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thebeast-dennis-etcetera · 3 months

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There For You

Gibbs x Reader One Shot

Prompt: Reader is held captive for days before being rescued. Gibbs is left to help her through it. Mostly an angsty/fluff.

Warnings: Insinuations of kidnapping, torture, starvation.

The sound of heavy footsteps echoed throughout the dirty dark house, making your hair stand on end. You knew who was coming and needed to be ready if you wanted to escape. Your muscles were weak from the handcuffs chaining your legs to the old radiator and the ever lasting wooziness from the severe dehydration was almost enough to make you start hallucinating.

You weren’t sure how long you had been here, the curtains were always drawn and you never heard any outside noise but if you had to guess, you would’ve said at least 3 days.

If Gibbs and the team hadn’t found you by now, you sure they wouldn’t. So gripping the old wrench you found under the radiator tight in your hand, you laid limp on the floor as your captor descended the stairs.

“Guess what I have in store for you today?”

You heard him set something heavy down on a far table and walk over close. “Hey, wake up.”

A hard kick to your shoulder almost made you yelp out in pain but you kept your composure and stayed quiet and still. It wasn’t until he dropped a knee down and came down close that you sprung into action, swinging your arm out with as much power as you could muster and hit him in the head with the wrench. You were actually surprised when he immediately slumped to the floor unconscious.

Not wanting to waste any time, you searched his body and almost burst with joy when you found the handcuff keys in his pocket. Unlocking yourself, you tried standing but the exhaustion caught up to you causing you to collapse. You felt like every second you weren’t getting out of here was a second closer to him waking up and your ultimate demise.

With what you assumed was my body’s last attempt at an adrenaline rush, you staggered to stand and begin making your way out of the basement.

Your eyes were blinded by the amount of light that burst through once you opened the front door but didn’t hesitate and just started running. The house you were in seemed to be in some part of the countryside but you could make out a road in the distance so that was your destination.

It felt like hours before you finally reached the road, looking back every few seconds to see if you were being chased down but never saw anyone. It wasn’t until you practically caused an accident by running into the road that someone stopped in their car and came over to help.

“I need your phone please. I’m a federal agent.”

Thankfully, the passerby obliged and handed you their cellphone. Once you punched in the numbers and heard that familiar gruff voice on the other end, you collapsed onto the asphalt.

“Jethro. It’s me..I need help..”

His voice was far away and you realized you were fading in and out of consciousness. So before you could completely pass out, you handed the phone back to the driver.

“Tell him where we are.. And that I’m still in danger..”

Whatever the driver was saying to you went unheard as you relaxed into the ground, finally letting the overwhelming sense of sleep take over.

>>>>

Your eyes shot open, panic immediately shooting through your body. Looking around, you recognized your surroundings to be a hospital but no other clues as to what happened. Ripping the oxygen tube from your face, you very carefully removed the IV from your arm and attempted to get out of the bed. Unfortunately like last time, your body didn’t cooperate and you ended up falling into the curtains, bringing them down with you.

Once you felt arms grab you, you screamed and tried thrashing out of their grasp.

“Y/F/N! It’s me! You’re safe!”

The sound of Gibb’s voice gave you huge relief and stopped fighting. He easily pulled you to your feet as you clutched onto his suit jacket, now crying uncontrollably.

“Shhh. It’s alright, you’re safe now. I’ve got you,” he whispered while holding you tight.

“I can’t stay here Gibbs. I don’t feel safe here. Please-

“Don’t worry. I’ll get you out of here but you need to let them finish helping you first.”

“Don’t leave. Please don’t go,” you pleaded as he helped you back into the bed.

“I won’t. I’ll be right here.”

He wiped your tear streaked face and pushed the hair out of your eyes before calling for the doctor.

>>>>

Following up the steps to Gibb’s house, you pulled the jacket he let you borrow tighter to your body. Ever since leaving the hospital, it didn’t matter how many layers you had on, you couldn’t seem to stay warm. Gibbs opened the front door and let you walk in first, carrying your go bag and pharmacy meds.

“Take a seat on the couch, I’ll get a fire started,” he instructed while closing and actually locking the door. After your theatrics at the hospital, you couldn’t help but feel a little awkward towards Gibbs. You always felt like you two had a stronger connection than just boss and agent in the past but it never got talked about let alone acted on. And now you’re sitting on his couch, in his house, about to spend the night.

You silently watched as he crouched to put the fire together and turn the tv on to some old black and white tv show.

“You should eat something with these meds. I’ll make you something small.”

Once he was satisfied with the fire, he went into the kitchen and threw a small frozen tv dinner into the microwave. You weren’t really in the mood to eat anything but didn’t want to offend his hospitality.

He sorted out all of your pills you needed to take, some antibiotics, some supplements, and handed them to you with a large glass of water. You obediently drank them all down as he came over with the food and a beer for himself.

He set it down on the coffee table and took a seat next to you. Not close enough to be touching but close enough that you could smell his aftershave.

“Thank you.”

Those were the first words you spoke to him since the hospital.

“Welcome.”

You were both quiet as you slowly picked at your meal and he sipped his beer while watching the tv. After a few more bites, you were done and sat back into the couch, another shiver taking over.

Without a word, he grabbed a blanket from the nearby chair and wrapped it around your shoulders, making sure you were snug. The room was finally getting warmer and your eyes were getting droopier. At some point, your head had fallen against his shoulder but he didn’t make a move to push you off or reposition himself. You finally felt safe after days of fighting for your life and you had Gibbs to thank for that.

#leroy jethro gibbs #gibbs x reader #ncis #ncis fanfiction

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obwjam · 9 months

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It's Not Safe For You Here (Stargate Atlantis: Carson Beckett x tiny!reader)

a/n: behold, folks: my very first commission! requested by the wonderful and lovely @blueskimmer! i love how this turned out and i'm very happy i got to put this together for them 💞 i hope you all enjoy!

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You just couldn’t believe your luck.

It usually went something like this: A Wraith ship came zooming out of the ring with that weird glowing light, taking as many people as it felt like. Within minutes, it was gone. It came through every so often, but because the giant village you called home was small, by human standards, the ship’s visits were few and far between. In the last couple of years, you had only seen seven, maybe eight, ring activations.

Of course a ship of unfathomable size descended on your home in the middle of your midnight borrowing trip.

It was pure, unadulterated chaos. People were screaming, dirt was flying, and you couldn’t see a thing. Whenever the Wraith came, you situated yourself in your little bunker until daylight, and this time was no different. You just had to climb down the water well and get to it.

What you didn’t fully realize was that a giant ship meant that there were Wraith on the ground as well as in the air. Debris was flying from every angle as weapons were fired and houses were set ablaze.

All it took was one errant rock to send you tumbling down.

It happened in an instant—so fast that you don’t even remember getting plunked. It was a pebble, really, something that wouldn’t have normally thrown you, but it came flying at such a breakneck speed that it immediately knocked you out, and off your feet.

When you came to, you had to blink away the light that flooded your vision. You groaned and tried to sit up, but immediately fell down when you realized you couldn’t. Your arm was twisted in a way that was not normal. You silently cursed yourself before realizing you had no choice but to get up and run. Things were hitting the ground at a rapid pace, and you had fallen off the well and were out in the open. You couldn’t believe nothing had happened to you while you were passed out.

So for the rest of the night, you stayed hidden behind the cover of grass and leaves. You managed to situate yourself underneath some fallen rock so if anything came tumbling down from above, you would hopefully be safe.

It was torture. You watched as hundreds of villagers dwindled down into a few dozen in a span of hours as the Wraith stunned them and dragged them back to their ship. The thought of getting snatched up by one of those aliens was enough to send you into a panic.

You didn’t realize you had eventually fallen asleep when the noise finally died down, but before you knew it, you were jolted awake by the sound of voices that cut through your ringing ears.

Voices you didn’t recognize.

“Oh, no…” Sheppard said as soon as his eyes fell on the scene before him. They were set to start trade with this planet—in exchange for some medicine, they would receive bountiful crops for the mainland. They certainly didn’t anticipate a culling happening in the week since they had been here.

“You’ve got to be kidding!” Rodney cried. “When did this happen?”

“It looks like they were just here,” Ronon observed. “Some of these buildings are still smoldering.”

“Oh dear,” Carson mumbled. It wasn’t often he got to witness the destruction of the Wraith firsthand, and he almost couldn’t believe that just a week ago, this was a bustling village with hundreds of people walking about. Guess he and his medical supplies weren’t needed on this mission anymore.

As the others began to drift off into different parts of the village to investigate, Carson, left with nothing to do, started to aimlessly wander toward the water well in the center of the destroyed town square.

That’s when he saw you.

He gasped to himself, blinking a few times to make sure he wasn’t just hallucinating. Right on the ground, gaping up at him in shock and fear, was a tiny little human.

He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Truthfully, he was surprised they didn’t encounter more species in Pegasus that weren’t human, but never in a million years would he have anticipated a humanoid creature as small as a mouse. He wasn’t sure if it was just the aftermath of a culling, but a closer look revealed to him how disheveled you were. Your clothes—more like rags—were draped over your figure like loose robes, and your shoes were nothing more than thick, makeshift pieces of cloth. Your hair was unruly at best, and your skin was caked with dirt, scrapes and bruises.

“Oh my god…” he whispered with equal parts concern and amazement. “What… what are you?”

You were shaking so hard you couldn’t stop yourself. Everything in your body hurt like hell, but it didn’t matter. At the absolute worst time possible, you had been spotted. He was wearing a thick vest with what looked like a million little pockets, and he was carrying a giant case that was unlike anything you had ever seen.

In your half-lucid state, you got the bright idea to try and hide from the giant. You managed to get on your feet, but you couldn’t take more than a few steps before your legs turned to jelly and you collapsed. Instinctively, Carson lurched forward, and in the disarray of it all, you shrieked and twisted your body away to brace for anything the giant might do.

At your sudden movement, Carson recoiled. Did he do something wrong? Was he scaring you? That was a stupid question. Of course he was scaring you. The doctor knew he had to help, but he also knew he couldn’t just scoop you up and take you back to Atlantis, no matter how much he wanted to. He had to make sure you weren’t so terrified of him first.

“Hey, hey…” he said gently, trying to mask his own shaking voice. He cringed at how big he felt trying to talk to you, so he slowly crouched down, not missing the way your eyes widened as he got closer. “I’m not going to hurt you, little one. My name’s Carson Beckett, and I’m a doctor. I just want to help.”

You could only stare blankly at this human with an incredibly bizarre accent. You knew he was trying to make you feel better, but a doctor? The ones that poke and prod and touch? Nuh-uh. No way.

“I promise, I won’t hurt you,” Carson said again. He felt like it needed repeating. “It’s not safe for you here. Let me take you back to Atlantis and we can—”

“NO!” you shrieked suddenly, surprising both you and him. You had no idea what Atlantis was, but you knew it couldn’t be good. “N-no, ple-please… I…”

Carson had subconsciously put his hand on his knee to rest, but once he noticed the way your eyes were tracking its every movement, he sheepishly pulled it back.

“Look, I know you must be scared down there. I know I would be if I were in your shoes,” he started. “But you’re in bad shape, dear, and if the Wraith come back again, you’ll be stuck here with nowhere to go.”

Your stomach dropped when he said that. You couldn’t even fathom the Wraith coming back like that again. There’s no way I would survive.

“Let me help you, and you’ll be back on your feet in no time,” he said softly, putting a smile on his face to show he was friendly. “I can take you somewhere safe and fix you all up.”

You instantly shook your head no, and when the doctor cocked his eyebrow, you knew you had to defend yourself.

“I… please, I can’t… I can’t go anywhere with you.”

Carson had to bite his tongue to stop himself from gushing over how cute your tiny voice was. “Why not, love?”

“Because… you’re a human.”

He sniffed an amused laugh before a feeling of unease washed over him. The fact that this little guy needed to distinguish themself as non-human was intriguing.

“What’s so wrong with being human?” he implored.

At that, you clammed up. After years and years of living in secret, you weren’t about to blurt out the borrower code now.

Carson sighed. You were clearly frightened out of your wits, and it didn’t seem like talking would get him very far. Maybe if he could get through to you just how bad your injuries were, you would be more inclined to trust him.

“It’s alright that you don’t want to chit-chat, but as a doctor, I can’t just stand by and let your injuries go untreated! You could be seriously hurt, and I have a responsibility to help you, even if... even if you are just a wee lad who can fit into my pocket!”

You were surprised at his sudden outburst—and amused at being called a “wee lad”—but he was right. You were badly injured, and you didn’t have the means to fix yourself, let alone hunt for food, water and shelter in this state. At this rate, you’d be dead in a week anyway.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself for what you were about to say.

“…Okay.”

Carson perked up. “Okay what?”

“Okay… you can help me.”

A grin grew across the doctor’s face. You clenched your jaw as his hand gently descended palm-up next to you, eagerly awaiting your arrival onto it. You gawked at it in horror—his fingers were taller than your body, and his palm came up to your ankles—but there was no going back now.

Carson’s breath hitched as you dragged yourself onto his palm, tiny hands pressing deep into his skin for support. He was sure that he’d never been more nervous than he was right now—your life was literally in his hands. He stayed surprisingly still, even through your struggle to get your legs moving without being in crippling pain. Your form was so small in his hand, and yet, it was like he has the most important task in the world. He could feel your every little movement, down to your deep breaths and trembles. His heart fluttered with each and every one of them.

Once you were situated, he took a breath. Your eyes were trained on the ground, refusing to look up and deal with just how big he was.

“I’m going to stand up now,” he warned. “Are you ready?”

A tiny, nervous nod. His heart fluttered again.

You had to close your eyes when he stretched out to his full height—you had never changed altitudes so fast before. In a moment of panic, you reached out and grabbed onto the closest thing for support, which happened to be Caron’s thumb. He let out a small Oh!, which just made both of you blush.

Grabbing his medical kit with his free hand, he briskly, yet smoothly, made his way over to a now-empty house to give you some privacy. He pushed away his feelings of unease at the reality of the situation to focus on the task at hand.

Placing his kit on one side of the table, he laid his palm down on the other, his expression soft.

“It’s okay, you’re safe here,” he reassured you, noticing how you nervously eyed the new landscape.

His mouth hung slightly agape as you ambled off his hand, utterly fascinated at something so small moving around. He couldn’t even fathom what this place looked like to you right now.

You watched with wary eyes as he opened his impossibly large case and began to take out tools you had never seen before. He quickly glanced down at you and frowned at your sudden change of expression. He quickly realized just how scary his instruments must look to you.

“Don’t worry,” he stated, “I don’t need to use all of these. I’m mainly looking for… these.” He pulled out some gauze and tape and set them both aside.

“Do you have a name, little one?” he asked suddenly. He supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised when you didn’t answer. He began snipping off small pieces of gauze. “My team and I came here through the stargate hoping to trade, but…” he trailed off. Not only did he want to forget about the culling, but he especially didn’t want to think about you witnessing it. The thought of being so small during something so destructive made him want to vomit.

He shook off his anxiety and continued. “Can I at least ask how you got so banged up?”

You kept your eyes trained on the dents and scratches of the old wood you sat on. “I fell.”

“Fell?” Carson repeated. You merely nodded. “From where? When? How long had you been on the ground?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. Your jaw was quivering at just how many questions this guy was asking. He wanted so much information, and you weren’t even willing to give up your name.

Carson pursed his lips. These were all standard questions he’d ask any patient, but he had to keep reminding himself that you were not just any patient. So he decided to keep his inquiries simple.

“So,” he sighed. “What hurts, love?”

You sniffed a laugh. What didn’t?

Carson saw your expression and gave you a small smile. “Right. Sorry. Stupid question, huh?”

You had to admit, it was fascinating watching him move around. He was snipping off pieces of that… whatever it was… and carefully laying them down. His gaze kept flickering between you and whatever he was doing. He didn’t even hesitate.

“Would you say anything’s broken?” he tried. He was still hoping for a verbal answer, but he settled for the impossibly small nod you gave him. Another heart flutter.

“You’re going to have to give me specifics,” he said with a small laugh. He gave you another look-over and frowned—you were wringing your hands and avoiding eye contact at all costs.

It seemed that he had a little more work to do than normal.

“Hey,” he started, putting the scissors down. He spotted a rickety stool nearby and pulled it over, taking a cautious seat as you gawked up at him. He leaned down, still in awe at how everyday objects simply towered over you. “You’re doing great, dear. I know you don’t want to talk to me, but just being here is very brave of you, you know.”

You looked up with a half-bewildered, half-flattered expression. There was this twinkle in your eyes as you tried to suss out how genuine this human was, and it was like you could see your own fascination mirrored in Carson’s own softly curious gaze.

“I’m serious!” he continued. “God knows if the roles were reversed, I’d probably have passed out by now. It can’t be easy being so… small in a giant world, I imagine.”

You stared at him in amazement. How could he possibly know what it’s like? What kind of giant would even try and empathize? That’s not what humans did in the stories you were told. Giants would snatch you up, stick you in a jar and torture you for fun. This one… this one was the exact opposite.

And that meant something to you.

“Kona.”

At the very sound of your voice, Carson felt his cheeks flush red. You were so adorable it hurt.

“What was that?”

“Kona. My-my name.” You cringed at how helpless you sounded. “You asked me for my name.”

“Kona…” Carson repeated. “What a lovely name.”

Your face went hot. Why did his compliments mean so much to you? You barely knew him.

“…I think my arm might be broken.”

“Oh, dear,” Carson mumbled. “Look, love, the best I can do right now is wrap it up a bit so you don’t aggravate it anymore…. but I’m afraid I can’t do much more unless I take you back to Atlantis.”

A pause.

“I know you don’t trust me, but I think you know as well as I do that it’s just not safe to stay here anymore. You could get hurt even more, or worse.” He gave it a moment for his words to sink in, and he could tell you understood. “Everything is destroyed here. There’s no reason to stay.” Another pause. “Please, Kona.”

Your heart skipped a beat when he said your name. You were a borrower that lived by yourself in a giant village on a strange planet—nobody ever said your name that wasn’t you. But the way this human said it… it had meaning. A purpose. Like he loved the way it sounded and knew how well it fit you.

You had never felt this way before.

“Okay,” you quavered, trying not to sound so scared this time. “I’ll go with you.”

It took Carson only a few minutes to pack up his things. Instead of trying to do it himself, he insisted that you wrap the gauze around your own arm, and he made sure to show you—from a distance, of course—the proper way to do it.

Climbing on his hand the second time was not nearly as petrifying as the first. Gripping his thumb seemed to be the easiest way to hold steady, but Carson didn’t mind. He thought it was the cutest thing in the world.

“This is probably the last thing you want to hear, but I came to this planet with four other people,” he explained as he sauntered out of the house. “And the place we’re going… it’s pretty big, even to me.” He chuckled at the fact that he just said that. “There will be a lot of people there, and you might have to meet quite a few of them. Are you okay with that?”

From his hand, it was like you were seeing this planet in a completely new light. Everything was destroyed here, but at least from this vantage point, it didn’t seem so bad anymore. Maybe this isn’t so bad after all.

“Yeah,” you finally replied after a somber moment. For the first time in a long time, you found yourself smiling as you turned your head around and looked up at Carson. He was beaming right back down at you.

“I think I’m okay with that.”

#fuck yeah stargate g/t you guys!!!!#this entire franchise is so underrated #the potential is literally limitless #thank you again for requesting this :)))))#i could have written an entire novel with this #i also wrote like three different beginnings before settling on this one LOL #the ideas man i'm telling you #obwrites #g/t #giant/tiny #stargate atlantis #stargate

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auroragehenna · 4 months

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"Torture, watching stuff, singing" X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*

Snowman.

CW/TW: Non-con touch (SFW), creepy comfort, dancing, Christmas

Word count: 1‘395

"Hello, hello, Lyra, I'm back! And I-What are you doing?", Adam asked perlex when he came into the pool hall and saw Lyra.

Lyra who was currently upside down, standing on her arms gave him a sarcastic look. “I think it might help my case to change my point of view/perception for once…I am working out, daffodil.”

“Keep your smartassery in check today, I am not in the mood to hurt you today. Its Christmas.”

“Its…what? But…that can’t be…”, Lyra gasped and rolled herself onto the ground to sit up.

Adam smirked. “And why not?”

“You…took me in July. It…was summer.” She looked away.

“True. But now it’s not summer anymore. You’ve been with me for five months again.

Lyra gulped but quickly found her façade again. She chose an upbeat face and her eyes found Adam’s again. “So, and now it’s Christmas?”

“Yes. So if you can behave I have a suggestion for you.”

Lyra raised her brows. “What is it?”

“You behave and don’t make me trouble. I won’t hurt you or mock you or anything like that. And we will go outside. It’s snowing.”

Lyra’s eyes widen at the last two sentences. Outside? Snow? Could this be?! “Deal!”, she said without hesitation.

“Great.”, he said smiling. “I will have to say that I will take a teaser with me because I can’t trust you. As you well know.” He started intently at Lyra who gave him a smug smile. “But I will only use it if you try to run away.”

“Alright.”

“And you need to wear a jacket.”

“Oh come oooon.”, Lyra complained.

“You have been in here for five months. Warm and snuggly. -Lyra stared at him in disbelief- Your body is not used to winter. Jacket! I am not treating your flue! Even though you’d be quite lovely so weak and sickish.”

“Alright, fine, I’ll wear one!”

This time it was Adam’s turn to look smug.

---

Lyra’s finger caressed the cold smooth stone walls. Every step cautious, fully expecting to step on air, fall and wake up. She had to make sure this was real, that this wasn’t an elaborate hallucination or a dream. That this was real. That she could go outside. Truly.

“Need me to pinch you?”, Adam offered, an amused smile dancing around his lips.

“I’m afraid that would break your no-hurting-rule.”, Lyra joked shakily.

“Its real. I promise. And I’m not playing a game with you. I like Christmas and I’m not just some torturous-mindless-monster. Don’t go expecting gifts or something though.”

“Of course.” Then she saw at the end of the hallway a barricade though which light tore into the hall. Lyra held her breath as a small wind of fresh, cold air brushed her face. Wind. Actual wind!

“Don’t faint on me, Lyra.”, Adam warned and touched a hand to her cheek.

Lyra jerked away from the touch instinctively before shooting Adam a look, trying to determine if that made him mad but his expression was unshaken and he continued making his way outside.

Lyra followed him and weasled her way through the barricade. She stepped outside and the blinding white forced her to close her eyes. When she finally opened them again tears welled up. “Oh.”, she gasped out. Thick, white snowflakes descended from the sky far above, landing on her. The cold sensation instantly brought her back to reality.

Adam laughed. “Cold, huh?”

Lyra avoided his gaze as best as she could, turning away to look around the place. Thick layers of snow covered everything. The stone benches, fountains, and ping-pong tables. She didn’t reckon she still knew how to play. The thought made her sad. In the makeshift shoes she had been given she stamped around in the snowy depths and that lured a smile out of her again.

“M'lady.”, Adam said behind her.

Lyra spun around only to see Adam doing a curtsy and extending a hand towards her.

“Would you care to join me for a dance?”, he asked. Same charming smile on his face as always.

Lyra’s jaw fell open. “Are you mental?!”

Adam laughed. “Oh come on pessimist, it’s Christmas!”

“Pessimist, I will tell you-“, she sighed. “Why on earth do you want to dance with me and why on earth would I want to dance with you.”

“Because it would be very polite.”

Lyra gulped. She looked up, getting captivated by the snow falling from the sky again. Even though the cold still hurt on her skin it was so beautiful to watch. She had always loved watching the snow. For as long as she could think. With great effort she tore her gaze away from it and her eyes found Adam’s. The threat in his voice was very clear, no-hurting-rule or not. So with a heavy feeling she lowered herself into a curtsy herself and took his hand. It had already cooled down from the temperatures.

Adam’s smile shun at her. “Just follow my lead.” And with that he pulled her towards him and pushed her away again. Supporting her through initial stumbles and insecurities.

Lyra let herself get pushed and pulled back and forth, quickly losing track of the steps. She had always wanted to learn proper dances. Her involuntary dance partner opens his arm wide, pulling her in and then nudging her to spin. Lyra let herself spin on his hand, tears welling up in her eyes. Would she ever be able to dance again without remembering this? She didn’t have time to dwell on the depressive thought as she was pulled close and her second hand was caught by Adam’s. The sudden proximity stealing her breath. Or it was just the cold.

Adam, now holding Lyra close, led her one step back to the side and then reversed, turning, and repeating. He smiled, knowing full well that she had long lost track. He quickly let go of one hand and with it gently tilted Lyra’s chin up, making her look at the snow before taking her free hand in his again. After a few rotations he guided her hands onto his shoulders and put her hands on her waist. She shot him an alarmed look but he gave her a reassuring smile and then turned while lifting her into the air.

Lyra held her breath when she got lifted into the air but it was over as soon as it started and her feet touched the ground again. And then her legs gave out under her. Faster than Adam could catch her again she slipped out of his hands and crumbled into the snow. The cold soaking her clothing and stinging her skin.

“Okay I guess that’s enough for your body. You’re going back inside; you need to rest.”

“No!”, Lyra protested even though her breathing was now that she was focused again heavy and laboured. “I…I want to stay outside. I want to see it!“

“Your body has had it; you can feel it yourself. Don’t try to ruin it, that’s my job.”

“No. I’ll be fine! I can make it, I’m not sensitive to cold. Never was.”

Adam sighed. Alright, have it your way.” He budged and walked away. Soon he was gone into the snow.

Lyra tried to get on her feet, to walk around. To maybe-But her legs gave out under her again. Goosebumps had started to break out all over her body and she was shivering. Especially with her clothing getting more and more soaked by the snow. But the falling white around her was so captivating. And even though the cold hurt she still embraced it, having been inside for so long. Her body was pretty resistant to the cold anyways. Right? A light breeze blew her way and made the snowflakes dance and spiral. It was gorgeous! Lyra stared at it, not noticing how she started to sway. Until she just dropped to the side. Alarmed she tried to push herself back up again but finding that her arms were shaking too hard from the cold. She broke down on the floor again and watched thick, white snowflakes land and slowly melt on her arm. Suddenly two specks of colour came into her blurry sight. She could feel herself getting picked up, lifted into the air and then into two arms, head guided against a warm chest. The hands near burning her skin.

„I told you it would be too much for you. Don‘t you dare die on me. Especially on Christmas.

Taglist: @yourlocalgaefae33, @princessofhe11, @greatkittencloud, @bisexuawolfsalt, @imnotamurdereripromise

Merry whumpy Christmas!!🎄🎁❄️✨💜🖤❤️

#jayna's writing #whump #whump blog #whump writing #whumpee #coping #creative writing #environmental whump #christmas #whumpy christmas #christmas whump #whump christmas #creepy christmas #creepy/intimate whumper

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bagelbun333 · 1 year

Text

Writing WIP

I've never done this before but thanks for the tag @tanaleth

Idk who to tag but anyone can feel free to join in ^-^

I happened to have this Wrightdot fic WIP that’s just been collecting dust for more than a year, so I might as well use this as an opportunity to share what I have so far c:

Major spoilers for aa3, minor spoilers for aa4, aa5, and aa6.

For context, this takes place after aa6.

Diego Armando is a man who had far from an ordinary life. From being poisoned in a courthouse cafeteria, to being comatose, to waking up alone, to taking a life of another person, then to rotting in jail… alone. But his life didn’t end there — no, far from it. His sentence was lessened down to 10 years due to his circumstances. But that’s not to say it wasn’t a long time, it’s still a whole decade out of his life after all. Five years in a coma and ten years in prison, a third of his life just… gone.

He was a broken shell of the man he used to be — he still is to be honest — but there was one man who saved him, a certain spiky headed idiot, who goes by the name of Phoenix Wright. He’s the one who put him in prison in the first place, but that didn’t matter to him. Phoenix saved him from further descending into madness, into Hell. Even though he still killed a person, he deserved to be saved. He had to be saved from the vengeful persona that was ‘Godot’, because he wasn’t the man that he truly was — Godot was an inner demon that was slowly but surely taking over his mind and body, something that Mia would’ve hated to see.

Once his prison sentence was finally over, he actually had someone waiting for him… several people in fact. More than he ever had in his life. Some people he recognised and others he had never even seen before. Of course, there was Phoenix, Maya and Pearl… but who was the little magician, the horn headed boy and the futuristic space girl? Turns out, they were Phoenix’s subordinates and family. It was strange to be welcomed back with open arms. He never thought he would have anyone waiting for him ever again, especially not after that unforgettable crime he’d committed.

He eventually settled into the Wright Anything Agency as an assistant — and with Phoenix and Edgeworth pulling a few strings, he was actually allowed to be a prosecutor again. If Blackquill was allowed to prosecute while serving his sentence, so could he. Phoenix even let Diego live in the same house with him, because he had nowhere else to go.

After months of taking cases, Diego was slowly getting his swing back. He often took cases against his colleagues — including Phoenix himself. Diego was so good at handling cases that he even gave Phoenix a hard time, he was a tough guy to beat. Even though they’re not enemies anymore, Diego still loved making Phoenix fall apart like a house of cards — but not in a vengeful way, more like in a playful way. He was happy that he still had that fire in him and could still embarrass Phoenix in a tease.

His new life wasn’t 100% perfect though, he still has his drawbacks. His health was far from stable. He still relies on his visor for vision of course. Not only that, but he needs to take a concerning amount of medicine every day. Medicine such as blood pressure control, cardiac pills, pain relief, antidepressants, and anti hallucination pills — his hallucinations worsened during his time in prison. Only Phoenix knows about the amount of medicine he needs to take, and it does concern him quite a bit. Diego doesn’t want anybody else to know about it so Phoenix promised to keep quiet. Maya and Pearl already know about his broken down body because of the poisoning incident and why he had to wear a mask, but they didn’t know the extent of how bad his health actually was — especially not his hallucination problems.

He also has a lot of trouble remembering things sometimes. Like random memory lapses that just hit him out of nowhere. Most of the time they aren’t too bad, like sometimes he just loses his train of thought. But other times he forgets too much. Trucy witnesses this at home every now and then. She notices Diego stressing out, forgetting where he puts things, and even forgetting things that happened five minutes prior. Sometimes Trucy would ask her dad about it. “What’s wrong with him? Is he okay?” She would ask, but Phoenix could only respond with “We all have days like these, it happens…” then later he said “It’s a long story…” Trucy was just left confused and a little worried, but she decided not to question it further.

While living with Phoenix and his daughter, Diego felt like he was part of a new family. It felt like he belonged somewhere. When he first found out that Phoenix had a daughter, he couldn’t believe it. He was so shocked. People younger than himself were already moving on with life much faster than he was. Everyone else was moving forward while he was just frozen in time. He was like a human artefact, for everyone to gawk at. It made him feel much more inferior to everyone else.

But even so, Trucy treated Diego as if he were her other dad, she even started calling him Papa. This wasn’t a position that he thought he would ever experience, but he greatly appreciated it nonetheless. Trucy loves showing Diego her magic tricks. He was genuinely entertained each time he watched, although he was very confused and concerned when she first showed him her magic panties — he wondered if Phoenix raised her right.

Eventually, one day, during a trial… a scary and unforgettable event took place. Phoenix and Diego were working on a case against each other. Diego had the upper hand on this case as usual, he was making compelling arguments and had hard evidence… but something unexpected happened while he was in the middle of explaining something.

The judge banged his gavel. “Prosecutor Armando, please explain to the court the significance of this evidence.”

“The footprints left at the crime scene only belonged to the defendant and the victim. There were no other traces found at the-” Suddenly Diego went completely out of it and lost his train of thought. He stared blankly at his desk for a solid minute until someone snapped him out of his thoughts.

“Prosecutor Armando? Your evidence?” The Judge asked with a confused expression on his face.

Phoenix looked across at him and immediately knew that something was wrong. Diego was clearly becoming more and more stressed. “Your Honour! I humbly request for a recess! Just for ten minutes. I think… he needs a quick break.”

The Judge nodded. “Very well. The court will now take a ten minute recess.” He banged his gavel.

Diego sat in the prosecutor’s lobby, still clearly out of it. Phoenix and Trucy decided to check up on him while they had the time. Phoenix sat next to him on the sofa. “Hey, are you alright?” He asked, holding his hand.

Diego was rapidly losing his memory. He was so confused when Phoenix sat so close to him. In his head he thought “Why… why is he sitting so close to me?” Then when he suddenly felt Phoenix’s hand on his own, he flinched and hissed at him aggressively. “Don’t fucking touch me, Trite!”

Phoenix gasped at his sudden bitter remark. He covered Trucy’s ears because his fatherly instincts told him to. “Diego… what’s wrong? Why are you acting like this?”

“H-How…?”

“Huh?”

“How do you know my name…?”

Phoenix looked heavily concerned. “W-What?”

“I never told you about- Why do you know this??”

“Arman- Godot! Calm down…”

Trucy moved Phoenix’s hands away from her ears. “Daddy? Papa? Is everything alright?” She asked as she looked at Phoenix and Diego.

The prosecutor was completely baffled by Trucy’s question. It felt like she was referring to him as her “papa”, but how could that be? He had no idea who she was, at least that’s what he thought at the moment anyway.

Phoenix got up and whispered to her. “Ah… I think he’s having another one of those brain farts again. Let me handle this.” Trucy nodded and stepped back while Phoenix tried to sort this problem out.

Diego was looking around the lobby being completely confused. Himself, Phoenix and Trucy were the only ones in the room so that could only mean that Phoenix and himself were Daddy and Papa. “I… I don’t understand… what did you just call me?”

“Papa?” Trucy tilted her head with a bit of worry.

“I-I’m not your Papa…”

“Well… I guess not… but…”

“Godot…” Phoenix interrupted. “Don’t you remember? It’s been six months since you and Trucy met…”

“What are you talking about? Who’s Trucy?”

Phoenix stared at him for a second and then sighed. “Okay, this is worse than I thought…”

Suddenly Gumshoe entered the room, wondering if everything is okay. Unfortunately it wasn’t, so Phoenix asked Gumshoe to ask the Judge for another trial day. Diego wasn’t in any state to prosecute in this trial and a ten minute recess just wasn’t enough time to sort this out.

“Alright, we have an extra trial day. So let’s head home, you need some rest.” Phoenix said, holding his hand out for Diego.

The prosecutor just slapped his hand away as he kept getting more and more confused. “You… But you don’t know where I live??”

“You live with us, Papa…” Trucy said, becoming more concerned.

Diego’s heart sank. He felt ill. He felt like he was in a completely different world. The only familiar face he recognised was Phoenix, but he wasn’t someone he wanted to be on friendly terms with — not to his knowledge anyway. Diego hates him, he wants to humiliate him. So why is Phoenix being so friendly and openly concerned about him? Why is there suddenly a little girl who sees him as a father? So many unanswered questions. It’s making his head spin.

Suddenly, Diego stood up and tried leaving the room. His mind was racing with thoughts and he didn’t know what to do about it. Phoenix followed behind him. “Hey! Where are you going?”

“I’m going home! I don’t want you near me!” He hissed.

“But… you live with us now…”

“In what world would I live with you? I hate your guts!”

“Godot, just please listen to me! This is serious.” Phoenix shut the door before Diego could leave.

“And why should I listen to a lowly, worthless scum of a lawyer like you?”

“Because… you’re a different person now. You have a new life.”

“What?”

Trucy took out her phone and showed Diego her lock screen. It was a picture of the three of them at a zoo together. It also pictured Diego carrying her on his shoulders. Once Diego saw this image, he was at a loss for words.

“I…I don’t understand… When did this happen?”

“Just last week, Papa…”

“Huh…?”

“Diego… let us take you home. You’re clearly not well. We’ll try explain everything once we’re there.” Phoenix explained and led the way. Diego sighed and slowly nodded and then followed behind them until Phoenix remembered something. “Ah! Actually, I left some things back at my office. We should go there first before I forget again.”

The three of them headed back to Phoenix’s office, or as it’s now known as The Wright Anything Agency. Once Phoenix opened the door, they were greeted by none other than Apollo and Athena.

“Oh hey, you guys are back early!” Apollo said as he was watering Charley.

“So, who won the case? I’m placing my bet on Mr. Godot!” Athena said in her usual high-spirited attitude.

Diego just became more and more confused as they continued talking. He felt so uncomfortable by everyone acting overfamiliar with him. He’s never seen these people in his life. Why are there so many people being so friendly and close to him? He was becoming overwhelmed. Not only does he not know who these people are, he is also far from used to talking to this many people at once. He’s so adapted to his crippling loneliness, he has no idea how to react to this kind of attention.

Phoenix could tell that Diego was quickly getting stressed. He kept giving confused glances around the room and was nervously sweating. “Not now guys, he’s not feeling too good…” The blue lawyer said as he dragged Diego into the other room and switched the lights off before he quickly shut the door behind him.

Apollo and Athena just gave each other worried glances as they watched their boss pull Godot into the other room. They could hear him breathing heavily, almost as if he was about to have a nervous breakdown. Trucy understands what was going on, but she had never seen it get this bad.

“Ehh… what’s going on?” Athena asked with obvious concern all over her face.

“Papa is… having one of those… hard times again…” Trucy suddenly said.

“Again? This isn’t the first time?” Apollo asked.

“No… well… not exactly. You see, he has these… memory lapses from time to time. Although it’s over small things like forgetting where he puts things and where he was going. And in the trial today, he was in the middle of talking until he suddenly stopped. I thought he lost his train of thought like he usually does but… it got much worse than that.” Trucy obviously didn’t like talking about this particular subject.

“Wait! Don’t tell me…” Athena gasped.

Trucy nodded. “He forgot who I was. He forgot what happened during these past six months. He forgot a lot of things. And I guess seeing you two made him lose it even more…”

“I see. That’s very… unfortunate. That would explain the overwhelming shock and sadness I heard inside his heart.”

“Isn’t there anything we can do?” Apollo asked, determined to help.

Trucy just averted her eyes, looking concerned. “I think… we just have to hope that this will all pass soon.”

“I know! When Boss lets him out of the room, I can give him a quick therapy session with Widget!”

“Of course! That little toy has worked wonders in the past!”

Athena pouted. “It’s not a toy, Apollo! It’s my trusty partner!”

Eventually, Phoenix and Godot came back out of the room. Both of them looked exhausted. “Okay, this isn’t working…” Phoenix sighed.

“Is everything alright?” Apollo asked.

“Simply put… no. Everything is not alright.” Phoenix said bluntly.

“What isn’t working, Boss?”

“This is hard to explain… but Mr. Godot isn’t well today. He needs to go home.”

“I sense a lot of discord in his heart. How about I try using Widget on him?”

“Widget…?” Diego mumbled.

“Well, no harm in trying I guess. Go ahead.”

“Wait… what are you doing…?” Diego nervously asked, still trembling.

“I’m going to give you a little therapy session, Mr. Godot.”

“Therapy? I don’t need therapy! Leave me alone!”

“I-It’s okay! It will only take a moment.”

“No! I refuse!”

“We’re only trying to help you…”

“Please! Leave me alone! I don’t know who any of you are!” He yelled desperately.

Phoenix sighed. “Perhaps we should do this another time. He’s being very uncooperative right now.”

“Alright… fine.” Athena sighed and put away Widget.

Phoenix grabbed the case file that was left on the desk and headed for the door with Diego.

Apollo tilted his head. “Mr. Wright? Where are you going?”

“Well I said we’re going home, didn’t I? We came back here because I left one of the files behind. I wasn’t planning on staying long.”

“So you’re staying home for the rest of the day too? What about the trial?” Apollo asked.

“The trial will resume tomorrow. I’m going to prepare for it of course. You two stay here and take care of the office and other errands.” Phoenix said. “Oh, and Trucy? Are you coming with us or are you staying here?”

“Oh! I’ll stay here actually. I can help Polly and Athena out with stuff. You go on ahead with Mr. Godot and sort his problems out.”

Phoenix smiled softly. “Alright, I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

The esteemed lawyer waved goodbye to his little family as he left the premises with his confused and agitated adversary. The three youths were still very concerned about the unusual man’s circumstances, so they hoped that things will blow over without any dire consequences.

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midnight-moonlight-and-mars · 7 months

Text

Windowpane Part 9

A/N: Aaaand we're back! It feels good to get back to this series and clear the cobwebs. I hope you enjoy and thx for reading!💘 - K

Series Masterlist

Previously...

When he looked back at Y/n, she was staring too. Like him, she was recovering from last night’s fever dream. Their eyes meeting caused the feeling to wash over and pull them towards each other. Despite the pleasantness of the sensation, their minds simultaneously thought something different.

“Shit.”

To be continued...

Y/n quickly averted her eyes from his and proceeded to pretend she didn’t notice him. Which eventually became impossible when Klaus was suddenly standing right next to her.

“Morning, love. Mind explaining all...” Klaus gestured towards the mess of furniture and building material before him. “...this?”

“This is all for some work I am doing on the property. There’s a barn about a quarter of a mile down the road that needs some repairs as well as a fishing port in Bayou Annie. I have a special project for the barn house on the side, but it’s not my priority at the moment.”

“Certainly sounds busy...” Klaus hinted that all of this seemed like a grand distraction and unbeknownst to him, he was right.

“Well, it is a bit of a chore, but it’s something I enjoy doing at least. And some friends of mine will be here visiting in about a month or so, and I want to be prepared.”

“Friends? And here I thought you were a swamp hermit luring handsome travelers, like myself, to their untimely death.” Klaus seriously thought this at some point but it makes for a good 'joke'.

“I wish!” Y/n laughed. “It would make sense but honestly, that’s a lot of effort just leading to more effort, all for something I don’t benefit from. Trust me though it was on my list for career choices.”

Klaus offered to help Y/n organize all the chaos strewn across her lawn. It was already partially done, but the help was appreciated. After a few moments passed, the rest of the family joined the effort as well.

As they were finishing arranging everything, out of nowhere Y/n grew uneasy. Her breath became shallow, and her thoughts started to become foggy and disorganized. It was like the feeling, but maliciously turned sour.

Instinctively Y/n grabbed on to the nearest thing to keep herself from falling and to make sure the world wasn’t actually spinning. The nearest thing just so happened to be Klaus.

Y/n could feel a presence surrounding her, but she could barely make out her surroundings. Slowly lowering herself to the ground, Y/n just closed her eyes and waited for it to pass. That's when everything went blank.

When she tried to open her eyes again, it was still dark. Y/n could no longer feel anything around her, and the ringing in her ears subsided. As this stillness descended, a chorus of whispering voices came through.

“Follow the water...Two... Swim...” The voices grew louder and began to overlap, all repeating different things. The ringing in her ears came back from the deafening volume of their voices, allowing Y/n to release herself from their trance.

Y/n opened her eyes to find herself still standing, and no one seemed to notice that she was out of it. She seemed to still be in one piece, and the cause of the hallucination wasn’t apparent. Y/n stared at Klaus, whom she thought she had grabbed onto, but he wasn’t within reach at all.

What did it mean? What was she supposed to do with it?

Dusting herself off, Y/n collected her thoughts and took a deep breath.

It never happened as far as she was concerned.

After the work was done outside, everyone gathered inside for a home-cooked meal. Talking with all of them came easily. Y/n couldn’t help but study each of them. Their movements, the way they interacted with each other, and the way they presented themselves. It was fascinating to see how individually unique they were, but how well they all fit together. Y/n flushed at the realization of how much she fit too.

When they all finished their plates, the light-hearted conversation and funny stories turned into goodbyes for the day. Each one filed out of the door and went their separate ways for the rest of the afternoon. Except for one.

Klaus lingered in the living room slowly pacing the floor and scanning over some of the pictures on the wall.

“You can sit if you want. It seems like you want to talk.” Y/n gestured to the furnishings around them and took a seat on the love seat next to her. Klaus settled across from her and still didn’t look comfortable.

“I wanted to apologize for my mother’s behavior the other night. Usually, it is Elijah or me she berates with her witch-y nonsense. I will do everything in my power to ensure it doesn't happen again." Klaus didn't care much for his mother's warnings. He had heard similar ones past and present.

"Actually there's no need. She made me realize how little I know of my past. I had no way to refute anything she said because I'm not actually sure what's true and what isn't. Which is why I actually want to speak to her again…"

To say Klaus was shocked would be an understatement. His first instinct would be to say no, but could he deny Y/n a key to her mysterious past? He too was curious to hear what more his mother had to say about his new friend, but at what cost?

“I wouldn’t bother. That witch cannot be trusted. My mother always is scheming against her own family and would destroy all of us if she had the chance. Nothing she says should be trusted. If she just so happens to claim otherwise, there is always a price to be paid.” Klaus hated the idea of his mother getting close to Y/n, and wanted to prevent her from making the mistake of trusting his mother like he did.

“I have had no one else ever recognize me the way she did, and I never met her before that day. I’ve never had family growing up, no one to explain to me what I am and where I came from. If you can find someone else that knows as much or more than your mother I am all ears.” Y/n stood firm. She couldn’t let an opportunity to know more about herself pass her by.

Klaus stood in silence for a moment. He knew he couldn’t let her near his mother, but who was he to stand in the way? These feelings of wanting answers with nowhere to turn he was all too familiar with. His mother can’t be the only solution to the mystery of her past…

“As much as my mother would like to think so, she isn’t the only one with answers. Her mistake was giving us a name of the coven you were from. Someone is bound to have the answers you seek love and I tend to help you find them. And I know exactly where to start looking.”

#klaus mikaelson x reader #klaus mikaelson #klaus x reader #vampire #the vampire diaries #the originals #not marvel #elijah mikaelson #kol mikaelson

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satashiiwrites · 2 years

Text

snippet sunday

Tagged by @radio-chatter—thanks for the tag lovely! I wrote like a whole two sentences yesterday (very productive, I know). I need to stop over scheduling myself.

Tagging the usual misfits: @monsterrae1 @quietborderline @tkwritesdumbassassins @elisela @missanniewhimsy @muffinsandsweets @outtoshatter. No pressure, this is just for fun.

Title: Eddie Diaz Ain’t ‘Fraid of No Ghost, Chapter 4

Fandom: 911

Pairing: Buddie, Buck/ghost

Other tags/warnings: first draft. Will have dubcon between Buck/ghost (now who Buck thinks is in his bed is pretty clear) but not this snippet.

Getting home, Buck did a circuit of the apartment making sure there was nobody else there. He’d really managed to freak himself out last night and was still slightly unsettled by his dream hallucination. Having lunch with Eddie had helped a lot but he was a grown ass man and he could shake this off.

Seriously.

His home was chilly—especially in the lofted bedroom. He’d forgotten to turn the air conditioning down so he grabbed a LAFD hoodie and pulled it on before going back downstairs to adjust the thermostat. Eddie had been really against a smart thermostat so Buck hadn’t upgraded when they’d been on sale but he was now regretting it. It would be nice to just tap a few buttons on his phone or have it automatically adjust for when he was home or away.

Buck didn’t think too hard about how he carefully avoided the left side of the stairs where the footprints had been as he descended them.

Huh. The thermostat was still set to 72 degrees—his usual. Ever since he’d left Pennsylvania and it’s icy winters he’d always kept things just warm enough to be comfortable in a sweatshirt but cold enough so he wasn’t overheating in his preferred lounge clothes.

Didn’t heat rise? That’s why he kept it at 72 in order to make it good to sleep in.

Buck made a mental note to call the building maintenance guy and have him check on his HVAC system tomorrow.

One quick workout later and he was no longer feeling cold and the AC on blast felt good. He spent the rest of the afternoon puttering around the apartment doing regular house chores including mopping the floors.

There was no evidence of the bloody footprints he’d seen last night. Not a drop of blood anywhere.

His brain did weird things on occasion.

Buck ate a quick dinner of leftovers from the night before, not bothering to heat the tortillas as he only had a few left. Afterwards he curled up in his chair to watch a documentary on the Salem witch trials that was moderately interesting but not Chris appropriate.

Eddie would probably like it though—it focused on the psychology of groups and thoroughly debunked the idea that there had been actual witches in Salem. The one historian had a lot to say about moral panic which Buck translated to the modern equivalent of excessive pearl clutching.

Mass hysteria was a terrible thing.

He’d promised Eddie he’d go to bed early tonight so he brushed his teeth and climbed into bed at Christopher’s normal bedtime. Plugging in his phone, he wrapped himself in his comforter to ward off the chill of the loft and closed his eyes.

Buck was asleep in minutes.

#snippet sunday #first draft #eddie diaz ain’t ‘fraid of no ghost #halloween fic #👻#Buddie #buddie fic

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wallflowerimagines · 3 years

Note

Hello! Um... I don’t really know how to start this but say I love your hc! I think you do a fantastic job on them, there all very sweet but being the s.o.b I am I’m here to ask for some angst. How would you think the lords act if their S/O died?

...I'm feeling mean. 😈

Warnings: Angst, Death, Horror Game villains making bad decisions/not coping with tragedy, suicide.

Alcina Dimitrescu

Denial, Denial, Denial

You can't be dead. There has to be something, anything that she can do to save you. Alcina scrambles for a solution, attacking the problem from all sides, despite the reality of the situation staring her in the face.

Immediately injects your body with Cadou in a desperate hope to save you. Any possible chance that he has to save you she's going to take it.

It's not likely that your corpse reanimates, but it does mutate. At the end of the process, what's left of your body hardly even looks like you anymore, and she can't bring herself to look at it.

She builds a gilded crypt for your body-- it's stunning. It's inspired by you, all your favorite colors, styles and hobbies are incorporate to make the room feel full of your spirit. Alcina is an artistic woman, and she throws herself into the project like she's possessed.

It might take years, even decades to complete. It has to be perfect. When it's done she feels accomplished, but twice as empty. It might be one of the most beautiful dedications she's ever made, but it can't replace you. She has the room sealed off with no way to get to it, so she can't be tempted to visit. She just needs a piece of of you still in her home, or she can't get through the day.

...If your corpse does reanimate, it's actually worse for Alcina. Whatever she brought back was a shambling, horrifying mess of mold wearing your face. It couldn't think for itself, or even follow commands--it just wanders in circles and attacks anything that gets too close.

She keeps your reanimated corpse in a cell, unable to bring herself to destroy it completely. Sometimes, she'll go down to the basement and talk to the thing like it is you, telling it about her day, having one-sided conversations and thinking of all the wonderful memories the two of you shared.

When its dead eyes meet hers, her lungs seize in her chest and tears gather in her eyes. Alcina doesn't cry often, but when your corpse meets her gaze she starts to sob. Those eyes used to look at her with life and love and now...

Still, she can't stop herself from visiting it. It's a compulsion she can't stop, and it tears open the wound every time, but some irrational part of her deep, deep down thinks that one day, she'll descend those steps and you'll be there to greet her with a warm smile.

In either scenario, she will never have another partner. You're impossible to replace, and she feels truly, genuinely empty without you. Rest well, Darling. You'll never be forgotten.

Donna Beneviento

There is such a thing as a last straw, and this is it for Donna.

Please remember: this is a woman who has lost everything. Mother Miranda might have given her a new "family", but Donna is not nearly as attached to these new members as she is to her original family. And the loss of her original family has shaped her in such a way that if you died? She would be absolutely devastated.

It's not fair to put this kind of pressure on you, but in a very real way you were her last hope for normalcy. She had all these plans to fix her family with you. You were so instrumental to her hopes for the future that now that you're gone, it feels like she has no hope at all. You were her missing link, her one true love, and now that you're dead...

Donna screams until her throat is raw when she finds out you're gone. Angie can't help her, nothing can. She just can't cope with reality anymore.

She'll build a life sized Doll of you to try to help herself cope, but the minute she tries to implant of piece of her Cadou in it, she is filled with such a vehement hatred of the thing that she starts scream-crying before she takes an axe to it's face and hacks it to pieces. How dare it pretend to be you?!! It's not even close to the real thing, she shouldn't even have tried--

She might try to induce a hallucination of you to help her get through the day to day, but it's not the same. She can't perfectly mimic your laugh, or your smile, or the way you tuck her hair away from her face. It's so obviously not you, and Donna is... alone.

I do hate to say it, but she will absolutely try to kill herself if you died. You were the one person who understood her, empathized with her, and you were her best friend. You were her support system, the one person who could carry her through the worst times in her life, but you're gone. Donna can't believe that anyone else could be there for her like you were.

Salvatore Moreau

Absolutely, irreparably broken.

When the two of you were in a relationship, you busied yourself not only with smothering Salvatore in all of the love and affection that you could, but you also did a lot to help his self-esteem and mental health.

You made sure he knew that he was loved, that you could never hate him, and even on your death bed you make him promise never to forget how wonderful he is.

Once you're gone, though, Salvatore cracks.

He clings to every bit of you felt behind. All of your jewelry, clothing, pictures and sentimental items are preserved to the best of his ability. Your living space is transformed into a shrine dedicated to you.

It's not healthy, but he also deifies you in his memory. Mother Miranda is no longer the only person that he worships-- the memory of you is now sacred to him. You become something holy and perfect in his mind's eye. It doesn't matter how many flaws you had in reality, your death has turned even your worst flaws into traits to be admired and praised. His perception of you is totally twisted.

Speaking of Mother Miranda, he regresses a lot. His adoration of Mother Miranda was something you were helping him work through, but now he's right back at square one, and even worse off than before.

Moreau can't make a decision on his own anymore--from what to say, to what to do, and sometimes even what to eat. After all, it's his fault that you died, isn't it? You were his partner and he used to be is a doctor. How could he possibly trust himself with anything when he couldn't manage to save the most important thing in his life?

To the rest of his family, he's more pathetic than before. His obsession with his Mother was usually limited to when she was in the room, but now it's constant.

If he ever hears the quote "It's better to have loved and lost, then never loved at all," he gets supremely, violently angry. No. No, that's not true, it's bullshit, how dare you even say that to his face.

If he hadn't loved you, you would be alive. He would be alone, but you would be safe. You would be happy.

Now he's alone, and all you are is dead. He can't ever come back from it.

Karl Heisenberg

Rage. Unending, earth shattering Rage.

Whatever killed you better start to fucking pray, because Karl Heisenberg will not quit until it's suffering.

He doesn't kill who or whatever it was. He let's it sit there, mangled beyond belief, and uses his knowledge of mechanics and biology to keep it alive in constant, unending pain.

It's cathartic for him, but not in a healthy way. The more he hurts it, the better he feels, but at the end of the day, you're still gone, and he's still alone.

He's... lost.

Heisenberg should be angry, fuck he wants to be angry more than anything, but the longer he keeps the thing alive... emotions seem like they're too far away anymore. He wants to scream, he wants to cry, he wants... you.

He keeps something of yours in his pocket at all times, just to run his fingers over it and remember you. Your eyes, your laugh, your smile... It's almost like a stress ball, and these days sticking his hand into his pocket to wrap his fingers around the thing is the only way he can calm down.

Sometimes he turns to ask your opinion on something, or tell you a joke with a big smile on his face because this one is going to make you laugh for sure-- and then he freezes when the reality sets in once again. You're not here.

Remember, Heisenberg has idealized the two of you as this perfect partnership. You were the first person who looked at him and loved everything that you saw. You weren't just his first real relationship, the first person that he implicitly trusted, but you were also his very first real friend.

He wasn't the most friendly person to begin with, but he did get better because of you. He was still spoiled, a little socially awkward, and maybe his dark sense of humor would slip and get a little too much, but he grew as a person.

Now that you're gone, he can't even remember what it's like not being a cruel, empty shell of rage. All he has left is his hatred of Mother Miranda.

After a while, it doesn't matter if he's ready to take her on or not. He's going to face that bitch head on and kill her, or die trying.

If he wins, he's finally free. If he doesn't... that's not so bad either. Karl doesn't really believe in an afterlife, but there's something appealing about joining you wherever you might be.

#angst #death #alcina dimitrescu x reader #donna beneviento x reader #salvatore moreau x reader #karl heisenburg x reader #lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #donna beneviento #salvatore moreau #karl heisenberg #re8 #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #resident evil #dead reader #tw: suicide

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elysiadjarin · 3 years

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Day 1: Somnophilia

Day 1 of Kinktober! The first prompt is of course, somnophilia. Here’s my masterlist for my Kinktober challenge.

Warnings: Minors DNI, this is 18+ only content. Consensual somnophilia, cumplay, unprotected sex, nonhuman character, exophilia

Tags: Hat Man x reader, exophilia, kinktober

He Comes at Night

At first, you hadn’t been sure whether it was just another case of sleep paralysis, or actually something… else.

He always came at night, standing in your doorway as you lay on your back, unable to move. Though you were used to sleep paralysis and the oftentimes terrifying figures that came along with it, this one had been different every time it showed up. It just stood in your doorway, never really moving, just watching. You never felt the usual fear that came along with most sleep paralysis demons, just a sense of… calm.

It had gotten to the point where you’d simply learned to ride it out, accepting the calm of its presence until you fell back asleep. If anything, you’d started feeling a sense of comfort from its presence. Even living alone, you felt as though it were there as another presence, just to keep you some company. You’d even thought with a flash of amusement that maybe it was there to protect you.

But that was until a few nights ago. You’d found yourself abruptly awake again, immobile in bed. But it had been different. Your eyes wouldn’t open, and you distinctly felt something heavy on your blankets, pinning you to the bed. It felt far more tangible than anything else you’d ever experienced in a moment of sleep paralysis, and it unnerved you.

Of course, that’s when you heard… that. A whisper, slithering around you, crawling against your sheets as tangibly as the weights.

Sssso delicioussss. A poke at you. He’ssss finally not here. Hey, are you… awake?

Despite the situation, it wasn’t so much fear as annoyance that gripped you in the moment. If this sleep paralysis demon was enacting paralysis on you, why would you be able to respond?

A low cackle raked down your spine. That’sssss right, you can’t move, can you. Well, you won’t need to, sssssoon. Don’t worry, the chilling voice sneered, I’ll make ssssure you can feel it.

You’d just started to feel the panic set in when the weight was ripped off of you. A loud, fearful shriek pierced through the room, followed by a distinct crunching and gurgling.

I didn’t mean to, Hat Man, have merccccccy— The voice choked off in the thick air, just as your eyes snapped open.

Thick, black slime dripped from the mangled, gangly body that hung limply in the air. The figure that had been standing in your doorway every night now stood by your beside, a giant arm outstretched as dark talons clenched around the smaller creature. The black ichor dripped from its claws, and it threw the broken body down on the floor like a rag doll. It turned its head toward you again, but relief had crashed through you at its appearance.

The tall figure, now that it had appeared so close to your bedside, clearly towered at least seven feet tall. But even when it bent its whole body over, face nearing yours, you still didn’t fear it. It had leaned over, close enough that you could imagine that you felt its nonexistent breath on your face. Then it brushed against your forehead, as though it had kissed you gently back to sleep. You’d fallen back asleep as though knocked out.

And now, as you stood at your kitchen counter, holding a mug of tea, your mind had started to wander. Specifically, you’d started to wonder about your mysterious guardian. What had started out as a private sort of joke had turned into a reality, and you weren’t entirely sure what to make of it. The sensations and feelings had been far too concrete to be just a hallucination or just part of another sleep paralysis experience. Even now, you could still feel the sensation of the soft, gentle wisp of shadow brushing across your forehead.

Sighing, you dumped the mug into the sink and headed for bed, pulling at the hem of your large T-shirt. In the room, you slid off your shorts and put them on a chair, only in your underwear and shirt to sleep. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you took a moment to glance around the room. Your mind wandered to the weird, creepy spirit from the night before.

Tentatively, you decided to speak into the darkness. “Hey… I don’t know if you’re here right now, or—or listening, but… Hat Man. If you’re there, thank you. For saving me,” you said, tugging at your shirt. “I know I usually can’t move or talk, but… if you want company, you can come sit or lay down.” A little embarrassed at your own offer, you flopped back on the bed and rolled under the covers, burying your face in your pillow.

Even if it — he? — were there listening and you weren’t just talking to thin air, what would he think of your invitation? Was that too forward? Or weird?

You weren’t sure when exactly you fell asleep, but you certainly jerked awake sometime later when the bed next to you dipped. Your eyes opened, this time, and you saw the hulking figure almost meekly slide into bed beside you. His weight made your body slightly tip towards him, and he shifted to face you just in time to catch you against his chest. You noticed, now fully pressed against him, that he did have a slight, dusky sort of warmth, like the faint touch of a sunbeam filtering though curtains.

His giant talon paused, and he seemed to vacillate, as though unsure what to do with himself now that he was there. Tentatively, his fingers brushed against your arm. Your body seemed to gain a little bit more movement, just enough for you to sigh and lean further into his chest. He made you feel safe, and his presence was comforting. He didn’t seem to mind your advances, so you decided not to feel guilty as his giant arm wrapped around your back.

A soft, wispy hum escaped you, and you let yourself relax with the minimal movements the paralysis seemed to be allowing. You half-wished you could talk, just to speak with him. But at the same time, you could feel the drowsiness descend again. He felt too comfortable, and the solid weight of his body against yours made you melt like putty into the bed.

As you fell asleep, you swore you could feel the Hat Man brush another soft kiss to your forehead.

“Whoa, wait, you got yourself a Hat Man?” Your Tiefling coworker gave you a surprised look. “They usually only come into your life because they’re drawn in some way to protect you. Have you been doing okay? Staying safe?”

You nodded. “Well, I mean, now I am thanks to him,” you clarified, eyebrows furrowing. “What with my sleep paralysis and that weird… other thing.” You shuddered a little in disgust at the memory. “He’s been protecting me from whatever that thing was, I’m assuming.”

Harlow gave you a long look. “I didn’t want to really bring this up before, but do you know of anything in your heritage that might be… well, attractive to spirits? I’ve noticed before that you seem to draw the attention of non humans.”

You sighed, shoulders slumping. “Well, you’re not wrong,” you admitted, rubbing your arm. “When I was born, my grandmother told my parents that I had ‘the blood of a beacon,’” you said. “I had a talisman she gave me, but… it’s been years, so maybe the potency has worn off.”

He nodded. “Probably. Especially if you have beacon blood; I’m not surprised you drew a Hat Man to protect you. You might as well be the Ultimate Desire for them,” he remarked.

Your eyes widened at his comment. “Ultimate Desire?” you asked, startled. “I mean, I know that my blood is attractive to spirits for its potency in spirit energy. But what does Ultimate Desire mean? And why would Hat Man want that?” You noted that he called it a Hat Man. So it apparently was a type of spirit or entity.

“Hmm.” Harlow pursed his lips. “Well, an easy way to put it would be… the Hat Men are guardians of sources of energy like you. They’re fueled by the energy you have, so… it wouldn’t be inaccurate to say that he’s a personal bodyguard manifested by your beacon blood. The more your proximity or attention ‘fuels’ him and the more energy you give him, the stronger he’ll be and the better defense.”

You nodded thoughtfully. “Huh. So I’m basically… the ultimate source, I guess. I mean, for Hat Man.”

“Yep!” Then he gave you a sly grin. “So, you gonna get up close and personal with him?” His eyebrows wriggled at you teasingly.

Flushing, you reached over and shoved his shoulder. “Harlow, seriously!” you groaned.

He laughed, rubbing his arm exaggeratedly. “Aww c’mon, I’m just saying. He’s basically the one least likely to betray you. In other words, the safest way to get laid—“

You flounced off, leaving him to laugh and try to wheedle his way back into your good graces. Still, your mind wouldn’t stop wandering to the Hat Man. Wondered how much safer you’d feel if he decided to be just a little more handsy…

Whacking your face with your binder, you shook your head and scolded yourself. Really, Harlow must be influencing you more than you expected.

You slumped against the counter, groaning.

Maybe Harlow really had gotten to you, more than you’d really anticipated at first. His words kept ringing through your mind, leading to thought trains that you hadn’t really anticipated.

He’s a personal bodyguard… The more your proximity or attention ‘fuels him’ and the more energy you give him… He’s basically the one least likely to betray you.

With a defeated sigh, you picked yourself up and dragged yourself to your room. You’d wanted to go to bed early, for more reasons than you’d care to admit to yourself. Still, even as you turned the lights off and went to go change, you wondered if he would return tonight. If he’d still join you. If he’d stay.

Tugging at the T-shirt you’d slid on, you hesitated for only a moment before sliding your underwear off. Tossing it aside, you slid into bed, rolling onto your side and staring at the empty space across from you. Reaching out, you smoothed your hand against the sheets.

“I wish you were here, Hat Man,” you whispered into the quiet darkness.

To your surprise, your body almost instantly froze. A dark shape walked into view by the side of the bed, and the now-familiar talons lifted the sheets to slide into bed beside you. You vaguely wondered if the sleep paralysis the whole time had just been the spirits and now your Hat Man having an effect on you thanks to the lure of your blood.

Before you could think too much about it, though, the burly figure slid closer. Still, he didn’t hold you like he had before, and a pang of disappointment rushed through you. His arm lifted, then he seemed to hesitate.

Your body loosened a little, giving you that smidgen of movement you’d been granted last time. Without even a moment of thought, you rolled forward and snuggled into his chest again, the dusky warmth of his body soaking into you again. You sighed, gazing at the lines of his chest and the slashed scars that crossed the dark planes. Almost thoughtlessly, you traced your fingers against the edges of the scars.

You wondered how he’d gotten them. Were you the reason? Because he protected you? A pang of guilt ran through you for a moment.

He shifted, finally putting his arm around you again, as though he’d been waiting for the permission. His head bent a little, and he carefully seemed to nuzzle your hair, as though checking on you.

A little sleepy, you glanced up at him, noting the curve of his jaw. “Hi,” you breathed, your murmur quiet and wispy. Still, he pulled back and seemed to observe you curiously. His eyes, you finally noticed, had a faint sort of pale blue glow, dim in the darkness and only obvious from how close you were.

“Thank you,” you whispered, every word an effort. “For— this—“ Your fingers slipped across the lurid scars on his chest, your eyes starting to slide closed. But you fought it for a moment, determined to just… thank him. Properly. Mustering as much energy as you could, you sluggishly forced yourself up a little, just enough to brush your lips against his chin, the closest part of his face you could reach.

The talons tightened briefly against your waist, as though they’d convulsed in surprise. He seemed to freeze in front of you, processing what you’d just done.

You let out a sleepy hum, the drowsiness descending on you far faster than you would have liked. You wanted to talk with him. You wondered if he had a voice.

Harlow took one look at you. “Ohhh, someone’s sexually frustrated.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “I can’t— Harlow,” you whined, feeling your entire face heat up.

He leaned against your desk with a sympathetic grin. “Look, if I call you out it’s only because I’m in the same boat or I’m about to help you. In this case both applies. Anyway, so, spill the tea.” He tilted his head, his polished horns gleaming under the office lights.

You sighed, then confessed everything to him. From the way you’d started feeling about your Hat Man to the way you’d started to… fantasize. Frustrated, you ran your fingers through your hair.

“I just… I don’t know if it’s because I’m lonely and he’s there, or if I— I don’t even know,” you sighed, closing your eyes in defeat. “I just don’t know.”

He chuckled, reaching over to pat your arm. “Look, like I said, Hat Men are there for protection. And by the sounds of it, yours is actually attracted to you. Spirits and entities like him don’t actively search for contact like that if they’re not interested in it.” He pursed his lips. “Not to mention, if you do actually get some— how big is he?”

You gave him a half-hearted glare. “Harlow—“

He snickered. “How tall is he. Seriously, you’re the one with the dirty mind here.” He flashed you that infuriating smirk as he teased you.

You rolled your eyes, giving up. “I don’t know, probably around seven feet? It felt like it, anyway, when he was standing beside the bed.”

“Oh so he’s stacked.” Harlow cackled. “But really, as I was saying, if you do bag that one, it’s quite the mutual benefit. It’ll be a direct method of energy transfer, not to mention that he’s absolutely probably going to be loyal to you if he gets those kinds of privileges.” He shrugged flippantly. “But that’s besides the point. Here’s what I’m going to suggest, so take this as you will.”

You left work that evening with your face burning but a solid plan from Harlow. You’d figure out later if you wanted to smack him or thank him.

That night, as you crawled into bed, you let out a breath and sat there, clutching the blankets. Biting your lip, you glanced toward the door.

“I hope you’ll join me again, tonight,” you ventured, calling out into the darkness of your room. Swallowing, you twisted the sheets in your fingers. “And… of course, you don’t have to, but… I’d love to be able to… to talk to you. Or— or hear more about you. If you can or want to communicate. I just…” You sighed.

“I don’t know if I have to not move when you’re around. I’m not sure how that works, but either way, I— I like having you around,” you admitted. “So… thank you. For protecting me. I hope you stay. You’re welcome to make yourself at home, here.” Taking one last glance at the door, you turned over and lay down. You self-consciously rubbed your legs together, almost embarrassed by your lack of clothing besides the T-shirt.

Would it be too obvious? Was it too much? Or maybe would that be enough-?

The bed behind you dipped just as you felt yourself seized by the paralysis again. But this time, it already felt minimal, as though the tight hold had been laxed even more than before. You rolled back, feeling your back hit the warmth of his chest. Every night, it seemed that he gained a little more solidity and form, and even more of a distinct body heat. The large arm wrapped around you again, sliding across your side and down your belly, talons slipping under your waist.

You hummed, the calm and contentment washing over you again with his presence. “Hi,” you murmured, your fingers managing to curl around one of his talons.

This time, to your mingled surprise and delight, you felt the soft huff of air against your neck like breath. It wasn’t really a sound, but it was something a little more. His face nudged against your neck and shoulder, while his lower body curled up as though to surround you as much as possible. Your heart pounded, almost giddy with the happiness that rushed through you.

“Missed you,” you breathed, your words less slurred than before. You weren’t fighting the sleepiness as hard tonight, and you wondered if it really was an effect that your Hat Man had on you or if it was something else. Still, you relished it.

His movements behind you paused, and you panicked for a split second, wondering if you’d scared him away. But then he nuzzled against you again, another huff washing over your neck. In the next moment, you heard a soft, rumbling growl, so deep that you almost wondered if you’d imagined it. The moment you heard it, your breath hitched. Your stomach clenched at the sound, heat pooling between your legs.

Your teeth sank into your lower lip helplessly, your entire body both aching and on fire where he touched you, held you. Chest heaving with a burning breath, you tried to control your reaction, suppressing your shiver. You didn’t want him to leave. Wanted him to stay.

Like a whisper, words bloomed in your mind, so softly that it took you a moment to realize you didn’t hear them aloud. So pretty. So soft, so kind. The deep voice, laced with a soft Brooklyn accent, took you off guard as it slithered through your mind.

Your back arched slightly, heat splashing across your cheeks. Before you could quite stop yourself, the way you arched made your ass press back against him. A soft gasp wrenched from your lips as you felt something distinctly hard and thick press back against you. It twitched slightly, and you could feel something damp soak into your T-shirt, smearing against your skin.

A low grunt sounded behind you, just as his hips jerked away. Abruptly, his body started to slide away from you, as though he were going to leave.

The desperation flashed through you, and you found yourself suddenly free to move. You rolled over, hand reaching out.

The both of you completely froze. Your eyes, wide open, riveted on his, your fingers splayed across the scars on his chest. His blue eyes, dim but clearly focused on your face as his chest heaved under your hand.

“Please,” it spilled from your lips, quiet and desperate in the silence. “Don’t leave.”

After a moment, he gingerly lifted his hand and reached for your face, talons barely brushing across your cheek. The whisper floated through your mind again. Sorry… The embarrassment was clear in his voice, and a pale blue flush spread over the area of his cheeks. For some reason, it made him even more endearing.

“You don’t have to be,” you whispered back, sure that your own cheeks were flushed with arousal and embarrassment.

He drew closer again, as though he couldn’t help himself. His face neared yours. So pretty. So warm. Sweet. The murmur was followed by the revealing of his mouth. A maw that split open the dark silhouette, black tongue sliding over sharp fangs. Wouldn’t want ta take advantage, sweetheart. Your acceptance of his advances seemed to embolden him. Don’t wanna be too greedy.

You swallowed. “I… I want you to.” Your breath quickened a little, glancing down at his maw. “You can… I— I want you to have my energy,” you offered shyly.

The eyes flared, trailing down your body. Want you. Soft. Sweet. Pretty. He seemed fixated on the description, repeating them again. Still, you couldn’t help but find yourself liking his attention.

“You can have me. Whenever.” You bit your lip briefly. “Even if I’m asleep, if you need energy… if you— if you want.”

His breath washed over your cheek as he bent closer than ever before. Kind. His telepathic voice washed over you, saturated with adoration. Kind to Varen. His tongue gently swiped over your cheek.

You half-whimpered. “Kiss?” you pleaded, desperate for more contact.

His mouth slid across yours, gentle and without a hint of teeth. His tongue flickered over your lips, and you welcomed it. His tongue slid across yours, lithe and gentle. His talons wrapped around your waist again, pulling you into his chest. His name slipped from your lips, soft and needy, and he responded instantly in the way his body shifted closer, half-pinning you under him. His lips slid across yours, trailing down your cheek, your jaw, your throat.

To your frustration, you could feel yourself getting almost unbearably sleepy, the drowsiness tugging at you again. You suddenly wondered if it had to do with him drawing on your energy, feeding off of it, but in the next moment you were completely distracted by the way he gently rutted against your thigh.

Despite your best efforts, you fell asleep.

You dreamed.

Dreamed of Varen, mostly, your mind fantasizing about his claws wrapping around you, pushing you further into the bed, hands wandering further. Of him sliding your T-shirt up, tangling his talons around it, using it as leverage to keep your body still as he slid his cock between your thighs. You swore you could feel it, could feel his talons pricking faintly against your skin as he rutted between your thighs, his tongue dragging over your shoulder and up the arch of your neck.

You could even feel the way his precum started dribbling down your skin, smearing across your thighs, mingling with your own wetness, coating his cock as he slid it against you. And then his cock angling up, just as his talons tightened around your hips and pulled you down against him. His tip slid into you, just as his breath washed over your shoulder.

You woke up as Varen’s maw closed over your shoulder and he pulled you all the way down onto him. Still groggy and half-disoriented from waking up, you could only let out a strangled whine and arch your back, unwittingly pressing yourself further against him. The insistent throb of him inside you and the way your body clenchedaround him was proof that it wasn’t just a dream.

You were still groggy, whimpers spilling from your lips as you lay there pliantly, not resisting anything he was doing. You stayed half-asleep, already blissed out just by the sensation of him filling you.

So good. His soft accent curled through your frazzled mind, satisfied and soothing. So pretty. Doing so good, sweetheart. It’s okay, you don’t have to do anything. Gonna take care of you, pretty.

The knot in your core kept tightening, coiling with every gentle thrust he made, his hips fairly rolling against you. He shifted behind you, his claws gentle but decisive as he rolled you onto your stomach. His body followed, pinning you under him as his legs tangled with yours and his talons around your hips held you in place. He mouthed your shoulder, just barely pricking you with his fangs as his tongue soothed over the soft bites.

Your eyelashes barely fluttered, your body bathed in the dusky heat of pleasure. Despite being half-asleep, the way he steadily pumped in and out of you was so careful, so gentle. You already felt entirely wrecked, tears slipping down your cheeks as you whined. The angle and the way he curled up inside you kept hitting that one spot that sent stars flashing behind your eyelids every time he thrust. Your fingers clenched in the pillow, body trembling. You were so close.

Pretty little thing. Varen cooed, infatuation saturating every word, every thrust into you. Being so good. So… close… The soft, deep growl rumbled through his chest and down into you as well.

The tight coil inside you burst, like a coiled spring. The dusky heat washed through your body in a wave of pleasure, your orgasm roiling through you with a steady but undeniable strength. Varen fucked you through it, extending your orgasm as you trembled and sobbed out his name. He never let go of you, whispering your name as he kissed your throat and praised you softly.

It wasn’t until you’d come down that he came, jerking against you and letting out a low moan. His hips pressed flush against yours, his seed spilling into you with a rush of warmth that settled in you, soaking into the rest of your body. You basked in it, utterly spent and satisfied in a way you couldn’t remember ever being before.

Vaguely, you felt Varen roll back onto his side, pulling you along with him. Though he didn’t pull out of you, he still nuzzled against your neck and curled around you, pulling you flush against him.

You fell back asleep to the sensation of warmth and comfort.

When you woke up the next morning, Varen was gone. The only proof you had of last night was a small smear of faint blue on your inner thigh and the feeling of warmth still pooling in your belly, like a kernel of heat. With a smile, you looked up at the doorway again.

“Thank you, Varen,” you said softly. “I’ll see you tonight.”

The only answer you received was a small flash of blue that flickered in the doorway.

~ Bonus! ~

Harlow took one look at you as you walked into work before letting out a whoop. “Heck yeah, bestie got laid!” He laughed, hugging you.

You couldn’t even bring yourself to be annoyed at him, though you shook your head with a sigh. “Thanks for your advice, Harl,” you said, smiling.

He grinned, throwing his arm around your shoulders. “Course, what are best friends for? Best wingman award who?” he cackled. “Anyway, tell me the dirty details. Oh, should we go celebrate?”

You shook your head. “Never change, Harl. Never change.”

#elysiadjarinkinktober #kinktober #my writing #mywriting #elysiadjarin #nsft #x reader #exophilia #terato #monsterfucker #monster lover #xyou

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proudfreakmetarusonniku · 3 years

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(/rp! also, huge trigger warning for assault, graphic violence, death, abuse, possessive behaviour, obsession, mental breaks, hallucination, really fucking creepy treatment of a corpse, unreliable narrators, the perspective of a villain, torture, manipulation, and gaslighting! this gets pretty fucked up).

When Dream sees Tommy for the first time, there is no dramatic shift, no acknowledgement that his life had changed forever. No knowledge of the fact. All he sees is a skinny little kid who's obnoxious and loud, and he catalogues him just as one of Philza’s strays and leaves it at that.

No, it’s when Tommy drives the sword into his chest for the first time, and Dream wakes up from his non-canon death smiling despite itself when it clicks. He’s not sure what “it” is, exactly, but it’s just something about him Dream hadn’t seen in anyone before that has him hooked, captivated from the beginning.

(There's the vague recollection that he was like Tommy once, a bright eyed naive youth too loud for his own good, but that’s not unique. It’s not that, at least not entirely.)

The conflict was not started by Tommy, nor was he of any particular threat to Dream, but he was fun. So he ignored the rest, and took the boy's music discs. He knew Tommy well enough that he’d fight for them, and fight he did, and even though Dream lost in the end he laughed all the while. He’d played many a game before, but none quite this fun!

They both know this isn’t where it’ll end. Only one hopes it will be.

——

Dream didn’t care much about Wilbur's little revolutionary movement at first. As long as he obeyed the rules, and stayed in the server, it wouldn’t matter whether he delusionally thought he was under his own governance or not.

This changed immediately when he learnt Tommy was involved.

L'Manburg, a name he didn’t bother to remember until he learnt Tommy named it, was tiny, barely any more than a scavenged old world vehicle and some trees. It’s populace was peaceful, only Wilbur even an adult. None of that mattered. It wasn’t that the nation was a threat, though he certainly wouldn’t dissuade his friends fear that it was. But fighting L'Manburg meant fighting Tommy, and Dream wouldn't pass up the opportunity for anything.

He grinned with glee behind his mask as he blew Tommy's strange dirt hovel “embassy” sky high, enthusiastically threatened Tommy before remembering half heartedly to threaten the rest of the nation. He made dealings, found weak links- a new immigrant to the SMP that joined L'Manburg after the war began, it turns out. He offered extravagant promises in exchange for their betrayal, hiding the strings attached to his fingers.

Oh, but it was all worth it when the person with the eyes of an old god lead the revolutionaries into a trap, all worth it when they descended on them at once. It was definitely worth it to kill Tommy, kill Tommy, see him scream and cry in pain and stumble trying to escape and him taking a shuddering last breath. Dream had never seen anything as beautiful.

(It was a war, and feelings like this were okay in wars, right? It’s not like he was obsessed, it’s not like he was a monster. He’d been trying to be good, and killing your enemies was good, right?)

He killed Tommy a second time, too. The boy with shaking hands and a leg hanging limp challenged him to a duel for his nations future. His loss was assured, and Dream knew Tommy knew that also. This one was quicker, Tommy dead between the arrow entering his skull and his broken body make a loud thud against the planks, but it was no less fascinating. If only he had infinite canon lives, Dream would happily give up any ambitions and spend eternity seeing the boy die in so many fascinating ways.

(No, what the fuck was he thinking? The SMP was worth more than some stupid kid, and Dream wasn’t so inept with morality to know torturing someone over and over, killing them, was wrong.)

(Yet, it was so tempting he was almost ready to renounce morality wholeheartedly.)

It eventually comes to the discs again, Tommy handing Dream his prized possessions for some silly little nation. Dream knew Tommy would do anything to get them back. Having so much control was addicting, even more than control of anything else. Dream had learnt long ago that if you didn’t have complete power over anything, people would take the power from you and make you hurt.

So why did he care more about control of some kid than avoiding his own pain?

——

Dream would have sided with Tommy. Really, he would have, but Schlatt just had the better deal.

He holds the book in his hands, power filling him. He repeats the incantation, sacrifices the blood from his veins. He stares into the face of a man near-identical.

“”Brother dearest,”” he says, voice level. “”What do you wish of me?””

Dream grins behind his mask. “”Tommy.””

—

Wishes must come true, Dream thinks, as he sits on the beach of Logstedshire, Tommy passed out and leaning against his arm.

Oh, what he’d give for this moment to last forever. Alas, it passes, like they all do. Still, Tommy's getting so obedient lately- barely even grumbling as he threw his item into the hole. Part of him missed when Tommy would fight back all the while- his pained screams were entertaining. Still, it was safer this way, and more enjoyable in the long run. He’d hate to have his little songbird break it’s neck against the cage doors, never to sing again.

He’s not sure when life outside of Tommy became a chore, but he remembers dimly that it wasn’t always like that. There was a Dream long ago that wouldn’t give up friends and family, who'd cry over losing them even if he’d cut their threads voluntarily. He wasn’t that Dream anymore, the numb feeling in his chest a sign of growth. It didn’t matter that everything outside of Tommy was so miserable, because just being around the boy was a feeling a hundredfold better than any happiness he felt before.

Still, he had duties and responsibilities. Ones that seemed so important long ago, so fulfilling. Maybe one day they’d feel like that again. He had plans, from what he learnt. Government had not left him satisfied, but- whatever you could call what his relationship with Tommy was, it definitely did. Family, he supposed, recognising the boys actions towards him and his brothers. If he could make the entire server like that, that’d be a happiness greater than any other, apart from how Tommy made him feel.

He spent time with Tubbo, getting further and further towards getting that stupid fucking ram boy to calling him a friend and giving him Tommy's disc, all he wanted from him.

(He wasn’t jealous, of course he wasn’t. The anger he felt whenever Tommy called Tubbo a friend, that wasn’t jealousy. That was just logical).

Far more interesting was checking on the prison's completion. When it’s completed, it’d truly be a thing of beauty. Of course, his favourite part was the main cell, that he’d put so much thought into. He’d included all the little things that made Tommy squirm, made his breath hitch and eyes dart around fearfully. That would be so much fun.

(Tommy would learn to appreciate the fun in time, too. He was a smart boy, if irritatingly yet fascinatingly stubborn. He just needed to be taught that if he listened and just played along, Dream could give him the world.)

It took far too long, but eventually it finished, and he could return to the ugly mess of tents and logs he’d made so sure Tommy could never leave. He always started shaking when Dream showed up, trying desperately to hide his fear in his voice, and it was absolutely adorable. Dream savoured it, savoured everything about Tommy as they spent hours talking. Everything, his hysterical laugh, his nervous glances for escapes, the way he flinched whenever Dream grabbed his shoulder, his wrist, the poorly hidden look of pain when he held tighter, just hard enough to irritate the bruises that painted his skin a canvas of black and blue, it was all perfect.

Only he could love Tommy this much, and in time he knew Tommy would learn to appreciate that.

——

The second time he used the book, a tower extended from the ruins of the makeshift prison he’d made for Tommy. DreamXD stated ahead of him.

“”Brother dearest,” he said, “why are you calling on me again so soon?””

“”Bring him back,”” he said, voice painfully numb.

DreamXD shrugged a shoulder, golden hair waving around like in water. “”Who?””

“”Tommy.””

“”I cannot,”” DreamXD said. “”He lives.”” Dream couldn’t help but smile at hearing that.

“”Then bring him back to me.””

DreamXD laughed, a sound like church bells. “”That would be unnecessary. Did I not already grant you the mortal?””

Dream clenched his fist hard enough blood dripped onto scorched earth. “”He left me-“”

“”And you shall find him, no matter what.”” DreamXD smiled under the mask. “”You are bonded to him, and neither death nor distance shall break that. Just look, and you will find him, til the end of time and even past.””

“”Thank you,”” Dream said, genuinely for once.

“”Only the best for my little brother and sister. And I know you would do the same for us, brother dearest.””

——

His planning had come to fruition for once.

They were alone, in the depths of the Earth, just him, Tommy, the fucking hilarious excuse for a “president” Tommy called a friend for some reason, and his axe.

Finally, he could bring his dreams to fruition. He could get rid of any loose threads, and claim what was rightfully his. And once he’d taught Tommy to be grateful, he could get to work on the rest of the server.

It’d be beautiful. Everyone would be his friend, his brother, his sister, something in between. There would be no more wars, just peace. Everyone would be safe, he’d know they’re safe and they’d never rip him to pieces and laugh at his pain. And oh, it’d like be hard work, breaking everyone into obedience but not too much to the point they become boring, but so enjoyable and satisfying. He’d almost be disappointed when it was over.

Tommy- his Tommy, his Tommy, was crying, and it was amusing but he almost wanted to reach out and comfort him and explain it’d all be for the best. He’d do that later, once he’d secured him and any loose ends were gone forever. He couldn’t afford weakness until they were alone, but Tommy made it so tempting.

The ram and Tommy hugged a final goodbye, and the adoration he had towards Tommy, hiding his fear behind a smile, made Dream fucking sick. He should know Tommy was his. They all should know. He’d teach them, when he made the server a perfect family. Even Tubbo, if Tommy begged enough. Dream would do anything to hear Tommy's pathetic, gorgeous begging, breaking through his aggressive walls, and bringing back some random sheep was easily in his brother's power.

See, he could be kind. He wasn’t cruel, he wasn’t a monster. He didn’t even care if he was anymore, fun was so much more important than nonsensical human concepts, but it wasn’t even true. He could be incredibly, selflessly kind, as long as he had a reason. They’d learn, once he fulfilled his dream.

The sound of a nether portal, of betrayal, shatters his dreams and at this point he wonders why he’s surprised.

——

He’d had doubts, during the weeks (months, years? he had no way of knowing) he’d been trapped in the cell, but Tommy being here with him confirmed his design was excellent.

Oh, Tommy was being fucking obnoxious- and Dream knew he was doing it on purpose- but he saw it in the way he never was able to look at the lava properly, the way he always woke up in a cold sweat calling for his daddy like the child he insisted he wasn’t. It was perfect.

(Of course it was, though. It’s not hard to build on something already perfected, and Tommy was the perfect little toy.)

Tommy was so frustratingly different though. He tried not to take it out on him- it wasn’t his fault that everyone else spread lies, planted nonsense in his head about Dream being bad and not trying to do the best for everyone but especially for him- but he struggled sometimes, and it was always so tempting to hurt Tommy anyway, and get lost in the melody of his screams. It wouldn’t teach Tommy anything though, and that’s what was important. He needed to teach Tommy what was best for him.

Tommy had unlearnt all the lessons Dream painstakingly taught him. That wouldn’t be an issue- it was so, so fun to teach- but he knew, painfully deep down in his heart that he could not hold Tommy forever, not yet. The lockdown wasn’t forever, and Dream had no escape route yet. Tommy would just forget everything again, at the hands of his “friends” that couldn’t love him as much as Dream did. They needed to learn far more than Tommy did.

(Except Ranboo of course- oh, the purple eyed boy had the silly naive thoughts in his head everyone seemed to have that friendship was anything but possessing another, but he agreed family came first, listened to Dream, helped him, even with clenched teeth.)

And when one day the frustration got to Dream one day and he was so furious he hit Tommy again and again against the walls of the prison and strangled him until he was cold all he could do was laugh and laugh and laugh.

It was so, so funny, because of course he’d be the one to destroy everything he loved.

——

This time, when DreamXD is called, he looks upon his brother with concern.

“”Brother dearest,”” he says, “”are you quite alright?””

Dream laughs, because of course he’s alright! The tears staining his face must be joy, because of course he’s alright. He’s holding Tommy here, with him, and he was quiet, he must be listening. He can’t be dead, he can’t be, then there’d be no point to any of this.

“”Drista has been concerned for you for quite a while, you know,”” DreamXD continued. “”Is this because of your mortal?””

“”He’s been ever so quiet lately,”” Dream said, with a voice hoarse from crying and laughter. “”I’m not sure to be concerned or happy with him.””

“”You’re not well, Dream.”” DreamXD said, with a tone of finality despite clearly being wrong. “”The boy is dead.””

Dream laughs. “”And yet he does not slip from my grasp.””

“”Then, brother, why did you call me?””

The silence pierces through air like a knife. Eventually, through hiccuping sobs, Dream says “”Just, please, bring him back.””

Tommy sputters to life with ghostly eye and pure white streaks and more bruise on him than corpselike skin and Dream thinks he has never been more perfect.

——

Quackity's left, he thinks, because the pain's stopped growing.

He laughs, because he doesn’t know what to fucking do anymore but laugh. He can’t give up the secrets of the book, of course he can’t. Family comes first, after all, and he dreads to think what the bastard would do to his brother. But the pain was awful, never ending in waves through his whole body, and he almost just wants to confess so he can die.

He cradles what’s left of his arm since the bastard cut it off at the elbow, and he sobs. He doesn’t even care to hide it with his mask. It’s not even the pain that hurts the most, even. It’s that Tommy's gone, and by the time Dream escapes- because he’s going to escape, he’s got to- he might be so far from his grasp even their fates being tied might not be enough.

“Of course that’s not true,” a fake voice says in his head, and wavy form approaches. Fuck, the blood loss must be bad today. It always is when he sees things. Usually it’s George or Bad or Sapnap, and it leaves him with a numb feeling in his chest that he’s familiar with, but today it’s Tommy, and that’s worse. It reminds him of what he cannot hold.

“Fuck off,” he mouths at the apparition, voice too tired and hoarse from screaming to speak properly. Not-Tommy laughs, and the sound is so similar to Tommy he almost thinks that his desperate prayers have been answered, Tommy is there again, but he reached his fingers forward and they go through his tired hallucination.

“You’re a real dick, you know that?” Not-Tommy says, and laughs again. “But I know you mean the best.” Dream shrugs his shoulder at the fake, and then curls up, new waves of pain curling up his arm.

“I don’t know why I was ever friends with that bastard.” Not-Tommy lies, and Dream wants to believe it. “You’re just having fun. He’s cruel.” Tommy would never understand that clear distinction, no matter how much Dream explained it, but the fake said it with such conviction it was almost enough for Dream to fall for it.

“When you get out, I’ll be there, Dream. And then we can all be a big happy family,” Not-Tommy says, the thoughts so obviously Dream's and not Tommy’s but- the idea that Tommy understood, that he saw sense, was so tempting, Dream allowed himself to believe it, just for a second. Just until the pain started anew.

Broken and bloody, Dream drifted into unconsciousness with a smile on his face.

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ohbluesky · 3 years

Text

Le Rivage des Survivants / The Wicked String Spoilers

hi yes so I’ve got this thing

SO here’s some spoilers from it for ppl who are too excited to wait until December and for ppl who are not excited and don’t wanna buy that book but still want to know the content without having to sell your soul to the Devil fghvgh

I’m not gonna post the entire text but I’ll try to translate some stuff that I think are interesting ? Also I’ve reblogged a post with a few translations and summaries of the first 2 chapters and I’m going to continue where I left off on this post so make sure to read that reblog first!

I might reblog this post with updates since I won’t do this in one go so make sure to check the notes

Anyway Spoilers under the cut 👇

Part One: Seventy Three Years Later

First thing to note is that The Wicked String is confirmed as the title in english, I wasn’t sure considering it’s. hum. yeah

The story seems to switch between 3 POVs in the same order for now which is Alexandra first, then Minho 2.0 and Isaac. So after Isaac and his friends discover the boat we switch back to Alexandra and. I mean it’s very confusing. It seems that there’s a society which is centered around a religion/fanaticism about the Maze, and like, there are very pious people who roam the Maze ?? Like a pilgrimage ? It sounds like they live around the Maze itself and the Glade is being mentionned a few times as some kind of sacred place that only Alexandra, Mikhail and third person can enter (note that she actually enters said place to find Mikhail who fled there after brutally murdering some ppl and she can enter via a technology that recognizes fingerprints dfghvhvh idk it feels funny considering the whole setting feels super mystical) (also this is all so WIERD because I haven’t read The Death Cure in a while but I’m almost sure that the mazes where destroyed along with the Wicked compound ????? or did i hallucinate that)

Minho 2.0 is.. very intriguing ? There isn’t mush infos about him besides the fact that he basically got ripped from his identity and he spends his life protecting the “most important human society left” and he’s not really allowed anything like having human contact and thoughts on his own etc. I kinda want to see him interact with Isaac that would interesting. Clashing personalities. (also his chapters are actually written quite Differently from Isaac and even Alexandra, which is probably why he intrigues me so much, he seems to be better written than the others and to be more in tune with the OG trilogy, but that’s just my opinion)

We switch back to Isaac and learn a few things:

- the boat is called “Taille-Labyrinthe” (I think it’s taille as in ‘cutting through’ like ‘Cutting Through Maze’ or something. Because otherwise it would be taille as in ‘Size’ so ‘Maze-Sized’ which.... Why Not but I’d wait for the english version to get a proper translation)(also the boat is BIG like Cargo Big)

- the boat’s name is reminiscent of Thomas apparently:

That word had a very strong meaning on the island. It refered to its most famous inhabitant, Thomas, who died more than twenty years ago. We told all kind of stories about him and the Maze from which he escaped with his friends. The Gladers. WICKED. Ava Paige. The Flare. There were so many stories that it was impossible that they were all true. However, even after a few decades, there was stil one thing that never changed in the way that these stories were told. Thomas was always described as the Maze Runner.

- it means that Thomas was a little over 70 AT MOST when he died. He most likely died younger :’( bruh

- I also think Isaac isn’t Thomas’ descendant considering how he’s talking about him ? And I’m almost sure he’s Sonya’s descendant though, so hopefully no Thomas/Sonya happening DFGVBHJHJKNK (yep sorry. i was actually worried about that so. im relieved ok)

- I love that their first thought about who it might be on the boat was “Oh a bunch of pilgrims who think of Thomas as a God and came to have a religious experience” that’s me actually Mood (on a serious note, it’s interesting to note that they’re somehow aware of the religious power the Gladers hold, even outside of the island ?(considering they don’t seem to be aware of the societies in the outside world, unless i’m mistaken) I mean they DO seem to see the Gladers as somewhat legendary, but not like. on a religious level, which is wierd to me)(anyway)

- The woman on the boat is a black woman who came on a mission to find Newt’s and Sonya’s descendants because after Wicked’s downfall they somehow managed to save some data and they had some very spectacular genes ??? That are indispensable for the cure (THROWING A THEORY HERE BUT I FEEL LIKE... THIS BLACK WOMAN IS KEISHA’S DAUGHTER ??? but it’s not said how old she is so fghbhjbhj) The woman told them that she had to drug and kill off the other passengers of the boat because they wanted to give up their mission and she refused. (She said that it was proof how important that mission was but hhhmmm Please)

Back to Alxandra and yeah, from my understanding they just kinda live in a highly religious city set around the Maze/Wicked compound and Alexandra is going through the ruins deeper until she reaches the Glade and finds Mikhail praying in front of the box. He tells her that He is coming back and that while they promised to not open the box and retreive its content until they’re ready they have to do it like. Now. Also Alexandra is part of a triumvirate that governs everyone else alongside Mikhail and Nicholas, who seems to be above them in hierarchy. They’re called the Head of God.

Minho 2.0 is huh. very much struggling with his identity (or lack thereof) he’s basically anxious about the fact that he’s chosen himself a name and kinda feel like bonding with other people (which is something that is completely forbidden in his society and could be punished by death). He’s not able to sleep so he takes a walk to get some fresh air until he hears someone screaming. He stumbles in all the pipes/corridors of the fortress and sees a kid getting hit to death by an old man. He saves the kid and asks for his name, Kit. Kit asks for his name back and it sends him spiraling fghjbghj Minho 2.0 flees and leaves Kit there.

After saving the woman from the water Isaac and his friends went back to their village, four days passed and the council of the island finally decided what to do with her. As they decided to announce it pubicly, and Isaac settles on a seat with his friends, Sadina reveals to him that she is, in fact, Sonya’s grand daughter (!!!!!!)(so either Isaac is Sadina’s secret brother or cousin or he’s actually a nobody which. Is Fine With Me actually)

Also here’s an excerpt about Newt and Sonya because why not

Isaac thought about the stranger abord the boat. A rescue party came from the village not long after she told them the reason she came here (to find two old Gladers’ descendants, Newt’s and Sonya’s.) Isaac was surprised that she described them as brother and sister - he’d never read that from the tales of these two people. But the woman seemed very sure of herself. The Medjacks took her to the infirmary and he never saw her again. These two names were taking over his thoughts ever since.

Newt. Sonya.

We learned about Newt’s story at primary school. His journal was a compulsory reading for all children able to read. He was almost a mythical character, and if he had descendants, that would be news for everyone on the island. Sonya was less mysterious but almost as legendary. She was among the survivors who first arrived on the island along with Thomas and the others seventy three years ago. She died a few years ago leaving a few children and grand children behind.

Anyway after Sadina drops the news Mrs Cowan (who is Sadina’s mother) announces that she can’t just lie to the entire island and she doesn’t think that going to the outside world is a priority and storms off. Sadina follows her (so Isaac and his friends also follow) until they come to a stop on a private part of the beach. Mrs Cowan tells them that it was a trick, and with the help of the mysterious woman (Kletter) with whom she talked to during the 4 days she was there and whom she now trusted, she drogued everyone in the island to make them sleep (the drug Kletter used to kill her shipmates ?? hello ????), and make them believe that Mrs Cowan, Sadina and a few others were taken hostage by Kletter (so they can go back to the island without anyone turning against them)(they come back to the village and see that indeed, literally everyone is asleep)

They all go aboard Kletter’s boat (so to sum up there’s Sadina, Trish, Isaac, Miyoko, Dominic, (Isaac’s friends) Carson, Lacey and another kid from the opposite side of the Island, Mrs Cowan, two other people from the council and a couple other I think AND!!! Granpa Frypan who joins them last minute yepyep)

That’s it for the first part of the book ✌ there are four parts as a whole fghvbhj

#The Maze Runner #tmr #The Wicked String #tmr spoilers #idk man there are interesting stuff going on OBJECTIVELY but we'll see how this goes #as u all know there are already inconsistencies so i stay wary as im reading it ?

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years

Note

A prompt for you: as it turns out, cultivators descended from Baoshan Sanren's sect has a somewhat unexpected trait - the ability to manifest wings.

Untamed verse

“It’s very sad that the Yiling Patriarch has now perished,” Jiang Cheng said. Lan Wangji had recently grown somewhat dissatisfied with the man, given his behavior towards Wei Wuxian which seemed to Lan Wangji to be inexplicably harsh, but he had to admire the sheer bald-faced courage the man was currently displaying in just – going for it.

“But…” one of the other cultivators said, sounding a little distressed and almost as if he hoped someone could tell him he was suffering from some sort of waking nightmare. “Isn’t he – right there?”

“Impossible,” Jiang Cheng declared. “You saw him fall off the cliff yourself.”

Lan Wangji shook off his own amazement and stepped forward to stand by Jiang Cheng’s side. “Correct,” he said. “Sect leader Jiang struck him down with his sword, and he fell off the cliff.”

“Undoubtedly to his doom,” Jiang Cheng agreed.

“No, I’m – I’m pretty sure that’s him. Right there behind you. Floating.”

“It’s not floating,” another cultivator muttered. “There’s too much flapping for it to be floating.”

“You’re all just very confused,” Jiang Cheng said.

“He’s right there,” one of the sect leaders insisted, sounding increasingly stressed about it. “With wings. Right behind you. He’s just – hanging out there!”

“Are you really suggesting that men can grow wings?” No one could pull off scathing quite as well as Jiang Cheng could, to the point that Lan Wangji – who had seen with his own eyes the wings unfolding out of Wei Wuxian’s back as if emerging from a never-used qiankun pouch, as much to Wei Wuxian’s shock as anyone else’s – was almost inclined to believe him. “If you’d like to jump off the cliff yourself to see if someone can survive that, you’re welcome to try, but I won’t weep at your funeral.”

“But…!”

“Perhaps what you’re seeing is his soul entering the reincarnation cycle,” Lan Wangji said, and Jiang Cheng very nearly choked with laughter that could very well give the game away – he probably wasn’t expecting Lan Wangji to help. “His next life could be as a bird.”

“I really don’t think that’s it, though…? He’s gotten the hang of them, and now he’s starting to do loop-de-loops in the air.”

Of course he was. Lan Wangji resisted the urge to look.

“It’s the Yin metal,” Jiang Cheng said. “It causes mass hallucinations. That’s all that’s happening.”

There was some angry muttering still, though most people were starting to be cowed by sheer confusion into giving the whole business up and leaving.

“It could be creatures from another dimension,” Lan Wangji said thoughtfully. “Or another planet. Possibly a ghost?”

“Definitely not a ghost; Wei Wuxian had all the appropriate soul-calming rituals done when he was at the Jiang sect,” Jiang Cheng said. “Couldn’t be a ghost.”

Lan Wangji nodded wisely, as if anything Jiang Cheng was saying right now made the slightest bit of sense. “Yin metal seems most likely, then.”

The other sect leaders looked at them.

“Perhaps everyone should go home and rest up a bit,” Jiang Cheng suggested. “Stop thinking about it so much. It’ll all make much more sense in the morning.”

It would not.

Still, that would give them enough time to smuggle Wei Wuxian to safety.

“Just remember that the Jiang sect did what it promised to,” Jiang Cheng called after their retreating figures, each one of them looking as if they’d been struck too hard on the head. “We all brought down the Yiling Patriarch together! We’re all heroes! Just think of it that way!”

Lan Wangji eyed him sidelong in question.

“Bringing down the vile Yiling Patriarch is a heroic act that we can all share in having accomplished, Hanguang-jun, as I’m sure you’ll agree,” Jiang Cheng said, and almost managed to keep a straight face. “Sadly, it is one that is absolutely unrelated to any new species of bird you might have in Gusu.”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji said, nodding. He’d never had to struggle to not laugh before; this was a new experience. “It must have gotten loose here.”

“Migration patterns, maybe,” Jiang Cheng said. “You’ll have to keep a very close watch on it in the future to make sure it doesn’t get into any trouble. Certainly don’t let it out in the next few years.”

He sounded a bit gloomy at the prospect, even if it was the most reasonable course of action.

Lan Wangji nodded once more. “You should come visit,” he said. “We were peers, and you are a sect leader like my brother; there are many reasons.”

Jiang Cheng looked relieved, then look around. “Are they all gone?”

“En.”

“Good.” He turned back towards the cliff. “Get down here and apologize to me this instant, you blockhead, or I’m going to come up there and pluck all your damn feathers off!”

#mdzs #jiang cheng #lan wangji #wei wuxian #my fic #my fics #the crackiest of crackfics #oneiriad

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liquorisce · 3 years

Text

you have me (but i don't have you)

for @ichihime 's IHweek2021. prompt: lovers

this is written in the same verse as my royal-AU IH excerpt plastic crowns. a big thank you to all scrapbread, @fearlesspaquita and all the others who urged me to continue :)

rating: M (only implied smut)

summary: He wasn't supposed to fall in love with her. He's known forever that the Princess could never be his.

But the very idea of her marrying somebody, somebody else, had him shaking with rage.

Tonight's whole dinner had him wanting to kill someone. Chop them up into pieces, maybe, for good measure.

The very idea of her marrying somebody, somebody else, had him shaking with rage.

Having to listen to the court officials lecherous talk of her producing her betrothed an heir, made him see red.

He grabs the little flask on the table that he hasn’t touched in weeks, months even, and takes a generous swig.

Ichigo doesn’t like to drink. It slows him down, dulls his senses, and as the Princess' personal bodyguard, that isn’t something he can usually allow. But today Orihime had stormed back into her room, and she had Rukia and Rangiku standing guard by her chambers. He couldn't go near her even if he wanted to.

And how he wanted to…

The talk of her impending marriage had started to eat away at him, a constant pounding at his temples when he pictured her smiling for some King she'd never even seen before, holding his child.

It made him sick.

He wasn't supposed to fall in love with her. He's known forever that the Princess could never be his. He isn’t fond of self-delusion; it had been obvious that when she came of age, her brother would marry her offto a King of some wealthy province in a land far away.

But how could he not? And on a subconscious level it angers him… it was him she had grown up with, him she graces with that smile made of heaven, he who protects her at all costs.

It’s when he empties the last drops from his flask that he’s pretty sure he’s hallucinating.

"… Ichigo?"

She’d stormed away from him after the earlier confrontation with her brother, consumed with frustration and hurt with his blind allegiance to his King, a mute spectator to Sora’s tyrannical orders. Hours after sobbing into Rangiku’s bosom, defeated and heartbroken, she isn’t sure what she’s doing here… rubbing salt into her wounds maybe?

Because despite the seeming inevitability of her fate, she had to know. Every moment she had spent by his side, every lingering touch, all those half-hearted dreams she hadn’t the courage to share with anyone else… surely it wasn’t just one-sided?

But the spectacle in front of her is a far cry from what she was expecting. The tall, handsome General that she’d fallen in love with now sat hunched in a corner, eyes bloodshot, breathing harsh, his orange hair matted and messy… looking utterly and terribly wasted.

He’s never seen her like this either, well past decent hours, clad in a loose robe that hung a generous height above her knees, shimmering off her luminous thighs.

"… You shouldn't be here, Princess," he says hoarsely, the alcohol burning his throat, his heart burning with fierce desire he’s spent most of his life battling. "… It's late."

She hesitates, eyeing him nervously. "… I asked Rukia to keep watch outside." Her voice is a stranger, an odd breathiness betraying her intentions. She makes her way closer to him, hands clutching at the apex of her robe. Her fears swirl in her mind, fear of an impending wedding that she had no way to escape, fear of her brother who had descended into a madness she could no longer save him from… and most of all a deep, aching fear that she was risking everything to bare her soul to the man she loved, and all that would await her was his rejection.

She thinks of the speech she’s prepared, her confession, but the closer she gets to him – and the longer he looks at her like that, tortured – the words no longer make sense, Rangiku’s promiscuous suggestions seeming far simpler, and far more appealing.

He watches as she moves towards him, teeth worrying her lips, and he has a stray thought about how it would feel to have his teeth on her lips like that, and it is harder to suppress in this state than normal, when the alcohol has him defenceless to his deepest desires, when she's in front of him, looking at him so fiercely, like she's trying to tell him something so secret, that if she puts the words out there, someone will steal them from her.

His eyes fall to the floor. And he keeps them there. He fears that if he looks into those deep, searching grey eyes, she'll know.

She'll know everything that he's always wanted to tell her, but couldn't. And he is ashamed

Hesitantly, slowly, her hands slip free of the satin gold robes that cover her shoulders.

"… Ichigo," she says, softly, "look at me."

But he screws his eyes shut because, he can't, the resolve he’s counted on for years is broken and shattered to pieces and there's nothing he can do to not want her.

"… Please," she whispers, her voice cracking, pleading and he can feel her closer to him, the edges of her robes brushing against his arm, the scent of jasmine and desire consuming him.

How could he ever deny her anything?

And he watches almost dreamlike, as the garb falls to the floor, his mind going increasingly numb as the pale candlelight bathes her bare body, he is most definitely sure that this is just a dream borne fruit by his intoxication.

But dream or not, his mouth goes dry when she slips onto his lap, her body, her skin, flush with self consciousness, his arms tightening around her of their own accord, heat coursing through his veins like it was the most obvious, natural thing to to feel her against him, to feel her thread her fingers into his hair, and look into his brown eyes so passionately.

To feel her lips brush against his, as she speaks so softly, so quietly, but firm, "… They can't tell me whom to love."

#ihweek2021 #ichihime #liquorisce fanfiction #inoue orihime #kurosaki ichigo

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garbagevanfleet · 3 years

Text

Brightest Blue (series)

PART SEVEN

Pairing: Josh x reader Warnings: men being shitty and creepy!! possible trigger for sexual assult Summary: Things are changing. New state. New school. New roommate. You just pray things are going to click into place. Notes: things are taking an odd turn, right? (sorry this is posted so late)

taglist: @valleyd0ll @satingrass-maidensfair @guitarfingers @thebohemianpenguin @peaceisouranthem @oblvions @hansonobsessed @myownparadise96 @lara-gvf @anditsmywholeheart @kill-fear-the-power-of-lies @bigblack-catattack

MASTERPOST

You woke up to the shrill chiming of an alarm cutting through your head like a circle saw. The unexpected noise made you sit up instantly, putting your gaze directly on a desk, the top of it overflowing with sheet music.

Josh started to stir next to you, his hand reaching out from under the blanket to grab his phone from where it sat in between you.

The sore spot on your ribs made you wince, and your eyes drifted down to find your own phone, pressed into the mattress from you sleeping on it.

When the screen flicked on, you let out a sharp gasp.

“Josh, we have like fifteen minutes to leave!” you yelped, hopping instantly out of bed and finding your knees a little wobbly.

He sat up then, rubbing across his face.

You gazed back at him, frowning at the odd setup; he was laying on top of the comforter but under a different blanket.

“Shit, I had yesterday’s alarm still set for my late class,” he murmured, inching himself toward the end of the bed.

“Oh my god,” you whined, racing to the bathroom. You brushed your teeth way too quickly, knowing in your heart that you did a poor job.

When you returned to Josh’s room for your phone, he was pulling a clean shirt over his head.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, sounding somewhere between asleep and awake.

“It’s okay, I should have set my own alarm,” you admitted, snatching your cell from the bed and scooting past him again. “It’s really okay. Are you going to be ready to leave in like ten?”

He nodded as he ran his fingers through his curls. “Yeah, you?”

“I’m praying.”

On the walk to school, you remembered.

“Fuck, my presentation is today. And I got high and didn’t practice.”

He chuckled under his breath, clasping his hand around your shoulder. “You’re going to be fine- just breathe and stay calm. If you mess up, take a pause and keep going.”

You nodded furiously. “Okay. Okay. Can you text that to me? What if I forget?”

He laughed in earnest then. “Yes, I’ll text you.”

You exhaled a lengthy breath, nodding as you tried to calm your nerves.

In front of the entrance to the B hall, he spun you around to face him, holding the biceps of each of your arms. He mimicked taking a deep breath, prompting you to do the same without another thought.

“Relax,” he instructed coolly. “And I’ll see you at lunch.”

+++

You had your hands clasped tightly in your lap, nervous enough that your palms were sweating. Getting up and speaking to a room of people was high on your list of things that felt like torture, especially since you hadn’t had time to shower or do anything with your mess of hair besides pinning it up into a bun as best you could.

You thanked a divine power that the outfit you had thrown on in a haste ended up looking surprisingly presentable.

As it neared your turn, you got your papers in order and straightened up your posture. When your name was called, you promptly stood, descending the steps and ending up down at the podium.

You had just opened your mouth to start when your phone chimed in your pocket. Your eyes popped open wide, hoping you’d hallucinated the sound instead of forgetting to silence your ringer.

The professor was giving you an unamused look as you gave a weak laugh.

“One sec, sorry,” you muttered, fishing out your phone. You flicked the little button down on the side, but as the screen lit up, you got to read what the message said.

Josh just now Just pretend everyone’s me or pretend they’re naked. Probably not both though.

You couldn’t help but huff a laugh as you tucked it back away. The nerves that had you so on edge started to dampen, just a bit.

+++

That afternoon, you walked home alone. Josh had texted you that he’d be staying until 5 or 6 to make sure the production was going along smoothly, but when he returned to the apartment, it was with a bottle of wine.

You were doing some of the dishes from the previous day and had to wipe your soapy hands on a dishtowel before he crossed the room and pulled you into a side hug.

The two of you had talked about how well the presentation went when you met at lunch, but you hadn’t imagined he’d make such a big deal about it.

“I had Jake pick me up and take me to the liquor store, and I got this so we could celebrate,” he informed, his voice kind of soft - either sheepish or tired, you couldn’t quite tell.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you replied, but couldn’t suppress the huge grin splitting your lips.

He nodded, offering a soft smile. “I know.” He set the bottle down on the table pointedly. “I wanted to.”

You fished the make-shift corkscrew from the utensil drawer, brandishing it like a knife to earn a melodic laugh from Josh.

He popped the door of the fridge open to peer inside. “We might be able to make something special for dinner. Or, at least more special than mac and cheese or sandwiches.”

When the idea popped into your head, you crossed the room and grabbed your purse.

“I still have about,” you paused to count the bills in your wallet. “$34 from shopping. I was saving it for something nice, so why don’t we order something in?”

He grinned at you, leaning back against the wall next to the fridge and letting his head rest against it. “What kind of take-out are you thinking? You should get to pick.”

“Oh, please,” you huffed, playfully rolling your eyes as you started unwrapping the foil around the rim of the wine bottle. “One, I could have never done so well if it weren’t for you. And two, you’re from here, so you’d know what’s worth ordering.”

His pink lips tilted up into a smirk. “I’m not from here though.”

“Close enough.” You took a moment to think before continuing on. The tip of the corkscrew was broken, leaving a blunt edge and he watched you struggle to pierce the cork with it. “Is there any kind of Indian? Or Thai maybe?”

He nodded. “There’s an Indian restaurant downtown. It’s pretty yummy if I remember right.”

“That kinda sounds perfect, right?”

He held his hand out, flicking his eyes down at the corkscrew and then back up at you until you reluctantly handed it over. He picked up the bottle and popped it open with ease, his smirk only growing.

“Yeah, perfect.”

+++

Thursday evening, Trevor showed up around five, just as you were finished making your bedroom look like a cute study nook. You weren’t entirely sure how much studying either of you planned on doing, but since he only brought one notebook and nothing else, you weren’t very hopeful about getting any work done.

“I wasn’t expecting you to have a roommate,” he said in a playful tone.

“I do. When I moved here, I knew I couldn’t afford to live alone, so I rolled the dice. He’s a great friend, as it turns out. Do you want something to drink?” you asked as he stepped through your doorway and set his stuff down on your bed.

“That’d be cool.”

“We have juice and milk and water and iced tea.”

He shrugged with a smile. “Anything but milk, please.”

You nodded. “I’ll bring you some juice.”

Josh, who was seated in the sitting chair in the living room, working on his own homework, looked up at you through his eyelashes with a mischievous-looking smile.

You shot him a scowl. “Don’t be weird,” you whispered, and then in a normal tone, finished with, “Would you like some juice too?”

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head at you. “That’s okay, I can get my own. You just worry about him.”

Trevor happily took his glass as you handed it to him, giving you a “thank you”.

“Of course,” you replied as you sat next to him on the bed and pulled your stack of textbooks onto your lap. “Where should we start?”

“You actually want to study?” he mused, sounding disbelieving.

You bit your lip. “Probably for a little while at least, right?”

He shrugged back at you, but you tried to brush off the odd attitude. Maybe you’d given him the wrong impression as to exactly what this would be, but you could fix it.

“So, we’re supposed to read chapters ten through sixteen and then do all the questions,” you informed, flipping the book open. “You want me to read it out loud?”

You thought maybe offering to do most of the work would brighten his mood, but every time you looked over at him while you were reading, he was scrolling through his phone. He had a bored expression painted across his features, and it took him nearly a full minute to realize you’d stopped reading.

When he finally looked up at you, he gave a smile that you knew he thought was the most charming thing you’d ever seen.

You could hear a knock on the front door and Josh shuffling around in the living room.

“Have you been listening to any of this? You look like you’d rather be anywhere else.” You tried to keep your tone from sounding annoyed, but you knew you couldn’t hide it as well as you wished.

“I’d rather be doing anything else if I’m being honest.” There was not a single shred of an apology in his voice, and when you spoke again, you knew it would be even less put together.

“Why did you want to come over for a study session if you didn’t want to study?” It was less of a question and more of a scathing review of his character, or at least what you’d seen of it so far.

He frowned at you, looking a shade on the accusatory side for your liking. “I feel like you should have known what that actually meant.”

You could hear a conversation going on in the kitchen, and you silently wished you were out there instead. The longer you heard them talk, the more convinced you became that it was Jake, and you wondered if Josh invited him over on purpose, or if he just showed up.

“You said you thought I was good in class and that part of why you asked me out was so I could help you with classwork.”

He rolled his blue eyes. “Yeah, if I hadn’t, I can’t imagine you would have invited me over.”

You had your mouth open to snap a response, but somehow, his words hurt you. Not much, but just enough for your chest to feel tight, and not just from anger.

“Did you think you could manipulate me into having sex with you?” you asked quietly, your brows threaded close together in a frown.

He gave a long, bored-sounding sigh. “Don’t act like I’m a bad guy, here. Everyone does it. Give some fake compliments and then make your move, you know?”

For emphasis, he placed his hand on your thigh, a little too high up. It made your teeth clench, jaw tightened by rage.

“Don’t touch me. You should go,” you stated.

He huffed a sarcastic laugh as he inched his hand a bit further up your leg. He moved toward you until his face was nearing your neck. “Come on, what’s the big deal?”

Before you could stop yourself, you reached a hand out and slapped him across his face, your palm making contact with the hollow of his cheek. You hadn’t been expecting the crack of noise when you made contact; it ripped through the room, and out into the living area if you had to guess.

It took him a beat to realize what happened, but as soon as he did, he stood from your bed. You picked up his notebook and handed it to him, and he ripped it from your grasp, a dirty look on his features.

“You’re a cockteasing bitch,” he snapped, nursing the red spot on his cheek.

He was already halfway through the living room when you moved to stand in the doorway of your room.

“Fuck off,” you called through clenched teeth as he opened the front door and let himself out. When he was gone you realized that Josh and Jake were both looking at you with similar degrees of concern from where they were sat on the couch.

“What happened?” Josh asked, frowning up at you.

Embarrassed, you flicked your eyes over to Jake who had one eyebrow quirked up at you.

“Oh, you know. Just boys lying to me so they can fuck,” you snapped as you retreated to your room and closed the door. You instantly felt bad for being short with them, especially since Josh is just about the last person you could ever imagine being mean to, but you’d apologize later.

Right then, you were going to curl up in bed.

After a couple of hours, Jake left and you wondered how long it would take before Josh came in to bug you, but he didn’t. You listened for his footsteps coming toward your door, but you could hear him in the living room, turning the page of a book every now and again.

Eventually, you couldn’t help yourself - you threw the blankets off and stood. The stiffness in your muscles was a poor consolation prize for the day.

He looked up at you, shutting his book instantly, his homework caught between the pages.

“Hey,” he greeted quietly. He patted the spot next to him on the couch. “I’m sorry your...thing went so poorly.”

You were too annoyed to care anymore, so you laid your head on his shoulder, letting out a long sigh. It surprised you when you felt a tear drip down your cheek and you could feel your face start to warm in response.

He heard you sniffle and his form stiffened immediately. His arm wrapped around your shoulder, pulling you tight to him.

“Did he hurt you?” It sounded like Josh’s throat was tight, making his words hoarse.

“No, he just,” You weren’t sure how to finish that. He hadn’t really hurt you, per se. “He just tried to touch me. And then he didn’t stop when I told him to.”

“What?” His tone was charmingly offended on your behalf.

“It’s okay,” you assured, wiping your face with the sleeve of your sweater. “I’m more angry than anything. I just kind of can’t believe I fell for that, you know? The whole ‘let’s study’ thing.”

“Stop that - it’s not your fault.” You could feel the hesitation as he laid his hand against your ear, but you leaned into it, grateful for the comfort.

It was quiet for a long moment while you calmed yourself down. His presence was more of a reassurance than anything else you could have imagined at the moment.

“You’re my best friend,” you breathed, turning to nuzzle your nose against the fabric of his sleeve. “And I’m lucky to have you.”

Through a smile, you heard him say, “Me too.”

#brightest blue fic #josh gvf fic #josh kiszka #josh kiszka fic #gvf fic #gvf fanfiction #.0

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mochamamii · 3 years

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yandere!taeyong: monster.

part one This is part two, click the link to catch up!

(a/n: I’m apologizing in advance for how terrible this is. I struggled writing the ending for this and I actually hate the way I ended it but I really wanted to get this out so I ended up rushing it, sorry... :/ Also, in the first part I mentioned that the reader was seven months pregnant already but for the sake of realism let’s all just pretend she’s just now reaching seven months, this is set months later from the first part.)

**disclaimer** This post features heavy elements of stockholm syndrome, self-loathing, emotional trauma, major character death, like the tiniest hint at a possible suicide at the end if you squint.

description: It’s been two months since your abductor Taeyong was arrested and apprehended, resulting in his death after he was gunned down by the police. (This is already super long and I didn’t feel like writing Taeyong’s death scene so I’m telling you now lol.) You return home to your family to soon realize that your life as you once knew it was over.

"We tried to leave everything exactly how you left it but the detectives were constantly in and out of here touching things. We hope it's okay."

It felt strange standing in your old bedroom, seeing the remnants of your former life. It didn't feel like your room anymore. It felt like you were standing in a stranger's bedroom, invading their space.

You turned your head towards the doorway where both of your parents stood nervously. They looked at you with anxious hopeful eyes as they awaited your reaction.

"It's fine." You answered.

You could see your father visibly breathe a sigh of relief.

"Well, we’ll let you get settled and then if you want, we'd like to have dinner together as a family?" Your mother hesitantly suggested,

"Only if you want to. If you'd rather be alone, we understand-

"I'd rather be alone for now." You responded as you took a seat on the edge of your bed.

Your mother frowned slightly but quickly recovered, “It’s okay. We won’t push you.”

The two of them quietly exited your room, leaving you to your lonesome. As soon as the door closed you were up on your feet and over to the door to lock it. You pressed your ear up against the door to listen as their footsteps descended down the hallway. When you were sure they were gone and the door was secure, you moved over to the window in the room, double checking the locks.

That’s how you spent the first few weeks back at home, constantly checking the locks and making sure the entire house was secure. It nearly drove you mad as you compulsively checked the locks on all the doors and windows, you could never convince yourself that the house was ever safe so you resorted to barricading yourself in your bedroom most of the time.

You had become a hermit, only coming out of your room when absolutely necessary. It angered you that this is what your life had slowly become. When you were still with Taeyong, you had all these grandiose ideas of all the things you would do once you reclaimed your freedom. When in reality, you ended up doing the exact opposite.

You had managed to avoid your friends and your fiancé for the first few weeks being home but inevitably over time news of your return had spread to everyone. You expected to have people lined up around the block waiting to see you. You were just a shell of your former self, but before life with Taeyong, you were someone that people naturally gravitated towards, you always had many friends.

Surely someone would come and see you, right?

But truthfully, no one knew what to say to you and it was easier to just ignore your existence than it was to try and engage in conversation. You had been ostracized by your peers. You didn't know whether to be offended or thankful that people seemed to be avoiding you.

Of course, you still had a few close friends that would try and stop by and speak to you only for you to send them away before they could get a glimpse of you. After a while what little people were still trying to see you had gotten the message and left you alone altogether.

Your fiancé wasn't exempt from this treatment. He had tried numerous times to get you to come out of your room and at least let him look at you. At times it was tempting. You hadn't seen him the better half of a year and you wanted to see him badly, but you couldn't have him see you this way.

Not when you yourself were just starting to get acquainted with your new life that didn’t involve anyone or anything that knew the old you. You especially didn’t want your fiancé to see you because you were seven months pregnant now, carrying the child of your abductor.

It was easier to blame not seeing your fiancé on your pregnancy. It was easier for your mind to rationalize avoiding him that way. But you couldn’t lie to yourself, and you knew that it was really because you were certain that your relationship could never be the same once he saw you.

Seeing him, your fiancé, face to face would be confirmation that things were over between the two of you. Your fiancé was always horrible about masking his emotions and you didn't think your heart could take the way he would look at you when he saw that you were carrying another man's child.

You couldn't remember when but at some point, your fiancé had eventually stopped trying to get you to come out of your room as well. Occasionally he'd pop up again and make another attempt but deep down you knew that it was no longer about actually trying to get you to come out of your room and more about him feeling obligated to keep trying.

Spending so much time in your bedroom alone with only your thoughts for company gave you time to reflect on everything that had happened to you in the past year. Specifically, in the last few months since Taeyong had passed.

Images of Taeyong's lifeless corpse plagued your mind. The sound of him colliding with the pavement was permanently sketched into your memory.

You tried everything you could to shake the memories of him from your head but it seemed like everything reminded you of him. Sometimes you'd have hallucinations of him sitting right there beside you that were so vivid you had begun to question your own sanity.

No matter what you did you couldn’t get away from thoughts of Taeyong, you felt so out of sorts. You felt like you were slowly losing your mind. You were finally free of him in an earthly sense, but why couldn’t you get him out of your head?

You grew extremely frustrated with yourself as Taeyong continued to monopolize your conscious, you were so frustrated with things that you often cried yourself to sleep. Sometimes randomly through the day you’d just start crying out of sheer annoyance with yourself.

You desperately wanted this feeling, whatever it was, to leave you. But it seemed like the more you tried to ignore it the more intense it got.

Your doctor chalked it up to hormones but you could feel in your bones that this was different.

You were grieving.

It nearly made you vomit when you had finally put the pieces together as to why you had been feeling so strange.

You were grieving because of Taeyong.

Without disregarding all of the trauma and torture he had put you through you couldn't fight the desolate feeling that consumed you whenever images of him popped up in your mind. Most of all you felt shameful. Shameful for mourning the man that had single-handedly destroyed your life.

You would never be the same person because of him, and here you were shedding tears over him.

There were small pockets of time in which you were able to be completely honest with yourself. In those moments you realized something catastrophic, something that you made you question the entirety of your being. You weren't just mourning him...

You missed him.

The realization only made you ache further. You missed him so much. You missed his voice, you missed his smile, his scent. It only added to your stress that you had to silently deal with these troubling emotions by yourself. You had cut off everyone, there was no one left to confide in.

What would your parents say if you told them that you missed Taeyong?

Your head hurt at the thought of what they might do or say.

They were already treating you like a fragile piece of china. If you told them your true feelings you feared they might think you're unstable and that you needed to be admitted in a hospital somewhere.

In the midst of trying and failing horribly to deal with all of your emotions and stress you couldn’t help but wonder what life might’ve looked like if you had listened to Taeyong all along?

What would it have been like if you actually had tried to build a life with him after getting pregnant?

Would it be any worse than the way you’re living now, the life of a scarred hermit?

Could it be that Taeyong was right along?

Maybe I was destined to be with him..

(a/n: I’m so sorry that this is so bad, I really tried y’all lmao. Thanks for all the love on the first part.)

#nct smut #nct yandere #yandere nct #yandere taeyong #nct taeyong #taeyong smut #lee taeyong #kpop yandere

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himaboroshi736 · 3 years

Text

IronDad fic recs

Here. I’m a french reader, but I’ve read A LOT (like...a lot) of IronDad, so, eventually, here my fic rec. (I tried to class it by categories, but well...) (it’s gonna be very long, guys)

Peter Parker has anxiety

Don’t let me get me, by hopeless_hope

He picks up his phone and sends a quick text. "hey, happy! i’m not feeling too hot today, so i think i’m gonna have to cancel. tell mr. stark i’m sorry!"

He stares at his phone, waiting for a response. It never comes, and Peter sighs sadly. There was a part of him, a small part, that really hoped he was wrong. His insides burn, and he curls up tighter into a ball and turns off his phone.

(No one’s going to try to contact him anyway.)

Anxiety has a way of convincing Peter that everyone hates him. Tony has a way of proving him wrong.

Midnight Oil, by @jolinarjackson

After everything that has happened to Peter over the last year - or five, really - he shouldn’t be worried about something as mundane as the ACT. When he fails it, though it sends him into a spiral of self-doubt, which only gets worse when Peter realizes that he doesn’t seem to be able to fix whatever is broken.

Tony Stark has anxiety

do you even remember what the world looks like ?, by @iron--spider

Tony’s heart has been working on overdrive since this whole thing started. Friday has a countdown clock plastered on the heads up display, but it feels like hieroglyphics to him at this point, like some ancient language he could never master.

Because when Peter Parker is missing, things start losing their meaning real quick.

“Should be around here,” Rhodey says on the com. May is still on the other line, listening in, because once a certain amount of time goes by without word from Peter, things move into Extremely Worried Aunt territory. They’re already in Tony Is Panicking territory, and when both of those territories overlap it’s never a good time for anybody.

Time? What the hell is time? His mind is blanking numbers out entirely. Minutes are seconds are hours are years.

not like megatron, by @iron--spider

“Hi! This is Peter Parker, I can’t get to the phone right now, so leave a message and I’ll call you back later! Hopefully not too much later, but don’t get your hopes up!”

Tony knows that message by heart. He’s heard it hundreds of times, in a greyer world, and it sends shivers down his spine as he climbs into the car.

He doesn’t think about that place. That half-world. No way, that’s done, that’s over, that’s history.

“Hey, kid, don’t you know it’s bad etiquette to go and disappear on your birthday? Not allowed, really, really bad vibes from the universe. What’s going on with your suit? I wasn’t watching. Nope. Just got an alert. What’s going on? Uh, call me back.” He clears his throat and hangs up like a moron, driving out into the street.

Hypothermia trope (i really like it so if you have any suggestions...)

i knock the ice from my bones, by hopeless_hope

Peter tries to move his legs through the water, dread filling him when they don’t move, and he just hangs there, doing anything and everything he can not to focus on the feeling of ice clinging to his bones. He feels sluggish, the world blurring around him, and he rests his head on the ice, not even registering the cold anymore.

He’s just so damn tired.

“PETER!” he hears someone yell, but it’s all muffled, and he lazily drags his eyes up to see a figure descending towards him.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he thinks, This is not how my vacation was supposed to go.

While on what's supposed to be a relaxing vacation with the Starks, things for Peter quickly go south, and he finds himself on thin ice. Literally.

Ice Ice Baby, by @wolfypuppypiles

If Tony, Bucky or pretty much anybody that knew Peter had seen him that morning they would have smacked him upside the head. Helping people was great, everyone should give it a go, but when helping people puts you in danger it’s not so smart anymore.

AKA Peter can't get from Avenger tower to the subway without giving his winter clothes to homeless people and ends up with a severe case of hypothermia

Candle in the Window, by @madasthesea

Finals are over and Peter just wants to go home. The weather has other ideas.

Burn This Out, by @ephemeralstark

It's summer and Peter is free to be Spider-Man all day which is great, but it's summer and Peter is out as Spider-Man on the hottest day of the year which is not great.

Or, Peter gets heat stroke because he can't thermoregulate and things could not go worse for him.

(yeah, it’s not an hypothermia, but it’s linked to the fact that Peter can’t actually thermoregulate)

Post-Endgame (really like this trope too lmao)

the first birthday after, by iron_spider

(Endgame spoilers. But The Thing doesn't happen.)

The rain falls harder and Tony turns, his neck creaking and cracking, and he sees Peter asleep over by the window. He’s holding a small, flat box, and he’s slowly slipping to the right side of the easy chair he’s in.

Tony thinks about letting him sleep, but he finds himself speaking anyway. “Pete,” he says, his voice rough and raspy.

Peter immediately startles awake. “Happy Birthday,” he says, almost like he’d fallen asleep practicing it, planning to say it as soon as he woke up. He blinks at Tony, shivering a little bit, and then he smiles. “Happy Birthday. Happy Birthday.”

Tony snorts, smiling back. “Thanks, bud,” he says.

Second Best, by Rowan_M

Tony had adjusted to parenthood quickly when Morgan came along, and was always conscious of making sure Peter isn't left out ... Almost always. When Peter gets hurt while taking care of Morgan, Tony obsess over his daughter and takes his anger out on Peter, without even checking to see if he was okay. Steve finds Peter later that night in serious pain and in need of immediate medical attention.

Or, Peter gets hurt while taking care of Morgan and Tony basically ignores him.

when you’re feeling empty keep me in your memory, by JkWriter

after everything with thanos he forgets it's his birthday. he just assumed everyone else did too.

All For You, by @ironxprince

Three weeks after the snap that saved the world, Peter learns he was the reason behind it. He learns that Tony risked death, and now has to live with the ramifications, both physical and mental, all because of him.

This doesn't sit right with him.

you save everybody, but who saves you ?, by @iron--spider

Tony doesn’t sleep, because he can’t, because too many things are plaguing him, most of all where Peter is and what he’s doing. Tony has a good view of the hallway through the windows to his room, and he stares and stares until his eyes cross, until he hallucinates, until he knows he’s going insane.

He sees Peter sneaking into the med bay at about four in the morning.

The kid’s mask is off and he’s got two short, harsh slashes across his cheek, and he’s bleeding from a slice across his neck. His suit is ripped in a few places and he’s holding onto his middle, and Tony can see his hands are shaking.

It’s like something splinters in Tony’s already broken brain, like his world narrows and there are hazy edges, both weakness and strength entwining in his veins when he sees Peter struggle up onto one of the beds in the main atrium, starting to tend his wounds without calling anybody to help.

BAMF Peter Parker

Pizza, a Movie, and... an Attempted Kidnapping ?, by Pogokitten

“Tony. We’ll be fine,” Peter tells the man for what must be the tenth time in the last half hour.

Peter’s sitting on the couch of his and May’s apartment and building Legos with Morgan as they both watch their father’s methodical, yet anxious, pacing. He’s dressed to impress, as is Pepper who is watching the scene slightly exasperated.

“Are you sure? We can ditch the gala, kid. Just say the word,” Tony offers, halting in front of his kids.

Or: Tony and Pepper leave Peter in charge of Morgan while they go to their first gala since the third snap. Peter is expecting a calm night in with his adopted sister, but some thugs throw a wrench in his plans.

he’s good like that, by @iron--spider

“Get the hell outta here, boy,” the man says. “Or you’re gonna watch your boss die in front of you.” Then he grabs Tony by the shoulders hard, and shoves him down to his knees. The gun is louder now, like it’s filled with words that are eager to be shouted, and Tony winces when he feels the barrel press against the back of his neck. His knees weren’t ready to hit the ground that hard, and he tries to keep the pain from reaching his face.

He must fail, because Peter looks pissed.

“You’re not gonna shoot him, mister,” Peter says, somehow still trying to maintain a respectful tone, despite the clear anger written all over him.

stark robotics and technology conference, by @iron--spider

Peter leans against the wall while Tony chooses their floor, and the doors close. “Do you, uh, want me to do some interning stuff? Like go and get you coffee? Make sure the, uh—programs are all ready? Make sure the paintings are straight in the ballroom? Make sure the chairs are—”

Tony snorts. “Kid, I just thought you’d enjoy this. May told me about when it came through Queens but you two couldn’t make it because she was working and didn’t want you to go alone, and I thought, after all the shit you’ve been through lately, that you deserved something fun. No interning for you. That’s just an excuse.”

Peter remembers that. It was six months after Ben died, and he wasn’t gonna bother May too much about the conference. He didn’t know how much tickets cost anyways, or if kids his age could even go.

He really hung onto the idea of Iron Man after Ben died. Peter held him closer than ever.

Peter and Tony fighting

dinner and a jailbreak, by killerqueenwrites

“I’m not your kid!” Peter shouts.

“Don’t walk away from me, I’m not done–“

“You’re not my dad!”

Peter fitting in after the Blip isn't as easy as Tony hoped it would be. He wants his kid back, but they can't seem to stop fighting.

and then Peter goes missing.

my old man, by parkrstark

"I just want to help you. I want to help you understand what's wrong here and how to stop it. I used to be the same way until my father showed me how to be a man." He glanced back at Peter to sneer. "He's old enough to know better by now, but it's not your fault you didn't know how to teach him." "Teach him what?" Tony asked even though he didn't want to know the answer.

"Discipline, of course," Junior said with a wink.

Tony takes Peter on a weekend trip to try and change his mind about college and things go wrong. Then, they go even more wrong.

Between how it is and how it should be, by @frostysunflowers

''Doesn’t Captain Rogers ever…wonder,'' Peter winced as he fumbled for the right word, ''where you are?''

Bucky smirked. ''Steve’s a regular mother hen. Used to be me that worried about him.'' He gave Peter a pointed look. ''Better question is, isn’t Stark wondering where you are?''

Soulmates trope

presumed dead, by killerqueenwrites

Tony gets his first soulmark when he’s fifteen, his second when he's thirty. He's forty-six when his third appears, and forty-eight when it fades to grey.

did you see the flares in the sky ?, by justt-ppeachy

‘hi’

One simple word was displayed proudly on the inside of his right wrist. Tony wasn’t sure when this word showed up or how long it had been there.

A line formed underneath the word and Tony could almost feel the pressure on his arm from the marker his soulmate was using to push one phrase from their skin into his.

‘i loev yu’

The letters were written slowly and messily as they showed up upon his wrist while he watched in disbelief. Not sure if he was hallucinating or just going insane, Tony rubbed at the writing, wondering if they would disappear once he looked again.

The words were barely recognizable, but they were still the best thing Tony had ever seen.

IronDad Fluff (yeah)

peter wearing tony’s hoodie, by killerqueenwrites

Tony’s used to his clothes going missing. His MIT hoodie doesn’t often leave his closet, though, which is why he notices its absence straight away. There’s a lifetime of safety and comfort in this old hoodie, for both of them, and that’s all Tony could ever wish to give Peter.

Career Day, by @superhusbands4ever

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” Peter’s enhanced senses picked up the familiar voice from outside the door. “I had a meeting this morning and then I got lost looking for the class… anyway, I’m here for Peter? Peter Parker?”

He frowned at hearing his name, still unsure what exactly was going on. He watched as his teacher continued to stand and stare out the door for a minute before seemingly remembering herself and taking a step back.

“Of course! If you could just go sit next to him until your turn, he’s in the back on the right side.”

The man stepped through the door and Peter gaped with the rest of the class as Tony Stark, in his signature suit and goatee, sporting a pair of red sunglasses and carrying a suitcase walked through the door.

Kryptonite, by forensicleaf

The kid is acting weird.

Tony tries to figure it out.

father’s day, by @iron--spider

It’s Father’s Day, and Tony never really had a father. Not in the real sense of the word, not in the way that counts.

Peter Parker doesn’t have a father, either. Not anymore, anyway, not since he was little, and the amount of years that have passed since then outweigh the amount of time he got with Richard Parker.

Tony wouldn’t call himself Peter’s dad. He wouldn’t, he doesn’t, he doesn’t think of himself that way, no way, no way.

He stares at himself in the mirror. He pulls down on his cheeks, makes his eyes water. He runs his hands over the roughness of his jaw and sorta hates everything about himself right now, because he’s acting like a goddamn idiot. It’s Father’s Day and he’s not a father. He doesn’t know why the hell he’s pining for something that isn’t his, shouldn’t be his, can never be his. He isn’t a father, he isn’t Peter’s father, so there’s no reason on God’s green earth for Peter and him to do something for Father’s Day.

ain’t no valley low enough, by @iron--spider (yes, again, ‘cuz she’s the best)

Peter snorts. “You know I didn’t apply anywhere in Florida.”

“Please, kid, you know all you have to do is write a beautiful essay with my recommendation attached to it and you’re in. You’ve got the scores.”

Peter has a list. Of all the places he applied to, all the places he got into. A lot of it was encouraged by the adult role models in his life, some of it by Ned daydreaming about places like California and Colorado. Mostly, Peter just applied everywhere he could think of, because he’s known for a long time that Tony was gonna help May pay for it, and he didn’t wanna limit his options. Thinking about college has been strange for him, strange to the extent that he had a full blown panic attack about it in the middle of Avengers taco night last month. He can’t really understand it, doesn’t get why it feels like the end of the world—because he’s experienced the end of the world, and it’s not which campus has a bowling alley and which school has circus classes. But he nearly blacked out all the same, sobbed in Tony’s arms on the balcony until Tony proposed this. The road trip.

and when it’s hard, i’ll place your head into my hands, by hopeless_hope

“Tony,” Pepper sing-songs to get his attention. “Your mother hen is showing.”

“What?” he snaps indignantly. “I am not a mother hen. This is just... concern. Of the average kind. Perfectly normal.”

“Of course,” Pepper humors him, and he shoots her a dirty look as he types out a quick text to Peter.

It's been five days since Tony's heard from Peter, who's away at college, and Tony is not coping well. (Neither is Peter.)

Peter likes cuddles (and Tony too, but he always denies it... until he can’t)

my arms will hold you (keep you safe and warm), by parkrstark

“So, you’re telling me your body...is going through Oxytocin withdrawals?” Tony asked slowly.

“Cuddle withdrawals,” Peter corrected him. “Mr. Stark cuddles.”

TW : Rape/non-cons

make me strong, by parkrstark

It all started when Tony introduced Peter to Skip Westcott. He just didn't know until it was too late.

(There is a lot more, but I can’t find it rn ;-;)

5+1

5 times peter clung to tony, by parkrstark

... and the one time tony clung to him.

You are my Dad, you’re my dad, boogiewoogiewoogie, by Hittinmiss

“Peter? What’s going on kid?” Tony asked, him popping up on the phone’s screen.

“Hey da-” Peter started automatically before immediately noticing his mistake, the look on Ned’s face proved that yes, he almost called Tony Stark dad. He needed to try recover quickly because the look on Tony’s face seemed confused, especially with his slight pause. “-aaaaaamn Mr. Stark I really like your shirt. Where’d you get it?”

Smooth.

---

5 times Peter called Tony Dad and the 1 time Tony called himself Dad

5 Times Tony Took Care of Peter..., by As_Clear_As_Crystal

“Think if I coded a sign into your suit that says ‘Baby on Board,’ maybe criminals wouldn’t be so enthusiastic about murdering you?” Tony asks airily, poking at the bottom of Peter’s foot.

Peter halfheartedly kicks at Tony with his toe. (“That’s offensive, Mr. Stark.” )

- - -

aka: Five times Tony took care of Peter, and one time Peter took care of Tony.

5 times Peter is stuck with Tony, by @iron--spider

(...and one time he’s stuck alone.)

“I wonder if Pepper’s reported me missing yet,” Tony says, with an exaggerated sigh. “I wonder if this is some kind of scheme to kidnap me or something.”

“I think the ride’s just broken,” Peter says.

“Today of all goddamn days,” Tony says, exasperation clear in his voice and in his eyes. “Ruining our trip—”

“It’s not ruined,” Peter says. “Look, we’re hanging out."

“Real quality time,” Tony huffs. “Us, a few other trapped members of the general public, and a handful of animatronic pirates. Drunk pirates. Repeating themselves.”

5 times tony forgot peter was just a kid, by @parkrstark

...and the 1 time he didn't.

Or the one where it was hard for Tony to remember that the kid fighting next to him was still just a kid.

can i get a good night’s sleep ? can i PLEASE get a good night’s sleep ?, by peterstank

The doors open and there’s Peter, perched on a gurney with his shirt gone and a whole lot of blood staining his side. He’s bent awkwardly, clearly trying to feel his way around whatever wound he’s got.

“Um,” Tony says, approaching, “What.”

Peter looks up and—yeah, he’s lost a lot more blood than Tony had originally thought. His face is completely fucking drained. “Hey,” he says, offering a jaunty wave before returning his attention to his side. “I got shot.”

“Oh!” Tony nods. “Oh, okay. What the fuck, kiddo?”

or: five times peter doesn’t sleep + the one time he does

Five Times Peter and Tony Had Each Other’s Back, by Sahiya

... and One Time They Needed Help.

Peter is Tony’s Biological Child

I Had the Dream Again, by Skeeter_110

Peter calls Tony in the middle of the night crying.

Congratulations, it’s a Boy, by capiocapi

"Sir, I have the results.”

“Okay, Jarvis. Hit me.”

“It’s a match. 99.9% chance that he is your biological son, which is the percentage needed to be recognized by law as a biological parent.”

Tony’s stomach did a funny swooping dance. “Great. Congratulations to me then, eh? It’s a boy.”

You Are My Sunshine, by @iamconstantine

Tony Stark had always been a man of science and he always would be. It was his personal and fundamental belief that everything had an explanation. His eventual encounters with Norse gods, alien life, and sorcerers did kind of quake this a little bit, but still.

One thing that had always confounded him as the one thing that had no scientific explanation was fate. Murphy’s law, Finagle’s law, the butterfly effect, the domino effect, the snowball effect, and the wisest of all: “Shit happens.”

So how peculiar was it that one of the greatest things to ever happen to him began with a tray of champagne?

Serie i love you more than anything, by @iron--spider

The highs and lows of Tony unexpectedly becoming a single dad at 31– from Peter’s early baby years, all the way past the defeat of Thanos

May’s abusive boyfriend trope

A Peter Parker Problem, by @spagbol99

Peter Parker was back from the dead. At least that is what everybody told him. He'd been snapped out of existence until some sort of time travel and an active death wish by his mentor had saved him and the universe. Just your average sort of life for a 16 year old from Queens.

Peter comes back to find May has a husband and a kid. A new family he has to fit into. But he has done it before, he can do it again.

The only thing that feels solid is Tony: the Blip and fatherhood have mellowed him and Peter loves the bond they have now. He knows Tony would be there for him through anything. But Tony needs to focus on his own recovery - not small time Peter Parker problems. When things at home take a turn for the worse, Peter decides that he'll handle it himself. He is Spider-man. He's been to space and fought aliens. He can get through anything. After all, if May is happy, he is happy, right? Right?

(again, I’ve read a lot more but can’t find it...)

Peter Parker Whump (everyone’s favorite trope)

Danger Pizza, by alice_in_ink

The window was pushed open, and Iron Man’s head popped into his bedroom. “Here’s where I’m confused—why lock the front door but leave the fire-escape-accessible windows unlocked?” He clambered through said window. “Seems like a safety hazard.”

Peter eyed the metal suit as it straightened to a standing position. “Did you break into my window to kill me?”

The face plate lifted, and Tony’s eyes quickly looked over the teen. “Christ, kid. It looks like you’re halfway there.”

...

A wild night on patrol leaves Peter with a broken back, and boy, does he want to be able to move without dying. (So he calls Anthony Stark, obviously.)

If You Can’t Catch A Breath (You Can Take The Oxygen Straight Out Of My Own Chest), by @losingmymindtonight

"And I would hurry. Little Peter is about to be under quite a lot of pressure, and it might get a little hard to breathe.”

I’ve Got You, by @thedumbestavenger

Peter runs into a Copycat Vulture out on patrol, from there, everything escalates.

Meetings and Migraines, by AllThingsGeeky

Peter has another migraine at an unfortunate time and despite his best efforts he can’t ignore it forever.

The Most Important Thing In The World, by S0lstice

Peter’s door creaked and began to bend under the force of the crowbar and for the first time since regaining consciousness, fear began to press into him. Something very bad was happening and it was happening fast - too fast for his sluggish mind to keep up.

He went with his instincts instead, the first one always being, Help Mr. Stark.

Friendly Fire, by @jolinarjackson

Finding a careful truce with the government, the “rogue Avengers” are allowed to return to the Compound where they are put under house arrest. Peter coming to spend one week at the Compound during his summer break couldn’t have come at a more inconvenient time as the opportunity to bond a little more with his mentor is overshadowed by a conflict he doesn’t quite understand. When he starts to develop a mysterious medical condition, however, the former team is forced to work together – not just to protect Peter’s identity from the DODC, but also to find the cause for his illness before it’s too late.

“He’s my kid,” Tony said, his voice hoarse. “He’s my kid and I failed him.” He covered his eyes and took a few deep, shuddering breaths. “All I ever do is fail him.” Natasha knelt down in front of him and cupped his face in her hands, waiting for him to meet her eyes before she said, “Right now, he doesn’t need you to fix this. He doesn’t need you down here. He needs you over there, in the medbay, by his side.” She thumbed tears from the corners of his eyes and ignored the ones running down her own face. “You haven’t failed him yet.”

alarm bells and panic levels, by @iron--spider

Tony lands heavy on the dock, the wood splintering hard under the metal suit. He’s having trouble breathing, his nose is bleeding, he most definitely has more than the recommended amount of broken ribs. But none of that fucking matters. The sky is clear, the assholes are down, but there’s one thing missing.

He looks over his shoulder when Rhodey lands too. His suit is dented in a few places but other than that he looks alright. His face mask flips up and Tony lets his mask retract.

“Where’s Peter?” Tony asks, his voice rough with the amount of yelling he’s been doing. Fuck these stupid assholes. They were supposed to go mini-golfing today. The kid had been looking forward to it for weeks.

Rhodey looks around, breathing hard through his mouth. “I thought you knew.”

there’s something wrong, by @iron--spider

“I’m sorry, Pete,” Tony whispers. “We should have checked you for something like this when we were resetting your arm and checking on the concussion. Goddamnit. We didn’t think.”

“He poisoned us both?” Peter asks, trying to open one eye to look at him.

“Yeah,” Tony says, brushing Peter’s hair back from his forehead. “He’s dying. He got the brunt of it, a nice fucking cocktail of bullshit, including mercury and a bunch of other toxic shit—”

“Am I dying?” Peter whispers, voice breaking.

Fitting In (Tiny Spaces), by aloneintherain

Peter's trapped beneath a collapsed building during a mission, hurt and unable to move. Luckily, his comm still works. Unluckily, the Avengers don’t realise how bad of a state Peter is in, and Peter isn’t inclined to tell them.

“Spidey, they’ve got reinforcements. We’ve hit a bit of a snag here, and I don’t think anyone will be able to help you for a while. Think you can sit tight while we deal with this?”

The pressure on his lower back and legs was becoming too much. Peter swallowed thickly, fighting down panic. He could handle this.

“Yeah,” Peter said. “I can do that.”

Collections/Series (’cause I could make an inventory of all @iron--spider stories, you know, but you have to read all of her work, if you haven’t yet) (God she doesn’t even know who I am)

iron dad bingo, by @iron--spider

stay at home, by @iron--spider

whumptober, by @iron--spider

Whumptober 2019, by @marvelous-writer

Day in the life of the Iron Family, by @marvelous-writer

The Tumblr Archives, by @losingmymindtonight

Everything comes back to you, by @losingmymindtonight

Nice work, kid, by @madasthesea

Irondad Bingo 2019, by sahiya

The Adventures of Spidy-son and Iron-dad, by eva7673

Tony adopts Peter (why everyone kills May, btw ?)

Accepting the Tides, by @emma--anacortes

Tony had dragged Peter from the depths of despair after May's death. It was normal that he'd grown to care a little about him, right?

Yeah, okay. He freaking loved the kid.

So naturally he would feel a little weird when Richard Parker randomly shows up in Peter's life. Naturally he'd feel protective, nervous, and confused because where has Richard been all this time? And why does Tony feel sick every time he sees him around Peter?

All he knows is if Richard hurts his kid, Tony's gonna give him hell.

Series Out of Darkness, by @starryknight09

“Is this Peter Parker?”

“Yes…”

“This is Dr. Nguyen. I’m sorry but your aunt’s been in an accident and we’re going to need you to come to Queens Memorial as soon as you can.”

Peter's life shatters with a phone call. The last person he expects helps him pick up the pieces.

#irondad #irondad spiderson #irondad fic #fic recs

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