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shortkingvince · 11 days

Note

grim fluffus(important) withrrr ahmmm smut,,,

Hello there!! Thank you for the request! Sorry it took so long to post this, I got possessed by Grim brainrot and went a little overboard. Hope you don't mind!

Irresistible

Warnings: Smut (no penetration), handjobs, whimpering men, very brief dacryphilia? (It's just tears in his eyes from the pleasure, I dare not hurt this babygirl....yet. /j), ungodly amounts of fluff, Grim being the victim of MC/Reader being a little shit (/j /aff), spoilers for Grim's real name, takes place after ending 3

Minors DNI

Gn reader

A comfortable silence spread through the air of your apartment, which you were now sharing with your lovely little reaper. The reaper in question had ended up all but dragging you into the bathroom to do his skincare routine with him, saying that his is probably more superior to yours, which definitely wasn't just an excuse to spend more time with you. Totally not. He isn't clingy, you're clingy. Totally. It couldn't have been because he was waiting at home all day for you to come back from work.

He made you follow his skincare routine (with your own products, of course), it was honestly impressive how he was able to do this every single day without fail. Though, despite the calm atmosphere it was a bit clear he was stressed, likely having overworked himself around the house due to not being used to having the option to relax. He had a tendency to be a workaholic, even before he gave up his whole job to be with you. This struck an idea in you, now you just had to convince him.

You had already been pretty close to him during the routine, but you had carefully been moving closer to him, not that you had to move much. Once you were close enough you gently put your hand on his, not wanting to suddenly overwhelm him with touch since he wasn't used to it just yet, watching his reaction carefully.

As you had suspected, his face had a bit of shock on it along with confusion, his cheeks turning a shade of pink as he questioned you.

“Why are you holding my hand? How are you supposed to do this without both of your hands? Stupid mortal.” He said, averting his gaze as he flushed a bit at your own. His blush only worsened as both of your hands lifted up to cup his face lovingly, tilting his head to look back at you.

“Am I not allowed to take a small break to admire my pretty little reaper?” you teased him, watching his cocky smile take place on his face. “I know I'm irresistible, but I'm sure you can wait until we're done,” he responded in his usual confident way despite all the pink he had on his face from the gentle touch. He couldn't help but slightly relax into it, the warmth contrasting against his cool skin like a calming spell.

Despite his words, he made no move to pull away. He couldn't help but crave your touch, even more so whenever you were away at work. In all honesty, he didn't want you to pull away, in fact, a part of his head was practically screaming at you to just kiss him already. It was something that frustrated him about you but in the best way possible, the way he could never tell just when or if you were going to kiss him, and sometimes he felt he'd have to just grab you by your clothes and pull you into it himself.

He couldn't help but feel a bit of tension from your gaze, not knowing what you were about to do or say. He waited with a bated breath, eyes widening slightly as your lips got closer….and closer…..and…you suddenly pulled away, a smirk and mischievous glint in your eyes as you started to do the rest of the routine, leaving Casper to practically gape at the audacity.

He huffed, crossing his arms. “Dumbass mortal, what in the nine hells was that for?”

“What was what for?”

“The…you know!”

“I don't, actually.”

Casper knew you were lying due to the smirk on your face. He grumbled as he averted your gaze once again, his face deeply reddening. “You…why did you pull away? I thought you were going to kiss me.”

“Did you want me to kiss you?” you replied to him, your teasing tone getting on his nerves while also making him far more flustered than before. He hated how you had him wrapped around your finger so easily.

“Obviously.” He had an exasperated expression, clearly having expected you to actually kiss him instead of leave him hanging. You laughed, making him a little more frustrated due to the embarrassment. As he attempted to open his mouth to speak, you suddenly got close again and put one hand on his waist, the other cupping his cheek as you did earlier as you pulled him in for a proper kiss. Anything he was going to say died on his tongue as he quickly relaxed into the kiss and his frustrations melted away.

As you pulled back his body instinctively tried to chase your lips, wanting nothing more than to be enveloped in everything you could give, wanting to give into his greediness for you. He was so in love with you that it hurt, but felt so good all at the same time. His heart fluttered in his chest as if he were a mortal human with a lovesick crush.

At first, Casper thought any type of relationship was a waste of time, that a reaper didn't have time to be close to anyone. He never understood why mortals spent their time caring about others. That was before he fell for you, and when he fell, he fell hard. How a mere—no, not mere, there was nothing mere about you. A mortal like you being capable of stealing his heart with no chance of getting it back made his head reel, but in all the right ways.

He was soon snapped back to reality as your voice rang in his ears, lifting up the lovely veil of his thoughts he had gotten lost in.

“Grimmy, you good?” You had a shit-eating grin on your face as you used the embarrassing nickname. “Earth to Grim!”

He narrowed his eyes as his expression became frustrated again, sighing. “I told you that name is embarrassing to hear you say in person. You're doing this on purpose.”

“Maybe,” you said with a breathy laugh that made Casper's heart speed up, you were irresistible. So irresistible it frustrated him that you practically bullied him all the time. Maybe bullying is an exaggeration, but he doesn't think so, he thinks it perfectly describes just what a little menace you were towards him.

“You know, Cas, I have an idea. It could help you relax,” you suddenly suggested. Casper arched a brow, awaiting your proposal. “Continue.” He put his hand on his cheek as he waited for you to speak.

“So…you know how I mentioned back when we were doing video calls that I could help wash your entire body? We could take a bath together. After all, it would save water.” You winked at the end of the sentence, practically making Casper go wide-eyed at the thought.

“And here I thought you had forgotten that conversation. My mistake. I completely underestimated just how much you want to see me naked instead of just imagining it.” He smirked, his confidence seeping through once again.

“Maybe I do.”

“...Well I didn't expect you to just admit it.”

“Besides, I can tell you've been overworking yourself around the house today. It could help you relax,” you added, chuckling at the fact he got a little surprised at you practically admitting to imagining him naked.

“And just how is that supposed to make me relax? It seems like it would do the exact opposite.”

“And why would it do the exact opposite?”

“You know why.”

“No, no, please inform me, little reaper”

His face went red, he was so sick of your teasing. So sick of it, yet craved it at the same time. “Well, I….uh…”

Your gaze softened at his hesitance, cupping your hand to his cheek again as you spoke. “We don't have to if you don't want to. I'd never do anything you aren't comfortable with, it won't upset me.”

He relaxed at your words, knowing you were telling the truth. “I'm not uncomfortable with it, I'm just not very experienced with this kind of thing.”

“Wow, I never knew.”

“Really?”

“No, it was sarcasm.”

“...”

“Right, sorry. You're just so fun to tease.”

“I…might hate you.”

You laughed, knowing that he couldn't lie and therefore was having to resort to wording it with unsure language. It was just another thing you loved about him. “So, is that a yes to the bath, or?” You questioned, just to completely make sure. He nodded in response, albeit still a bit flustered at the thought of something so intimate, wanting to go through with it.

A bit of time passed as the water was finally at a temperature that you both wouldn't complain about. You looked over at Casper, a grin on your face. “Are you gonna bathe with your clothes on?” You teased him, only getting a scoff in response as he slowly started to take his clothes off. Of course, he took notice that you weren't exactly undressing at the same time as him.

“...I can't be the only one getting undressed if we're bathing together. I am absolutely not bathing with you if you try to bathe in your clothes.”

“Aww, you wanna see me naked that bad?”

“Huh?! You're the one who suggested the bath in the first place! Gods, you're going to make me lose my mind at this rate.”

“You didn't deny it.”

“Just take your clothes and get in the damn bath.” He responded quickly, getting in the bath once everything was off before you had time to tease him further.

The bath wasn't too spacious, but it was enough to fit both of you if you positioned it right. That's how you now had a red-faced Casper, his back against your chest as he rested the back of his head on your shoulder. It didn't take him long to relax despite his nerves from before, the warmth of the water and your body against him was soothing and made his head feel fuzzy along with his heart.

You washed his body gently, taking in the content sigh he let out from your touch. He unconsciously leaned backwards into your chest, wanting to be even closer to you, as if that were even possible.

Casper wasn't used to being touched, this was just a known fact, but… despite the unfamiliarity of it, he felt…safe. Safe with you, safe in your arms. It was addicting to him, he had never felt like this with anyone before, but then you ended up turning that all upside down. Or maybe…you turned it upright, allowing him to finally be able to see from a more comfortable perspective. Whichever one it was, he loved it. He needed more of it, more of you.

Of course, with how Casper was, he had to open his mouth to say something despite all the fuzziness. “We're taking a shower after this by the way, baths aren't exactly for actually getting clean.”

“Ooh, we? How bold, Grimmy.”

“We are literally pressed up against each other naked right now. A shower is far less ‘bold’. Besides, you're in the bath with me right now and unless you wish to sleep on the floor I suggest you wash the bath residue off of yourself afterwards.” He looked at you once he finished saying that, a satisfied glint in his eye.

Of course, that glint in his eye turned to surprise as you grabbed him by his chin and made him look at you, just as you did earlier, but this time there was a bit more of a gentle sternness to it that made his heart leap in his chest. “Oh? Is that so?” You questioned, amused by the way his breath sped up when you grabbed him. He couldn't get himself to tear his eyes away from your gaze, the way you were looking down at him made him squirm a bit.

“What? Cat got your tongue?” You teased, relishing in just how easy it was to make him speechless. “Just shut up and kiss me again already, you fool,” he said suddenly, frustration clear in his voice once again as he suppressed a whine from escaping his throat. There was no way he was about to whine and beg for you to kiss him.

It felt like his breath was stolen from him when you finally kissed him, his mind blanking again as all he could think about were your lips against his, your hands still roaming over his body as you washed him. It felt like his skin was on fire from how hot everything felt, the water, your skin, his own blood, it felt like too much and not enough all at the same time.

Just when he thought that would be it, he suddenly felt your tongue prodding at the entrance of his mouth, silently asking him for permission. He opened his mouth to give you access, breathy gasps leaving him as he felt your tongue dance against his. His mind raced, unable to think about anything other than your tongue until he felt your hands wander up to his chest.

Casper couldn't help the muffled noise he made as he felt your hands, his chest feeling like sparks were being set off as you ran your soaped hands against the entirety of his chest. He felt embarrassed by that noise alone, but the noise that escaped his mouth once you squeezed his chest made him rethink all of his life choices. He had whined, right into your mouth, and not even quietly.

He felt his heart drop when you pulled away, desperately wanting to chase your lips. A part of him was afraid you didn't like it, until he saw the breathless look on your face. Oh, right. Mortals need air. Plus, your expression told him all he needed to know, it practically proved to him that you weren't suddenly disgusted with him, as if that were even possible. He knows any noise that escapes his mouth is like a gift from the heavens, he just got a bit worried for a moment.

Despite the pleased expression on your face from the desperate whine he made before, there was still a gentle and caring side to it. “Is this okay?” You checked in with him, wanting to make sure he gave verbal consent to all of this, along with making sure he was comfortable. He nodded fervently, his gaze going half-lidded. “Yes, it is. Just do that again, fuck.”

You continued to tease and squeeze at his chest, leaving a trail of kisses around his jaw. His breathing only got faster and more desperate, the poor man sensitive to every little touch you did. You almost felt bad for him. Almost. Maybe you could explore this sensitivity of his later when you weren't in such a small space.

Eventually, you started to trail your hand down, watching Casper’s face carefully for any signs of discomfort. You ran your hand slowly, all the way down to his thigh. His breath hitched as he felt your hand squeeze his thigh, suddenly extremely aware of just how close your hand was to his dick. He hadn't even paid enough attention before to realize just how hard he was, the realization heavily embarrassed him, but he wanted you to keep going.

His thighs trembled, causing you to glance at him again in case he was uncomfortable. The desperation on his face told you all you needed to know. Gods, he was gorgeous, he was irresistible. You let your hand wander to his inner thigh, your hand dangerously close to where he wanted you most. Yet, despite the desperation being clear, you still wanted to make sure one last time that this is what he wanted.

“Is it okay if I–” “Nine Hells, Sunshine, just touch me already before I leave the damn ba–holy shit…” Your touch interrupted what he was about to say, the feeling of your hand finally on his cock making him completely forget what he was about to say. He arched his back into your chest in surprise, the cutest gasp leaving his mouth at the sudden stimulation. He had just expected you to continue teasing him, he didn't think you'd automatically start stroking him the moment he told you to touch him.

“Relax,” you held him gently with your other hand, still gently squeezing his chest as you pulled him even closer to you, if that was even possible. “I've got you, just relax.” At that, Casper all but fell into you, his hand making a pathetic attempt to cover his sounds. The hand that was on Casper’s chest went up to his wrist, gently pulling it away from his mouth. “I want to hear you, love, please don't hide such pretty sounds from me,” you told him, a shiver going up his spine at your words.

You teased the tip of his cock, the action rewarding you with a choked moan from the white haired reaper. He felt like he was gonna go insane from your touch, his hands trying to find something to hold onto. Noticing this, you gently held his hand instead of going back to teasing his chest, his hand giving yours an appreciative squeeze. “Fuck, fuckfuckfuck, Sunshine, please, please…” he begged, not even knowing what he was begging for, he just didn't want your hands to leave him.

“I've barely even touched you and you're already this desperate?” At your words, he whines, shooting you a slight glare before quickly getting caught off guard by your hand tightening momentarily against his cock. “It's not a bad thing, quite the opposite, in fact. Just relax, my little reaper,” you whispered in his ear, a shiver going down his spine.

All of his senses were going crazy, unable to think about anything but you. He struggled to not buck his hips so he wouldn't get the floor wet, it was becoming increasingly difficult the more you touched him. “A-ah, just…just like that…Sunshine…” his soft moans were like music to your ears, his voice was always so beautiful.

You sped up your hand a bit, letting out a small laugh as he helped from the sudden change, his back arching into your chest again. “Don't…haah, don't laugh…while your hand is on my–ah…uhnn…l-let me get my words out, dammit…Nine Hells, your hand…a thousand curses upon you…I– ah…” He was just barely getting the words out, struggling to keep his mind on track enough to form a full sentence. His cock twitched in your hand, a whimper leaving his mouth as your thumb circled the tip before going back to stroking and squeezing his shaft.

He held onto your hand tighter, eyes closing tightly as he failed to suppress all the moans flying out of his mouth. His eyes began to form tears from how sensitive he was, but when you slowed down to check on him his eyes shot right back open. “Don't you dare stop, don't you–ahn…don't you dare…please…please, just go faster already!” His hips finally bucked into your hand before you could even pick up the speed, his mind so lost in how close he was that he couldn't care less about the water hitting the floor…that would be a problem to clean up later. For now, you focused on Casper.

His breath was rapid as you stroked him faster, his eyes fluttering closed once again as he leaned into you, both from the pleasure and for the comfort of feeling you so close to him. “Ah, fuck…fuck, Sunshine, I'm so close, I'm so–Nine Hells, I can’t–fuck–I can't much longer–” His voice was strained from how close he was, his legs threatening to close from the overwhelming amount of pleasure. He practically yelped when you momentarily stopped holding his hand to hike one of his legs over the side of the tub, increasing the speed and pressure of your strokes as your free hand held his hand once more.

By this point his moans had increased further in volume, you wouldn't be surprised if you got a noise complaint later. You didn't mind though, not when you were busy paying attention to the way your reaper shuddered at your very touch, the way he reacted to each stroke. You deeply kissed him, feeling him immediately return it wildly, as if he had craved it the entire time.

He whimpered into your mouth, the way he was so close made him shake. When you pulled away a whine escaped his throat, his face full of desperation. The way you looked at him made his heart flutter, your gaze was full of both love and lust, he could see how you enjoyed watching him lose himself to the pleasure, and he couldn't get enough of it.

“S-so close…I don't think– I don't think I can hold on much longer, Sunshine, I–” his sentence was cut off by a moan escaping his lips as you gently bit his neck. “You don't have to, my little reaper. You can cum anytime you like, so go ahead,” you said, whispering in his ear. At that, his entire body gave a shudder as he moaned once more, eyes rolling back as he got permission. His orgasm hit him hard, practically gripping onto what he could of you for dear life. You continued to stroke him through his orgasm until it was over, holding him close.

He laid there against you for a moment, catching his breath. He was exhausted, his eyes fighting to stay open. “I'm guessing we need to save the shower for later?” you asked, only slightly joking since you felt he couldn't really stand properly right now due to his tiredness.

“...I suppose it can wait.”

“You up for snuggling in the bed together?”

“Obviously.”

“Alright, I'll help get you to the bed.”

“Wait.”

“Huh?” Your head tilted in confusion as Casper opens his eyes. “I haven't returned the favor…” he said with a bit of concern, not wanting to leave you unsatisfied despite how tired he was. He was shocked when you suddenly started to lightly laugh, confusion evident across his features. “Casper, there's no need for that. You're tired, you need to rest. Besides, pleasuring you was more than enough to satisfy me, you don't have to worry. Let's get to bed, okay?”

“...Okay. If you say so. I'll make it up to you after I rest, though, even if you say that.”

Casper was a stubborn reaper. You knew you wouldn't be able to convince him that he doesn't have to ‘return any favors’, so as long as he rests before trying anything it'll be fine. You dried both you and him off as you both got into comfortable clothes, helping him get to the bed.

Once the two of you were on the bed, you wrapped your arms around Casper, threading your fingers through his hair. He was more relaxed than usual, practically melting into your touch as he snuggled into your chest. It wasn't long before he fell asleep, comfortable and safe in your arms, and there was no place he'd rather be.

#a date with death #casper x reader #casper x mc #gn reader #gender neutral reader #male reader #grim x reader #grim x mc #Oh my God he's actually so babygirl #Someone hold me back before I violently make out with this white haired reaper babygirl #I might explode #May have gone a bit overboard. Oopsies.#Risking it all for Grim #a date with death x reader

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dilatorywriting · 1 year

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Monster Mayhem: Don't Fear the Reaper

Gender Neutral Reader x Rook Hunt Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: Running a little pâtisserie is quaint, and homey, and should not in any way get you involved with anything shady. Let alone the strange bounty hunter who prowls through your little town like the Grim Reaper himself. And yet here you are, teaching this literal murderer how to use a napkin.

A/N: Based on this wonderful brain rot from a very lovely anon! Also apologies in advance to anyone who actually knows French, because I do not lol. So Rook's babbling is all Google baby

[PART 1] [PART 2]

There was a murderer at your window, and you weren’t really sure what to do about it.

Well, maybe not actually a murderer. Bounty Hunters tended not to wind up in prison after dragging back the desecrated remains of their latest quarry. But still. You recognized the black plume tucked slickly into his wide-brimmed, purple, hat, and the pale, bright, bob of his hair was nearly luminescent in the dark. He was certainly the least covert assassin you’d ever seen, and you had seen him. It was hard not to. Traipsing through town to deposit every wayward criminal, every long-lost villain, at the doorstep of who’d ever called for him.

‘Rook Hunt’ you thought his name was, or at least, that’s what the old woman in the market would call him before crossing herself and spitting in the dirt. It was all a bit on the nose in your humble opinion, especially with that strange, twisting, ebony, bow of his strung across his back. ‘Hunter’ indeed. But it’s not like you’ve ever done anything to warrant winding up in one of those dripping burlap sacks of his, so you’d let the dude have his drama. It was probably good advertisement. And it’s not like the guy had ever bothered you before.

You thought that reassurance on repeat as you watched said not-quite-a-murderer stare through the front window of your little bakery, as if your rising dough had been kneaded with the secrets of the known universe. But he didn’t do anything—just kept watching with rapt attention as you brushed egg wash over your pie crusts and swapped trays in and out of the ancient, brick, oven.

In all honesty, he was far from the strangest thing that’d been plastered to your window in the early AM, and it wasn’t like he was licking the glass or anything. So you let it slide.

One of the custard tarts you pulled from the oven had cracked across the top. Nothing out of the ordinary—there was always at least one dud in a batch. Normally you saved the rejects for Ace or Deuce to gobble up (depending on whoever managed to pop by first), but this one you set aside onto a little tea plate. You topped it with a dollop of freshly whipped cream and a spoonful of the blackberries you’d left sitting in sugar overnight. Then you plucked up a spare napkin and made your way out from behind the counter.

When you opened the door to your little bakery, the tingling overhead bell warmed your unwanted guest’s expression in a way that it most certainly should not have—lighting the whole of him with this sort of wide-eyed, innocent, joy that belonged nowhere on the face of someone you’d watched cart literal corpses into town.

“Mon pâtissier!” he chirped. “What a fine morning it is, no?”

The sun hadn’t even started to rise yet. You could still hear the drone of crickets and toads in the distance, basking in the humid darkness of the night.

“Sure,” you shrugged. “We’re not open for,” you glanced at the moon, still full in the sky, “at least four more hours. If that’s what you’re waiting for.”

“Oh—non, non, non,” Rook waved you off. “I just wanted to watch!”

“…Watch?” you repeated.

“It’s quite the fascinating process!” he absolutely beamed. “Taking such basic, individual, components and turning them into something so spectacularly sweet and heartwarming! Quelle inventivité! I’ve heard nothing but excellent things about your marvelous menu!”

‘From who?’ you wanted to ask, because you’d never heard of anyone being able to hold a conversation with this man for more than a stuttered sentence at a time, let alone for long enough to go about giving dessert recommendations. But there was a streak of red blood across his cheek that still looked fresh enough to not even have gone tacky yet, and now that you looked closer, his dark gloves were perhaps a shade too dark to not have been, well…

You sighed and reminded yourself once again that is was absolutely not your business, before handing him the napkin.

He stared at it with that same sort of rapt fascination that had you wondering if this man had ever actually interacted with proper civilization in his entire life.

“Wipe your hands,” you demanded with a huff, and he dutifully scrubbed at his stained fingers. Once he was clean enough that he was at least no longer dripping unmentionables all along your windowsill, you held out the little saucer for him to take.

“Pour moi?” he muttered, looking a bit starstruck.

“If you’re going to say all those nice things about my food, you may as well get to try what you’re complimenting,” you shrugged, and that same eager enthusiasm lit his face all over again. “And it will be a nice treat to take home with you,” you emphasized, with all the intonation of a cheery ‘please get the fuck out before you scare away all my customers for the day.’

But instead of turning and meandering off back to whatever hole he’d crawled out of, he just kept staring at the little treat like he had no idea what to do with it.

“It’s a tart,” you said blandly, fighting the furrow in your brow.

Rook repeated ‘a tart’ under his breath like it was some kind of ancient, forbidden, enchantment, and not like it was literally scrawled into the little menu sign at your door at least a dozen times over.

The Bounty Hunter peered at the little custard treat like you’d handed him a treasure beyond measure. After a moment of carefully poking at the browned crust like it wasn’t literally meant to break apart beneath one’s fingers, he looked back over at you with eyes that were far, far, too green. He lifted the tart up like he meant to give it back to you.

“I ought to offer you la première bouchée,” he smiled.

You blinked, taken aback, and pushed the plate back into his hands. “That’s not how free samples work.”

Rook tossed his head back with a bout of boisterous laughter that should have been loud enough to wake everyone on the block. You glanced around nervously, hoping no one was about to come running out to make noise complaints.

“Ahh~ But how else will I know the best manner in which to savor such a treat?”

“You eat it,” you gaped. And then, slowly, because you weren’t even sure you were dealing with a functional human being anymore. “With your teeth.”

The Bounty Hunter, with his blood smeared cheeks and even bloodier clothes, put all those shiny, pearly whites of his on display in a merry grin. He swept forward in a grand bow that had the feather in his hat bobbing about in a way that reminded you far too much of a wagging tail.

“Of course!” he chirped. “In my home you said, yes?”

Please, you wanted to groan. Go there. Leave.

“Ideally,” you said instead, and Rook ducked his head until that purple hat of his had cast the whole of his face into shadow. He reached up to tap two fingers against the wide brim and tip it forward.

“Merci, merci!” he trilled. “Then I will endeavor to consume this marvelous spécialité humaine in the proper fashion. A very good morning to you then, cher pâtissier!”

He straightened with a merry little hum and began making his way back down the cobblestone road. In the soft light of the setting moon, his footsteps left odd prints in their wake—inky, black, dripping things that had faded entirely by the time you were able to focus enough to get a proper look at them, leaving you wondering if they’d really just been nothing but a trick of the night.

Well, that was fucking weird,you frowned, shaking the fuzz from your head. You slipped back inside and the door jingled pleasantly as it slammed behind you. But then again, when wasn’t customer service a trip? These people were all ridiculous.

Bright and early the next morning, you were waiting for Deuce to arrive with his delivery of a fresh crate of eggs. It was ungodly early, as it always was. But at least there was no hunter at your window this time around—

There was a bang and a screech, and then an unfortunate sort of cracking-squishing-yucky noise that sounded an awful lot like a couple dozen eggs meeting their doom. You frowned and tucked your rag into the ribbons of your apron and ducked out from the backroom with a sigh. Deuce was at the door. Or, well, Deuce was on the ground in front of your door. With the shattered, yolk, remnants of your shipment scattered all around him.

“I’m not paying for that,” you huffed irritably, and your friend looked up with a squawk.

He looked like he was trying to say something, but his face just kept flashing back and forth between deathly pale and a miserable sort of mottled red.

“I—! You—! And he—!”

“Use your words, Spade,” you sighed.

“I do believe he’s trying his best, cher pâtissier!”

You froze, and turned in near-slow-motion to see a beaming Bounty Hunter crouched at one of the little painted benches lined up neatly along your storefront. Not on one, like a normal person. But beside one. On the ground. There was no blood on him today. None that was very obviously dripping down his face at the very least. He didn’t seem like he’d come bearing any ill will, but your Chicken Dealer was still splayed out on the ground—nearly convulsing—so that wasn’t a great sign either.

“What’s going on out here?” you demanded, hands at your hips.

“I do believe Monsieur Spade had himself a bit of a fright,” Rook beamed, and then turned towards your very gaunt looking friend with a soft tut-tut noise that for all its amiability didn’t sound particularly sympathetic. “You really ought to work on your balance, hmm? Alas, all these petits oeufs have gone to waste.”

“What?!” Deuce immediately bristled, on the defensive. “If you hadn’t scared me, then none of these chicks would have had to die so tragically in the first place!”

“For the last time,” you sighed, grinding the heels of your palms into your eyes. “Unfertilized farm eggs are not baby chicks.”

“But Ace said—”

“Enough! With what Ace said!” you snapped, exhaustion and a sore lack of tea, or coffee, or anything wearing away at your already fragile sanity. “Ace would sell you snake oil and cry to your face about you underpaying for it!”

“Oh?” Rook chirped, unfolding himself from his crouch to stand at his full height. He wasn’t particularly gangly or long limbed—not even especially tall, all things considered. But there was something about him that made him loom. From the sharp cut of his purple robes to the harsh, starched, white of his tight collar. He was neat, composed. And yet… very much not civilized. “Is this not a person who wishes you well, cher pâtissier?”

You frowned, something odd tugging at a sixth sense of yours. Just… a little something on the periphery of your nerves, singing that the words you chose now would mean a lot more than they ought to.

You hummed, low in your throat, and considered.

“Ace is himself,” you said finally, “but he’s a friend nonetheless.”

“Magnifique!” Rook beamed and clapped his hands together with a near lovelorn sigh, all at once perfectly pleasant and soft. “It is such a very good thing to have friends!”

“…Is that what you are?” Deuce asked, enough of that enraged spunk fading away to leave him properly cautious once more. His blue eyes flickered pointedly from the bounty hunter, to you, and back. “A friend?”

You sighed and turned to retreat back into your little shop without a word. Deuce scrambled to his feet to follow you in hesitantly, still dripping with the remnants of too many eggs. You shot him a look, and he immediately darted over to the mop and bucket you kept propped up in the corner. Rook stood in the doorway, nearly just a blur of bruised shadow against the backdrop of the pre-dawn darkness, and you watched him out of the corner of your eye. After a long moment of terse silence, he stepped beyond the threshold with a little hum. He wiped his feet pointedly on your little welcome mat, and then turned to stand at the counter. He fished around in the pockets of his cloak for a moment before withdrawing a strange little flower. He placed it on the countertop with a bright smile that crinkled the corners of his green eyes.

You stepped forward to observe it curiously, and your brows shot up in surprise.

It wasn’t a flower at all. What had looked like the folded arch of soft petals was actually a dainty pair of wings. It was a tiny butterfly—caught in a perpetual sort of stillness. It was bright, and colorful, and so carefully preserved that even when you trailed a flour-coated finger along the thin membranes of its wings, it stayed clean and crisp.

“What’s this for?” you asked.

“Payment, of course!” Rook smiled. “For the lovely treat you gifted me the other day.”

You sighed, not at all in the mood to discuss the lack of viable conversion rates between copper coins and bugs.

So instead you settled on huffing, “Free samples are free. It’s in the name.”

Rook just kept on smiling, unbothered. Deuce knocked into some set of drawers or other—or maybe the coatrack. Who knew—and you shot him an irritable little scowl. The guy was like a bull in a china shop on the best of days, let alone when he was trying to multitask, and be sneaky about it all the while. The bounty hunter’s grin twitched a bit at the corners, like the idea of your blue-haired friend trying to stealthily keep a watch on him was just the funniest thing.

You glanced back down at the little, frozen, butterfly. It really was very pretty, even if it was a little odd.

When you ducked back behind the counter, you unearthed a blueberry muffin from one of many stacks of trays there. It was little lopsided, and maybe there were a few too many bits of fruit in it. Surely no one would have wanted it anyways.

You plopped it on the countertop, and both Rook’s eyebrows shot all the way up his forehead. When he made no move to take it, you pushed the confection closer. The wrapper slid along the counter in a heavy, sticky, way. You’d have to remember to wipe it down again after. The Hunter reached out carefully to pluck the treat up between his fingers. He squished it delicately, in a similarly cautious way as to how you’d stroked the little butterfly.

“Is this also for eating at home?” he asked, observing the offering with a wide, wonderous, expression.

“Yes,” you said, just in time for Deuce to nearly annihilate your trash bin. “Please enjoy it.” Please get out. You’re distracting my maid.

Rook Hunt dipped into another of those ridiculous, bobbing, bows and pinched the brim of his hat between his fingers.

“Your generosity continues to warm my heart, mon cher,” he crooned, eyes practically sparkling from behind the sharp cut of his heavily lined lashes. “I will endeavor to return your kindness tenfold! A hundred!”

You waved off his sentimentality with a flick of your wrist and a not so delicate ‘shoo shoo.’

The hunter left your little bakery with a spring in his step and an outpouring of flowery promises that had your head spinning. He melted seamlessly into the shadows of the early morning, and between one blink and the next, he’d vanished entirely.

You would have thoroughly enjoyed the well-earned silence that followed, if not for the veritable storm cloud brewing over your friend’s head.

“Do I get one…?” Deuce asked finally, staring outright at the remaining muffins and sounding small and hopeful. And like that clearly wasn’t what he’d meant to say at all.

“Maybe if I had the eggs to make more,” you lamented, brushing your hands against your apron.

Deuce made a wounded noise which you had exactly zero sympathy for. You got to work wiping down the counters and sorting through the bits and bobs you’d need to start your day.

“…You know he’s not right, don’t you? That bounty hunter?” Deuce finally said, setting the mop aside. “You must have heard at least some of the rumors floating around town. I don’t think anyone even knows if the guy’s human.”

You shrugged.

“Anyone who has to wake up when I wake up each morning has long given up on humanity anyways,” you droned, only sort of half kidding.

Deuce frowned, clearly unhappy with your non-answer.

“You’ll be careful, won’t you?” he asked, stern in his fretting. There was still a big ol’ chunk of eggshell tangled up in his bangs.

“When I am ever not?” you smiled, and carefully pocketed the little, blue, butterfly.

When you popped by the market stalls after closing shop for the day, the street was abuzz with all the usual gossipy nonsense that you’d long since learned to let settle at the back of your brain like white noise. You were busy debating if you had enough arms to manage balancing yet another bag of strawberries (they were at their height of freshness these past weeks it seemed, and you were like a little fruit goblin hoarding them while you could), when a particularly shrill bit of chatter worked its way past the pleasant curtain you’d let fall across your thoughts.

“There was another one,” the butcher’s wife whispered in a way that was most certainly not a whisper.

“I heard,” chittered the man who really should have been trying to sell you more strawberries if he’d any kind of business sense whatsoever. He turned on you with a look that meant you were clearly about to be dragged into a conversation you were entirely unprepared for. “It was one of yours, apparently!”

“One of my what?” you blinked back into focus.

“One of your regulars,” he said, like a secret.

“That strange Bounty Hunter came through again,” his coconspirator hissed, with a hand lifted as if she meant to cover her mouth. “He dropped off the body the other day—delivered the heart straight to the Felmier’s porch!”

“Who was it?” you asked, just like you knew they wanted you to.

“Sir Hamlen,” the butcher’s wife said. “You know, that awful toad who could eat you out of house and home.”

That sounded like all of your costumers, and more than half of your closest friends, but you gave yourself a moment to sort through your scattered thoughts and try and connect whatever dots they’d been throwing at you.

“Sir Hamlen…?” you said after a moment, slowly putting a face to the name. “With the terrible goatee?”

They both nodded enthusiastically.

“Rotten pig,” the butcher’s wife piped back in. “Served him right, if you ask me. Everyone was expecting the Crown would put him to death anyways.”

You shrugged again. You hardly knew the man, but he’d always paid you well enough that you didn’t really have any ill will towards him. You went back to fussing over balancing bags of berries, but then… Well, there was something a bit funny, actually. He’d been a loud sort of person, with no filter to speak of. One afternoon, he’d stumbled into your little shop absolutely pissed on cheap drink and all but burping bubbles.

‘You know,’ he’d lulled, dropping a full coin pouch on your countertop. Which you’d taken in its entirely with zero hesitation. ‘I’d die happy if my last meal was these fucking tarts of yours.’

‘Is that so,’ you’d drawled, in the bland way you answered literally every customer who spouted off whatever nonsense was kicking around in their heads.

‘Aye,’ he’d sighed, practically stooped over. ‘Gonna have to pry ‘em outta my cold, dead, hands.’

“Huh,” you muttered, thoughts wandering back to a pair of bloody gloves and the little treat you’d pressed into them. Huh.

TAG LIST [CLOSED]

@marvelous-maxi, @ilikefanfics4, @jackalope08, @crocwork-clockodile, @cosmicobubisi, @buttplugs-stuff, @pomefleur, @decemebercircus, @ailynyan, @genzombie, @meliade-ot, @sunlightocean, @theofficialantitherapist, @hermiona18, @sailorenthusiast, @fantasy-dating-sim-trash, @thefiasco-onyourblock, @insideous-beez, @its-clockwork-princess

@novaloptr, @imlost-sendhelp, @matcha-berry @preciosayorgullosa @whoretaglia, @kookygirlwholikescookiesandcoke, @nanauedorian, @trixeraptops, @voxnipop, @starkling25, @thedum1, @horcrux-alchemist, @sleepykitty21, @apathicace, @instantregret101, @nekanecorvus, @looney-mori, @re-ducing, @my2phetaliaheadcanons, @naughtybodypillow, @rendy-a, @carmen-404, @candy284, @thealiennamedterry, @their-name-is-fake, @huetolog, @glacticrose, @seraphinariddle, @rabioa, @sn00zl4x, @dreasimping, @jeidoreech, @ai-dev, @galaxyshine24-7, @fatally-incorrect, @juulranch, @camrastuff, @nocteetdie, @stargaryengirl,

#twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #Rook Hunt x Reader #Rook x Reader #Rook Hunt x Yuu #Reaper!Rook #Monster Mayhem #Fantasy AU #Rook Hunt #Deuce Spade #My Writing #Monster Mayhem Rook Part 1

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wilbursprincess · 3 months

Note

Ok, so streamer!reader, doing a stream with Will, and he's just being a chaotic menace. (See Phil's streams if u don't get what I mean) xx <3

-🍭

Wilbur Being A Menace To His Streamer Partner

Wilbur Soot x Gender Neutral Reader

Warnings: None!

Hello 🍭 anon! Fun fact- I’m desperate to start streaming, but I don’t have a PC or anything that would make that possible, sadly. I write on an iPad (and play Minecraft, Terreria, and Animal Jam on it, too) and use a Chromebook for school. Neither of those are good for streaming :(

Headcannons below cut!

~Loves to walk in the background of your stream in varyingly strange costumes.

~His personal favorites are a Minecraft Creeper head, a Grim Reaper mask, and occasionally, some of your clothes.

~Sneaks up behind you when you’re distracted with your stream to scare the ever-loving hell out of you.

~Donates to your stream to abuse the text to speech.

~Has to donate after you turned off the text to speech feature with channel points since he abused it.

~Whenever he joins your stream as a player in the game you plays, either hellbent on ruining it or making sure you win.

~There’s no inbetween.

~And you never know until the game starts which one he’s going to pick.

~If you lock your office door to keep him out, he’ll stand just outside and scream.

~Like I said. Absolute menace.

#princesswrites #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot x you #wilbur soot #wilbur x reader #mcyt x you #wilbur x you #wilbur soot fluff #wilbur soot x gender neutral reader #wilbur headcanons #mcyt x gender neutral reader #mcyt fluff #mcyt headcannons #wilbur mcyt #mcyt x reader #princesshcs #🍭 anon

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pumpkin-patch-cat · 5 months

Text

New Job, Who Dis?!

(Grim x Gender Neutral Reader)

Warnings:(DLC ending spoilers. Suggestive themes)

Grim is now living rent free in my brain.

After completing the DLC ending of A Date with Death, I have decided it is my favorite ending and conjured up a little dialog. This oneshot hints to the endings outcome, so spoiler warning ⚠️. This was written quickly, so pardon any grammatical errors! Enjoy!

“Hold up, start from the top. What's my job description again?”

“Your job will be to give life back to those who aren't supposed to die. Sometimes, innocent people are caught up in things where losing their life was NOT part of the original plan. Because your soul harbors the essence of life itself, with you at my side, you'll be able to attempt to save those people who are at the presepist of dying too early.”

“Attempt?” You eye him quizzically from your place at your desk. Casper is sat at the foot of your bed, long legs outstretched, hands in his lap. He nods and continues.

“Basically, when a mortal is on the verge of death, their soul has become tainted with what we call a ‘blight’ or ‘blight of death’. Similar to ‘the taint’ for reapers, though much much harder to bounce back from when the soul or a mortals very existence is overtaken or ‘infected’ if you will. Some people can bounce back on their own, while others succumb and meet their unfortunate end. I say attempt because sometimes a mortal is beyond cleansing. The blight is too far gone, and no amount of divine intervention will save their existence....so naturally, when we, no, you receive cases like this, time is of the essence.

“I see...wow, that's heavy. No pressure or anything. Sheesh.”

“Yes. The job will be difficult at times. Y/n, there will be times when a person will be beyond help. You'll want to save them desperately. Times where no matter how much effort is placed into saving them, it may not work, and you will be angry. I can't tell you how many times I've witnessed an innocent person parish entirely too early at the hands of a twisted version of fate. Those moments are out of my hands, and I have to ferry them away regardless. But that's where you'll come in.”

“Sooo I'm basically an angel??”

“No, they're grotesque creatures. They instill fear in humans and sugar coat their acts with pretty words. You'll actually give hope. Plus, you're much prettier than they are. Who really needs that many eyes and wings, honestly??? But anyways…”

You fall silent in deep thought.

“Y/n? Why are you screwing up your face like that?”

“Can I really do this, Casper? What if I mess up??”

“My sweetest, little nightmare. I'll be there with you every step of the way.” Casper smiles reassuringly.

“Thank God. OH! Do I get a cool ass scythe of my own, too?” You perk up almost immediately, wistfully looking at his impressive weapon that is currently leaning against your wall nearest the door.

“I...I'll never get used to the way you can flip subjects so easily. But yes, I guess. Once you're settled, we will get you fitted with a 'cool ass scythe'. Or at least a decent weapon you'll use to channel your soul energy. I know a guy.”

“You know a guy? That doesn't sound shady at all, but fuck yea!”

He chuckles softly at your enthusiasm.

“I'm glad you're okay with this decision. I really couldn't think of a better way for this to work out for both of us but-”

“But you have a big, sexy brain that was able to figure it out, now you're stuck with me foreeevvver.” You beam, triumphantly.

“I suppose I am, and quite frankly, I would have it no other way.” With a smile on his face, Casper stands, reaches for your hands, and pulls you to your feet.

“Awww, little reaper. Since when did you get so mushy? It makes me want to violate yo- I mean...I could really go for some food right about now. Yea, food. That's what I meant."

“...You really are something else. We will grab something on the way to my place.”

“Bet. Finally making good on us moving in together?”

“Obviously. I can't escape you.”

“It was inevitable, Casper”

“Seems so…and by the way…”

Casper slips his arm around your waist gently, leaning into your ear.

“I'll take you up on that offer of 'violating' me later, my little nightmare.”

“You just want to be stepped on.”

“S-stepped on? What..uh...I”

“The blush on your cheeks says you do. Can't take it back now. Your fate is sealed. I hope you're ready.” you wink.

“Haaa....fuck.”

#help I love him #ahhhh #a date with death #grim reaper #grim #grimmy #oneshot #casper #grim x reader #writing

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fairy-writes · 7 months

Text

TREES OF GREEN, RED ROSES TOO

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing(s): Nanami Kento x Reader

Word Count: 4.3k

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Grim Reaper!Nanami, Gender Neutral!Reader, Reader is terminally ill

Notes: This is for the Spooky House Collab done by Willow’s House/@willowser! Go check out the other pieces!

The title is lyrics from “What a Wonderful World” by Louis Armstrong.

TW for death, illnesses, coughing up blood, and hospitals

__________________________________________________________________________

You didn’t expect Death to wear a suit.

All the tales you had heard swathed the Grim Reaper in robes of pitch and tar. Like a night sky without the moon or stars.

The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor was borderline driving you up the wall. All day, every day, it was all you heard as you wasted away in your hospital bed.

You hunched over and coughed into a tissue that you managed to grab before your body convulsed. When you pulled it away from your mouth, it was tinged red with blood.

So when your hospital door opens, you expect a nurse to come to your aid.

Not the actual personification of Death.

You know it’s him the second you see him. Something in the back of your mind knows. Some primordial part of your brain recognizes just what you are face to face with.

He’s tall and blond, with hair styled neatly and his eyes hidden behind glasses. He’s dressed in a neatly pressed black suit, an almost leopard print dotted tie around his neck, and a very expensive-looking watch around his left wrist. The necktie seems an odd combination, but with the literal Grim Reaper in front of you, you didn’t give yourself much time to think about it.

But… surprisingly… you don’t find yourself scared at all.

“Are you here to kill me?” You ask once your coughing has subsided. The man cocks his head slightly, watching you with eyes almost like a bird.

Unblinking.

Unmoving.

And then…

“No. Not kill you. Help you pass on, maybe, but I don’t kill anyone.” His voice is smooth and deep, rich like the notes of an orchestra. You shudder at the sound and stifle another cough.

“What if I don’t want to pass on?” You ask, and he raises an eyebrow. Immediately, you feel like a child being scolded by a parent.

However, instead of scolding you, he simply sighs, adjusts his cufflinks, and takes a seat next to your hospital bed.

“It’s your time.” Is all he says, and all you feel is anger. You clench your fists until the skin is taut across the knuckles.

Who is he to decide that?

Who gets to decide when and who dies?

Death or not, you should get to decide when you go. Not some man you’ve just met.

“You have a valid train of thought. But everyone gets to pass on some time.” The man says, and you realize you have just said everything out loud. You duck your head in embarrassment and stare at your hands twisted in the cotton blanket that is draped haphazardly over your legs. It’s silent for a beat. Then two.

“I don’t want to die.” Your voice cracks, and your eyes burn as you realize that you genuinely don’t. For months, you had waxed poetic about wanting to finally pass on. To finally be free of this pain. To be free of this life you have lived, in and out of hospitals for years on end.

But when faced with the one person who can grant you that… you find yourself… afraid and clinging to life.

The man’s eyes soften until he simply looks sad.

“There are few people who do. But your time has come.” He says gently, and you hold back a choked sound that threatens to break the confines of your chest. You lurch awkwardly away from him as if that would keep you from dying. He half-stands when you nearly fall out of your hospital bed but returns to his seat when you right yourself.

You refuse to say anything, refuse to take his hand, refuse to do anything that has to do with the man next to you. And he doesn’t say anything in return. He simply sits and watches.

Until…

“Can I do something before I die?” You whisper, and he checks his watch, adjusts his tie, and nods.

“What is it?” He asks, and you reach for your diary on your bedside table beside your hospital bed. He hands it to you, and you take it, fingers brushing his.

His hands are… warm.

Not cold as death as you had so often heard in stories.

But you shake your head and open the book, flipping through pages of poetry and ideas, and finally come to a stop on a page simply titled “Bucket List” and hand it to the Grim Reaper.

“I want to do everything on that list before I die.” You say firmly, and he scans the pages, arching an eyebrow when reading over the list.

“This isn’t very long.” He comments, and you shrug, relaxing against your pillows now that imminent death isn’t looming on the horizon.

You had stalled for time.

More time to remain alive.

More time to come up with a way to get out of this.

“I tend to be picky.” That is all you say, and he nods once.

“Very well then. Let us begin.” He says and extends a hand. You frown and hesitate to take it.

“You aren’t going to just kill me, are you?” You inquire, and he huffs,

“Of course not.”

Something in you says to trust him.

So… you do.

Entry #1: Go to a haunted house

The crowd to the haunted house is bustling, almost overwhelming to your ears with the sheer amount of noise. Your nose is assaulted by the smells of popcorn, cotton candy, sweaty bodies, and spilled drinks.

The wheelchair creeks, but you almost can’t hear it. It was one of the crummy ones the hospital provided when you were discharged. You weren’t sure why you were released early, but you had a feeling it had to do with Death. He had approached the nurse checking your vitals, touched her shoulder, and whispered in her ear. Her eyes had glazed over, and she had nodded numbly before leaving.

You had been checked out within the hour.

Some kid bumps into your wheelchair, and you flinch. Perhaps this was more overwhelming than you anticipated.

Death seemingly notices and leans down,

“We can leave.” He suggests by whispering in your ear, and you can tell he isn’t judging. He’s simply stating a fact because he noticed you were panicking. But you shake your head and swallow your overwhelming panic,

“No… I’ll be fine.” You say, and it’s finally your turn.

The atmosphere is spooky but not scary. You didn’t even flinch when the first scare actor dressed as a wolf-man jumped out at you with an ungodly shriek. Perhaps it’s because you have the literal Grim Reaper pushing your wheelchair. Maybe it’s because you know you’re dying, so a haunted house feels… trivial. Either way, you don’t feel scared.

Another scare actor. This one dressed as a zombie. Another scream. But you simply smile, say, “Good job!” and move on. Death doesn’t so much as flinch with each wail. He doesn’t even say anything. He simply keeps pushing you through the haunted house at the same steady pace.

You two finish the haunted house easily. As Death begins to push you back down the sidewalk toward the hospital, he speaks.

“What did you think?” He asks, and you shrug, leaning your head back to look at him. His eyes are carefully trained on the scenery ahead. You look ahead but see nothing but a few people meandering about.

“It was alright. Not at all like the movies.” You say and hear him huff out a noise of amusement.

Looking back up at him, you look in time to see a quirk on his lips.

“Things rarely are.” He says wisely, and you can’t help but smile a little.

Entry #2: Make candy apples

You stare dumbfounded at the sight before you.

There’s Death at the sink, making his way through washing a bag of apples. His suitcoat is hung over the back of a chair, and his black button-down sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. His watch had been taken off and carefully set aside so as not to get water on the expensive article of clothing.

“Why are we in the kitchens? Why are they empty anyway?” You ask as you slowly roll your wheelchair closer to the man. Your arms shake as they strain to push you closer. You had another round of treatments today—another bout of attempting to extend your life for as long as possible.

“Your list says you wanted to make candy apples. I managed to get the supplies.” That's all he says, and you blink.

“You actually read my list? You didn’t skim it?” You ask, surprised. He looks at you with a slight frown.

“Of course I read it. Why wouldn’t I?” He asks in return, and you look down at your hospital-issued sweats.

“No one ever does.” You whisper and hear the water turn off.

Death doesn’t ridicule you. Doesn’t laugh. He simply walks behind you and takes ahold of your wheelchair handlebars. Then, he pushes you to a small kitchen table that has been set up and lets you get comfortable. He returns to the counter, brings you the bowl of washed apples, and instructs you to start twisting the stems off while he boils the corn syrup, sugar, and water.

“What color do you want the candy apples?” He asks, and you pause in your endeavors.

“Surprise me.” You say, and he simply makes a noise to show he has heard you.

Stabbing the apples with sticks and dipping them takes little over twenty minutes, and soon, you have a bushel of drying, dipped candy apples on a tray of parchment paper. The green fruit is coated in a deep red hard candy, and your mouth salivates at the thought of biting into your sweet treat.

“Thank you, Mr. Reaper.” You say as you poke at one of the apples with a spare skewer. Death looks up from where he is fastening his watch back around his wrist.

“For what?” You look at the man,

“For allowing me to do this. I’m sure you’re busy. But—”

“Helping souls pass on is part of my job.” He cuts you off gently, and you nod numbly, looking down at your lap.

He stands, gently working one of the dried apples from the parchment paper and handing it to you.

“You can also call me by my name, you know.” He says abruptly, and you pause from where you are about to take a bite.

“What?”

“My name isn’t Mr. Reaper. Just call me Nanami.” He says, and you squint, a bit skeptical about the entire exchange.

Ultimately, however, you decide to smile and extend a hand, offering your own name, though you are sure he already knows it.

“It’s nice to meet you, Nanami.”

Entry #3: Do a corn maze

Nanami gets you checked out of the hospital at dusk. He wheels you out to a nondescript black car with tinted windows. You slide into the passenger seat with some difficulty as he folds the wheelchair and puts it in the trunk.

The ride to wherever you are going is filled with aimless chatter. Nanami seems to have relaxed some after introducing himself properly, so he makes it a point to ask you questions.

“Don’t you already know this stuff?” You ask incredulously, and he nods once, keeping his eyes on the road as he switches lanes.

“I do. But I prefer to hear it from you.” He says simply, and you feel your ears warm.

The Halloween festival isn’t crowded like the haunted house was, but it isn’t completely empty. You spy a few families, some pushing strollers and others carrying children. Nanami parks the car and gets out; you get out as well, wrapping your coat around your thin shoulders and tugging mittens onto your fingers. It’s already cold out. You can see your breath.

The Reaper unfolds your wheelchair, and you take a seat. The two of you make your way over the gravel parking lot toward the entrance, where Nanami pays for two tickets with what looks like a blank card. Your hand is stamped, and you are ushered inside.

All you can smell is carnival food and corn. And it smells utterly delicious. Nanami must be able to read your mind or something with his freaky powers because he stops and purchases a caramel apple for you to snack on.

Soon enough, you are at the entrance of the maze. The dirt path is worn, and you are jostled back and forth as you are pushed forward.

“They really ought to level this out. Someone is going to trip and fall.” You complain in between deciding where to turn. Nanami makes the wise choice not to say anything.

Once good and lost, you then make the decision on getting out of the maze. However, there’s a problem.

“Nanami, I can’t see. And I don’t have a flashlight.” You say once you realize it’s indeed too dark for you to make out anything but the bare minimum of the corn stalks.

“I can see just fine.” He replies, and you huff,

“But that takes the fun out of it for me. Isn’t that the whole reason we’re here?” You try, and he pauses, clearly having not thought of that.

So he touches your temple with one warm hand, and suddenly, you can see everything.

It’s like the sky is as clear as day!

It’s like you can see the very turn of the universe as you stare up at the brilliant sky speckled with stars.

It’s magnificent.

You are gobsmacked the entire way, not even noticing that Nanami easily navigates the corn maze. It isn’t long before you make it back to the car, and it’s only then that you realize that you are back to seeing the pitch-black sky.

“How’d you do that?!” You demand excitedly as he starts the car.

“I can temporarily share some of my powers.” He replies, and you nearly bounce in your seat with your sudden bout of energy.

“That was brilliant! Can you do it again?!” At that, he shakes his head,

“Not tonight. Maybe some other time.” He says and leaves it at that.

You don’t have the heart to remind him that your time is coming to a close.

Entry #4: See the cherry blossoms

Fog rolls over the grounds as you are wheeled through the park. It’s late into the night by the time you are quite literally teleported to your destination. The Grim Reaper holds tight to the handles of your wheelchair and begins to walk. You have a blanket thrown over your lap, a hat over your bald head, and mittens over your hands as the wind stirs up the leaves.

It’s not that cold. Really, it’s only a bit chilly. But with your emaciated body from all the treatments, you shiver nonetheless.

“Would you like to go back? You’re trembling.” Nanami points out, and you shake your head vehemently.

“Absolutely not. This isn’t like the haunted house. Plus, I want to see the blossoms.” You say firmly, tugging on your mittens, and he makes a noise but doesn’t stop pushing you at a slow, leisurely pace.

The park is beautiful.

The paleness of the cherry blossoms is washed out in white, making the flowers seem silver in the full moon’s light. And with no one around, you have the entire park to yourself.

Well… except for the man pushing you.

You tilt your head back to watch the twinkling stars peeking through the cherry blossom trees. The branches sway in the light breeze, and petals flutter onto the sidewalk. You hold your hands out and catch a few in your palms. Bringing them close, you inhale deeply, smelling the faint scent of the flowers.

It’s peaceful.

At least… until frost begins to cover everything, and you go from chilly to downright freezing.

And see a tall, cloaked figure standing at the end of the sidewalk, massive scythe in hand and a blackened hole where their face should be.

Now this was what you imagined when meeting the personification of Death.

“Nanami…? Who is that?” You whisper, pointing, but it seems Nanami has already noticed the figure. You can hear his bones creak as he tightens his grip on the wheelchair bars.

Worryingly, he doesn’t say anything. He simply comes to a stop and waits.

And the figure begins to walk. In long strides that eat up the distance between you until they stand before you, carrying that massive weapon as if it were a mere twig.

“Who’s this Nanamin?” The voice is powerful and childish, but that of a man at the same time. When no one answers, the figure reaches up with a skeletal hand. It’s almost as pale as the moon, and he flicks his hood back.

The man has alabaster hair that defies gravity, and his eyes are hidden from you under a blindfold. You can see the sunken sockets where his eyes would be if he weren’t wearing the cloth over his eyes. He stares at you seemingly through the eye covering with a cheeky grin on his face. You don’t have to look at Nanami to know he’s scowling.

“What do you want.” It isn’t a question but a demand. The cloaked man lets out a petulant whine and leans heavily on the staff of his scythe.

“Rude!” He scoffs, and you can practically hear Nanami roll his eyes. He goes to turn you around and leave when the base of the scythe digs into the cement between the wheels of the wheelchair.

“Now, now, no need to run! I’m just being a dear friend and checking in on our dearest Nanamin! You’ve been gone ages! And for what? Hanging out with some humie—”

“Humie? Who even are you?” You blurt and flinch when he turns that look onto you. However, instead of getting upset at you interrupting him, the cloaked man gives you that cheesy grin again and bows,

“Gojo Satoru, Grim Reaper, at your service!”

“What do you want, Gojo.” Yet again, Nanami wasn’t asking questions. He was demanding information. Gojo straightened from his dramatic bow, once again leaning on his scythe.

“Like I said, I was checking on you. You’ve been gone forever!” He exclaims.

“I’m taking care of a soul. Can’t you see that?” Nanami says succinctly, and you pull your blanket on your lap closer around yourself.

Gojo lets out an almost annoyed noise.

“Yeah, but you never do that. It’s always business with you.” He complains, and you hear Nanami sigh.

“What I do is none of your concern.” He says, and readjusts the wheelchair so he can start to wheel you away. Your mittened hands are twisted in the blanket that is now around your shoulders to keep you from shivering too much.

Maybe you should have stayed at the hospital.

Entry #5: Carve a pumpkin

“What is he doing here?” You ask as Gojo seemingly melts from the shadows of the corner of your hospital room. Nanami looks up from where he’s setting up your “activity,” and his face sours.

“What are you doing here?” He directs the question at his fellow Grim Reaper, and the taller man removes his pitch-black robe with a dramatic flick of his wrist, leaving him in a black zip-up and trousers.

He hangs the cloak on the coat rack in the corner of the room.

“Checking in on you and your favorite human, of course! And I brought a friend!” He steps aside, and a shorter figure steps out of the shadows. They’re dressed identically to Gojo, red hood up and obscuring their features until they draw it down.

“You’re just a kid!” You sputter, surprised at the sight before you.

Because you’re right.

He’s just a child.

With messy pink hair on account of his hood and a boyish quirk on his lips, he can’t be any older than seventeen.

Was he another Reaper?

He had to be.

The boy’s grin quickly faded, and he frowned.

“I’m not a kid!” He argues and flinches in surprise as Gojo sets a hand on his shoulder,

“You are the youngest one in the room, Yuji.” He points out, and “Yuji” deflates.

Nanami gathers your attention with a sigh, and you look over and can’t help but smile.

Pumpkins.

A smattering of orange, warty pumpkins are set up on a cloth-covered table, a variety of carving tools laid out neatly next to them. You excitedly squirm to the side of your hospital bed and accept Nanami’s hand to help you stand. Your knees are weak from all the time spent in bed and the medications wreaking havoc on your body. So you shake as you take a seat at the table.

All other furniture has been pushed into one corner, giving ample room for holiday festivities. But you don’t move, not at first.

“Would you three like to carve a pumpkin with me?” You ask suddenly, and the three reapers freeze. But Yuji grins and takes an enthusiastic seat.

“I’ve never carved a pumpkin before! Is it like in the movies?” He asks, and you shrug,

“I don’t know. I’ve never done one myself. Hospital visits tend to take precedence.” You say, embarrassed at the thought of you, a grown adult, never having carved a pumpkin before.

Nanami and Gojo pause before taking their seats in the creaky folding chairs around the table. One sits more excitedly than the other. Yuji and Gojo dive right in, chattering like schoolchildren. You take a moment to gather your thoughts before picking up a tool and getting to work.

You are halfway through cutting the top off your gourd when you realize that Nanami hasn’t moved.

“Are you not going to do one?” You ask, and he looks at you from behind those glasses of his.

“I’m content just to watch.” He says, and you feel a pang of disappointment.

So you push a pumpkin in his direction gently and offer what you hope is a hopeful smile.

“It’s just a pumpkin, Nanami. It won’t bite.” You say, and he rolls his eyes. You can’t help but giggle, but he takes the gourd and slowly begins to cut open the top.

Entry #6: Visit Malaysia

Your arrival in Malaysia was surprisingly quiet.

Of course, it was. It was the middle of the night. Everyone was long in bed save for a few teenagers drinking on the beach when you are pushed from the shadows. They don’t pay you any mind as your wheelchair is parked, and you stand on your own for the first time in what feels like forever.

Nanami is at your side immediately, offering you his arm for you to grab. You take hold of it gratefully as your knees begin to shake with the energy it takes to simply stand upright. You kick off your shoes and socks and walk through the sand.

The water is a bit cold, but nothing too bad. You are staring out at the horizon, where the moon is just peeking over the water, when Nanami finally speaks.

“Look.” He gestures downward, and you gasp.

The water is glowing blue.

A brilliant blueish-white color laps over your toes, and you tighten your grip on Nanami’s arm. He pats your hand once, then twice.

“What is this?” You whisper in awe, bending down shakily to trickle your fingers through the water.

“It’s called the Blue Tears. It’s caused by bioluminescent creatures in the water called dinoflagellates.” Nanami explains, and you look up at the man from where you are slowly soaking the bottoms of your trousers by crouching on the shoreline.

It’s hours before you are tired of watching the glowing water. Thankfully, you had thought to bring a towel and sit on it next to the Grim Reaper as you watch the sun rise over the water.

“You know I wanted to move to Malaysia when I was human,” Nanami says abruptly, and you look over at him. He’s bathed in the growing sunlight, hair turned gold in the bright reds and oranges of the sun’s rays.

“Why didn’t you?” You ask, and he just looks sad.

“I died before I could.” He replies, and you feel a pang of emotion.

And then comes a realization.

“I’m ready, Nanami.” You say suddenly and realize it’s true. You had done everything on your list. Your fear has left you. And surprisingly, you feel at peace. You see Nanami turn his head to look at you out of the corner of your eye.

“What do you mean?” He asks, and you smile a sad sort of smile.

“I’m ready to pass on.” You whisper and see his eyes widen behind his glasses.

“Are you sure?” He replies, and you nod once.

He looks at his hands, clenches them into fists, and seemingly steels himself.

Then, he extends a hand. And you take it. Looking down at your joined hands, you realize you are quite literally glowing. Golden specks of dust slowly eat away at your physical body. But you don’t feel pain. You just feel warm.

“Thank you, Nanami.” You say, voice cracking and tears falling.

“Kento. My name is Kento.” He says gently, and you nod once, smiling a brilliant smile as you disappear, your final words but a whisper on the wind.

“Thank you, Kento.”

#nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x y/n #kento nanami x you #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami x y/n #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk nanami #jjk kento #jujutsu kaisen nanami #jujutsu kaisen kento #fairy writes

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otakusheep15 · 7 months

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Obey Me Flufftober Day 6

Prompt: Cry

Pairing: Beelzebub x reader (gender neutral)

Word count: 637

A/n: Guys, I promise this is a fluffy prompt! I know crying isn't usually considered fluff, but just hear me out! Also, this is based on a personal experience, so consider this a little self-indulgent on my part.

You consider yourself a strong individual. I mean, you deal with demons, angels, grim reapers, and an immortal on a daily basis, so, naturally, you had to be strong. However, you had one weakness, and one weakness only: sad animal videos.

No matter what, you just could not handle them. Every single time a video of an army vet reuniting with his dog or a family finding their long-lost cat finds its way onto your feed, you just start bawling. It's honestly very embarrassing. It also doesn't help that your anxiety prevents you from talking about it with anyone for fear of being called a crybaby.

Luckily, you wouldn't have to worry about that fear too much longer.

One day, you were scrolling through Devilgram when you came across a sad puppy video. As expected, you could feel the tears welling up in your eyes. What was unexpected, however, was the quiet gasp you heard on the other side of the room. You turn to look in the direction of the noise, only to find Beelzebub standing awkwardly in the doorway. You see that he has a snack in hand, likely meant to be shared with you. You can also see that his gaze has quickly dropped to the floor, clearly embarrassed at walking in on you in such a vulnerable state.

The tears continue to fall from your face, but you hardly even notice, instead focusing on Beel. He genuinely looked so sorry for walking in on you, and that made your heart melt a little bit. You're not exactly sure what to do from here, but it seems that Beel has that part under control. His approach is slow, like he's tending to a wounded animal. Ironic, considering the cause of your tears. He places the snack down on your dresser before making his way to your bed, looking to you for permission.

When you give the slightest nod, he gently sits down on the edge and continues to look at you. Without saying anything, you fill in the remaining space, clinging to him as you finally let out your sobs. In that moment, you felt absolutely ridiculous, but you also felt absolutely loved. As you cried, Beel pat your head, careful not to put too much pressure. He didn't say a word, just sat there while you got your feelings out.

Eventually, your tears stopped,and you were left silently sniffling in his arms. Once he was sure you were calm, he attempted to ask what was wrong. Beel was never the best at verbal comfort, but this effort was more than enough. Despite your embarrassment, you divulged why you had been so upset. Again, Beel remained quiet. He was a very good listener, and for that you were thankful. As much as you loved the other brothers, none of them were as good as Beel when it came to simply needing someone to vent to.

As was expected, Beel did not judge you in the slightest. Instead, he validated your feelings, claiming he also gets sad when he sees those videos. You weren't even aware he watched videos like that, but it made so much sense now that you knew.

Beel released you for a moment, and you were concerned he was just going to leave you there. But you should've known better by now. Instead of leaving, he simply got up to retrieve the (almost) forgotten snack. After all, it was his original purpose for showing up. Apparently, it was a new snack he had just recently discovered, and he had been saving it all day so that he could try it with you.

Crying over sad animal videos certainly made you feel silly. But, as you sat on your bed, eating snacks with Beel, you couldn't help but feel at peace.

#obey me beelzebub #shall we date obey me #obey me #flufftober #flufftober 2023 #obey me fluff #obey me scenarios #obey me headcanons #beelzebub headcanons #beelzebub x reader #gender neutral reader #obey me mc #gender neutral mc

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jayteacups · 1 year

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Reader-Insert Masterlist

This is a comprehensive list of all Character x Reader fics I have written. They are all written in second-person POV, and are written for a gender-neutral reader unless stated otherwise. Please heed warnings for each individual fic.

Fandoms: Attack on Titan (more to come)

Characters: Levi Ackerman, Eren Jaeger (more to come)

Levi Ackerman

Multi-chapter works

The Harbinger’s Premonition [AO3]

He's not meant to see you, but he does. To him, you are Death's Harbinger. To you, Levi Ackerman is a mortal that you wish you didn't have to haunt.

Grim Reaper!Reader Canonverse AU, canon-typical violence, canon compliance, spoilers for the show and manga

Ongoing; 10.1k words

One-shots

Between the Pages

Lately, your attention has been captured by a new book series, to the point where you won’t stop talking about it. Wanting to know exactly what it is that you’re talking about, Levi does some reading of his own.

Fluff, established relationship, 2.7k words

All Too Familiar

In a twisted turn of events, you, Levi’s lover, take the bullet instead.

Angst, spoilers for Season 4 Part 1, major character death, 2.4k words

Onwards Past to Eternity (Request)

An alternative happy ending to All Too Familiar.

Angst, fluff, Season 4 spoilers, manga spoilers, 6.4k words

Embrace of the Sun (NSFW)

Morning musings with your lover turn into something a little more heated.

Fluff and smut, explicit sexual content, fem!Reader, 5.0k words

Gentle Touches (Request)

In which Levi experiences affection for the first time.

Fluff, emotional hurt/comfort, newly established relationships, non-sexual intimacy, 3.4k words

And So It Begins. (Request)

On the field, you are a force to be reckoned with. Off the field, it is almost the exact opposite. Either way, you catch your Captain’s eye, and so it begins.

Fluff, confessions, getting together, fem!Reader, 5.8k words

Limits

Mind still buzzing from the horrors of a disastrous expedition, Levi returns home to you in a daze. You try to offer whatever comfort you can.

Hurt/comfort, a little angsty, civilian reader, 1.5k words

Remedy

Struggling to keep up with your university workload, you fall sick, much to your dismay. Your boyfriend takes care of you, but Levi’s spent too much of his life watching a loved one struggle with illness, and can’t help the rising fear within him when looking after you.

Sickfic, university AU, fem!Reader, 2.0k words

At Ease

You, the Survey Corps’ most prized asset, finds solace in the stoic but gentle teashop owner who you’ve come to know as your friend.

Or: The Captain!Reader x Civilian!Levi AU absolutely nobody asked for.

Friends to lovers, emotional hurt/comfort, role reversal AU, 3.5k words

Ignorance is Bliss

Out of the entire cast of Attack on Titan, the member that spends the least time online is probably Levi. And after seeing the responses to the latest collaboration promotional photoshoot, he wants to keep it that way.

Actor AU, established relationship, fluff, humour, some suggestive content, 1.1k

Levi Week Day 3: Shy & Blushing | Affections & Fondness

To celebrate your second anniversary together, Levi takes you to see the beach for the first time.

Canonverse, established relationship, post S3, fluff, mild NSFW (oral sex), 3.5k

It’s A Wrap!

Working on Attack on Titan as a makeup artist has irreversibly changed your life. As the end rapidly approaches, you find that letting go is harder than you’d thought. After years of harbouring feelings for Levi that you can’t divulge, his final day on set arrives. You know it’s time to say goodbye to him and part ways—but maybe you don’t have to.

AOT Actor AU, Actor!Levi x Makeup Artist Reader

Fluff, mutual pining, friends/idiots to lovers, confessions, brief implied sexual content, 6.9k

Ficlets (<1k words)

Safe With Me

Lately, mental exhaustion has been weighing you down, and Levi takes it upon himself to take care of you.

Hurt/comfort, mentions of mental health struggles, and mental exhaustion, 0.8k words

Dozes

A quick little fic about sleepy morning cuddles with Levi.

Fluff, established relationship, 0.6k words

All Is Well.

After watching the latest Attack on Titan episode, you seek out your actor boyfriend in need of reassurance that he’s okay.

Fluff, Season 4 Pt 2 spoilers, actor AU, 0.8k words

Confessions

You confess to your long-time best friend about how you truly feel.

Fluff, friends-to-lovers, 0.5k words

Insecurities

You don’t feel like you deserve him. Levi has a few things to say about that.

Emotional hurt/comfort, angst and fluff, 0.6k words

A Failed Attempt

Levi feels like he should try to be more traditionally romantic. Little does he know just how bad at that he is.

Fluff, humour, newly established relationship, 0.8k words

A Lover’s Hands

“His hands are weapons of war, but they are gentle, and you can think of no better pair of hands to cherish you so.”

Fluff, established relationship, suggestive content, 0.4k words

Another uni AU drabble (title TBC)

You and your boyfriend want nothing more to cuddle in bed and sleep in the safety of each other’s arms, but university work seems to have a vendetta against you.

Uni AU, fluff, established relationship, 1.0k words

Love’s Philosophy [AO3]

A ficlet collection based off this prompt list.

Multiple AUs, varying individual ratings.

Ongoing; 11/20 ficlets posted as of July 2023.

Headcanons & thoughts

The Florist Saga: Florist/plant dad Levi | Florist Levi x teashop owner Reader | Florist Levi tag

Being called ‘pretty’

Busy-body S/O

Getting his wisdom teeth removed

Thoughts: IKEA dates | Doting on him

Submissions (from you guys!): Naps | Massages

Eren Jaeger

Ficlets (<1 words)

Since You Asked So Nicely

It’s three minutes until midnight. Your boyfriend’s eager to unwrap his birthday present a little early, and since he asked so nicely, how could you say no?

Established relationship, suggestive content, implied modern AU, 0.6k

Headcanons

#eren thoughts ⬅️ other headcanons and short blurbs

More to come...

Navigation

#jay's navi #attack on titan x reader #levi ackerman x reader #eren jaeger x reader

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queendeeshorrorimagines · 1 year

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Death and Life

HUNK X Gender neutral reader

Warnings: mentions of injuries (minor cuts and bruises)

The first request for my soulmate au One-shot series. I made reader a rookie medic with the codename Saint in this fic but other than that, reader is pretty much ambiguous as i can make it. I hope everyone enjoys. (Please help, I might have a horrible mask kink)

Prompt: Thinking that you/ they don't have a soulmate until you/ they meet your soulmate/ their soulmate

Entering Umbrella's headquarter building with several agents, he withholds his grunts of discomfort as an agent beside talks to him, her spotless outfit was a striking difference to his bloodied and tattered uniform. She had a glowing rose tattoo on the palm of her hand- her soulmate mark.

HUNK, for the most part kept quiet as they walked down the long hallway, listening to what she had to say. His mind is thinking about the details of the mission he just completed. The pesky thoughts of wondering if he's truly meant to be alone occasionally rears its head in his thoughts.

HUNK has always been too great at the missions he's done throughout the years he's been in umbrella, hell, even during his time in the military. Having a soulmate will only make things worse for him- he tries his best to convince himself while others gave sympathetic looks his way when they found out.

Being the grim reaper in what he does gives him no time to care about the fact that he has no sign of a soulmate present. It made him focus in on being successful on his missions while his colleagues usually end up failing.

Before he joined umbrella, he has felt the emotional sting of knowing that he doesn't have any signs of a soulmate. No matching tattoos like everyone else, just his bare skin that shows. Now it's just the numbness of the acceptance of having no soulmate to go home to after his missions. He was the ideal candidate for Unbrella because of that.

"Have you seen the new nurse that started today?"

Whispers from one of the agents peaked his interest as they talked about the newest member. His footsteps followed through the corridors of the medical unit.

"Yeah, agent. I heard that the nurse doesn't have any soulmate.. how tragic."

The other agent responded, giving a brief sympathetic look towards the first agent. Both agents quickly quit down once they realized that HUNK was staring at them. He reluctantly entered the medical unit with his superior, not wanting to waste his time getting checked out for barely any injuries.

He sits on one of the beds, quietly waiting for the nurse to enter the area. His boss sits down at a spare chair after asking the head nurse to send a nurse their way. HUNK's mask covered eyes took in their surroundings before hearing soft footsteps and wheels of the medical cart move closer towards him.

"Hello, HUNK. Call me Saint, I'm here to check you out and make sure you don't have any infections and you'll be on your way."

Your eyes were on your clipboard before you looked at the male sitting on the bed. His covered eyes looked into yours as you felt as if the world has stopped. Butterflies fluttered your stomach as you attempted to put on a professional facade as you moved to your chair near the bed.

"I'll be damned, you do have a soulmate."

The voice of HUNK's superior mused as he uttered something about owing a couple people money for a bet. Your gloved hands carefully checked his cuts and bruises. It was gentle but perfectly accurate as you disinfeted and bandaged each cut on his skin.

HUNK felt a mixture of shock and disbelief as he looked at you work. The rookie nurse named Saint was his soulmate, his other half. All these years of accepting that he was supposed to be alone turned out to be a lie, his soulmate mark was not having one.

"All done.. I'd suggest applying the arnica cream on your bruises ever six hours for the next couple days. Other than that, you should get some rest."

Disposing of the contaminated items, you advised to him. Your shrubs were neatly pressed and matched the other nurses he's seen. Just as you handed him the jar of cream, the agent got up; leaving the area as he shot a knowing look towards the masked man.

"You don't have a soulmate mark too, eh?"

You tried to break the ice as you wrote on the paper in your clip board.

"Well, if you need a personal nurse or just someone to hang out with, here's my phone number."

With a soft smile, you took the sheet of paper out, folding it in half before handing it to HUNK. You hear the head nurse call your name before you said a brief goodbye to the male.

#hunk x reader #queendeeshorrorimagines #resident evil imagine #resident evil imagines #re imagines #hunk imagines #hunk imagine #dees sweet tea #gender neutral reader #soulmate au

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blues824 · 1 year

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Muzan Kibutsuji x William T. Spears! Reader?

Gender-neutral Reader.

Muzan Kibutsuji

You both were constantly toe-to-toe because he hated how you were insistent on keeping your Reaper’s state of neutrality, and you hated how he was a repulsive demon. So, as you can see, you definitely had your differences and it got in the way of a relationship.

But, it wasn’t until one of your reapers fucked up where you had to unfortunately step in and apologize to Muzan for getting in the way of fate. He almost laughed at how you had to set aside your pride to follow protocol for mess-ups like these.

Before you left, the Demon King wanted to get to know more about your kind (he really wanted to know more about you, but whatever). He had never encountered a reaper, nor had he encountered one who messed up. You had to tell him that when people died, their souls were reaped and you took a look at their cinematic records before they were brought to either Heaven or Hell.

It was because of him that you were beginning to see him as less of a “devilish fiend” and more of a “devilish friend”. You were surprised to see yourself wanting to see him more, and so you did. Everyone back at the Grim Reaper Dispatch would wonder where you were because you were constantly going to see Muzan.

Unfortunately, you were not influential enough to bring the entire Dispatch into the battle of Demons vs. Demon Slayers. It’s not like you would anyway because that means that the balance would be thrown off and the Slayers would stand no chance against them. After all, Grim Reapers can’t really be killed with the demons or slayers of this world.

Consider this the Romeo and Juliet story of the Taisho Era of Japan.

#demon slayer #demon slayer x reader #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #kny x reader #kny #muzan #muzan x reader #muzan kibutsuji x reader #muzan kibutsuji

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woozten-x · 1 year

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#. 𝐄𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 : 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 | 𝐇𝐚𝐞𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧

[ ; m.list including other Neos! ]

─ Synopsis: Life is truly unfair, but what happens you decided to take a path of being a grim reaper? Perhaps it is less painful, but it had grown to be similar to the time you were alive. Your soul remains wounded...However, maybe there is one way to heal - but, can you save him?

The angel with clipped wings - Lee Donghyuck, a soul begging to be saved.

─ Pairing: Reaper!Haechan x Gender-Neutral Reader

─ Genre: Heavy Angst, Fanfiction (including chapters, no exact amount yet), Angst w. Comfort (sometimes), Wholesome/Fluff (sometimes)

─ Content Warning: Talks about death, portrayal of suicide in the beginning, self harm (referenced)

─ Concepts: Reaper!AU, Reaper!Haechan, PROLOGUE - introductory, reader uses they/them, other neos appear! (Taeyong, Doyoung, Johnny, Renjun and Jaehyun to be exact), some random side character shes not that important, reader is a rookie reaper!, mentions of depression / mental health issues, the other neos are there for comic relief, reader and haechan have a past together, reader doesn’t know tho only haechan - yall learn it as the chapters progress, basically enemies(?) to lovers, haechan kind of a jerk

─ Count of Words: 3.3k

─ Inspiration of the work: See You Again by Yerin Baek, Sorry, Heart by NCT Dream

❒ a/n: this will have more parts!! i planned on not doing it originally, but it makes more sense to break it into parts. i will try to release the other parts one by one since this project is a bit more... story driven - if that makes sense. ty to my cat for motivating me by stepping all over my notes while i write this<3

the next chapters will be longer bc this is just a prologue! i will involve content warnings for each chapter because there will be heavy topics discussed surrounding death.

this whole fic premise is inspired by Goblin + Tomorrow kdrama(s) !! but, it doesn’t exactly follow their concept(s) or plot. its just inspiration and has a similar idea to those dramas (so if you see similarities, you know why ahah) i will switch out one song for each new chapter. sorry heart stays tho because its mainly inspired by that song + that song owns my whole ass heart im just biased

ʕっ• ᴥ • ʔっ

Every memory replays before you, the message of ‘life plays before your eyes during death’ is true after all; the vivid images, the many emotions you’ve felt throughout your lifetime have brought a sickening amount of nostalgia. The recollection causes you to feel sick, your hot wrists suddenly becoming cold - everything felt crushing, as the idea you’ve thought of before to bring you here was a complete lie.

It wasn’t peaceful at all.

No sign of tranquility overcame you, only the coldness and a heavy burden replacing your beating heart. Suddenly, you are met by the sight of the person - no it’s no person, it was you; your figure laid across the floor, crimson pooling underneath you amongst the trashed bedroom you’ve lived in for years. You regained your own composure, beginning to understand what has happened.

You’ve given up.

Staring at the sight of your own figure, your soul numb by the scene before you; the same scene you’ve craved for so long, you had finally obtained it to only receive nothing. Oh, it is startling and…

“Y/N L/N. Born on Y/BD and deceased on April 18, 2023. Cause of death: Suicide.”

The voice appears behind you, looking towards the owner of it; you meet a black-haired young male, his features sharp yet gentle. His round eyes of dark brown did not leave the black card in his gloved hands, he wore a suit with the tie loosened around the collar and he held a strong aura despite his gentle-like yet handsome face. You blink several times, speaking up - “Who are you?”

He looked up, meeting your eyes and his blank expression had melted away into surprise. You weren’t sure if you were supposed to ask such a question during these circumstances, but he stared at you; the beauty marks printed upon his tanned skin becoming evident within the sunlight seeping inside your room, the door of your bedroom now open to reveal your mother.

The scream from your mother made you turn your head, a heavy ache resonating in your chest once hearing her distressed voice. Instantly, she cradles you in her arms like an infant, crying out to any god willing to spare any time to help her child; however, it was far too late.

He looks at your mother before looking away, a dull ache rising at the temples of his head. He did not want to feel this way, not again. He looks at you, “I am the reaper who is guiding you to the afterlife…” He tells you before walking up to your closet door. Placing a gloved hand on the doorknob, he did not spare another glance towards you, only motioning for you to follow close to him.

“Can I…Can I stay here a bit longer?” You say barely above a whisper, the cries of your mother causing you to freeze in place. You did not want to leave just yet. He looks at you then at your mother, her weeps heard upon deaf ears with your lifeless body held in her petite arms; he only shook his head.

“If you stay any longer, you won’t find any reason to leave.”

“I wouldn’t huh?” You say softly, looking back at your mother. Drowned out in the mourning of the sorrow of one, you finally move away to walk up to the reaper. He gives no assurance to your dismay, his hand twisting the knob and stepping through the door; with one final glance, you are following after him and met with a bright light. Within a blink of an eye, you are appearing in a seat surrounded by a vintage style kitchen.

It held a cozy interior, the colors holding a soft brown palette. A wind chime held a whimsical tune, no breeze causing the sound however; your eyes watched the silver cling together, humming softly by the collision. This was the afterlife? The more you comprehend it, it felt like a nightmare; the heaviness you’ve carried throughout your life never diminished, why was it still there?

Hanging your head low, you met the sight of your hands, the coldness remaining. The wounds surrounding your wrists became scars, becoming a reminder of the unthinkable. You wanted to cry, but no tears had come; you weren’t sure, but the coldness rushing through your veins made you feel numb.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N.”

Looking up, you meet eyes with a man; strikingly handsome features carving his face, his silver strands of hair complimenting his pale skin. He looked like an angel with a kind smile playing at his pink lips, his eyes holding an indescribable amount of innocence.

He sits down in front of you after pulling out the chair, “I am Taeyong. I am the one who listens to each soul’s story and gives them a choice.”

“Choice?” You furrow your brows, unsure whether you are following his words. Weren’t you given a place in Heaven or Hell by what you’ve done throughout your life?

Taeyong nods, “I can explain that further once I get to know you better. I would love to listen to your story.”

A cup of tea appears in front of you once he waved his hand, the silver rings surrounding his fingers glimmering underneath the light on the ceiling; you breathlessly look down at the cup, the steam swirling above. You stare into the cup, your reflection looking back at you. Taeyong observes you, his expression softening - “Would you prefer coffee? I can always change it to your liking.”

Shaking your head, your cold hands meet the warm cup and you feel the curse of numbness finally fade away. It was replaced by an unspeakable misery, however. Tears well up in your eyes, grasp tightening around the cup with trembling hands and you bow your head low - the cold tears dropping onto the tabletop and into the cup, as falling droplets of a downpour.

Taeyong reaches over, placing a gentle hand upon your trembling shoulder - “You can let it all out now.”

After those words, you had fully sunk in your own agonizing pool of regret. You never wanted this yet here you were, explaining your untold feelings to a stranger - a stranger who will guide your soul elsewhere. You are not sure whether you are worthy in any place, holding a scattered self-worth since you were born; you have solely admitted to feeling wrong since the day you were born.

Since the day you were born, your life has been a misfortune.

“Would you like to know something, Y/N?”

Sniffling and wiping at your eyes with the back of your hands, you look at him with a blurry sight. The tears seem never ending for you.

Taeyong gently smiles, “Souls will always have the same scars from their past life. But, they learn to overcome each one in the next.”

His words linger in your head and you shake your head. You weren’t sure whether it was greed or it was the unbearable past of sorrow, you managed these words - “I don’t want to live another life. Not again. It hurts too much to go through it again.”

“Is that what you think?” Taeyong asks, tilting his head slightly to further comprehend your words. Your answer.

Without a second thought, you nod your head - “I can’t go through it again…” You quietly say. The plead in your voice and your gaze was enough to convince him, sometimes some souls cannot fathom the unfairness of reality. Taeyong nods, “You are just like him.”

Confusingly looking at him, he did not explain any further and smiled at you once taking your hands in his. “You will become a reaper. You will carry the past upon your back during the wakes of your new life, are you sure you want this new life?” Taeyong tells you, his eyes tenderly meeting yours and closely observing it. Though, he was surprised to see no hesitance.

“Yes. I will continue my life as a reaper…” You answer back, the promise of your words becoming one you soon regret.

Supposedly, this biggest regret can become something better however.

. . .

“The newbies got out of training today, huh?” said one tall reaper, his dark brown hair styled over his round face. The raven-head reaper looks up from the files settled on his desk, the task of organizing boring him to death; he was glad to have someone break the silence within the room. The room where it held a division of reapers, solely known for collecting souls from the other waking world.

He sits back in his seat, a small groan emitting from his lips while stretching - “Mark was telling me all night about it…Apparently, there’s a new role?”

Johnny looks at the younger reaper, the two having a 100 year age gap; he seems intrigued by the other’s comment. “New role? Does that mean another division?” He questions and Donghyuck only shrugs, closing the file sitting atop of his desk. His eyes began to sting the longer he sees it.

“It’s a temporary role, I think. They will be divided and we will most likely have a few under our wing,” Donghyuck said with a grin. He seems to be fond of the idea; after all, what’s terrible about seeing new faces around the office? As a reaper, things grow too tiring and boring far too quickly. He needs a change.

Before Johnny could reply, another black haired reaper enters with a brunette following behind him. “We have to clean up a bit,” Doyoung nags, the raven-head pointing out at the trash filled to the brim with empty ramen cups eaten by a culprit in the office. It was definitely not Donghyuck. The younger whines, “Are you nagging because the new reapers will be joining our division?”

“No, Donghyuck. I just don’t want roaches creating an economy in our office.” Doyoung rolls his eyes, a hearty laugh escaping the brunette who entered in the office with the older; his dimples deeply imprinted on his pale skin, as he greets Johnny with his deep voice. Donghyuck rolls his eyes, sitting back in his seat - “Have Renjun do it. You can’t boss me around because I am only a few hundred years younger.”

Doyoung scoffs, “I think it’s been a decade.”

Instantly the younger reaper shook his head, picking up the calendar from his desk and revealing the many marked days with a bear stamp - “Wrong! I kept counting just for this day to prove you wrong.” He declares triumphantly, a smirk drawn over his pink lips and Doyoung only sighed while Johnny and Jaehyun laugh at the interaction shared between the two.

No matter how many years or decades, Doyoung can never catch a break with him.

A knock is heard on the door, the voice of Taeyong’s heard from behind before it opens. Instantly, Doyoung stuffs the nearby locker with the bin filled with trash and approaches the opening door, respectfully greeting the other people behind the door, whilst Donghyuck curiously watches afar from his desk sitting in the corner of the room.

Renjun enters and Donghyuck instantly boos, “Who let him in?!”

Renjun raises a fist in his way, instantly placing it down when Taeyong enters. Behind Taeyong, there are two new reapers following closely behind like lost ducklings; the two of them intimidated, despite the similar uniforms they shared with the others in the office.

It took a moment for Donghyuck to let his eyes scan the new faces, the excitement from before becoming a diminished flame of a candle. He wondered if fate is cruel to put him in the same room as you.

“These are the new recruits joining your division. Like always, please make them feel welcome! Please introduce yourselves,” Taeyong gently encourages them with a bright smile. Awkwardly, the two new reapers stood, you clear your throat and bow respectfully - “My name is Y/N L/N. It is very nice to meet you!”

Next to you, the next recruit introduces herself - “Kim Sunmin! Nice to meet you.”

You scan the room, taking in the interior of the ordinary looking office; you wouldn’t think any reaper would work in here considering its normality. You met eyes with the raven-head sitting in the corner of the room behind his desk, his familiar face causing your eyes to lit up; it was the reaper who brought you here! You had completely forgotten about him until now. How could you forget his face?

The constellation of beauty marks printed beautifully on his tanned, handsome face. You can’t forget a person like that, if you saw him again. Once the introductions were cleared and Taeyong had left the room, Doyoung had spoken up - “You two will have partners whenever escort missions are assigned. Just simply do what you have to do, and if there is any problem you could always speak to me or anyone in this room. We are all equal here.”

“Actually, just keep the questions for Doyoung. The fun is for everybody else~” Johnny jokes, Sunmin chuckling at his reply while you stand with a small smile. It still felt intimidating, however. You have no idea how long you’ve studied for to bring you this far, but you felt incredibly drawn to the quiet reaper sitting in the corner of the room; naturally, your eyes are landing on him.

He stares back at you, his expression unreadable. You weren’t sure whether he was the quiet type or it was simply because you were a stranger in a familiar environment. You decided to walk around the crowd, approaching him who didn’t leave his desk to introduce himself; it is essential to get to know him, you’ll be working with him for an eternity, after all.

As you stand in front of him, his eyes never leave yours and you bow politely towards him. “I am Y/N L/N.” You introduce yourself, looking at him with a smile. For a brief moment, you see a flash of pain in his eyes; your own friendliness being ineffective, as he remains tense and his lips have grown slightly pale.

Your own enthusiasm falls from your face, concern replacing each detail of your expression - “Are you alright?”

Reaching out towards him, a hand nearing his shoulder and he instantly moves your hand away. His hand was cold in comparison with yours, the shock evident on his face and body. Rising from his seat, his hands slamming against the desk and the commotion led the others’ attention landing on you and Donghyuck; he breathed heavily, sounding like he was having difficulty breathing.

“G-Get away from me…” He whispers and you confusingly look back at him. You weren’t exactly offended, but lost; what did he mean by that? The two of you only met once, how could you affect him this much?

“Donghyuck? What’s up?” Johnny approaches the younger, the taller glancing at you before looking at the raven-head; observing him closely. Donghyuck says nothing, moving away from the desk and his shoulder colliding with the older’s when walking out hastily. Johnny seems speechless, never seeing the reaper the way he is no matter how long they’ve known each other.

Renjun instantly chases after the other, a thick silence hanging above everybody once the two left. Stunned, you stand at Donghyuck’s desk not sure what has happened, until Johnny approaches you with an understanding smile. “He probably had a bad day. Don’t worry too much about it, rookie.” He comforts you, patting you on the shoulder.

“…Let's go out! My treat, as a celebration for Y/N and Sunmin’s arrival!” Doyoung suggests, breaking the tension overbearingly carried amongst everyone within the office. Everyone else nodded, wanting to enjoy the day regardless of the unexpected situation; although you tried your best to smile and focus on the present moment, you can’t help but feel guilty.

But, how could you feel guilty with something you don’t know about?

An arm is draped over your shoulders, Johnny standing next to you and giving an assuring smile and squeeze on your shoulder - “Don’t worry too much about it? Sometimes, this job takes a toll on you. Don’t take it personally.”

You slowly nodded, knowing many instances of many reapers’ mental health issues. It wasn’t exactly surprising, considering every single reaper holds a story of their own.

Just like you, they possibly find no reason for living.

. . .

Walking through the corridors of the dorm, you are left alone with the footsteps echoing the halls and your own thoughts. Though today was fun, especially with a fun time with your new co-workers and soon to be friends, you are left with the heavy burden cursing your heart or chest; you aren’t exactly sure if you are considered a being with a beating heart or you particularly own one.

The more you live as a reaper, you’ve realized you are nothing but a soul carrying the past memories with a heaviness straining your heart. Was this punishment for becoming one?

Surely, you could regret it now, but it was too late now. You’ve come this far to only feel this constant heaviness, a curse engraved in your soul; living is somehow still painful like you were alive. Does this pain go away? You haven’t lived long enough as a reaper to exactly answer such a question, but you have no one to ask. Despite your peers being friendly, you felt out of place.

Once again, your soul is feeling wrong.

Walking to your room of the new dormitory given to you based on the division you were assigned to, you are met with the sound of someone singing. His voice light, carried throughout the halls in a gentle melody; his voice angelic, considering how lovely it was in your ears. Meeting your room door, you look around the halls, wondering what door it could be. Was it next door?

You shut your eyes and listen, the heaviness within your chest being lifted. Even for a moment, you found peace. The more you listened, you felt an uplift of your own lips; feeling calmed by the steady notes singing throughout the dormitory. You wondered, if anyone else heard it or not. Whether they do, you were glad to be able to let the person singing have their time to shine.

You weren’t sure how long you stood, but the song came to a stop with a low hum then a silence replacing the field of notes you were surrounded with momentarily. Pouting to yourself, clearly disappointed. Taking a deep breath, you take out your room key until you hear a soft cry. Freezing, you look towards the sound and hear the shakiness of someone’s breathing before another cry escapes his lips.

Who knew, the angel with the most beautiful voice was in pain.

Unlocking the door, you decided not to interfere knowing it was not your place to do so. You were still a stranger to these people, you can’t get too close. Entering inside your room, you quietly close the door behind yourself and rest your body against the door; his cries are not any louder, but only distant once you are inside. Sinking to the floor, you sit with your knees propped up against your chest.

“Your voice isn’t fit for those tears…” You whisper, wishing your words could be carried to him as a message of comfort. However, it wasn’t possible.

On the other side of the wall, the reaper with an aching voice continues to cry whilst curling up on his bed. Hugging himself as an attempt to comfort himself, he gently hums amongst his cries; trying to calm himself down. Donghyuck hasn’t cried this hard in so long, yet somehow the past had come to haunt him.

Though, the past is a reaper’s misfortune, this different type of misfortune had punished him severely. What was he going to do?

The knife stuck in his chest is remembered once again, wishing for the tragedy to end by the one who can save him.

Yet the savior is the one who stuck this blade in the first place.

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valentine-cafe · 2 months

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One lemon coconut tart please!! (fem reader? Gender neutral? Idk how to mark this one!)

Thinking about rough throat training with Jingyi:(

It starts off with him on the couch sitting in between his spread legs. A single finger playing with your hair as you ramble on and on about how you never sucked a dick before.

"Is that so?"

That you're scared to try.

"Oh?"

But you want to do it with him!

"Then I'll take good care of you, my sweet baobei."

All with a teasing grin on his face:( So here you are, eyes blurry with tears, mouth full of cock as his piercing rubs against your tongue. Being told to relax your throat with hands wrapped around your head and hips being bucked up in your face:((

Ofc he'll wipe your tear-stained cheeks and give your puffy lips kisses after, even with cum and spit dripping down your chin:(

-🍄

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ᥫ᭡ earth 9948e zhao jingyi

. ˚◞ ꒰ 🍰 grim reaper x reader ꒱

oh he definitely talks you through it. holds the back of your hair, gently rubs his fingers along the back of your neck. makes sure to slowly grind his hips up and ease his cock down your throat while crooning at you. telling you how well you're doing for him.

will eventually bleed into him fucking your throat, guiding your head with his hand and drawling out hushed: “mhhm, that's it baobei, that's it,” “doing so well, mhhm. . . gege's little slut yeah? yeah.”

definitely rubs his thumb on your throat to help you swallow once he's out. kisses away at your tears and returns the favour absolutely

#⊹ ۪ ࣪ ᥫ᭡ daydreams — jingyi 9948e ꒱#teratophillia #smut #teratophillia smut #terato #grim reaper oc #grim reaper x reader #monster romance #monster oc #monster x reader #monster boyfriend #oc x reader #monster boyfriend x reader #afab reader #jingyi 9948e #x reader #reader insert #confessions

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shanesbluechicken · 1 year

Note

Im back and i see you doing mythical creature reader requests 👀

Not really a mytical creature but could I ask for a Shane x male! Death! Reader? Like the reader is a reaper and the embodiment of death, which is a bit funny because he runs a farm and takes care of animals

I also think it would be funny if reader uses his own scythe to cut weeds and they immedietly wilt under the blade

-🦝

The farmer is the grim reaper (Shane)

So I know you requested a male farmer, but I noticed that I totally forgot to mention it anywhere when I finished. But I didn't write down any scenes or opportunities that would need a specification so I hope that this neutral version suits you as well❤

If you still want it changed then let me know in the ask box and I'll write it over immediately🤗

TW: mentions of death, mentions of suicide, mentions of alcohol

Gender: neutral

Of course he knew from the beginning that you're a little bit different. From your whole strange ominous aura to that oddly looking scythe. It's just weird to have something like that when you're living in a city, but maybe you used to have a separate garden outside of it? Who knows?

Since you didn't have a kitchen when you first moved into the old farm Marnie made him bring food over from time to time. In these times he noticed how you never used your own scythe to cut down the grass and you somehow always seem to know when he was coming over. Even without him or Marnie announcing it to you beforehand.

He would stand behind you with the box and you already knew it was Shane by saying his name. That never failed to send a slight shiver down his spine.

That one night when he was laying at the edge of the cliff surrounded by empty beer cans he saw a black, hooded figure walk up to him. No, it couldn't be described as walking, it seemed more like they were floating over the ground. Not even the light breeze was able to move the dark cloak that covered their entire appearance, making it impossible to see how they looked like.

Maybe it was his drunk mind, but it looked like the figure froze in their tracks as they came closer and they shook their head slightly.

"Now is not your time."

It wasn't just one singular voice talking to him. It was as if the entire world population was speaking through their mouth like a large group of people talking at the same time. Then as slowly as they arrived, they vanished into the night.

What the figure didn't realize is that Shane recognized the scythe they held during their encounter. It was most definitely yours.

For the next days he couldn't shake off the feeling that he escaped something and he had his theories, but his mind refused to believe in them. Considering the situation and the way you looked it honestly seemed like he was about to die and that you were were grim reaper who came for him. Only that he was still very much alive.

All of that leads to this exact moment. Shane is pacing like a tiger in a cage infront of your porch, mumbling nonsense like a lunatic. The events of that night haunt him in his dreams everytime he falls asleep and every morning he wakes up drenched in his on sweat and clinging onto his chest.

The second you open the door the words just burst out of him.

"You think this is a fucking joke?!"

"Shane, what-"

"You like scaring the shit out of me like that, huh? Is that funny to you? Do you find it funny mocking me like this?"

He wouldn't have been surprised if the entire town heard him. Shane doesn't remember the last time he YELLED like this at anyone.

Oddly enough you don't even flinch. You simply close your eyes and let out a tired sigh as if he was some salesman coming to your door to talk you into a bad insurance contract.

"Come inside. We need to talk."

He expected a slap in the face or for you to scream back at least just as loud. Not this. Telling him calmly to enter your house.

That's when his wild theories and suspicions got confirmed. There is a mix of emotions clashing deep inside of him. A part of him hoped you were indeed just mocking him back then and the other part hoped that you weren't that cruel.

"Wait so...you're THE grim reaper?"

"I'm ONE grim reaper."

"So there are several?"

"Of course! If I'd be the only one then I wouldn't be able to take care of this farm wouldn't I?"

Much to your surprise he takes the information very well. You just have to expect to be bombarded with a lot of questions. Some more ridiculous than others.

"Can one apply to this job normally?"

"So you're basically working in customer service?"

"Do you have something similar to company parties where all the grim reapers meet up, talk about the weather and drink punch?"

But you're beyond happy to see that he isn't scared or freaked out at all and it feels like a weight fell off your shoulders. It's nice to finally share this with someone.

"Do you decide who dies and who doesn't?"

"No, we just pick up the souls to help them pass."

"Then what happened? At the cliff? You didn't show up to say hi, that's for sure."

The look on your face suddenly turns incredibly serious. It's obvious that you're fighting with yourself, whether you should answer his question or not.

"I cheated death that night. I broke our rules by letting you live."

"Why?"

"I didn't want you to die. It was an act of selfishness."

"Do you regret it?"

"Absolutely not."

There is an awfully long pause in which neither of you said anything. Your eyes looked up at the stars and the light of the torches around your house gave your face a mysterious look. That's when he realizes that your beauty is undeniable and completely out of this world. His heart is nearly beating out of his chest and his throat feels incredibly dry. What is this feeling? Shane can't find the words for it, but your enchanting appearance feels like a force of nature. It makes his knees weak.

"How exactly does that work? Isn't every person's fate set in stone or some similar bullshit?"

"Nothing is set in stone. Every person has a variety of futures ahead of them and it's impossible to predict which one of them will come true. Only once in every human's life they align and share the exact same outcome. They die."

"How am I alive then?"

"Your death was inevitable as well, but I still looked through your futures in hopes to find a hole, an alternative so that you can continue life. While I searched I came across a future, burried deeply underneath the other ones. I walk away and grant you temporary immortality."

He's speechless, doesn't even realize that his hands are shaking. Shane has no idea what to think of your confession, but he does set a goal for himself. You may never regret saving his life, but he won't take any chances. He will make sure to get the most out of his life starting right now.

Masterlist

#sdv #stardew valley #sdv shane #sdv x reader #stardew shane #stardew x reader #sdv headcanons #sdv imagines #sdv shane x reader

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yurinaa-world · 1 year

Note

HELLO HELLO🎉 i hope You’re doing well!! I came across your page and loved your scenarios/headcanons

I was wondering if i could ask for a Wolfwood x reader where reader is a grim reaper like being who carries around a big scythe just like how Nicolas carries around a big cross

If you don’t want to that’s alright and also take your time and stay hydrated 🦾🦾🔥🔥

Characters: Nicholas x Gender neutral reader

Synopsis: The reader is a grim reaper and carries around a scythe

Warnings: Fluff

Notes: I hope you like this and thank you for requesting!!

Nicholas D. Wolfwood "The Punisher"

You and Nicholas are partners who were meant for each other; he kills them, and you take their souls. (What a match!)

For a while, Nicholas doesn’t really ask about who you are or what you do.

He admires your strength—that you can use that heavy scythe without breaking a sweat.

It's strange to see you in action, grabbing their soul from their body and ripping the soul out.

Only you can see their human souls in their truest form of ugliness, but for now, it doesn’t matter; it doesn't phase you in the slightest.

Nicholas started to like you after being together for a long time.

He would try to get more reactions out of you instead of having you zone out in your own thoughts most of the time.

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

#trigun #nicholas d wolfwood #trigun stampede #trigun stampede x reader #nicholas d. wolfwood #nicholas x reader #nicholas d. wolfwood x reader

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bloodyquillink-blog · 9 months

Text

It seemed like a lot of you really liked the fic idea for Vessel and his lover(link here), so I figured I should do a poll. I’m not sure if I’m planning on writing a fic or if I’m doing this for other writers who may wanna know what kinda audience there is, maybe I’m just curious but it could be fun. If you need anything explained, please comment! If you want smut or “suggestive moments” added, let me know!

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naquey · 2 months

Text

One of A Kind

contains: original characters, x reader, ocs x reader, angel x reader, grim reaper x reader, male x reader, black butler ocs, angel, grim reaper, gender neutral reader

Scenarios for Raziel, Matthew O'Harris, Oscar (I cut out Reggie's bit because I didn't know what to do for him)

dividers by: @cafekitsune (blue) & @plutism (fleur de lice fancy)

Raziel - The Angel Butler

The last thing you expected was to get attacked tonight. You were walking home just after dark, the street lamps lighting your way. The attacker was a man with chartreuse eyes, you would never forget such a vibrant hue. Your saviour on the other hand was a man you saw quite often in your boutique. He never bought anything, only browsed the items for sale.

He was tall. Dressed in a white three piece suit with white gloves, a white ribbon tying his dark purple hair back. His tie and his shoes were the only things that were black. The man came out of nowhere, shoving the attacker out of the way.

"You really must be more careful." His amber eyes were as striking as the chartreuse eyes of the attacker.

"Were you following me? There was no one else on the street?" You looked around, confirming your suspicions.

"Oh, you must have missed me. Luckily, I was able to defend you. Shall I walk you home?"

"How can I trust you?" You put your hands on your hips.

"It isn't smart to leave one such as yourself alone in the dark, who knows what lurks out there." There was a smile playing at his lips.

"What's your name?"

"Raziel."

"Raziel? That sounds like some biblical name, your parents must have been proud believers of the faith. Y/n" You stuck your hand out for him to shake.

"Yes, yes, my parents were in fact big believers." A flash of annoyance lit up in his eyes. Were they gold for just a second?

You and Raziel walked home, mostly in silence. He wasn't much of a talker from what you gathered, and whenever you asked questions his answers were short and to the point. He also seemed to miss when you were blatantly flirting with him, but it wasn't that big of a deal. If anything, you would be able to see him again if he visits the boutique tomorrow.

He stopped at your door, standing with perfect posture. It was almost uncanny how perfect he moved. Almost as if he wasn't human. You waited for a moment, looking at him expectantly. He quirked a brow, confusion crossing his features.

"What are you waiting for? Go in." He ushered with his hands.

"I would have at least thought you'd want to come inside." You tilted your head. "Most guys do."

"Unforetunately, it is getting quite late." Raziel checked his pocket watch.

"Right," You couldn't help but pout. You really wanted him to come inside. There was just something so alluring about him. "Will I see you tomorrow?"

"Of course,"

Matthew O'Harris - Grim Reaper -

You always saw him at the cemetary. Dressed in a black suit and tan trenchcoat holding a black umbrella. Sometimes he had a brief case with him. He was always so hauntingly beautiful. It was as if he was a black rose. Typically you would either catch him on his way to the cemetery or coming from the cemetery. Strangely, no one else seemed to notice him. Nor did he ever seem to notice you.

That is, until one day.

"How do you know the recently deceased?" You asked, standing behind him.

A funeral procession had just taken place and the body was put in the grave half an hour ago. Yet, he was here as if he was at the funeral.

"Pardon?" He turned around, playful blue eyes and a smile. He looked so happy for someone in a cemetery.

"The deceased. How do you know them?"

"Oh, I'm just an old friend." He held out his open umbrella to shield you from the rain.

You leaned around him to look at the grave, reading the birth and death date.

"You are aware she was at least sixty when she died?" You rose a brow, giving him a pointed look.

"I make friends with the elderly."

He looked so calm for someone that might be lying. You decided not to push it, he would be sweating and freaking out if he was lying.

"Y/n." You introduced yourself.

"Matthew O'Harris." He mirrored the way you stood.

"O'Harris? Are you Irish?" Your eyes narrowed.

"Far from it, just a family name. Say, we should get out of this rain before it picks up." He chuckled heartily and began to walk. He had this type of grace in the way he moved.

It was strange how cold he was even after you two got inside. People gave you strange looks as you sat at a table and began to converse with the man but you paid them no mind, people in London always had to look and judge.

You spent hours talking to each other at the pub, he offered to pay for drinks and food. When he checked his pocket watch his eyes widened and he adjusted his glasses. You didn't notice how vibrant his eyes were until now.

"Oh, will you look at the time? Will, will have my head if I don't finish my paper work?"

"Will? You give your boss a nickname?"

"Er... You can think of it like that, yeah." He chuckled.

The rain hadn't let up from earlier, the two of you stood under the awning of the pub.

"Take this." He handed you his umbrella.

"Wait, but what about you?"

"I don't need it, trust me."

"How will I return it?"

"Come find me at the cemetary."

You watched him leave through the rain before you could grab him and pull him back. Looking away for a second you no longer saw him when you looked at the street again. It was like he vanished out of thin air.

Such a strange man.

Oscar - The Missing Prince -

His name came out of nowhere, but Lizzie made you attend the party with her. Ciel Phantomhive was seen talking with a brunette you didn't recognize. They were both accompanied by their butlers—a man clad in black and a man clad in white. The sight was very strange.

Of course, Lizzie took Ciel off to either dance or talk, or eat the finger foods at the buffet leaving you with the brunette. The butlers had seemingly disappeared as well.

"Are you enjoying the party?" He sounded older, and looked older than Ciel or even Lizzie.

The ruffled clothes he was wearing did not look like anything he would wear. His eyes were this icy shade of blue that almost made them look gray, his brown hair was light and just reached his chin. A rather shaggy style for a nobleman.

"Forgive me, but parties are not exactly my forte."

"I understand completely." Oscar sighed, his shoulders relaxing. He ran a hand through his hair.

"This wasn't you idea, was it?"

"Not at all. My friend Ciel- er- Earl Phantomhive thought it would be a great way to build my reputation."

"He's rather thoughtful, but you look like a fish out of water." You laughed.

"I have no idea what I'm doing." Oscar sighed.

"Good, that makes two of us." You elbowded him playfully. "Would you like to dance?"

"Oh, I can't dance."

"Nonsense! That doesn't matter."

You pulled him to the dancefloor, joining the other dancers. Doing your best to copy their motions. Oscar wasn't much of a dancer either, but at least he was smiling. Perhaps, he was even having some fun?

When the song ended he doubled over, trying to regain his composure after getting so dizzy. All that spinning really did a number on him.

"Punch, my lord?" As if on cue, his butler came over with a silver tray in hand.

"No, no. I just need some place to sit."

"I do believe there are empty chairs on the balcony."

"Thank you, Raziel."

You followed him out to the balcony, leaning against the railing as he sat in one of the chairs catching his breath. He was pulling at his clothes around his chest, but you pretended not to notice. It wasn't wise to watch him like this, but the way he struggled was quite interesting. You wanted to know what was causing him such distress, but you wouldn't pry. He could throw you out of his house!

"I'm sorry I had to cut our dancing short."

"No, no! It's quite alright! I'd much rather prefer standing out here than dancing in a stuffy ballroom."

"Hah. Ciel would make a mockery if he saw me like this." Oscar chuckled, shaking his head.

"You're quite close with Lord Phantomhive."

"We... We're unlikely friends, I suppose."

"Is it because you're close in age?"

"No, no. I'm far older than him."

"How old?"

"Nineteen."

"Oh."

You heard Lizzie faintly calling for you, but you didn't respond to her. Instead, you continued looking at the night sky.

#original characters #ocs x reader #ocs #oc #male x reader #black butler #kuroshitsuji #black butler oc #black butler ocs #kuroshitsuji oc #kuroshitsuji ocs #you can take it as platonic or romantic idk

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