that I taught you to make? Actually pretty nice." You smile at him softly, watching the way his grin softens into something unsure, expectant, seeking reassurance that you're not just saying that to make him feel better.

"Really?"

"Dare I say more than just edible." His grin comes back as more of a smirk, that teasing gleam in his blues that makes you want to kiss him, the smirk that tells you he's about to start trouble. Like always.

"So you're proposing to me now?"

"Shut up, Keller."

"You want me so bad."

"Yeah, your mediocre cooking skills really get me going." You roll your eyes at him even as you smile because he's ridiculous but he's also right...despite his ability to burn water you do want him, forever, every day, for the rest of your life.

"Knew they were good for something, sweet girl."

[wlwsoccerfics]

Moving Day(GiuliaGwinnXMiedemaReader)

A/N: Google translate used

Summary: you and Giulia move in together with the help of your teammates from FC Bayern Munich.

"het gaat niet passen." ( It's not gonna fit.) You said more to yourself then to anyone else. You looked at the boxes that were supposed to fit in the moving Truck. But you had to pack up quite alot and the truck was already quite full with Giulias stuff. Now yours had to fit as well.

"it is gonna fit." Giulia stated. Yes ,your girlfriend learned some dutch. Just for you. It was a sweet gesture. You spoke a few Langauges as well. Danish, some German, Spanish & swedish. Currently you were learning some italian.

"are you sure, liefje?" You asked.

"i am quite sure." Giulia stated and kissed your lips gently. You kissed her back just as gently.

"eww, keep it in your Pants Guys!" Sydney said teasingly. You flipped her off with a laugh escaping your lips. She was one of your best friends for sure.

"domkop." ( Dumbass ) You said jokingly.

"okay let's keep moving." Giulia stated and went back to putting the boxes into the moving Truck. But not before stealing another kiss from you.

"good thing the two of you brought a House cause the amount of stuff you and Giuli have wouldn't fit in an Apartment or a flat." Sydney answered.

"that's true." You admitted. "We were planning for the future. I mean we want Kids. So that's why we have brought a House." You added on.

"but first you gonna propose? Right?" Caro asked.

"oh heer." ( Oh lord ) You said with a soft laugh escaping your lips. You had no idea what it was. But people always thought you would propose to giulia. Never the other way around. Unknown to you Giulia was gonna asked you in a few hours. She had asked for your hand in marriage even. Most Importantly she asked your sister Viv. Who happens to be the most important Person in your Life after Giulia.

"why does everyone thinks Y/n has to ask Giulia and not the other way around?" Lea wanted to know.

"i keep asking myself the same, Lea." You admitted and giggled softly. "I always find It funny when people assume i am the one that is gonna asked. I mean i probably will, or won't i?" You grinned sheepishly. Already having a plan for how and when you would propose.

"Babe? Help!" Giulia yelled, kind of worried cause she decided to carry two heavy boxes at once and realized they are too heavy. You quickly ran over and took one Off of her.

"are you alright, liefje?" You wanted to know, looking quite concerned.

"yes i am fine." Giulia answered. "Thanks for asking Babe." She replied with a quick kiss on the cheek. You smiled at that.

"Happy to hear that." You stated. Placing the Box in the moving truck.

"Heb je hulp nodig, zusje?" ( need help, little sister? ) You heard a voice behind you. You Turn around and ran over to her. Jumping into her arms. It was your sister Viv that was there to help you. She flew in from Manchester as a surprise.

"Ik ben zo blij je te zien." ( i am so happy to see you. ) You told her. She smiled softly. Holding you close. Giulia grinned softly. This was part of her proposal surprise. You just didn't know it yet.

"the goats are back together." Sydney announced. Chuckling softly. A few of the Girls were giggling. "Are you returning to your old Club?" She asked jokingly cause Viv used to Play for Bayern before you did.

"the women in our family are very talented." You replied. Grinning softly.

"exactly. Sorry to inform you, but i am not here for Football reasons. " Viv said and laughed gently. You Put your feet back on the ground after jumping into your Sisters arms. Pulling away from her.

"Ik kan niet geloven dat je hier bent." ( i can't believe you are here. ) You told your sister. Smiling from ear to ear.

After two more hours you finally finished filling up the moving truck with all of the boxes. Your teammates/Friends drove to the new House in their own Cars while your sister drove the moving Truck with Giulia in the middle and you on the other side of her. Listening to Taylor Swift. When Love Story came on and you were singing along, Giulia grabbed a Ring box out of the Pocket of her jacket. Opening it.

"my sweet love, you always said you wanted a very simple proposal. So i wanted to ask you to the music of Taylor Swift and your sister here If you want to make me the happiest Person ever and marry me!" She told you, already tearing up. So were you and so was Viv. You teared up as well. Nodding your head eagerly. "Oh my god! Yes! 100000 Times yes!" You told her and the two of you kissed, while Giulia put the Ring in your Finger.

"it's beautiful." You whispered out, after pulling away. Sniffling softly, the smile only growing.

"i am glad you like it." She replied with a soft smile of her own.

"i Love it actually...wait is that why Viv is here?" You wanted to know, turning to your sister now.

"verrassing!' ( surprise! ) Viv stated and wiped away some of her Happy tears, smiling gently.

Twenty minutes later you Guys reached the House, your teammates/Friends were already there. They were holding a Banner with the words "congrats on the Engagement". You chuckled softly.

"so they all knew you planned on doing this today?" You asked your now fiancee. She grinned and nodded her head softly.

"guilty as charged!" She stated. The three of you got out of the Car.

"congrats, Bestie!" Sydney answered, running over to you and hugging you. You hugged her back, smiling from ear to ear. Close to crying Happy tears again.

"thank you, Syd!" You said gently.

"i am so happy for the two of you!" Sarah told you and hugged both, you and giulia.

"so are we!" Pernille said and smiled softly. Magda nodded her head softly in agreement. Smiling as well.

"we are Happy indeed! You two are perfect for one another!" Magda stated.

After alot of hugs and congratulations, you started to carry all the boxes inside, ordering Pizza for everyone. Actually managing to get all the boxes inside quite fast. Thankfully all the furniture was already build, which you did in the days before the move. So you really just have to Put everything in it's place, like clothes, shoes, Decoration, things like that.

You were glad that your Friends/teammates offered to help the next day as well. Same goes for your sister Viv.

[snailsgoingdowntown]

Help, I Reincarnated as the Female Lead’s Sister-in-Law!

‘Slight’ Yandere! Dion Agriche x Fem! Reader

Chapter 16

Story Masterlist

Arranged marriage AU

Interact with this linked post to be added to the tag list.

Entire chapter is Dion’s/Ash’s POV, takes place during the day of chapter 14 during the beginning scene of when Dion and Reader share a moment that is not nice in her mind. He is also out of character again lmao

Edit: LMAO I FUCKED UP THE TITLE OF MY OWN FIC. can you tell I wrote this entire thing in one setting while very tired? God now I need to check the other chapters lol

NOTE: Dion is having a very small crisis towards the end. Also, I do not know how to write fight scenes. I’m also getting kind of tired of saying ‘male’. Also two chapters within two days!? I'm on a roll baby! (I will proceed to not update for at least a week since life gets in the way/motivation/ideas won't come to me)

Warnings: slight yandere themes, themes of obsessive and possessive behavior/thoughts, toxic marriage/relationship, murder, blood, threats of injury/murder, slight torture (probably?), mention of divorce (it almost does not end well, rip Ash lol), Dion accidentally gets hurt (it’s his own fault), attempted murder, mention of past murder, implied murder (I think?), implied threats of injury, thoughts of imprisoning the reader at the end but he decides against it, implied stalking, HEAVY VIOLENCE Dion’s actions are toxic no matter how you look at it. Please tell me if I missed any.

NSFW-ISH WARNINGS:  (NO SEXUAL ACTIVITY ACTUALLY TAKES PLACE) suggestive, implied vaginal pain (I think), throw back to their first time, implied perverted thoughts (Dion), Lant once again being a pos, encouraging Dion to force himself on the Reader, implied/mentioned past sexual activities, implied past Dub-con. Please tell me if I missed any.

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT CONDONE ANY OF THE HARMFUL AND/OR DANGEROUS ACTIONS AND/OR BEHAVIORS THAT MAY TAKE PLACE IN THIS PIECE OF FICTION. THESE ACTIONS/BEHAVIORS SHOULD NOT BE NORMALIZED NOR ROMANIZED AS THEY ARE EXTREMELY DANGEROUS AND TOXIC.

MINORS/BLANK BLOGS, BLOGS THAT DO NOT INTERACT WITH OR REBLOG FANDOM RELATED THINGS (FICS, ART, ETC.) DNI

“How's married life?” 

Boredom fills the voice of the redhead doctor as he dabs a cotton ball on the patient’s wound, crimson soaking into the fluffy white cotton. Once done treating it, he starts to wrap it up a little too tight, irritated that a certain Agriche got distracted, slipped down a slope full of sharp rocks and thus, sliced his arm open. So unlike him and yet, he still saw it coming from miles away.

God forbid if anyone in this hunting party listens.

“... why are you asking?” Dion questions back, narrowing his eyes, glaring daggers into the very doctor who’s treating his wounds. Still, it’s not like Ash would harm any of his patients, as he was well above that. Even with someone like him.

However, Dion Agriche often challenges his views and morals. He had always thought of the second eldest as a fool - however, ever since he got engaged to you, he became more so of one. While smart and talented in many areas - hunting, sword fighting, ballroom dancing, leading hunting parties for both monsters and animals alike, maybe a musical instrument or two if memory serves correct, and of course, assassinting - by the Gods, is his personality a nasty one.

“Am I not allowed to? After seeing the mess she was after your first night… I worry for her. Poor girl probably lost faith in God the moment she saw your face.” Ash bites back, tying the bandage up and securing it with pins before patting it down hard. He holds back a smile when THE Dion Agriche flinches at the pain.

It doesn’t matter if it was physical or emotional - pain is pain. Although, it would be better if it was both, finally hitting his employer where it hurts the most. But Dion always bites back.

“You’re rather mouthy for someone I could cut down easily.” Dion's threat is empty, but the urge to throttle the doctor remains. While he wouldn’t kill the man, putting him in a full body cast would settle some things.

Ash only sighs with a shake of his head. Gesturing your husband to put his shirt and black arm sleeves back on, the redhead starts to clean and put his medical supplies away. Currently, the two of them are alone in a tent that was hastily set up, the rest of the hunting party members outside eating dinner. The sun had barely set.

“Come now, I even tended to the poor girl as a free favor. Surely, answering a question or two isn’t that hard - consider it payment for that black eye I left with.”

“And I’ll leave another one on the other eye.”

“... why must you always be so violent? It’s clear that your wife isn’t fond of violence - much less you.” He hits where it hurts, patting the ‘poor’ man’s shoulder as he buttons up his uniform shirt. He watches with great interest when the black haired noble stiffens before resuming his task.

‘So, it’s not going all that great…’

“I mean, it’s only natural for me to ask, taking the fact you personally invited me to the wedding into account.” Ash continues to dig for answers, enjoying the way his scarlet hues become hollow and unfocused. Had he been a better man, the doctor would have pity the newly wed noble some more. 

But Dion Agriche is nowhere close to even a decent person.  

“It’s…,” his low and tired voice trails off before he stands and straightens his clothes out, “fine. Nothing for you to worry about.” A lie paired with another lie. How unlike him. 

“Hm. Sure.” 

Dion leaves the tent without another word, leaving the doctor behind.

As soon as he steps out, one of his men rushes over to him. Dion's mood only sours more, not wanting to interact with anyone just yet.

“Sir, we haven’t found any traces of the monsters. The entire area is empty.” The jet black haired noble can’t stop a brow from raising. 

The brunette delivers the news in a hurry, out of breath. Your husband notices the way he tries to keep his voice down, eyeing everyone behind him. Weird. 

Closer inspection revealed the dirt on his boots and leaves in his hair. But towards the chest, there’s a speck of red on the purple accents that’s barely hidden away by the cloak. 

It’s even slightly damp. His sleeves look a bit too short as well. The gloves don’t look right, not fitting the fingers, slightly sliding off with each gesture of his hands. Scarlet eyes zone in on them before returning to the soldier’s face.

The hair looks a bit lighter. The eyes are a bit deeper.

“How far did you go?” Dion asks as he comes back down to earth.

“Oh!” The soldier straightens up before going on to tell him the details. Your husband listens with little interest, already looking at the area from where the soldier just came from. And then, he glances around the camp, eyes landing on each person once. Once he’s done with relaying the information, Dion walks past him. 

The brunette follows. “Is something the matter, sir?” He follows until the chatter of the camp becomes distant. He runs into Dion’s sturdy back as the man comes to an abrupt stop. Gently rubbing his nose, the shorter man backs up.

“I must admit you have guts.” Dion’s voice is low, mockery laced in it despite ‘praising’ him. 

“...huh?” 

In a flash, his gloved hand slams the other man’s neck against a tree trunk. The bark bites into the exposed skin of his neck while his face turns red. Gasping for breath, the man makes a futile attempt to claw at Dion’s gloved hand.

His legs kick and kick, but it does little to help. Scarlet eyes stare at him emotionless, and the sight of the glowing orbs sends chills down his spine. “It’s amusing how you thought you could replace one of my men.” He chuckles low and deep, increasing the pressure on the poor man’s neck.

“But I have memorized each and every one of their traits - from their eye color to the way they even walk. Not to mention I didn’t order them to look for any monsters in the near vicinity.”   

The black haired man considers snapping his neck right at this moment. But his actions are halted when he hears a twig snap under someone’s foot.

He scowls once the familiar voice reaches his ears. His eyes narrow at how annoying the new addition sounds.

“Is this really necessary? How about we find out what happened to the victim before killing the perpetrator,” Ash advises as he gets closer. He stops once he’s two feet away from the now angered man.

Close to being enraged but not yet, irked that one fool thought he was stupid while the other had just interrupted his actions.

“Dion.” Ash tries again. “Ask questions first. You can do whatever with him later, after we get answers.” 

A hiss of annoyance and Dion drops the man. While he’s coughing for breath, with his boot Dion delivers a hard kick to the imposter’s stomach that has him wheezing for breath. Ash sighs in exasperation at the scene unfolding before him. 

‘Once a brute, always a brute.’

“Talk. Maybe I’ll be merciful depending on your answers.” 

“Arg! W-wait, fuck, wait!” He raises his hands as he surrounders. “I’m not the one who killed him - I was just given the uniform. Honest!”

The two standing men share a look.

“Regardless of who killed him, didn’t you at least consider that maybe everyone would notice you weren’t originally part of the party?” Ash squats to the enemy’s height, observing the hand mark that now decorates his neck. “Unless you’re an idiot.” 

“I wa-wasn’t supposed to get too close to the others… just to lure you away.” He stares up at your husband the entire time while clutching at his stomach. Saliva drips from his mouth as he shakes. He looks more pathetic than a terrified dog.

“How far? I’m assuming just a bit further away from here.” The Agriche continues the integration. His head tilts when the idiotic imposter nods. 

Ash looks up at him. “Should we call for reinforcements? It’s probably not a good idea for you to go alone.”

“I’m not alone. I have you.”

“...huh?”

- - -

Against his own will, Ash follows close behind the prisoner and warden. His arms are wrapped around himself as a cold breeze starts to pick up. His long red hair sways in the wind as Dion’s hood flops back due to the direction of the sudden wind.

“I’m not a fighter, you know this.”

“Right.”

“I’m a doctor - I help the wounded, I don’t give injuries. I don’t even have the training of a swordsman - unlike you.” Ash continues to complain, wanting nothing more than to kick your husband straight in the ass. 

“Right.” Dion’s one word replies are dismissive - the doctor doubts he’s listening at all. 

All the while the brunette is being dragged by the collar. He only listens in silence as the two assumed co-workers or something of that sort have a one sided argument or conversation. He can’t tell what it was. 

“You have like what, thirty men?”

“Thirty five.” He takes a pause before correcting himself. “Well, now it’s thirty four.”

“Thirty four? And you choose me, a weak and mild doctor -”

“More like an annoying one,” Dion cuts in, starting to regret bringing Ash along. He forgot how… yappy he can be. Even with the amount of money he pays him, he always has something to complain about. 

“... If your wife ever divorces you, I’ll help her in every way I -”

SNAP

Twigs break in half under your husband’s feet, the prisoner choking as the taller man turns on his feet so quickly it gives him whiplash. Ash immediately shuts his mouth as shadows start to cover the sharp features of Dion’s face. His eyes glow in the moonlight. His scarlet eyes are narrowed, filled with unsaid threats, glare so sharp it cuts into his very soul. 

The redhead takes a step back as his employer towers over him. He breaks out into a cold sweat, the forest having become silent - like every animal in the vicinity sensed the bloodlust of this obsessed man and went into hiding. 

It feels like death itself is breathing down his back, his stomach twisting and turning painfully. His mouth becomes dry, and he can hear every breath Dion takes. So, this is what it feels like, to be on the sharp side of Dion’s blade.

He gulps, Adam's apple bobbing. The air becomes suffocating. 

“... it was a joke.” Ash says slowly, unable to look away from the grim reaper. A quick glance to his hands shows that they are both tightly clenched. The enemy is shivering in fear as well, worried for his own safety.

One wrong move and he’ll lose his head, it doesn’t matter if he wasn’t involved with the conversation. The fact he’s here at all spells out his doom.

This rage was different from the one that was directed towards him. He doesn’t know who the wife - you are, but at the mention of divorce, Dion became a different man. A worse man.

Did you mean that much to him? Or was it a pride thing?

“...A joke? I didn’t realize my marriage was a joke to you.” Husky and deep, your husband’s voice sends chills down the other two spines. Each step carries weight and the poor man dragged along regrets ever taking the job. 

“No, I don’t think your marriage is a joke… I’m sure she’ll open up to you. Eventually. Just a bit.” Trying to soothe the pissed man proves to be futile.

Ash doesn’t understand why Dion was so smitten with you. You were strangers prior to the engagement - only shared a space in the ballroom without interacting with each other. However, one memory that will never be erased from his mind was when the then nineteen-year-old had pointed at you with his red eyes and declared to the doctor he would marry you during a ball that took place a year ago.

Right after you and the Agriche accidentally locked eyes.

Ash always knew he was mental. Just not to this degree. 

“Listen, I’m sorry; I overstepped. Let’s just get this done - the faster we finish the faster you can return home. Maybe not into her arms, but at least you’ll see and hear her voice. Right?”

At the mention of that, the murderous man calms a little, but the looming threat of being cut down is still in the air. In the moonlight, your husband looks imposing, his red eyes glow as his short black hair moves along with the wind - all he’s missing is the scythe, standing tall and oh so close to putting his hand on the hilt of his sword.

Ash slowly lowers his hands when Dion sneers at him one last time and turns his back. Tension still in the air and in everyone’s body, they continue the walk. Each step is on the verge of being heavy, but caution prevents them from dragging their feet. The captive was soon thrown over Dion’s shoulder, the sound of dragging getting on his nerves while Ash brought up the amount of noise it made. 

The captive and Ash stare at each other in silence. He almost feels bad for the man, but the doctor quickly reminds himself that he was his employer’s enemy - if he pities him he might cave in and help. But helping would mean that Dion would cut his pay, assuming he doesn’t put him six feet under. 

Or both.

“... we’ve been walking for a bit now. Maybe you should turn around to let the man get a view. We might have taken a wrong turn.” The doctor suggests as Dion hums, considering it. He halts and drops the man who lands face first on the ground. Dirt gets in his eyes, groaning in pain as he rubs it out. 

“If you try to run I’ll cut your legs off.”

“And this is why you don’t have any friends.”

The captive listens in confusion, baffled that there’s someone who can shit talk the infamous Dion Agriche and live. A pause and he stands to his full height, a head shorter than your husband. Dusting himself off, he quivers under Dion’s sharp gaze. His voice cracks as he looks around before giving them directions. 

Or at least, attempts to. 

Swoosh 

Thud!

“Wha!?” Ash backs away as an arrow impales the imposter’s head. He falls to the ground immediately, eyes becoming lifeless. Blood pools underneath his head as some drips down his face. Dion whips his head to the right, where the arrow came from. 

Swoosh

Before it can hit him, Dion catches the arrow with his hand after rushing in to save Ash. He snaps it in two easily. The forest becomes quiet. Both men look to the right, but sense nothing. 

The Agriche feels a hit to his pride once he realizes that he had just lost his prey. His scowl deepens, and Ash squats to investigate the dead body that lays on the cold ground. 

Gently, he lifts the head, getting a good look at the fatal wound. Upon closer inspection, the head of the arrow was dipped in a purple liquid - most likely poison. He glances at the man standing behind him, but quickly returns his attention to the corpse. 

‘Not that it matters if he got hit… he’s immune to most if not all poisons. Oh, but what if he’s not immune to this one?’

The doctor mentally questions as he looks over his shoulder again. Only to be met with the sight of Dion licking the arrow head, tasting the possible poisonous liquid without a second thought. Ash blinks blankly.

‘Are all Agriches like this?’

“It’s poison -” the black haired man starts before he gets interrupted, holding the urge to throttle his employee back. It’s so tempting.

“Obviously -”

“- that’s made from Mellow light*” He finishes while he glowers at Ash. “How unfortunate. Had I known it was drenched in it I would have let it hit you.” A crooked smile plays on his lips as the redhead furrows his brows at the younger man's ‘teasing’. 

“Ha ha. That’s enough from you - what do you want to do with the body?” He looks at the corpse next to him. “Should we burn it? Or bury it?” 

“We’ll bring it with us.” Answer your husband. Without another word, he grabs the corpse by the collar of the shirt and drags it alongside him. “It’d be interesting to see their reactions.” 

Ash stays quiet. 

- - -

“Where’s the doctor and the young master?” 

“I saw them heading that way…”

“Were we abandoned?” 

“Do you honestly think they would do that? Master Lant would have a field day if the young master just up and left. Even if he’s the favorite, he wouldn’t be able to get away with doing such a thing.” 

Chatter fills the air as the soldiers scratch their heads. Stars twinkle in the night sky, and yet despite the pretty sight, only tension is present. Everyone is tense as some look around them to make sure nothing or no-one surrounds them.

“Actually,” one young man starts after he looks around, “where’s Adam? I haven’t seen him since we got back.” 

“Maybe the young master disposed of him.” One says casually.  

“Or he was eaten by a monster and that’s why the other two left - to investigate. It’s normal for them not to say anything sometimes.” Another man offers up, scratching his head despite the implication that their fellow soldier is dead somewhere.

It’s a normal occurrence they’re used to seeing rather than experiencing - it was only a matter of time until someone from their group would die in action or get disposed of by one of the Masters.

Despite their unease, they stay at the camp, weapons ready and alert about their surroundings. The night was still young and the person in charge was missing. 

- - -

They stopped at an abandoned cabin. However, like the fools they are, chatter is loud enough to be heard from outside, and a lantern was lit inside, showing the silhouettes of people through the windows. Two people stood guard outside, Dion and Ash hiding near the trees. 

“Talk about being obvious,” Ash mumbles under his breath, staring at the sight with furrowed brows. Wasn’t this a little too easy? Out in the open, did they think that the night alone would conceal their presence?

Or maybe this was a trap. Making it look too easy so attackers would act cocky or something along those lines. Acting without thinking. Makes it easy to -

“This is dull.” Dion walks out into the open, clearly having no intention of staying hidden. Unlike the swordsman, the doctor says in hiding. He sighs, shaking his head as he quietly prays for the poor souls. Three strikes of his sword and both are on the ground, dead. One with a slash to his neck and the other was pierced with Dion’s sword to his head. Their bodies fall to the ground with a ‘thud’. 

Then, he kicks the door in without warning, caution thrown into the wind, the corrupted noble acting out of character. Slowly, the doctor follows after, watching from the doorway as your husband swings his sword to slash someone’s eyes, making them blind. The Agriche jumps back when one of the men thrusts their sword with all his might towards your husband’s chest.

He deflects it easily. 

From the doorway, Ash witnesses as the younger male swipes his opponent from his feet, his booth making contact with their own, causing the enemy to trip over. Dion wastes no time in bringing his sword down, blood splattering on his boots and floor, the hem of his cloak also now stained as he kills him. There is no remorse in his red eyes. 

The doctor shivers. 

Two capable men remain. They look at the brooding figure like he was a beast - and perhaps he was, the man emotionless when it comes to his victims. Shaking in their boots, their hold on their sword’s hilts loosen. Their eyes are so wide it’s cometical.

“Remember to leave one alive,” Ash shouts from the doorway. Dion doesn’t spare him a glance as he rushes forward, and another man is killed. Blood is shed and none of it is from him. 

The man who was blind by the Agriche writhes on the floor, palms pressed against the wound as he tries to soothe it. He’s also sobbing, and for a moment, the sound reminds your husband of you.

He’s quickly ripped out of his thoughts as his opponent dashes towards him, lifting his sword and is about to bring it down before Dion just… stabs him in the chest. The sword falls to the floor with a clatter as the man cripples over in pain. Slowly, life fades from his eyes, your husband taking it upon himself to end his life faster.

The sight is reflected in scarlet eyes and their owner feels nothing. He’s all but a canvas painted a bright red, no more room for anything else to be added, black fading at the corners.

The wails of the now blind man reach his ears. He turns on his feet, realizing he should have let one of the enemies who could still see live. A blind man can only help so much with directions. 

Dion takes a quick glance around the one room cabinet only to realize one thing - there are no arrows. Whoever the archer was, they were not here. His eye twitches but he calms himself as he looks at the injured man on the floor, blood dripping from his eyes onto the wooden floor.

His steps are heavy, the floorboards creaking under his weight. Ash reaches the new victim before Dion does. He only stares, standing above him as the doctor checks out the gash. 

“F-fuck! You - you -” The nameless man stutters out before he stops to sob, the pain unbearable. Ash doesn’t blame him.

“He’ll kill you if you keep talking without permission.” A half-lie, the doctor giving your husband a look. “Just keep your mouth shut until spoken to.” Reaching into his coat's inner pocket, he brings out a small bottle full of some type of medicine. 

Dion scoffs as the doctor rinses out the wound, dusting himself off as the wails get stronger. Louder. What was the point of performing first aid? It’s not like he’ll live for long.

Without heistance, Dion kicks the man in the stomach once Ash is done ‘treating’ him. He’s getting impatient - their idiotic and poor attempt to kill him, to trick him was only making the length of his mission longer. He could be with you right now. Watching as your chest slowly rises up and down as you sleep, as his insomnia prevents him from joining you.

He could be in your shared bed by now, the only time you don’t squirm under his gaze. When he can trace the contours of your face with his eyes, wishing that he could do it with his fingers instead. 

He directs his attention back to the matter at hand. Thinking about you only distracts him.

“Talk. The longer you lie or stay quiet, the longer I’ll beat you.” Not a complete lie. He swears he’s trying to be a bit less brutal. For you.

But it’s hard when it was hardwired into his very being at a young age.

“I-I don’t -”

THWACK

Another kick to the stomach that has the man wheezing. Drool flies from his mouth as he doubles over in pain. His entire body feels wrecked, his eyes fucked for the rest of his life, no matter how short. Breathing hurts but his lungs won’t stop seeking for oxygen. The burning sensation almost makes him wish he was dead. 

“Ugh… I-I was ju-just ordered to be stationed here…” He braces himself for another kick that never comes. However, he doesn’t delude himself into thinking that the threat before him has decided to let him rest. He knows that Dion is planning something else. 

And he’s scared to find out what.

“So you’re mercenaries. Who hired you?” The interrogation continues. 

“I-I didn’t see his fa-face… he wore a ma-mask. Dark blue. A-a bit shorter th-than you." The mercenary gives details as he prays that his death will be a swift one. He knows he’s not leaving alive. 

- - -

The matter was out of their hands now. He has to report everything to Lant, and wait for further instructions. It’s a routine he hates.

He’s treated no better than a show dog.

“At least you’re almost done with the original task.” The doctor tries to be positive.

Dion doesn’t answer as he brings the blind mercenary with him. Unlike with the first one, he carries this one over his shoulder the entire trip back to camp. It’s quicker and easier, while dragging him would slow him down a bit. 

It doesn’t make him dislike it any less. 

“Surprised you kept him alive.” The doctor stares at the unconscious man as he walks behind Dion. “What about the rest of the bodies?”

“We leave them as a message,” is all your husband says. What a crude thing to do, Ash thinks. But he doesn’t comment on it further. 

By the time they reach camp, the soldiers look on in shock as their leader returns covered in splatters of blood with a man on death’s door slung over his shoulder. 

- - -

  “...you want me to do what?”

“Take the money and buy the necklace I told you about earlier. I’ll either be kicked out or they’ll run away immediately as soon as they see me.” He gestures to his messy appearance.

“Just take off your cloak! Wash your face! Besides, what will your wife think if she ever finds out I was the one who got it!? She’ll think that you’re lazy and it’ll only make her view of you worse!” 

The hunting party is on the outskirts of a town they passed by on their way to the hunting grounds. Dion stares at Ash with money in his hand, silently ordering him to take it and buy a necklace that matches your pretty and lovely eyes. 

Dion had passed through the town himself a few weeks ago while out on a different mission. Curious, he decided to check out the local jewelry store. He was only supposed to take a peek, not leave with plans to buy a certain piece. The only reason he didn’t get it right then and there was because he forgot his wallet. 

He still holds that against himself to this day. While it’s true he could have used his status as being part of the Black Clan, it didn’t sit right with him. How soft has he become?

It’s all your fault. And yet, he doesn’t hold it against you. It’s impossible to do so.

“... I suppose you’re right.” 

“Then go get it yourself!” 

The blind and unconscious mercenary is forgotten on the carriage that also holds some monster parts.  

The soldiers in the background try their best to ignore their conversation. But it’s hard when the doctor’s frustration is bursting through the streams, clearly done with their leader. While it was common knowledge among this group of how the two butt heads, it’s a secret outside of it.

For a mere common doctor to go against a child of Agriche, it would be a death sentence. Especially with his occasional condescending remark or tone that would bring punishment or even death for anyone else. However, for whatever reason, Ash Katopodis was the only one who ever lived without injury after shit talking Dion Agriche. The first time it happened, they waited with baited breath for the doctor to fall to the ground, dead. 

The second time it happened they thought it was fluke. 

Everything after that showed that he had a privilege that no-one else ever will have. It’s curious how he’s the only one. 

One time, a soldier, a stupid one, who overheard Dion’s men talk about it did try to snitch on them to Lant, hoping to bring down Dion’s reputation. Safe to say his death wasn’t quick and painless. After that, they all realized that the only reason Dion kept them around was because they knew when and how to keep their mouths shut.

Still, it was entertaining for a man below Dion in status to lose his temper with the crimson eyed noble. 

Even if they can’t hear every word. 

“Take off the cloak - oh. Right. The Agriche crest.” The sudden memory of what’s engraved into that uniform hits Ash hard. How stupid of him to barely remember.

“You there! Come over for a second.” Not waiting for Dion’s response, Ash calls over one of the soldiers. He walks over in confusion, slightly irked that a doctor dared to order him around. But due to his leader being there, he keeps his mouth shut.

“Y-yes?” The man looks at both of them with uncertainty in his eyes. Worried, he keeps himself from turning around to avoid your husband’s eyes. 

“Can you lend him your cloak? Just for a bit.” 

Dion glares daggers at Ash.

- - -

“We-welcome! How may I help you to-today?” Open twenty-four-seven, Ash watches as Dion had knocked on the door of the store, deciding to stay in his stained clothes and dirty boots while staying outside, not staining the store’s floor. How benevolent of him.

The owner, who was originally confused and slightly annoyed, quickly changed tune once he saw the two men. Since he had met Dion before, he knew who he was. Which meant his automatic fear and willingness to work with him and not send him off only made sense.

“The necklace,” Dion starts while recalling how it looks, “the simple gold one with a small (e/c) jewel in the middle - how much?” He knows it’s genuine after the first time he examined it. What he forgot was the price.

This isn’t like him. None of this is. But the second you entered his life, he’s been… different. 

The owner blinks before answering. “Oh, that one? It’s 1240 - but for you, I’ll only charge half.” Business is still business to this man, clearly. Still, seeing how it’s an Agriche who’s his customer, he doesn’t want to test his luck too much.

It’s also amazing how he memorized the price of each and every one of his goods. 

“Alright.” Dion doesn’t try to negotiate to lower the price further. Ash watches in amazement as the exchange comes to an end as the gift is placed in a small elegant blue box that’s carefully placed into his pants pocket. 

- - -

Ash left the party before reaching the Agriche estate.

Everyone else goes their own ways once everything is reported to Lant, the head of the family scowling at the news. Perhaps too tired to care much, considering the time, he dismisses everyone without incident. Everyone but Dion, that is.

“The girl didn’t leave your room today. Were you too rough before departing?” His father takes a puff from his cigar as he questions his son on a matter that frankly, doesn’t concern him. His ugly smirk only makes the context worse.

“... she’s still getting used to ‘it’.” A simple lie that has his father chuckling. It’s nails on a chalkboard, making his ears bleed. 

“Interesting. I never thought you would be that type.” One more puff after a suggestive line. “Well, it’s late - you should get some rest. Or don’t, depending on your mood. It’s not like she can deny you.” 

His hands form fists before they relax. Getting mad here wouldn’t help. Even though every fiber of his being is enraged that Lant is treating you like a sex toy - then again, in his eyes, you probably are. A nice little breeding tool given to him, his son.

He ignores the urge to give in and punch him. 

He wonders how long he’s had these violent feelings towards him.

“Yes, father.” And with that, he leaves. 

The walk to your bedroom feels longer than what it is. Too long. Even so, he doesn’t rush, knowing that you prefer it when he’s gone. A part of him does feel guilty about it, really. At times, he does consider separating himself from you physically - as long as you’re married, as long as you don’t look at anyone else, as long as you belong to him, it should have been fine.

And, truthfully, it was, at first. He was content with the knowledge that you were his wife and he was your husband. Looking from afar would sate his needs, small dinners here and there would have been better than fine. Just hearing your voice would improve his mood, and sharing a bed with you was nicer than nice. 

That day when you were sitting on the floor and fell backwards, head resting on his legs, he couldn’t help but admire your beauty. 

Although, looking back on it now, you probably took it differently.

The night where you allowed him to touch you, his fingers on the bare skin of your back, how loose you were with him, his resolve started to crumble. He shouldn’t have done that. He shouldn’t have acted in a suggestive way, either the position sending his mind places that you clearly didn’t appreciate nor agreed with. He should have gotten up the moment he was done with untying the strings and not imply he wanted to make you cum with both his words and actions.

His behavior that night only served to drive you away further. 

You both had your first time together, which was amazing - but he does regret how it went. He should have been softer, kissed you, whispered praises in your ear as he slowly, inch by inch, entered you, said you were beautiful because you were, because you are. 

But, shamefully, he was caught up in his head. Too eager to take you, to become one, his actions only worsen your impression of him. He should have been better. Instead of trying to hold himself back which only made him look disinterested, made him look selfish with sexual pleasure, he should have given in a little bit, at least with making you cum and sweet words he should have said instead of calling you cute only when you started to cry.

Maybe then, you would be more welcoming to fleeting touches and even accept a kiss to the forehead or at the very least, hold his hand. But now you only see him as a perverted creep, and no matter how hard he tries, everything only backfires on him.

He has no-one to blame but himself. 

He pauses once he reaches the bedroom doors. It’s only now does he realize he didn’t wash up - still dirty and covered in specks of blood. Dirt in his hair, he wonders if he stinks or just smells like the outside. Or maybe that would smell bad to you too.

His eyes glaze overs at the thought of you shooing him away - can’t he just spend a few minutes with you? Maybe he should just… lock you up. That way, you wouldn’t be able to avoid him. You wouldn’t be able to give your attention to anyone else, if he just hid and locked you away all for himself.

A pause before he sighs through his nose. Not a good idea despite how tempting it is.

His thoughts are interrupted when his hand starts to turn the door knob without his knowing. He caves.

He’ll just take a peek. To see if you’re asleep or not. He’ll leave to wash up as soon as he sees you before going in.

Only he caves in once he sees you on the terrace, in nothing but your sleep attire. A frown pulls at his lips - it’s slightly windy - he knows this is only an excuse to get closer to you, but an obsessed man can only hold back for so long. In the beginning, he was satisfied with just being married to you. But your personality, your real one that shined through in the past, was addicting. Your skin was so warm and hair soft, and the way you  had clung to him during your first night would have eventually caught up with him, wanting to hold you in his arms again.

It didn’t have to be in a sexual manner. Your genuine sweetness was never meant for him and he knows this. But, at times, it does hurt a bit that you just don’t remember past events, no matter how small.

Quietly, by reflex, he enters the room and opens the closet to pull out a coat. The first one he sees is a gift from his mother.

Despite his distaste of it, he pulls it out regardless and walks to you. You smell nice, he thinks as he gets close enough to place the coat over your shoulders. He sees the way you tense but he still can’t stop himself from saying -

“You’re still awake.”

= = =

EDIT: *- it's a plant I made up. That's all.

tag list: @tiny-mimi @umi-adxhira @pix-stuff @queenofspades403

@manitscold @s-ajia @disappointment-san @rentaldarling @darkumbreon92 @puggyeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

[pasta-in-the-pudding]

I have Hilarious idea about Reader reacting to Jeff,Ben and Toby does "Battery Acid Spaghetti" Challenge Stuff(Previous Fic you made),and i probably they're not amused and leave room

Summary: Reader's reaction to previous events that took place in this fic

Genre: Slice of life

Warnings: mentions of puking

Credits: Jeff The Killer- Creepypasta, Ben Drowned- Creepypasta, Ticci Toby- Creepypasta, Bloody divider- strangergraphics on tumblr, Previous fic- me!

A/n: Doing something with a fic from so long is so strange/pos! It's so fun to see how my writing has changed, and I'm thrilled people still interact with it! Of course there is a slight cringe feeling seeing how ooc i wrote the creeps back then but yk, the experience is mostly positive!

Thank you so much for requesting!!

You open your eyes and rub the sleep out. After stretching a bit you glance over at your clock to see what time it is. 2:23 a.m. You groan and flop back onto your bed, staring up at the ceiling. It is then that you hear retching, gags, and loud laughter with a sound so high it could only be Ben's. You try to go back to sleep but quickly realize that won't be happening. Sitting up with a deep sigh, you get out of bed and make your way into the hallway, knocking on the door of the room next to you. You wait a moment before knocking again, the laughter hasn't stopped. You debate whether you should open the door or not, considering the kind of people that live here. You decide to take the chance and what you see is definetly not what you expected.

There are three big bowls about the floor, all of them with varying states of being full. There are many open energy drink cans and bags of candy as well. Right by your foot, Toby lays and he is totally knocked out. Closer to the bathroom door, Ben is on the floor holding his stomach and laughing like he just got hit with a potion of ecstasy. You are about to tell him to knock it off, and that you're trying to sleep, but just then more retching comes from inside the bathroom. You peek around the corner and Jeff is there with his whole head in the toilet, seemingly puking up his guts. You turn to ben and kick him a bit. He jumps and looks up at you before relaxing. "Oh, y/n!" He says, sitting up and catching his (unneeded) breath. "Wanna test your luck?" He asks, pointing to one of the fuller bowls. You glance over at it before turning back over to give him the stink eye. "Hell no. You already about killed Jeff." He begins to grin as Jeff breathlessly calls out "Ain't dead yet."

You roll your eyes "Just keep it down. Tryna sleep" You grumble, turning to walk back to your room. By the time you get back into bed, Jeff has another round coming up and all you can hear is him gagging and Ben teasing him to "have some more".

You really need to talk to Slender about moving rooms.

[swan2swan]

Nah, it's all cool.

To be honest, it's why I put my thoughts out like that in the first place. Hopefully someone else sees it and learns. Happy to tank a hit with a little discourse so others can see before writing.

Considering the plan for the movie star AU with Darius and Brooklynn, but debating if she gets to have both hands...

[taeyongdoyoung]

blessed-cur(s)ed

summary: your bestie is obsessed with the idea of your blood but there's a chance it might kill him so he dares you to try it on the most popular guy in your school for supernatural beings pairing: vampire!heeseung x powerless witch!reader side couple: future vampire!sunoo x (idk what!)sunghoon implied at the end 👀 genre: fantasy, humour, romance, lowkey insta-love but actually classmates to lovers? warnings: flirty bestie!sunoo (yes, that's a warning in itself), nerdy AND popular guy!heeseung (canon event, methinks), mentions of blood, talks of death, experiments, book of cur(s)es, the bet trope with a twist, attempted murder (but not really), kissing, biting, kneeling, swearing, song references author's note: happy halloween, everyone! 🧛 i wanted to write something spooky-themed for the occasion and what better way than vampire enha to celebrate ❤️ i accidentally deleted my fic like a 🤡 so im reposting lol

word count: 2.8k

"I want to drink your blood sooo bad," Sunoo, your vampire bestie, keeps telling you.

Now, you may find that a bit strange. How is he a vampire and why are you so chill about it? Well, the thing is, you've been attending a school for supernatural beings for the past couple of years.

You come from a family of witches, but your powers haven't manifested yet. There is completely nothing special about you.

Well, except for one thing. Your blood, apparently. Your witchy ancestors loved experimenting with their own blood and according to some old book containing curses and other supernatural information, they turned it into a poison for vampires.

Which can be problematic, considering your bestie's obsession with how good you smell.

"Sunoo, shut up, I keep telling you that my blood and that of my entire family can literally kill you!" you repeat for what feels like the hundredth time only this month.

"Pfft, don't tell me you still believe that stupid old book? Your ancestors probably lied 'cause they were afraid vampires would bleed them dry. I mean, judging by your amazing smell, your great-grandparents' scent was probably just as tempting to vampires," Sunoo argues passionately.

"You can't risk it, Sunoo! I don't wanna lose my best friend just because you can't control your urges," you sigh loudly.

"Oh I can control myself alright, I've been living on deer and rabbits for as long as I remember. Just one tiny taste, honeypie, pleaseee, I swear, you won't even feel it," Sunoo continues the incessant begging. "My fangs aren't that sharp."

"Sunoo, no! I'm not even worried about myself, I trust your dorky ass, but you can literally die," you constantly remind him.

"Can being the key word!" Sunoo, ever the optimist says. "But what if I don't? What if your ancestors were full of shit?"

"No, die is the key word!" you fight back. "I can't lose my best friend. No means no."

"Ughhh," Sunoo complains even more. "What if we test it on someone?"

"What?!" you hiss-whisper.

"Some other vampire. What if we convince them to drink your blood and see if they die," Sunoo suggests boldly.

"That's attempted murder!" you look around to make sure none of your classmates heard you. Maybe it's a good thing most of them are so preoccupied with their own looks that they pay no attention to you two...

"It's not if they survive!" Sunoo keeps looking from the bright side.

"You're crazy," you shake your head. But the idea does sound fun...Wait, no, you're not even considering it!

"What about him?" Sunoo murmurs in your ear, just as someone enters the classroom.

It's Heeseung. Only the most popular guy in your school. The most liked, the most talented in all subjects, the most unattainable.

There's no way you could ever pull him. There's no way you could even convince him to drink your blood.

"Only vampires from my family know about the book of curses your family possesses," Sunoo nudges you gently. "You just have to get him alone and I'm sure he'll bite. Both literally and metaphorically."

You shake your head in disagreement.

"He won't. He's wayyy out of my league."

"That's bullshit and you know it," Sunoo rolls his eyes. "You're very pretty and you smell incredible! I bet you taste so sweet-"

"Dude, your obsession with my smell and potential taste is deeply concerning," you point out.

"Talk to him. I bet he'll be interested."

"What's in it for me? I don't wanna kill the guy..."

"You won't, I'm pretty sure. But just in case, I'll...say I killed him. If he happens to...you know. Not that vampires are alive in the first place, but whatever."

"That's the bare minimum, considering it's your idea,"

"Ugh, fine. I'll do your assignments till the end of the year," Sunoo promises. Knowing he's among the top students, constantly battling with Heeseung for the first place, this sounds like a very tempting offer. And considering this is your last year of high school...

"Deal," you shake his hand and get up from your chair. There are still a couple of minutes till class starts. So, you do the one thing you never thought you'd be able to do.

You approach THE Lee Heeseung.

"Um, hi," you greet him.

"You talking to me?" Heeseung looks up from his phone in curiosity.

"Yeah. Sorry, am I bothering you, Heeseung?"

"No, you're good," Heeseung chuckles and God, that sound is so smooth. "I just didn't think you knew my name."

"Are you kidding me? You're like the most famous guy in our entire school."

"I've been told. Is that why we've never talked for...um, let me think, the past four years?"

"Maybe so," you laugh nervously. "Sorry. You're kinda intimidating, you know that?"

"Me?" Heeseung repeats cutely, as if he's never heard a more ridiculous claim. "No way. So, did you want to ask me something?"

"Erm, yes, actually. Do you wanna hang out sometime? Like...do homework or stuff?"

"Sure, that sounds nice. Your place or mine?" he immediately agrees which is a huge shock to you.

Your place is out of the question. Your witchy parents would be furious if they found out you're trying to get a vampire to drink your blood. And his place sounds just as bad. If the poor guy drops dead in his own home with you being there, his vampire parents would be unhappy, to say the least.

"How about the forest?" you blurt out without thinking.

"The forest? That's a strange place for doing homework, no?"

"It's, um, quieter than the library," you respond dumbly.

"Forest it is," Heeseung complies to your complete amazement. "See you after class?"

"Yes, that'd be awesome," you mumble and hurry back to your seat as the teacher enters the classroom.

"How did it go?" Sunoo asks you quietly.

"He agreed to go out with me," you reply, still in shock.

"See? I told you he'd bite," Sunoo says with a wink.

But instead of being happy, you're dreading it. Because Heeseung seems like a really nice guy. And you're planning to use him as a guinea pig! And for what? To appease Sunoo's silly idea and get him to do your assignments for a year?

Class ends sooner than you'd like and you meet up with Heeseung in the forest near the school.

Little does your inexperienced ass know that your other classmates use the forest as a hook-up place! So, when Heeseung has no intention of doing any homework with you and kisses you without warning, you find yourself in an even more unexpected predicament. You're kissing him back, because duh, this is THE Lee Heeseung. When a chance like that appears right in front of you, you take it and don't let go. He smells and tastes so good and you finally get Sunoo's obsession with you. Heeseung wraps his fingers in your hair, deepening the kiss. Damn, you never expected he'd be into you! You're enjoying this unbelievable moment to the fullest when suddenly, he breaks the kiss and asks:

"Can I bite you? Just once, I promise. You just smell sooo freaking nice," Heeseung begs as if in a daze.

Fuck. If Sunoo was here, he'd tell you to agree rightaway. But your moral compass happens to be stronger than your loyalty to Sunoo's weird idea.

"I'm sorry, Heeseung, but no."

"I swear, I won't hurt you," he keeps pleading. Damnit, he's turning into Sunoo 2.0.

"It's not that. I feel terrible now, but I haven't been entirely honest with you. There is this old book of curses that my family possesses. And in it, it says my ancestors did some experiments with their blood. Apparently, theirs and my blood can be poisonous to vampires. If you bite me...you can literally die," you confess in a hurry, before you can change your mind. Heeseung deserves to know the truth.

"So...you approached me to actually do homework?" Heeseung blinks, still confused.

"No, I approached you because my dumbass best friend wanted me to use you as a test. To see if my blood is actually like sweet venom to vampires so he can get a taste of me next," you tell him everything like a fool.

"Oh," Heeseung appears so crest-fallen your heart is genuinely breaking for him.

You drop to your knees guiltily.

"I'm so sorry. Feel free to kill me."

"Not if you kill me first," Heeseung smirks coldly and attacks your neck with his fangs.

Fuck, no! You try to push him away but he's too strong! What is wrong with him? You literally just told him he might die if he drinks your blood. Why is he doing this? Is he suicidal or something?! You keep attempting to get him off of you but it's no use. As your blood is entering his system, you begin to feel so weak and dizzy. Oh, well. You kinda deserve it.

Just as your eyes are about to close and you are on the verge of losing consciousness, Heeseung's teeth leave your skin. He holds you in his arms so that you don't fall.

"Sorry, did I go too hard on you?" he asks sweetly, ever the gentleman.

"Are you crazy? What part of you can literally die did you not understand?"

"I apologize. You just smell and apparently, taste, so fucking sweet, I couldn't possibly resist. I won't do it again, I swear."

"That's right, you won't. Cause you will be dead!" you repeat, feeling completely exasperated.

"Oh, sweetheart, I'm already dead," he jokes. "But seriously, my reading shows there is a huge chance old books like that are not entirely reliable. I probably should have told you that sooner..."

"Yeah, you should have!" you try to be angry but you also feel so worried for him. Even though you don't know him that well, you've already gotten attached.

"I'm really sorry," Heeseung repeats.

"Why are you apologizing? What if this actually kills you?"

"Oh, I know you'll be the death of me."

So, you wait. Nothing immediately happens, which would be reassuring, if it wasn't for Heeseung's desire to keep kissing you, as if it's the most normal thing in the world to do. Boys...

A while later, you both go to your own respective homes. The next day, you arrive at the school, informing Sunoo of what recently transpired. He's really excited that Heeseung is still alive and wants to drink from you as soon as possible. But you tell him to wait a little longer.

When the first class starts and Heeseung isn't there, you think nothing of it. Maybe he overslept. But when the second class starts and Heeseung still hasn't showed up, you begin to worry. He's the best student, he never misses class, he's so diligent and hard-working.

Fuck. You killed him. That's why he's not coming to school. You immediately rush out of the classroom, ignoring your teacher's harsh reprimands. You'll deal with that later.

That is when it hits you. You don't even know where Heeseung lives. And what would you do even if you did? Show up at his place, asking his parents: "Um, sorry, but is your son still alive? You know, regardless of being a vampire?"

That would be even crazier than what happened yesterday. You run into the forest to escape your growing panic. You run and you run until you no longer remember which way the school is.

And that is when the miracle happens. You spot him! Sitting next to a tree.

"Heeseung! You're alive!" you scream in relief and rush to hug him.

"Of course I'm alive, silly," Heeseung chuckles, hugging you back.

"Why didn't you come to class?" you explain your worries to him.

"I was feeling unbelievably peckish. Thought I'd hunt for some wild animals, but nothing helped. I'm still hungry as hell."

"That's strange," you reply. "Do you think it could be because of my blood? Do you feel any different?"

"I don't know," Heeseung shrugs. "I'm just so fucking hungry. Can I bite you again, please?"

"No, Heeseung, we still don't know whether or not it's lethal. It just might take more time. If you drink more of my blood, something bad could happen."

"You're right, I know," Heeseung's head drops in disappointment. "Forget I even asked."

"I have a turkey sandwich in my bag?" you offer. "I know vampires don't eat food like that but still..."

"You know what? That sounds really delicious, can I please try it?"

"Um, sure," you don't know why he's asking so politely since you literally just suggested it. As you unwrap and hand him the sandwich, you are amazed by how quickly he devours it.

"Damn, this was the best meal I've ever had!" Heeseung exclaims in surprise.

"Huh," you blink at him and touch his forehead on a whim. Why is it so warm? He was freakishly cold yesterday. "Are you feeling sick?"

"No, I feel much better after this sandwich, why?"

"Erm, not to concern you or anything but your skin is like super warm."

"That's...not normal for a vampire," Heeseung reasons.

"Exactly," you respond and touch his wrist with your fingers. Squeezing his veins lightly you feel something. Something that shouldn't exist. Something that you previously thought impossible. "Um, Heeseung...you have a pulse."

"What?!" he checks for himself, confirming what you just said as true. "Do you happen to know where I can read that book of your ancestors?"

"I carried it in my bag today, just in case," you praise your past self for being so clever and pull out the old book, handing it to Heeseung.

As he reads the section that contains information about your ancestors' blood.

Heeseung nods in contemplation as he finds the thing he's looking for.

"Just as I thought. This book isn't the original text your ancestors wrote. It's a translation. Or maybe I should say a mistranslation. Look, here," he points to a particular place with his finger. "It says forever cursed shall be the vampire that our blood drinks but the grammar is all wonky. Not easy to spot. It should be forever cured. I think your blood has the ability to turn vampires into humans."

"So...you're a human now?" you blink in surprise.

"I guess so."

"Fuck, Heeseung, I'm so sorry!" you cry out apologetically.

"Are you kidding? I've wanted to turn human my whole life!"

"What, why? Why give up immortality?"

"Because I just want to a normal, boring life, marry the girl of my dreams, settle down, have kids. Is that too much to ask for?"

"No, I get it," you sigh wistfully. "My parents are so disappointed in me and the fact that my witchy powers haven't manifested yet. But what if that's all I have? Just a normal girl whose blood turns vampires into humans..."

"There's nothing normal about you," Heeseung chuckles but the way he says it makes it sound like a compliment. "Hey, does that offer for doing homework in the forest still stand?"

"Sounds great to-" you don't even get to finish your sentence because Heeseung is kissing you again. Damn, you forgot that the word forest was code for making out.

Oh, well, there are worse things you could do...

Bonus:

"So, can I drink your blood now?" Sunoo asks.

"Bro, did you not hear what I just said? I turned the most popular vampire in our school for supernatural beings into a human! He can no longer even go to our school. His parents must be furious with me. I'm lucky they haven't killed me. Hell, I'm lucky they're letting me date him. I really don't get it."

"You know that doesn't sound too bad to me, right?" Sunoo keeps begging.

"I may have survived Heeseung's parents but what makes you think I'll survive yours?"

"You're my best friend. They'll get over it," Sunoo shrugs carelessly.

"You're literally addicted to the idea of my blood. Get help!"

"You wanna kiss me so bad it make you look stupid," Sunoo sticks his tongue out childishly.

"You wish," you roll your eyes.

"Do you think Heeseung will be mad at me if I bite you? Oh, right, he's human now, so he can't hurt me," Sunoo leans in.

"Sunoo, no!" you try to push him away.

"You'll let me one day, I know it," Sunoo grins widely, showing you his sharp fangs.

They might scare another witch, but not you. You know how powerful your blood is and while Heeseung was miraculously happy to turn into a human, 99% of the vampire population would rather die than become humans. So, you believe you're safe with Sunoo. For now. If you can only find someone whose scent is more tempting to him than yours...

"Good morning, everyone! Today we have a new student, his name is Sunghoon," the teacher announces all of a sudden. "Let's welcome him!"

"Hi, Sunghoon!" the class says in unison.

"Damnit, he smells incredible," Sunoo whispers in your ear.

Ah shit, here we go again...

The End

[wolfsbanesparks]

Fanfic idea!

So I wanted to share an idea i had for a story that just sorta appeared in my brain fully formed. It will be a while before I have time to write it out, but I wanted to share it with y'all now while it's fresh in my mind.

This was inspired by @puppetwoman17 's story "Batson Family Soap Opera" and conversations I've had with @cerealboxlore as well as some other posts I've seen floating around tumblr but can't find right now.

Title: Signed in Blood

Premise: Ebenezer Batson makes a deal with Lady Blaze to bring his son Sinclair back to life, but there's a catch: after a year and a day either Sinclair must return to the land of the dead or a blood relative must take his place.

When the time comes for Blaze to collect on her contract, the Justice League is recruited to protect the Batsons from the hellhounds and demons she sends after them.

Full details under the cut because this will get long. Like the entire fic is there in bullet point form

Okay bullet points for all the plot beats i know (basically an outline of the story)

We open on Lady Blaze tracking down Ebenezer and offering to grant his greatest wish: bringing his son back to life

Ebenezer jumps at the chance and signs the contract with his blood, even knowing the caveat that someone must die in one year. A further stipulation in the contract is that the soul of whoever dies to fulfill the contract will belong to her

Ebenezer loves his son and won't let him die again, but he's still a selfish bastard, so he doesn't plan on dying either

He justifies it to himself with the thought that Sinclair is smarter, more charismatic, and had a bright future whereas Billy is a troubled runaway who will probably become a petty crook etc.

There is only one other blood relative he knows is still alive: Billy

(Billy is of course trans in this but I'll stick to the name and pronouns we know he uses rather than Ebenezer's misgendering and deadnaming)

Sinclair does not know he's dead: Blaze wiped his memory of the accident and used magic to provide false memories to account for the time he was dead

Ebenezer tracks down Billy to take back custody of him so he'll be able to hand him over to Blaze (he knows that if billy dies and he tells people Billy ran away they'll believe it because of his history thus getting away scott free)

Billy is conflicted about being in Ebenezer's custody again, especially with a cousin he doesn't remember (he died before Billy's parents did) who seems a bit off (because he was resurrected with demonic magic)

Sinclair jumps straight into making a name for himself by running for political office (he has ambitions and plans for his future and zero idea what his father did)

While campaigning for office, exactly a year and a day since he was resurrected, Sinclair attends a major political conference

The conference is attacked by hellhounds sent by blaze to remind Ebenezer of their contract. But it causes a huge scene and the Justice League, including Captain Marvel, gets involved to help protect the political leaders of the conference

But they soon realize the main target is Sinclair so they take him and Ebenezer back to their home and offer their protection while they figure out what's going on

Ebenezer is sweating because he has no idea where Billy is so he can't offer him up like he planned (because Billy is CM at the moment) but he figures the JL can keep him and Sinclair alive

Cap is unusually rude and abrasive. He's distant and avoids certain sections of the house. The JL is worried because he never acts like this and they don't know what happened or why he doesn't seem to like the batsons

As they try to figure out why the Batsons are being targeted, a second attack happens at a charity event where the Bromfields had been in attendance (the demons targeting Mary)

The JL brings the Bromfields and the Batsons together to try to find a link. And after Batman runs a DNA test he finds out that Mary is related to them.

(Billy recognized her the moment he saw her locket and is desperately trying to hold himself back from pulling her into a hug and whisking her away from their uncle)

Ebenezer is gobsmacked that his niece is alive, Mary is ecstatic to learn more about her birth family, and the Bromfields are worried about what this all means.

The story of CC and Marilyn comes out and Sinclair tells the JL about Billy and how he's missing and they need to find him before the demons do

Demons attack the house, gunning for Cap as well which leads to some investigation and the theory that Cap is CC with memory loss which he adamantly denies

(Both Billy and Ebenezer are shaken by just how many "dead" Batsons are in the room)

Blaze appears and tells them all that due to her contract they cannot deny her: she is owed the life and soul of one of the Batsons by midnight. A life for a life.

Everyone is freaking out because what contract? And who is she?

But Billy knows who she is and it takes him no time at all to put the pieces together. He confronts Ebenezer and when he denies it, he convinces wonder woman to use the lasso of truth on him

Ebenezer is forced to tell them he made a deal and why: he wanted his son back.

But Sinclair still has no idea he died so he doesn't understand: he would have come home if his dad needed him so bad.

But Billy remembers an incident from when he was a kid living with Ebenezer: playing in the backyard, digging a hole as little kids do and finding a ring engraved with the name Sinclair Batson (a high school class ring that Sinclair always wears, one that he's wearing right now)

His uncle had been furious and punished Billy for it, but later while drunk he sobbed about how his perfect son was gone, how he'd never see him again.

Billy had (rightly) assumed he was dead but didn't ask any questions about him until he was in Ebenezer's custody again, then he assumed he was just young and misunderstood the situation (after all he'd lost so many people at that age. Lots of people were just gone without explanation)

But now he realizes the truth: Sinclair was brought back from the dead and the strange offputting aura was blazes magic

Ebenezer is forced to tell them what happened: how Sinclair died.

It was an accident. The two of them had been arguing about Sinclair going away for college among other things and things got heated. Sinclair tried to sneak out after the argument, climbing out of his window. Ebenezer caught him and shouted for him to get back inside. The shout startled Sinclair and he fell off the roof and broke his neck

Ebenezer couldn't bring himself to call the police, he was terrified they'd arrest him because the neighbors heard them arguing and Sinclair had bruises on his arm from where Ebenezer had grabbed him

So he buried his son in that backyard, telling everyone who asked that Sinclair was away for college and building up the lie so no one suspected the truth. (Billy found Sinclair's ring because he was playing on top of his unmarked grave)

Billy pushes and Ebenezer admits that he'd been planning on giving Billy up in exchange for Sinclair (airing out his justifications)

Everyone is horrified, especially Sinclair. (Not Billy though, this aligned perfectly with the Ebenezer he knew)

There's a lot of argument about what to do: most are in favor of handing Ebenezer over to Blaze but Sinclair is admant that he was supposed to be dead so it should be him she took.

But Billy knows something no one else knows about this deal, not even Ebenezer: Blaze had always intended to reap Billy's soul as payment

She knew there was no love between Billy and Ebenezer but she also knew that Billy would never let anyone (even someone he hates as much as his uncle) become her slave via owning their soul

But if Billy's soul belonged to her, so would his powers and his connection to Shazam and the Rock of Eternity. The contract would back him into a corner and his pure heart would give her the opening she needed.

So Billy pulls Sinclair and Mary aside. Mary's clinging to Sinclair because even though she just found him she doesn't want to lose him.

The three of them hatch a plan

When Blaze arrives and demands her payment Cap steps forward and offers himself (which makes everyone confused since he's been denying being CC all night)

Blaze is ecstatic because she can taste victory

Sinclair steps up and demands to know how they can trust her not to come after them again once she has cap's soul.

After a bit of back and forth, she agrees to add an addendum to the contract Ebenezer signed ensuring that she would never harm any of the Batsons after collecting what she is owed.

All batsons sign the contract in blood

Last is Billy who she tells to power down so she can collect his soul without divine interference

Billy transforms and literally everyone except Blaze is blindsided by the fact that Cap is Billy who has been missing since before this mess began

Blaze shoves her hand into Billy’s chest to rip out his soul and claim her birthright

But before he dies he gives Mary, who is shell shocked and horrified and quickly realizing that's her twin, a nod

As he falls to the ground she remembers the plan: she shouts out "Shazam" and becomes Mary Marvel

You see the night before Billy officially chose her to become his successor as Champion (Sinclair is too closely tied to blazes magic so it would've been too risky to give him. Plus Mary was always destined for the powers of Shazam but had been hidden from him by black Adam's magic)

Just as Blaze was denied her father's power and the Rock of Eternity because he chose Billy as his champion, so she was denied when Billy transferred his powers to mary

She is furious and attacks mary

But upon landing the first hit, Billy is brought back because she hurt a batson rendering the contract null and void

Together Billy and Mary send her back to hell

The epilogue features the Batsons several months later. Ebenezer is in prison for attempted murder (of both Billy and Sinclair) among other crimes. Sinclair still visits him because despite everything he loves his dad and owes him his second chance at life (it's definitely complicated) Sinclair is billys legal guardian and theyd sold the house where both Billy and Sinclair were abused moving into the same neighborhood as the Bromfields so the twins can be together again. Captain Marvel and Mary are beloved heroes and they've officially endorsed Sinclair's campaign which meant he won in a landslide.

And they lived happily ever after

So thoughts?

I told you the idea was fully formed but I'd love to hear what y'all think!

[topochicoslut]

everybody wants to rule the world: prologue

fic synopsis: A young woman is sent on what is sure to be a suicide mission to spy on Ryomen Sukuna by a rival curse user who has heard rumors that the infamous King of Curses might have found the secret to true immortality

pairing: ryomen sukuna x fem!reader rating: 18+ ONLY!!!!!! MDNI!!!! IF I CATCH YOU, I'LL BLOCK YOU!!! word count: 1.1k

warnings: none for this chapter! but overall fic warnings include but are not limited to the following- slow burn, enemies to lovers, eventual smut/p0rn with plot, descriptions of violence and gore, language, horror elements, morally grey characters, me having an aneurysm while trying to properly describe cursed techniques, true form sukuna (eventually), etc etc. each chapter will have the appropriate content warnings added to them based on subject matter : )

a/n: hiiiii! so this idea has been bumping around in my head for the past few weeks, and I finally decided to do something about it. idk the world has just been kinda crazy lately, so I figured why not write something super self indulgent about sukuna to help take my mind off of things. this is just the prologue, the next few chapters should be dropping soon-ish after this. I just need to tidy some things up (aka edit the fuck out of everything i’ve written so far🫠🥲). just a couple of quick things- this is a Heian era AU fic, and while I did do a lil research before I started writing this, there will probably still be a couple of historical inaccuracies here and there. so for that I just wanna apologize in advance and say my bad. I have the entire story outlined, including the current number of chapters it will probably take to wrap everything up, but considering this whole thing has sort of taken a life of its own at this point idk what to expect anymore lol. I'll do my best to update it when I can based on life and work and everything else. !!!please note!!!: the first few chapters focus more so on reader's back story and world building, so sukuna won't make his first full appearance right away, but he IS mentioned periodically leading up to that. so please bear with me until he arrives in all his glory lol. anyway, thanks for everyone who has shown interest in this story since I first posted about it the other day! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I have enjoyed writing it 🖤 divider by sweetmelodygraphics

Southern Japan, 888 AD

Your head was pounding when you woke up. Just as it had been ever since you’d arrived at the temple. 

Well, arrived was too kind a way to describe what had really happened. Being forcibly kidnapped and imprisoned was a much more accurate description of how you had landed in your current situation. But the specifics didn’t really seem to matter all that much anymore. 

Nothing did really. 

You were still laid out in the middle of the floor of the small shrine you’d been confined to for the past two- or maybe it was four?- days now. You eyed the carafe of water to your right, and if you weren’t feeling so groggy and sick you would’ve crawled over to it and gulped it down. Hoping that the refreshing chill of it would help clear your head finally. 

But moving felt impossible, and you were so, so tired. 

A few days ago sleep would’ve been a welcome escape for you, but now it was just another prison you were stuck in thanks to the numerous talismans that were hanging on the walls around you. They had been smart to not leave any light sources in the room with you, or else you would have grabbed the nearest torch and burned them all to ash so you could try and make a run for it. But the only source of light you had came from the moonbeams that were shining in through the tiny window above you. 

The air was thick with smoke from the incense that had been burning ever since you’d been sealed in this room. Its sickly sweet aroma had made you retch when you first arrived, but now all it did was keep your mind fuzzy and your body heavy and sluggish. That paired with the ofuda that hung from floor to ceiling was just another tool used to keep you subdued and prevent any hope you had of escape. You couldn’t cross the threshold of the shrine even if you could get your body to cooperate. 

The faint chittering sound coming from the shadows let you know you were not alone. But you couldn’t bring yourself to look in the direction they were coming from. You didn’t want to see the empty black eyes of the creatures that had been assigned to watch your every move day and night. Not when you now knew the sickening truth behind how Hisato had created them. Binding dead flesh and bone together with-

You couldn’t even think of it. 

Your former master had never been one to shy away from showing the world exactly what kind of man he was. You knew that he was cold and cruel when you had willingly joined his side all those years ago. But somehow even you hadn’t thought he would be capable of such grotesque acts of depravity in his quest for immortality. 

Or perhaps deep down you’d known all along what sort of monster he truly was, choosing instead to ignore it by willfully turning a blind eye to his unhinged cruelty because of the protection and comfort that had been provided to you by dutifully serving under him for so long. 

You had been a fool. 

If Sukuna were here, he would wholeheartedly agree with you. 

He was somehow the one thing you could still see perfectly clear in your mind’s eye. You pictured him standing in this small room with you, towering over your limp body, his tattooed arms crossed over his broad chest as he glowered down at you with those fiery eyes of his. Challenging you to get up off your ass and do something. To fight like your life depended on it, because it did. 

‘Foolish, pitiful, girl,’ He’d say.  ‘This is pathetic. You’re being pathetic.’ 

You’d honestly give anything to hear him say those words to you right now, and the thought had you suddenly giggling to yourself. You didn’t care that your laughter was bordering on hysterical, but it was just so bitterly ironic that you found yourself wishing that the King of Curses was here to mock and scold you, considering that just a few months ago you had slapped him as hard as you could right across his face for insulting you and calling you names. It was funny how things had changed between the two of you in such a short amount of time. 

The knowledge that you might never get to be near him again weighed on you. To hear him tut under his breath at you for bothering him with your ‘useless blabbering’ even though he was the one who so often sought you out. To feel his blazing red eyes follow you from across a room. To be overcome with the heat of  his large body moving in tandem over yours. If you closed your eyes you could almost taste the sweat of his skin, and smell the rich, musky, scent of cedar and smoke from the incense that filled his chambers. In your mind it was so sharp it could almost mask the disgusting smell of the incense in your prison. 

Almost. 

You wished you could warn him about Hisato. You wished you could go to him and let him know that you were alive. You wished you could tell him where he could find you. You wished you could tell him to stay far, far, away. Because even if Sukuna did somehow manage to find you, even if he did somehow arrive here and challenge Hisato, there was only a limited window before the ritual would begin, and if Hisato was successful, not even Sukuna would be able to grant him a true death like he deserved.

In the distance you heard the sudden ringing of the large bronze bell that lived in the heart of the temple. It rang loud and clear- once, twice, and then a third and final time. Despite your distance from it, you felt your bones rattle with every swing of its giant body.

The chattering from Hisato’s creatures resumed, and this time it was feverish and loud. Their little shrieks and screams filled the room, and you could hear their talons scraping against the wooden floor as they moved their decaying bodies in excitement. 

The moonlight that shone into your room was brighter than it had been only moments before. It pierced through the thick wisps of smoke that filled the air like a sword cutting through a blade of grass. You turned your head and stared out the window as you watched as the edges of the full moon that hung so heavily in the night sky began to twinge with red. Red like blood. Red like Sukuna's eyes. 

It was time.

tag list: @after-laughter-come-tears @officialholyagua @clp-84

[violetjedisylveon]

Okay one random idea I have that Macaque wanting you know play prank at Wukong and staff with him living in FFM "without" Wukong permission ( Macaque didnt ask but we all know Wukong allowed him to)

Only to found out Wukong is preggo! Dun dun Dunnnn!!

Wukong being Wukong of course he hide this from everyone well almost everyone. MK and Bull family know about this and secretly helping Wukong.

But here's a thing everyone who know WANT to know who's the 'father' of the child. Wukong REFUSE to tell them of anything as he is ashame of himself to even let them know. He even begged them to keep their mouth shut.

PIF: Brother... just tell me who's the father and I promise I wont be mad... I chew them alive

MK: Monkey King pls you going to be a Mama and Im about to be the uncle and I dont even know who my so call in law

Macaque: Name.

[MK and PIF (maybe Macaque) is ready to sent someone to diyuu for this]

And Macaque will go full mood finding the secret and look for the father (Or becoming the father- *cough* yeah MK and PiF won't let that happend)

Will the secret ever be spill? Will Wukong suffer from being a Mama? Will it be happy ending? 🤔👀

well I'm writing it so probably yes happy ending

Imagine being Macaque tho, you go to your ex's house to play a prank and then find out he's pregnant and been pregnant for who knows how long?

The funniest way this could go is that Wukong figured out how to do parthenogenesis on accident and is embarrassed about it, but let's have some more fun with it, shall we?😈

Depending on how long Wukong's been pregnant, there are a few options.

The worst one is that while Macaque was possessed by LBD, she made him SA Wukong and he doesn't know because he doesn't remember doing it.

So Wukong has extra reason to not want to tell anyone because 1, Macaque did it and they might get mad at him, and 2, Macaque was forced to assault him by a being who had complete control over his body and has no memory of ever doing it.

Wukong figures finding out your body was puppeted into assaulting your ex is gonna be fairly traumatic, it sure as hell was traumatic for him to experience.

So that's a fun little bomb to drop on everyone, but they'll find out anyway when the cub is born with either ears shaped like Macaque's or multiple ears, so he really doesn't have the time to figure out how to tell them.

It's also really hard because Macaque is doing what all the other monkeys are doing to help him cause monkey brain says "help pregnant troop member", and he's the sire of the cub and should be doing more involved things so Wukong's monkey brain is getting mad at him because he's not doing the mate things he should be doing!

One way or another, the truth of that gets spilled, and it's not fun for anyone involved, everyone is really mad at Macaque for being the sire and acting like he has no idea what was going on, when he genuinely doesn't, then once Wukong explains, everyone is super mad at LBD for pulling that shitty move.

Macaque is disgusted with the situation, and offers to get the fetus deletus water for Wukong.

Do they keep the baby, do they not? It's up to interpretation.

There's actually a fic with the premise of LBD makes Macaque assault Wukong only only Macaque does know and is forced to watch as his body is used, but it gets very explicit

Alternatively, Macaque uses his ears to hear the past and find out who did this and if it was consensual, if so he'll drag the deadbeat to face the family, if not, find the asshole and kill them.

Or celestial monkeys can do delayed implantation and this is a fertilized egg from way back before the brotherhood stuff happened that's just been hanging around for two thousand+ years, and either the egg decided to implant itself or Wukong accidentally triggered it, and is again, embarrassed about it because he had no idea he could do that.

I like this one most cause it's silly. So it's the one I'll be going with.

Once he, and Macaque, get over the whole "we had sex two thousand+ years ago and conceived something that decided to be born now", it's a pretty chill time.

So no one can mess with Wukong now cause he's got the DBK fam, MK, and Macaque all protecting him until the baby is born.

The babies (whoops it's twins, Rumble and Savage) are born after the big battle in season 4, like immediately because of the stress of the situation and they decide "aight it's go time", so they get like, five minutes to calm down from the craziness before the contractions start.

Season 5 gets to have little monkey babies making things more complicated.

It's very awkward when the monkeys are dragged to the underworld and the ten kings + Li Jing find out they had babies, and the monkey dads are mad because they woke their babies up and it'll take forever to get them back down for the night. Nezha did not see the point in telling his dad the monkeys reproduced.

Monkey dads are extra angry at the celestial realm because their babies are being threatened and so Macaque doesn't get shelved for half the season he drops the whole truck through a shadow portal and joins the fun.

[styx142]

Okay so like, I've been thinking about an Adventure Time teacher AU and why does it work weirdly well???

Here's the current staff list

Finn: Gym coach who's currently also working as a math teacher due to a shortage of staff and the previous one (Billy maybe?) quitting. He's absolute shit at math but he's super excited about it all the time so the students love him anyway.

Jake: At first I was thinking gym coach too, but I feel like he'd be a great counselor honestly. He's constantly advising his brother and I think he'd work well

BMO: The computer teacher! Kinda obvious but yeah

Neptr: Robotics/engineering teacher. Due to the nature of their jobs, BMO and Neptr work pretty closely together. Neptr loves this, BMO not as much.

Princess Bubblegum: The science teacher who is kind of running the place at times, because the principal won't do anything so she's decided to do what she can to keep this place running smoothly.

Marceline: The band director. She is 100% playing pranks on her students all the time. Also whenever the band is practicing she is standing on her band tower with a little umbrella or something for sun protection.

LSP: Drama teacher. Kinda obvious, she's already directed a play in the show so she works well as a drama teacher.

Simon/Ice King: History teacher! I got the idea from my AP world history teacher whose classroom is packed full of artifacts and replicas from different cultures throughout the world. Figured it'd be fitting for Simon

Flame Princess: English teacher. My whole thought proccess was "freestyle rap. Creative. Poetry. English?" and I think it works well. Her dad was the previous English teacher who left to open a chipmunk sanctuary.

Lady Rainicorn: I was thinking either art or Korean, leaning more towards Korean simply because I have another idea for the art teacher.

Jermaine: Art teacher!

Lemongrab: Psychology. This man has such a weird brain that I think it'd be fun to have him teach this. I can imagine him writing office referrals that just say "UNACCEPTABLE" on them

Fern: The new math teacher who shows up halfway through the year and has to deal with all the students complaining about missing Mr. Mertens.

Betty: Another character who shows up sometime later during the year. She'll be our principal, taking over for the previous principal who quit mysteriously.

Prismo: Vice principal, kinda bad at it and doesn't know how he got the job

Scarab: an admin who was hoping for vice principal and was really pissed when Prismo got the job instead of him

Golb: The principal

The lich: Previous vice principal who was fired for unknown reasons. Fired at the same time Billy quit.

Peppermint butler: I can't decide whether I want him as a student or as a secretary or just as someone who works in the office

I think I'll have all the candy citizens as students, as well as probably some minor characters who get a few appearances or only one episode.

This is partially why I originally wanted PB as the principal, but I found it funnier to have her as the teacher who is going insane because Golb will not do shit for the school.

I'm considering turning this whole thing into a fic, possibly focusing on PB? Possibly a bubbline fic? Not sure quite yet, this AU is still very much in development

[theamityelf]

How are Makoto's ships (your favs) yanderes with him? What are their dynamics? How do they act with the "romantic rivals"? Whether jealousy, possessiveness or obsession are Makoto's friends and family affected?(Thanks for making Yandere dynamics so interesting I'm your fan!)

Thank you for giving me a yandere question, lol!

Okay, so you said to write my favs, but as I started this I realized that I have many favs, so this post is just going to be my THH favs (for Makoto ships) and later I'll do an SDR2 one with Hajime, Nagito, Izuru, etc.

Besides the examples of yandere behavior I already have them exhibiting in my fics, I'm thinking the paremeters of this post will just be them under 100% normal circumstances. So, pre-Tragedy or No Tragedy, standard life stuff.

Kyoko (Naegiri)

She isn't hiding that she's a yandere, but she also isn't open about it. Her attitude toward it is basically, "If you can figure it out yourself, I don't mind if you know."

She's an extremely effective stalker. She knows everything about Makoto. She has samples of his hair. His fingerprints. She can replicate his handwriting. She knows where he goes and with who and when.

She usually doesn't kill rivals. She'll get them arrested for a crime they've done or frame them for a crime they haven't done. She won't hesitate to kill in self-defense or to protect Makoto, but as far as jealousy is concerned, murder is just too messy for her, when it's so convenient to be the Ultimate Detective.

Even if someone 100% figures out what she's doing and successfully convinces the authorities of it, the most she can get in trouble for is being wrong about a case. Which honestly probably won't even particularly harm her reputation. I guess in a world where Hope's Peak is a thing, maybe people are really keeping track of how well this detective is finding the right criminal, but really the only stakes there are how much people believe in her talent. She's fine.

Since she's still occasionally brought Makoto along on cases and generally used him for her detective work, in this timeline (without the killing game), there's a chance that he might one day come across the right information to realize that she's been framing people.

If he confronts her about this, she would honestly be flattered that he's been looking over her work and proud that he reached the right conclusion. (I'm picturing her hand-to-face slightly-smiling sprite.)

If he continues to press her about it, she'll go serious and basically ask him what he's going to do about it.

Most likely they can talk through the fact that she's a yandere and figure out next steps from there, but there's a non-zero chance that they break up over this and she frames him for something. The idea isn't to send him to jail; it's a fear tactic. Basically, she's made him a suspect. If they don't work out their couple drama, she'll accuse him of the crime. If they do work out their couple drama, she'll remove the suspicion from him.

It's like a game of chicken, where Makoto wants to stand his ground but doesn't want to go to jail and Kyoko wants to make him give in but doesn't want to send him to jail. Either she bends, he bends, or (theoretically) he goes to jail. (He's not going to jail.)

Byakuya (Naegami)

(Full disclosure, having just finished typing this section, I'm not 100% proud of it, so I might revisit this idea later.)

He's rich, so there's already an entitlement to him. I think his initial plans for how to deal with his yandere feelings (and honestly most subsequent plans) get derailed by Makoto. Initially, he wants to make Makoto his personal assistant, so he can be completely in control of Makoto's life. He plans it all out: where and how Makoto will live, what his schedule will be, how he'll make sure he never dates or marries.

Instead, Makoto turns down the job offer. Fine, he'll just make sure no other companies hire him, and then he'll have to accept, right?

Actually, Makoto befriends him. They start dating. Byakuya...didn't plan for that.

(And he's trying to hide that he's a yandere. Any desires or impulses that come from a yandere place, he expresses them as "I just have very high standards." He'd hate to come across as needy or sentimental.)

But he still wants to control where and how Makoto lives and who he's allowed to talk to. Makoto opposes this, but Byakuya is underhanded. If he insists on chatting with the waitstaff when they go out to eat, that waiter is getting fired later. Byakuya will hire hitmen, he'll manipulate the stock market, he has nothing but resources at his disposal to get rid of annoying people.

However, Makoto holds a lot of emotional power over Byakuya. Byakuya is not able to lord over Makoto his ability to do these things, because if he did, Makoto would look at him with those eyes, and he can't handle that. The truly toxic behavior happens either in secret or as petty lashing-out when his awareness of how down-bad he is makes him feel too vulnerable.

All of that said, he likes to show Makoto off. He likes for people to see that Makoto is his. He just doesn't want people to see how thoroughly he is Makoto's.

Kyoko and Byakuya (Naegamigiri/Tonaegiri)

The vibe here is that either Kyoko slid effortlessly into the Naegami scenario or Byakuya did a hostile takeover of the Naegiri scenario. Byakuya is amenable to letting Kyoko into the Naegami scenario because she knows how to Info-chan her way in; Kyoko is trying to block Byakuya out of the Naegiri situation (not because she isn't into him, but because the dynamic there is a lot of belligerent sexual tension where it's enriching for both of them if he's The Villain) until he manipulates the situation using his resources.

They balance each other in a fun way. They don't get to be toxic toward Makoto, in this scenario, because the day Byakuya is a petty jerk is the day Kyoko gets to be Makoto's favorite (at least in their eyes) and vice versa. They only act out when they're in agreement about it. In which case, they will make people disappear.

"Hey," Makoto says, walking in with his arms crossed. (Kyoko and Byakuya are in the kitchen, having a weirdly sexually-charged debate about a historical cold case.) "Is there something you guys want to tell me?"

Byakuya and Kyoko both look at him warily, trying to figure out what he's figured out. There are a lot of things they've done that he could have found out about.

"This is entrapment," Byakuya says, raising an eyebrow.

"Legally speaking, no it isn't," Kyoko says, because the solidarity goes out the window so fast with these two. "Not even close."

(Byakuya glares at her, about to start a whole new argument.)

"Guys?" Makoto probes.

"We haven't done anything major in at least a week," Kyoko says, sipping a drink calmly.

"I was just on the phone with Sayaka," he helps them out. "Are you sure there's nothing you want to tell me?"

"That your ex's foray into dark pop was an even worse career move than her foray into psychedelic pop?" Byakuya says.

Kyoko smirks into her drink.

(Long story short, they may have perhaps caused Sayaka to reroute her world tour so she can't be in town to meet up with Makoto.)

Sayaka (Naezono)

Sayaka is super open about it and seamlessly adopts it into her brand. She's posting pictures of Makoto on her social media with captions like "Love my bf 🥰 #yandere #killforhim #doneitbefore" and "He got me a big teddy bear! 🧸😍 #minenotyours #yandere".

Because she's so open about it, she'll sometimes get troll comments saying, "Sayaka, I want to date your boyfriend." She replies like, "You can try. 😇🔪". All her fans think it's adorable.

She brings him along to every event she attends. When bad luck stuff happens, she just giggles about it.

Makoto is kind of uneasy about all the attention, but he takes Sayaka's behavior mostly in stride. She's just quirky. And super affectionate.

One toxic trait is that she does not let him listen to anyone else's music. She doesn't express it as a rule; she'll just be like, "Oh, you wanted that old CD? I'm so sorry! I threw it out. I thought it was trash. 🥺" Casually replaces his radio with a CD player. Casually replaces every CD in his CD player with one of hers.

She makes posts like, "He only listens to my music. 🥹🥰 He's my biggest fan! ❤️‍🔥��� #loml #yandere #blessed"

She's always singing to him. It makes him blush.

She doxes anyone who flirts with him, but in a "plausible deniability" way where she can be like, "What?! They got hurt?! Oh no!" if her fans attack or poison someone in her name.

She's willing to murder, but only in clever ways she'll definitely get away with. She'll murder one rival and frame another rival. Then she'll cry about the death so Makoto will comfort her.

Chihiro (Naehiro)

I just like the idea of the canon interactions where Chihiro is like, "I want to get stronger. Makoto, you seem strong. Can you help me?" and Makoto is like, "Actually, I'm not all that strong. Maybe ask Mondo?" still playing out and resulting in Chihiro getting so weird about it, potentially under Mondo's influence.

(While there are a lot of Free Time Events that I imagine happened the same way during the characters' Hope's Peak days, I think the Chihiro Free Time Events, minus the Alter Ego stuff, feel pretty killing game specific. Like, the immediate desire to get stronger feels pretty caused-by-the-motive. Just a headcanon, and I'm only bringing it up now to say that I'll be ignoring it for this post, lol. This post assumes that same interaction still happens without the killing game.)

Chihiro hears Makoto's "I'm not really all that strong" thing, and their reaction is basically, "Cool. Then I'm going to be the strong one in this relationship."

Byakuya says something rude to Makoto, and Chihiro gathers their resolve and says, "That's not nice, Togami. You need to apologize."

And if he doesn't, Chihiro hacks Togami Corp, resulting in a significant drop in stock value.

Chihiro is super excited about standing up for Makoto. It's pretty directly propping up their self-esteem.

And they very casually have him under constant surveillance. They conceal this fact from him, but not really because they think he'd be mad. (If they thought he'd be mad, they'd feel really bad about doing it!) It's just because they're shy. To them, watching him through security cameras as he walks through town is like writing "Makoto Fujisaki" and "Chihiro Naegi" all over a notebook. It's embarrassing.

They might kill for him, if someone tries to hurt him. Picture Chihiro covered in blood, with a corpse at their feet and a switchblade in their hand (Mondo gave it to them a long time ago, as a gift). They're kind of freaking out at first, but Makoto is there, too, also freaking out, so they have to be calm, they have to be calm for him. So they call Mondo to help them get rid of the body, and they take Makoto home to unpack what just happened.

Taka (Naeishi)

Honestly, I feel like this fic captures the whole vibe.

Mondo (Naemondo)

Oh boy. I like to think this one has some internal struggle to it. Like, Mondo falls for Makoto, and he's all shy about wooing him. He's bringing Makoto flowers, inviting him places. He tells Makoto, "I'm trying to clean up my act for ya..." Fewer fights, fewer crimes.

(I maintain that the Naemondo vibe where Mondo completely misreads Makoto as someone who can easily keep up with his gang shenanigans is very fun, but Yandere Mondo is different. Yandere Mondo is trying to shield Makoto from his lifestyle.)

He still has his temper, though, and he often goes behind Makoto's back to kill people who have been mean or relentlessly flirtatious. He's not killing anyone who likes Makoto. He's trying to be normal. But if someone can't take a hint, there's no telling what he'll do.

Basically, Yandere Mondo is in a gas station bathroom scrubbing blood out of his shirt so he can get back before Makoto notices he's gone.

When Makoto finds out what he's done, Mondo is crying apologizing, and Makoto calms him down and has to make peace with helping his boyfriend cover up a murder.

Taka, Mondo, and Chihiro (Naechishimondo)

You know, this one feels like it could be platonic.

Like, I could see that post where they realize they all have a crush on Makoto happening and then they unanimously decide that they'll be shovel-talking anyone who tries to woo him.

They all still have a crush on Makoto, but they approach it in kind of like he's an endangered bird who they've tagged to study. When they, as a throuple, gather for dates or events or just to hang out, they'll often be talking about things they've observed about Makoto's life through stalking and other means.

At dinner, Chihiro might say, "Makoto recently started using two-factor authentication for his email account. I'm so proud."

"Sh!t, does that make it hard for you to read his emails?" Mondo asks.

("Language, bro; we're at dinner," Taka interjects.)

"Nope," Chihiro says proudly. "It might make it hard for other people, though."

"I've noticed that Makoto tends to stay over too long when he studies in Sayaka's room," Taka says, "so I taught him how to set a timer on his phone."

(Chihiro smiles. Almost laughs.)

"Also, I got a wedge that he can use to keep the door open, so I won't have to keep chastising him for visiting a girl's room with the door closed. I plan to give it to him tomorrow."

"I'm sure he'll love it," Chihiro says.

"Doesn't Hiri already watch those sessions through Makoto's laptop camera anyway?" Mondo points out.

(Chihiro blushes modestly.)

"Yes, but Makoto doesn't know that," Taka says.

Honorable Mention:

Yandere Naekusaba