#i am physically shaken once again

[glassofpumpkinjuice]

medley 3/8/24: it's not a side effect of the cocaine, i think it must be love on acoustic guitar!!!!!!

#fall out boy #2ourdust #i am physically shaken once again #medley #that was. a lot to process just now

[petrichor-idyllic]

Heyy I would like to make a Minho x fem reader request but it contains slight SA and if you aren't comfortable writing that, it's okay :). So one night the reader isn't able to sleep so she decides to take a walk around the Glade but a boy decided to attack her and threaten her with a kn¡fe to do stuff with him but she manages to break out of his hold and hit him so he can faint (Minho's fighting lessons came handy here ;) ). But she is in shock of what happened and got cut on the hand at the progress so she just goes to Minho's hut to help her (Kind of "I didn't know where else to go" trope) and he takes care of her but also makes sure to banish the piece of shit that tried something on her. Thank you sm <3333333

Damn I'm actually getting requests this is kinda mad lol. I'm so happy that y'all are like my work :))

Also, sorry, this one isn't as long because normally I write multiple scenes in one, but this is really just one long scene.

SAFE PLACE

MASTERLIST | MINHO MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: See above, but I am going to try to not describe the assault very much so there is nothing explicitly violent. This takes place after the direct aftermath of the attempt. Takes place before the arrival of Thomas.

WARNINGS: Themes of sexual assault and references to blood. Nothing explicit. Inappropriate language.

It was meant to be a simple night. You'd always been restless and sleep never came easy to you. It was kind of common knowledge that you're an insomniac, so when you decided to go on a late-night walk earlier, you never expected to end up on Minho's doorstep, blood dripping from your palm, physically shaken.

Another Glader, a Builder called Darren, had come onto you a couple of times, so when he'd tried tonight, you thought nothing of it. That was until there was a knife pressed to your throat.

It's almost a blur. You got away- there's no way you weren't going to put up a fight. A swift knee to the groin, grabbing the knife and headbutting him square in the nose was more than enough damage to sprint away.

Though, in your desperation, you'd grabbed the blade of the knife, causing a deep gnash to spread across the delicate skin of your hands.

You knock again. You know Minho has to be up early in the morning- he has to be up early every morning. Being the Keeper of the Runners is a demanding and hard job to do, and under normal circumstances, you respect this.

But not tonight. Minho is your best friend. He was the one of only boys that treated you like a normal person when you first arrived. Sure, he still made some flirty passes, but whilst the other boys stared and stuttered around you, Minho was smooth and joking. And with Newt and Alby always being caught up in something, you spend most of your evenings with the Runner.

And you trust him.

And you're desperate.

You knock again. "Minho!" A pit forms in your stomach. Darren could easily still be around here, recovering in time to attack again.

"Jesus, you wanna see me that bad?" Minho's playful tone reaches you through the poorly constructed door, but his face pales once he sees you.

Tears threaten to roll down your face as you tremble in front of him, cupping your injured hand in an attempt to nurse it and ease the sharp sting.

"Shuck, what happened?" Minho steps forward and reaches out to you, but you immediately flinch away from his touch.

"Hey, it's me," he pulls his himself back, "you're safe with me, yanno that."

"I didn't know where else to go," you confess, and he visibly softens, his tough guy facade crumbling under your teary eyes. "Can- can I just come in? Please?" You sniff, trying to stay reasonably stable.

"Yeah, yeah, of course," he steps aside, and you brush past, hearing the click of the door behind him.

You've never actually been in his hut before. It's surprisingly nice- homely even. It's simple and clean, only a couple of maps scattered around the room to show that Minho actually lives here.

"Sit down," he gestures towards the bed and you obey, sitting on the edge whilst blood starts to pool in your hand. He rumages through a drawer, pulling out what looks like a make-shift first-aid kit. "I'm no Med-jack, but you can't be bleedin' everywhere."

You attempt to laugh at his poor joke. Concern is written on his face. He's never seen you like this. You're always capable and competitive, always bringing fire to your work and getting shit done.

He sits next you, not close but not too far as he holds his hand out, wanting you to show your injury to him. After a second, you do so.

You hiss slightly as the antibacterial wipes contact the wound, earning a string of mumbled sorrys from your friend. The cut is deep and angry, making you cringe as you look at the state of your own hand.

Minho is incredibly delicate. Something bad has happened, and he can tell- hurting you further is definitely something he doesn't want to do.

He cautiously puts glue strips against your palm. Like he said, Minho is no medical expert, but he's used to getting scraps and scratches out in the Maze, so he is well prepared. Though he's unsure if this will actually stay in place. It looks like it'll need stitches, but you look in no state to be asking Med-jacks for help.

As he cautiously starts to wrap a bandage around your hand, he finally speaks.

"What happened?" His eyes flicker up to meet yours. You'd calmed down a bit now; the feelings of panic having faded into a numbness. Silence settles for a second and he knows better than to push you.

You take a shakey but deep breath. "I couldn't sleep, so I went on a walk- a-and this Builder, Darren, he came up to me," you pause, processing everything like you're starting to understand it yourself, "and he started hitting on me. It was nothing new and I told him I wasn't interested, and I don't really remember what happened next, but..."

"But, what (Y/N)?" It's rare that Minho uses your name. He's nervous himself and rage he's never experienced before has started to bubble in his stomach.

"I don't even know what happened next, I just remember being pinned to a tree with a knife pressed against my throat. He was saying all this shit and told me to be quiet and tried to undo my belt and-"

Minho's knuckles go white as they fall to his sides, fury seeping through his veins. He's in the right mind to go and find this guy right now- but he knows he'll be the one that gets banished for what he'll do to him.

"-and I kneed him in the balls and ran off, I cut my hand escaping." Minho stares at the ground, his gaze fixed on some invisible spot.

After a few seconds pass, you grow concerned, "Minho?"

"I'm going to fucking kill him."

Minho isn't exactly known for being the most level-headed shank around. He's picked a lot of fights in his time and is no stranger to a night in the Slammer. But this? This is different. He looks like he might actually stand by his words.

"You can't do that, man-"

He's on his feet, walking towards the door before you can stop him. "Minho!" You scramble up too, blocking him as he gets to the door. "The shuck are you doing?"

"I've gotta tell Ably, slintheads can't be getting away with this klunk!"

"Alby will be asleep."

"I don't care," he goes to move past you, but you grab his wrist.

"Please, can't this just wait 'till the morning?" You sigh, "I don't wanna think about it right now. Please."

It's his turn to sigh. He doesn't want to make things any worse tonight than they already are. "Okay. Fine. But I'm getting his ass banished- he hurt another Glader. He hurt you- he tried to do worse. I'm not letting that slide."

Minho is murderous. He's protective and angry; something you expected but not to this extent. He's literally going to get Darren killed. Not just get him killed- but make sure of it.

He's right, though. That's the penalty for hurting another Glader. And if everyone else can respect Alby's rules, why can't this Builder?

"I have to tell Alby." He's more definite this time, and you give him a soft nod.

"I know," you fall into another round of quiet and he's heart-broken seeing you like this.

"Can I, uh, can I hug you?" He doesn't want to cause you anymore discomfort, so asking for permission is key. You nod.

He's quick to wrap his muscular arm around you, something you accept easily, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

His comfort and the emotions catching up to you finally cause you to break. A sob shakes you and Minho's grip tightens as you cling to his shirt.

"Hey," he rubs circles on your back, "hey, it's okay."

You can't speak, and you both stand there for a while. His warmth is swallowing, and you've never felt safer. Minho isn't going to let anything bad happen to you.

You're safe with him.

You look you, sniffing, feeling slightly guilty when you see his tear-stained shirt. "Can I stay here? With you? For the night?"

He blinks at you. He was too blinded by his own anger to consider what he was going to do with you. Obviously, you're not going to feel safe going back out there.

"Yeah, yeah, 'course." He steps away, looking around his room, trying to work out the best way to go about this. "I'll uh, I can sleep on the floor and you can take my bed."

"You don't have to do that-"

"Dude," he sends you a sympathetic look, "you've been through a shuckin' lot tonight. I'll take the floor."

You give him a sad smile, choosing to nod in agreement instead of using your words.

Minho stole a pillow and a blanket and you both settled into your sleeping arrangements, but it's clear neither of you are getting any sleep.

Minho's bed smells like him. It's strangely comforting, and it's helping relax you. But that doesn't stop you from tossing and turning. After what must have been an hour, you give up.

"Minho, you awake?"

"Yeah," his voice is groggy and rough, tiredness taking its spot in his mind.

You turn to face him, opening the blankets. "Get in."

He sits up on his hands, using them to level him up. "What? I don't want to-"

"Just get in. Please."

Minho hesitates, but does as you say. Standing up, he slips under the covers with you. Normally, you'd be too embarrassed or anxious to even dare to be so bold, but you need comfort.

Once he's lay down, he opens his mouth to speak but you shuffle closer to him, once again hiding your face in his chest and flopping your arm over him. Minho stills for a second, deciding to keep up the wordless interaction and wraps his arm around you, pulling you closer.

"It's gonna be okay, (Y/N)," he mumbles as he soothingly strokes you hair, "I'm gonna look after ya- you're safe here."

Here is another request for Minho. I love writing for this man and it's a nice change to write something softer, even if it is under some horrendous circumstances. I didn't want to write anything explicit because I think that's unnecessary, but I hope that works here.

Anyway, as always, let me know what you think. Some more light-hearted stuff is on the way soon.

#🌿 petri tmr minho #🌿 petri writes #🍃 petri tmr #🌿 petri writes tmr #minho tmr x reader #tmr minho #minho the maze runner #minho tmr #minho maze runner

[tmntheadcanons]

tmnt 2003 headcanons: sleeping

Leo:

The room needs to be pitch black, dead silent and ice cold for him to fall asleep.

And he is a very light sleeper. I feel like he was always a bit like this but also trained himself to wake up quickly and easily when he hears something.

And he sleeps straight on his back like he is in a coffin.

And he sleeps with one pillow and it's the same, flat pillow he has been using for the last 10 years.

He won't go to sleep unless he knows everyone is home.

I think the difference between him and Donnie would be that Donnie doesn't let himself sleep but Leo actually can't sleep. I feel like he's naturally a bit of an insomniac but when he tries to sleep he kinda spirals in his own thoughts and stresses himself out.

But it's not always stress that keeps him up it'll be like the song Mikey was singing the same four lines of all day is now violently stuck in his head keeping him awake and he's thinking about how he is going to murder his brother in the morning.

Mikey:

Sleeps with a minimum of 5 pillows. One for spooning, two for his head, one for his feet and one to violently throw off the bed while half asleep at 3 am.

He can really sleep anywhere though. (And he will)

He talks in his sleep. He'll mutter a lot of non-sensical stuff and also he'll sometimes just straight up laugh in his sleep. And he rolls around a lot during the night.

I think Mikey has the wackiest dreams. His dreams are very vivid and if someone shows up in his dream he will go out of his way to tell them about their guest star appearance in his absolutely off the wall bonkers dream.

Also he is the one who has the most nightmares

He likes to sleep with a little bit of noise. He likes the tv playing or music playing while he's falling asleep and if it's dead silent he'll find it a little unsettling.

Same with lights, he likes to have a lava lamp or some sort of soft light on in the room.

I think he would go absolutely feral for one of those galaxy project lights.

Also he's totally a blanket hog.

Raph:

The second his head hits the pillow he is out.

He could be mid conversation and just pass out. But it's only ever when he knows he can. He's good at staying awake if he needs to keep watch but if he's relaxed he can fall asleep in like 30 seconds.

And he sprawls out when he sleeps. He will starfish.

Or be half hanging off the bed.

And he violently snores.

And talks a little bit in his sleep too but not as much as Mikey, just every once in a while.

His dreams are super mundane. He'll come back from an absolutely wild experience, fall asleep and then dream about like doing the dishes.

But every once in a while he'll get a bad stress dream. I could see it being something social related like humans finding out about them and freaking out, or his whole family being upset with him because of something he did.

I feel like Raph would like a bit of white noise when he sleeps, like a fan or something. He doesn't need it to fall asleep, but he likes it.

Like Leo, he is also a bit of a light sleeper, but he falls asleep again pretty quickly after he wakes up.

Donnie:

He's good at staying awake for long periods of time but once he's out, he's OUT.

Must be physically shaken to wake him up.

He is frequently sleep deprived so every once in a while he will crash and sleep for like 14 hours. Most nights he goes to bed way too late especially when he's working on something but usually when he's finished he'll have a recovery day.

Like I said with Leo, his issue is that he doesn't let himself sleep. He won't actually go to bed he will just suck back coffee and keep doing what he's doing. However, I could see him having similar issues as Leo after Good Genes or SAINW, where he overworks himself at night to avoid spiraling thoughts while he's trying to fall asleep.

I feel like he's bad for being like "Okay I'm going to stop working and actually go to bed" and then instead of sleeping he sits in the dark on his computer on the internet until 4 in the morning.

He curls up when he sleeps he never sleeps just flat on his back.

But he'll always wakes up in a weird position he'll be like upside town on his bed in what looks like a yoga position and be like "How did I get here?"

#tmnt #tmnt 2003 #tmnt 2003 headcanons #tmnt headcanons #I'm sorry these are kind of more angsty than I meant them to be. I started out with haha Raph snores and then it kind of spiraled

[cissyenthusiast010155]

hey ha! saw requests are open so i take the chance and may request something also sorry for the english 👉🏿👈🏿 soooo the thing is im obsessed with lucifer from sandman in an unhealty way and there is this idea in my head that lives rentfree so luci saves f/reader that is trapped "in" a demon that shows them there bigges fear and all the things and people that they did something to they regret so we are crying and fearing but luci comes like " T_T...you shouldnt be here" grabs over our shoulder puts there wing protectiv around our back und guids us to the illusion that the demon is creating at a point where the illusion brings us to hesitate the next steps luci push us forward and be like the lightbringer angel they are and we are like 🥲🥲🥲 mhmhm thanks and fluff stuff

i know its kinda specific and its ok if your not up to this but want to drop here im a fan of your writhing so im looking forward to everything you post xD

so have a good one ans thanks for your time 🌚❤️

Hiiii anon!! Thank you for the request! It’s detailed, and I love that 🥰 I tried to follow your request as best as I could. Hope you Enjoy!! 💞💞

Shadow Shadow ~Soft!Lucifer Morningstar xGN!Reader

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Warnings: angst, happy ending fluff, demonic possession, crying, anxiety, implied anxiety attack, greatest fears, comforting, pet names, fluff ending, etc.

Enjoy (:

The dishes had piled up in your kitchen sink. They had been bothering you all day, so with a sigh, you got up and went over to address them. You started cleaning the dishes one by one…

Your ears perked up when you thought you heard the door move. You looked back at the kitchen door, but it hadn’t moved. Odd, you thought.

Suddenly, you felt something invade you.

The feeling was hard to explain… Your eyes rolled back and you started levitating off the ground slightly, as a sharp, yet un-uniform, non-physical shape pierced and entered you. You let out a strangled scream as you started to feel your body go numb. You were sucked into yourself, having no control over your body anymore, somebody else was now at the wheel.

Everything around you was dark. You could still vaguely see through your eyes, but you were being pulled into the darkness more and more.

Suddenly you were pulled into a memory filled with true fear and terror. You started to shake as you were forced to relive these twisted thoughts and memories. They were warped, having heightened fear and fright. You started crying, falling to the ground and shaking uncontrollably.

You didn’t know how long you were in those state, but you were cradling yourself on the ground, scared to death and sobbing uncontrollably.

Suddenly, you heard a voice, not one of your own.

“You should not be here…!” The booming voice exclaimed.

You then felt the invasion start to be pulled out of you.

The feeling was still hard to explain… Your eyes rolled back and you started levitating off the ground slightly, as a sharp, yet un-uniform, non-physical shape pierced you once more, but this time exiting you. You let out a strangled scream as you started to feel your body come back to you. You were sucked back out of your depths, having finally control over your body again, the somebody else at the wheel now gone.

When your vision came back to you, you saw a tall figure with strong wings standing in front of you. You were still shaken and scared for your life. Your lip trembled and you immediately put your hands in front of your face to protect yourself.

“My name is Lucifer.” The large being spoke softly, bringing one of their wings around you, “What’s your name, little thing?”

The wing around you made you oddly calmer. You felt protected. And you felt like you could finally breathe.

“I… Y/N…” you whispered, wiping the tears away for your eyes.

Lucifer nodded slowly in understanding.

“That is a lovely name.” They cooe, “I am sorry that you had to experience that, my sweet…”

“What… W-what was that…?” You whispered.

Lucifer sighed.

“One of my more roudy demons who got away from me.” They admitted, “It won’t happen again. You need not worry.” They reassured you.

“No but what was that…?” Your voice trembled as you thought back to the horrific feeling that you had felt in every bone of your body for that time.

You winced and tears threatened to spill down your cheeks once more. Lucifer sighed in sympathy.

“You see, Demons like to thrive off of the human mind… And this demon specialized in fear” They explained gently, “So the demon pulled out your biggest fears to feed off of and survive inside you. Humans call this possession.”

Tears began to flow down your face once more. You nodded at their words.

“It was so awful…” you choked out, your voice cracking.

Lucifer’s wings held you closer and their hand came behind you to rub your back.

“I know, little one…” they cooed lovingly, “But the demon is gone now. It will never bother you again.”

“Ok…” you whispered, looking up at the Lightbringer with watery eyes.

“Thank you” you choked out.

“Anytime, little one…” Lucifer gently spoke, “I’ll come back to check on you soon, alright…?”

You hiccuped and nodded. Then Lucifer left and you were back in your kitchen. With your dishes.

~~~

Lucifer Morningstar Masterlist

#soft!lucifer #soft!lucifer Morningstar #lucifer morningstar #lucifer morningstar (the sandman) #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer fanfiction #the sandman lucifer x reader #Lucifer Morningstar fluff #Lucifer Morningstar angst #the sandman lucifer #Lucifer #sandman lucifer #lucifer sandman #lucifer x reader #lucifer the sandman #gwendoline is mommy #gwen christie #Gwendoline Christie character #Gwendoline Christie x reader #gwendolineuniverse #gwendoline christie #sandman fluff #the sandman fluff #the sandman angst #sandman angst #the sandman #sandman fanfiction #sandman fanfic #sandman fandom #sandman fic

[theflyindutchwoman]

Hey, you okay? Yeah, you? Yeah, I am now.

| ANATOMY OF A SCENE - CHENFORD EDITION 5.21 - Going Under

Bookending this season with two undercover missions for Lucy and Tim was a really great move to showcase the progression of their relationship… The first one allowed them to finally be in touch with their feelings for each other whereas that second one gave them the opportunity to experience how this type of life could impact them, to begin acknowledging their fears and setting necessary boundaries. In both cases, they were working together. But the tone of the episode is very much different. And this time, they're on separate sides. Vegas gave Tim a direct glimpse of how good Lucy was at undercover work… But for all the danger they faced, he was right by her side. Here, he can only be a witness and this difference of perspective changes everything. It is stripping him bare. And it is particularly visible in this scene, when Lucy gets shot at.

That look of fear on his face is so visceral. Even though he's able to give all the information on the radio, his eyes are anxiously locked on that window, waiting for a sign from Lucy that she's fine. Holding his breath in the meantime. And Lucy… The way she immediately pops up from her hiding place, looking straight away in his direction, not caring one bit that she could give them away… In that moment, all that matters is to reassure him and make sure that he is okay as well. That eye contact despite the distance… And the relief on his face… How he even needs a few seconds to compose himself and start breathing again before starting the pursuit of the shooter… It is so raw.

And it is very apparent that he is reeling. He makes a mistake right away, by putting the sirens on despite being still parked right in front of the restaurant. Luckily for him, Teska is too busy being worried about the cops to notice that there was a police car watching him. As good as Tim is at compartmentalising, he can't do that when it comes to Lucy. That was already clear during her disappearance… But now that they're together, it's that much more difficult for him to stay objective. Like he told her once, it's her. And that leads him to the second mistake, one that could have cost him his life : 'If your head is not 100% in the game, it'll get you killed'. That's what he said to Lucy during their previous UC op… And that's what almost happened here. He is so rattled by the events of earlier that he is caught completely off-guard. Just like in the hotel room. You can see the realisation hit him… How his lack of focus could have been fatal. It's the fact that he admits being lucky to another officer, that he needs to say it out loud, that shows how shaken he is.

It's only once Lucy calls him, once he can hear her voice that he starts breathing again. Tim picking up right away, the phone barely ringing, proves how on edge he has been the whole time. And while she seems to fare much better outwardly, the way she barely waits for Teska to leave her before calling Tim tells a different story. She couldn't even wait for the car to be several blocks away for safety… That's how much she needs to hear from him as well. To reassure him and herself that they're both alright. And his immediate words being to ask if she's okay… Followed by 'I am now'… Again, this is so visceral. He can't even hide his fear, it's purely instinctual in that moment. And with the way she answers yes, it's clear that they both need to see the other as soon as possible… Need that physical reassurance… None of them are able to bounce back like they did in Vegas. Even once the mission is over.

#the rookie #chenford #chenfordedit #lucy chen #tim bradford #5.21 #Anatomy of a scene - Chenford Edition

[nakachuchu]

CHAPTER FIVE: GIVE AND TAKE

Black Swan series

SYNOPSIS: You had always been the support system on the field, so why would they change off the field?

WORDS: 1k

WRITTEN: 11/19/2023

Despite being revived, the death of Riko still hung heavily in the air for you and Suguru. While Satoru was mourning in his own way, the toll of her death took a lot from Suguru.

He was visibly getting worse. He couldn't stomach food. The Curses he was consuming was the only substance in his stomach most days.

Dark circles hung under his eyes, which had lost their usual determined glint. His shoulders slumped, as if the weight of his guilt was a physical burden.

You ached for him.

Riko had been a stabilizing force, keeping Suguru's dangerous impulses in check. Her death had unleashed something unhinged in him. You knew he blamed himself for failing to protect her.

"Suguru," you said softly, resting a hand on his shoulder. "This wasn't your fault. Riko wouldn't want you to tear yourself apart like this."

He didn't meet your eyes. "I should have been stronger. What good am I if I can't even save the people closest to me?" His voice was raw with pain.

"You can't save everyone," you replied sadly. "No one has that power."

You knew that now better than ever, having glimpsed the inevitability of Death firsthand.

Suguru's breath hitched, tears welling in his eyes. You pulled him into an embrace.

"But we can keep living for those we've lost. We can honor their memories."

At this, Suguru finally broke down. He clung to you, sobs wracking his frame. You held him tightly, your own tears falling.

You and him stayed in that position for a while until he was ready to let go.

"I think I'll take a shower," he murmured with a pained smile.

You smiled back and nodded, letting go of his weak body. "I'll see you later?"

He nodded and walked away from you. You watched him walk down the hallway, and once he rounded the corner and disappeared, you stood up from the bench and got ready to go back to your room.

As you took a step forward, a random wave of nausea hit and bile rose up. You covered your mouth and forced yourself to swallow the putrid liquid.

With trembling breaths as you uncovered your mouth, your head remained frozen as you looked to the end of the hallway with the corner of your eyes.

A dark shadow lingered there. As quick as it came, it disappeared into nothing.

A shudder wracked your body at the lingering memory. Death had sunk its claws into you, however briefly, and left its mark on your psyche.

You hurried back to your room, eager to be alone. You grabbed all the necessary supplies for your shower and ran to the female shower room.

Suguru's breakdown had shaken you, stirring up your own lingering trauma. Under the stream of hot water in the shower, you finally allowed yourself to break.

The tears came all at once, gut-wrenching sobs tearing from your throat. You slid down the shower wall, curling into yourself on the floor as water cascaded over you.

The water burned your eyes and blocked your nose, making it hard to breathe.

The shadow you saw in the hallway lingered in your mind. Death's grip on you had left wounds no one else could see. You hugged your knees to your chest, overwhelmed and afraid as you laid down on your side.

Even back among the living, you were irrevocably changed by your brief glimpse of the other side. Cold tendrils of dread still gripped your heart. You wondered if you'd ever feel warm again.

You jolted at the sudden feelings of hands on your body, getting glimpses of the cold, bony hands that once gripped your skin.

“Y/N.”

Soft brown eyes stared at you with sadness and pity. Shoko’s soft hands gently gripped your forearms to pull you back up onto your ass.

Your naked body didn't bother her. She had seen you naked when she was preparing your body in the mortuary.

Regardless of your death, she still wouldn't have been bothered, especially if you were in need of support.

“Shoko,” you cried, in fear and embarrassment.

She was fully clothed, but she was not shying away from the scalding water that marked your skin red.

You shuddered in Shoko's gentle grip, mortified that she was seeing you at your most vulnerable. But her eyes held no judgment, only compassion.

"It's okay," she soothed, brushing the wet hair back from your face. "You don't have to hide your pain from me."

You took a few gulping breaths, trying to rein in the sobs. “I'm useless,” you admitted.

Shoko's expression was filled with sorrow. She moved to turn off the shower and helped you stand on shaky legs, wrapping a towel around you.

Leading you back to your room, she sat you down and simply held you as you cried, stroking your hair soothingly.

No words needed to be said. She knew the horrors you had endured and accepted you wholly, trauma and all.

When the tears finally subsided, you clung to her, afraid to let go. "Please, don't leave me alone," you whispered hoarsely.

"Never," she promised.

Shoko stayed with you through the night, keeping the terrors at bay with her comforting presence.

In the morning, you felt strong enough to face the others again.

“Thank you,” you whispered to Shoko.

She smiled and shrugged. “We're friends, aren't we? I need to freshen up. I'll see you at breakfast?”

You nodded. “See you.”

You closed the door to your bedroom to get some alone time before breakfast. You couldn't let the others see you like this. They needed you to be strong as they grieved Riko.

You knew you would stumble again, but Shoko would be there to catch you when you fell.

With shaking breaths, you pushed yourself back up. As you washed away your tears, you rebuilt your walls. Your expression was neutral once more.

You dressed and went to meet the others, keeping your swirling emotions contained. In your dreams you would relive it all - the darkness, the cold, the sheer terror.

But waking, you would not add to their pain. Death would not take you yet.

TAGLIST: @idktbhloley @iluv-ace

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #geto suguru x reader #suguru geto x reader

[barelylivingscholar]

Arlecchino with a daughter tw: unhealthy family relationships, manipulation, and gore(?), suicidal thoughts, unstable/mentally ill daughter. Not for the faint of heart, heavy angst, a somewhat positive ending in the last part(?) (Do not read if uncomfortable)

An: I am backkkkk, second semester and last semester’s finals kept me busyyyyyy but I’m here again to post some stufffffff!! Not hsr related but like I also write for Genshin now, apparently… Will post a part two, I guess? “Father. When am I able to hang around with the others? I have done everything that you’ve asked for.” A young girl asked, to which “Father” responds with, “You need to focus on the task in hand. I still have many more missions for you to do before I set you free.” The girl sighed, knowing very well that she may as well never be able to be allowed to play with the other kids… For a moment, the girl had wished that she wasn’t the only one to deal with this kind of burden. The burden being, the “successor” of “Father.” She wanted to play with the other kids as well, but alas, her father does not permit her to do so. Instead, excuses are made, and the standard Fatui discipline is instilled in her mind, always have to act proper and professional, not allowed to shed a tear, or to feel strong feelings regardless of what the matters are. I hate it here. I do not wish to stay here any longer. Every day feels like I am only made to be the person that “Father” wishes me to be. I am never truly happy. I am sinking. Father was not  family. This whole thing is and always was, a lie. Do I ever get to be free? Perhaps I can set myself free. There is a way.  ̶T̶̶h̶̶e̶ ̶q̶̶u̶̶e̶̶s̶̶t̶̶i̶̶o̶̶n̶ ̶i̶̶s̶, ̶a̶̶m̶ ̶I̶ ̶w̶̶i̶̶l̶̶l̶̶i̶̶n̶̶g̶ ̶t̶̶o̶ ̶d̶̶o̶ ̶i̶̶t̶? --- After burning the corpse of their enemies, I return to the House of the Hearth, albeit bloody and face that is smudged of dirt, the smell of blood and gasoline lingers around me. With every passing servant, caretakers, and also children as well, unsettled and left shaken up at the sight of me. I stained the carpets red. I wonder if “Father” would notice as the carpet is in the same shade of the blood of her enemies…? Will she punish me and discipline me? Although words are exchanged, no form of physical harm done, I am still left isolated.  Like I am to be a monster kept away from people… I feel caged.

This time, I didn’t bother to clean up and went straight ahead to father’s office. Where I know I’ll be punished for such a careless mistake. “Father, I have returned.” I greet, looking to see her eyes staring straight at me. For once I don’t cower. I simply walk up to her and wait for her response. I have no reason to be scared, right? I don’t think I care anymore. Father’s eyes narrowed. The sight of blood that wasn’t mine, the smell of gasoline, in her eyes, I may as well be the filthiest child in the house. One that is simply, uncouth for the position of “successor.” “Why have you not followed protocol? Especially contingency 8? Have I not taught you well?” Her voice sharp, dissatisfied with my performance. It must be a surprise for her that her “successor” had become disobedient. What is she going to do to me, I wonder? Dispose of me? Or would she find someone else who is to succeed her as the “Father” of the House of the Hearth. “I… I have no other excuses.” I was unable to control my voice. It was shaky, wavering. I hate it. Father’s eyes seemed to had harden. I am interested with what is going to be the left of me once this is all over. I look forward to it. I want her to snap at me. Kill me. Foul words for a child like me, but this is what I planned. Maybe it is best that I sleep in eternal slumber instead rather than live a life full of misery. I have nothing to be grateful here. I am not thankful that I am still alive today. “…You are hereby stripped of the title “successor.” You are no longer worthy of the title. I am disappointed.” Is that it? No severe punishments? My mind raced; I was unable to comprehend why had she punished me in a way that is so… Little? Had she gone soft? I do not remember anything that made her want to punish me lightly. Don’t I deserve… More? My brows had furrowed. “Father” did not miss that. “Daughter… Are you, upset?” Her voice sounded confusing, to me. Why do you suddenly care? I don’t understand you at all. I do not feel safe at all. Are you really “family?” “…I’m fine.” I say, my voice a little tight. Unshed tears on my face, I am no fool. I do not need your love.

“You are now excused.” Never had I ever left her office so quickly after that. I had to get away…! I need to get out of here… I breathed heavily as I ran and ran… Until there is nowhere to go. The heavy snow had engulfed me. And soon… I was unconscious. I awoke to an unfamiliar place. This is not the House of the Hearth. I quickly got up, ignoring the sudden rush of blood shooting up due to how fast I went up. I ignore the throbbing pain on my forehead, I focused on my surroundings instead. Where am I? This place is… Different. I jolted as I felt a hand on my shoulder, immediately backing off and grabbing a hidden dagger in my boot. “Stay there! I will stab you!” I hissed. Glaring at the mysterious figure. They looked… Kind. I am not supposed to feel that way. There are no kind people in this world. Everyone I know will always lie to me, manipulate me for their gain. Just like “Father.” Just like them…

The stranger had knelt down and attempted to soothe me. I only responded with aggression and threats. They weren’t phased at all. “Who are you? I am no ordinary orphan! I am a murderer!” I shouted, clearly agitated. The man in a familiar coat had not reacted violently at all. I am confused. And angry. “I am Pantalone. “Regrator” from the Fatui. I assume you are one of the Knave’s lost children…” My eyes widened at the statement. He is no ordinary man… I should’ve known, I gritted my teeth and gripped my dagger tight. “I am not her orphan! I am no longer a part of that… I could care less if you are a part of the Fatui, I will die gladly in vain if I have to fight for my freedom!” I hissed. The man is amused. I can tell by the look in his eyes. “I have a better proposal for you, child.” “Regrator” inquired. I had not chosen to back down even at the prospect of an offer. “What makes you think I will take it?” I replied, gripping the dagger tight. “I will not surrender you to the Knave. Rather, I’ll take you in as my disciple.”

Disciple? Is this man sick in the head? Why would I agree to that? It seems “Regrator” had heard my thoughts, and so, he added, “Although, it is up to you if you would rather be surrendered back to the Knave… Or join me and I’ll give you a much better purpose, in life… Not that you have any choice on the matter if you decline my offer…” I had no sense of purpose to live for. I am merely an empty shell of what I was once. I have nothing to achieve… In the end, I don't have what it takes to truly end my life. So I will follow my new superior. “Fine. But don’t expect me to be easily obedient. I am rather mad.” And it was the start of something anew…  I had become, “Regrator’s disciple.” I wonder how “Knave” will react to such arrangements… An: Part two will include Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet. There will be other characters who will be included as well but, part one's story was set before Lyney became the sucessor of the House of the Hearth. I am thinking of interesting ideas to write for this story and some alternate routes as well... We'll see once I whip up part two.

#platonic genshin x reader #genshin x reader #genshin angst #genshin impact #arlecchino x reader #pantalone x reader #fatui harbringers x reader #platonic genshin impact #daughter!reader

[wolfiemcwolferson]

hello logan!! i have compe to prompt your wonderful brain into being nice again.

imagine photographer pierre putting together a set of his favorite pictures from the year and suddenly realizing that they're all of charles/related to charles. "uh oh, maybe i AM in love with my best friend" realization ensues

Oh, this made my brain go zoom.

The first year he had put together the series, it had been for his maman. She is the one who bought him that camera and he wanted to give her something physical to see that Pierre was indeed serious about this very serious investment.

In uni, it became a very logical way for him to look at his growth over the last year - to see what he had dabbled in and what was successful, what was not. It was a way to encourage him to continue to learn and grow and do better.

But, once he started working with Charles, it was really just for himself. Sure, he posted the series on his social media's and the engagement was off the charts for him, but he was sometimes moving so fast - sometimes it felt like he never put his camera down.

It was GP to GP, but in between there were sponsor shoots and private plane rides and intimate moments that Pierre wanted to keep somewhere because someday Charles would have books and documentaries and monuments dedicated to him, and that is what Pierre was here for - to document his life and these moments.

And he liked to look through them and be out of the camera for a bit.

This year he leaves it until the last minute, sorting photos from his childhood bedroom in the middle of the night, queueing them up so he can post them tomorrow.

One of Charles in his driver's room, head tilted to the side, eyes closed. It's more...intimate than any of the photos that Pierre had released to Ferrari or given to Charles to post from that weekend, but it's Pierre's favorite. The calm for him before the insanity of the weekend that would follow.

One of a discarded racing glove draped over Charles' red cell phone, half a cup of espresso next to it and a scribbled note that reads leave it all on the track.

Charles standing on a rock in the desert, face tipped up to sun, arms outstretched, looking more content than Pierre had ever seen him.

A blurred shot of Charles on a bicycle as he rides around the track in Britain - wearing that red Ferrari shirt - always red, always in red.

Charles leaning against the balcony of a hotel room in Italy, sweater rumpled and half tucked in the back of his pants because he has just woken up from a nap.

Charles in swim trunks on the yacht, Charles holding up a new bracelet from a sponsor and grinning not at the camera, but at Pierre behind the camera.

Charles.

Charles.

It's all Charles.

Charles at his best - standing on a podium, holding a trophy.

Charles at his lowest - sitting alone in the back of the plane flying out of Miami, hand wrapped up with an ice pack on the back and the next photos of the bruise blooming there being slipped into another pair of racing gloves.

Charles reaching for the camera, Charles rolling his eyes, Charles. Charles. Charles.

Pierre is meant to be putting together 10 photos to wrap up his year - 10 of his best photos.

But, the only thing he can do is stare at the screen and understand that this goes beyond photographing Charles.

The last photo before his family photos start is of Charles, curled up on his side, asleep.

Pierre had taken it on the couch - the night he slept over at Charles' place in Monaco. The light from the television has bathed him in a blue light and Pierre had remembered thinking how...beautiful he looked and so he had pulled his camera out, taken the photo before he had shaken him awake to go to bed.

Pierre looks at the way he framed the shot - how Charles' hand is in the corner of the shot and...

He takes these photos of Charles - photos of him sleeping and eating and driving and training and Pierre may have fallen in love with photography when he was a boy, but it was also the best way he knew how to show his love and...he should have seen it sooner.

He wasn't just documenting Charles' life, he was also showing his love to him the best way he knew how.

#piarles #the oh shit moment when you realize you're in love with your f1 driver best friend

[gallivantingheart]

shaken

wonwooxreader approx. 1000 words genre: angst, hurt/comfort warnings: stalker, violence

You didn't realise how dangerous dating as a famous person could be until you got home. The lights off in your flat. Wonwoo was grabbing something from the car while you opened up the place, slipping into fluffy slippers and already slinging your bag up onto a hook, and your coat on a hanger. You stop. Looking about the place, you feel odd. A tingle on the back of your neck and a sudden stiffness of your shoulders. It felt like it was more than just you in the room.

You turn your back to turn the living room light on, a quiet hum of one of Wonwoo’s songs under your breath to try and ease you. A hand falls on your shoulder, heavy and foreign. Spins and pushes you into the wall.

A man, about your age, has a snarl in his eyes. “Tell me you love me. Stop leading me on and tell me the truth!”

You shake your head, sliding upright and backing up into the open. “I- I don't-”

He whirls, glares at the picture of Wonwoo and yourself after a trip to a quaint bookstore and cafe. In a fit of rage, blood rushing into his face, he yells and sweeps it off the hall table, glass shattering. You scream out, covering your ears as your felt shards of glass bounce off your bare calves. He yells again, grabbing you tightly, his grip pressing into your shoulders and shaking you.

“You’ve been looking at me for months. Lying to the world.” He breathes, heavy and desperate, eyes glinting uneasily. “Even your house is fake.”

You shake your head, trying to press yourself through the wall to anywhere but there. “I’m sorry, I don’t know who - how did you get in here? Let me go!”

Everything is swirling and thundering, compounding at once. How did this manic man get into Wonwoo’s house? Where is Wonwoo? Who is he! Now the man shakes you so hard your head thumps into the wall, his mouth ajar so you can see strings of spit lace his mouth. You felt nauseous, bile churning.

“You liar! At the bookstore? You smiled and told me you wanted to see me again. Then you left with this idiot. And then at the signing? Ugh, why am I spelling this out for you - you’re the one doing it! You love me! Hurry up!” He screams.

You cry out again, eyes squeezed shut as you shake your head again and again like trying to physically agitate him from your head. He rattles you again and you croak out a sob, flinching at his sharpness. He shudders breath, shoving you back into a wall, roaring messily at you. It cuts off suddenly and his hands pried free. His hands being the only thing that held you up in your knitted sweater and silly slippers, you slither to the floor, disregarding the glass scattered. With the distance, you open your eyes to see him thrown across the room. Wonwoo, a pile of bags dropped at the door. He rushes him, bony fist flying. Your assailant is laid out on the floor as Wonwoo fixes you with his severe gaze. He helps you right, holding you as he shifts you behind him.

“Baby, call the police.” He murmurs.

Your hands fumble for the phone in his hand, peering wearily at the stalker - yes, that’s what he was - disorientated on the floor. Once you’ve taken it, Wonwoo’s hand laces with your own, squeezing tightly.

“Don't you ever touch my girl again.” You’ve never heard that cold snarl from your Wonwoo before, only in stories from others.

The man groans as you stutter out the address and a plea to hurry. “He-he isn’t armed but he assault - assaulted me.”

“Ma’am are you safe?” The responder says quickly.

You nod before clearing your throat. “Yes. I am.”

The stalker squints at the both of you from the marble tile. “Your girl? You’re crazy. She’s only got eyes for me, don’t you?”

Wonwoo’s eyes glint sharply behind his thin rimmed glasses and even you shy away. He steps in to loom over him, glass crunching underfoot.

“Do not look at her. Do not speak to her. Look at me. If I had my way you’d be a smear on the floor.”

Authorities make their appearance now, two officers running in, two more hanging back at the front door. They swiftly scoop up the intruder and escort him away in handcuffs. Wonwoo is by your side, curled around you as you mutter your statement. It’s brief seeing as it was so short and happened so quickly. Still, feeling the phantom grip of his hands on you has you tremble. Your boyfriend presses dry kisses to the crown of your head, rubbing circles into your back. The officer hands you their contact card and a case number scribbled in cobalt blue, take a few pictures of the fall out and then leave as quickly as they came.

You take a deep shuddering breath, closing your eyes to centre yourself.

“Baby, are you okay?” Wonwoo says softly, so warm.

You let out a broken sob and lean into him. “Why me? I didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t flirt or anything.”

He guides you to your cramped peach two-seater sofa, tucking you into his side. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong. Some people are just…delusional. They see someone and put things there that aren’t actually there. Parasocial relationships and obsessions.”

You cry out and almost laugh, getting his crisp shirt wet with salty tears. All those big words, as usual. “What now? Are there more like him?” You blubber, muffled into him.

You weren’t ready to face the world properly, see that your house no longer felt like a home. No longer the safe haven. Would that be all you saw now, where your hall table stood. The memory of being harassed and his crazy eyes that never once left you. He didn’t take anything, but you felt robbed. Wonwoo presses more kisses to your hair, your temple, your knuckles twisted up in his collar.

“Honestly? Maybe. So, we’ll install some better security here and whenever we go out from now on, we might need some discreet security to tail us. So not everything we do will be private now. But if it’s to ensure your safety, so be it.”

Ha, always so direct.

You hum and shuffle closer, slinging yourself half over him. The more of him you felt, the better you felt. Safer.

“Thank you. For saving me.”

He scoffs. “Always will.”

#caratwritersclub #kbookshelf #svt fic #seventeen fic #wonwoo fic #wonwoo imagine #wonwoo scenarios #seventeen wonwoo #wonwoo angst #wonwoo x reader #jeon wonwoo #hoarder bin #written

[yaksha-lover]

Hello hello!

Hi again from me!

Since my last ask, I've... well safe to say, am very in love with it that I've read it more than I could remember and in the midst of my nth time reading it... I once again came up with an idea. Not much of an idea when it just a request of a 2nd part of it but yeah...

If you don't mind me requesting this (you could juat ignore this if you don't feel like doin it tho)

So, since Mal and the tweels are planning to rescue our kidnaped Mc. I have an idea where they found where the kidnaper was and when they arrived there MC... was... well, not safe. Since in my opinion kidnapping can induce a heavy mental stress and kidnapers... well, they can be very violent. So I would like to see how the vampires react and comfort MC who just hugged them in the midst of them beating up the kidnaper and begged them to just go home while trembling violently and unable to stand from all the mental and physical stress they had in this incident.

And how the 3 would react after the incident itself XD

Just tell me if I'm asking too much cuz I'll try and hold back next time I want to send you a request

Hello! Sorry this took some time for me to get to. Hope you like it!

Part 1

You get Kidnapped Pt. 2 - Malleus, Jade & Floyd

cw: kidnapping, implied violence

Malleus:

Malleus, who is normally very mellow, would absolutely lose himself to anger if he saw you hurt in any way. Even if you just seemed shaken up, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from getting rid of the threat to your life.

When you cling to him, begging for him to stop, Malleus becomes terrified for a whole other reason.

If you became scared of him, he doesn’t know what he’d do. He’s used to being intimidating to others, and being isolated because of it, but you’ve never feared him.

Lilia came with Malleus to rescue you, and he’s the one who will stay behind and deal with the kidnappers so Malleus can take you away from this stressful situation.

As soon as he made sure you were out of danger, he holds you so, so tight. If you looked at him with any fear, it would break his heart. He reassures you that he would never hurt you, never.

He’d offer anything he can think of that would make you feel better. Warm bath? Food? To be held? He’s getting it for you.

It would definitely hurt him if you asked for distance, but he would also understand and stay away for the time being.

He would still check on you silently and from a distance, or get someone else (Lilia or Silver) to go see you in his place. Malleus would be quite paranoid after what happened to you.

Overall, I think Malleus would keep himself small and controlled around you, especially directly after it’s happened.

You would need to reassure him that you’re okay, that you still want to see him, that you’re not afraid. With your words in mind, he’d mostly return to his normal behaviour around you, albeit much more protective.

It might frustrate you, but he won’t let you go outside without him or Lilia anymore. Even the other residents, he doesn’t trust them to be strong enough to protect you from all the terrible things Malleus knows is out there.

Jade & Floyd:

The twins, Floyd especially, aren’t used to having others object to their ways too strongly. Mostly they know the tweels will simply ignore them.

Jade has stood back, allowing Floyd to get out his more violent impulses first, but he freezes when he feels something grip tightly around his waist. He relaxes when he realizes it’s just you, but he becomes increasingly concerned at your behaviour.

You’re shaking and crying, even while he’s got you in his arms. Surely you know you’re safe now?

Still holding on to Jade, you cry out for Floyd to stop, pleading with him for all of you to leave.

Floyd hesitates for a moment, looking over at you from his place. The sight of his bloodied hands make you recoil further into Jade’s chest, hiding your eyes.

For the first time, you hear Floyd call out to you by your actual name. Although he’s caught up in the moment, as soon as Jade tells him to back off he will.

The tweels are able to work together seamlessly. Normally Floyd is reluctant to listen to anyone, even his brother, but this time he’ll do as he says.

If you’re too shaken to walk, Jade will pick you up bridal style and carry you to safety while Floyd deals with the remaining threats before quickly following after you and his brother.

The two of them will respect your wishes for once. If you want to be left alone they will do so, but if you want them there neither will leave your side.

Even if you wish to be alone, they stay near you from a distance, always there to step in if you need help or comfort. Inevitably Floyd will get bored and wander off, but only because he knows Jade is there to watch over you.

If you want them to stay with you, you’ll find that they will be uncharacteristically gentle with you.

They’ll insist you stay in their room, at least for that night. They’ll push their beds together, and you’ll be able to have one of them to protect you on both sides.

They will try to distract you from the previous events, watching a movie with you on the tv in their room.

Floyd will still tease you, but in a way you think is oddly sweet. He even settles down contently at a point, once he’s got an arm around your back.

Jade occupies your other side, holding your hand comfortingly.

Throughout the movie, you notice that the two of them will keep stealing glances at you. Just like Malleus, you’ll need to reassure them that you aren’t going to fall apart.

Regardless, your kidnapping has changed the nature of your relationship with the tweels.

Floyd’s change will be more obvious, with him being more physically affectionate with you, pulling you into his side whenever he sees you. His teasing continues, but he is gentle about it, focusing less on making you uncomfortable and more on getting a blush from you.

Jade is more subtle, but he will be much more observant of you, noticing your smallest changes in moods. His offers to listen to your woes become much more genuine than before, and they will now be accompanied by an offer of a night of comfort together with him and Floyd.

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #malleus draconia x reader #jade leech x reader #floyd leech x reader #twst floyd x reader #twst jade x reader #malleus draconia #jade leech #floyd leech #twst malleus #twst jade #twst floyd #twisted wonderland vampire au #twst vampire au #twst #twisted wonderland

[randomfoggytiger]

"My Religious Convictions Are Hardly the Issue Here"

(Fictober, Day 20)

Today I tried to tackle a personal nitpick of Scully's religious episodes: that her faith was portrayed as more of a burden than a reprieve or source of hope.

*****

“Mulder, I think there’s something wrong with me.”

He’d opened his apartment door after two whispery knocks, saw Scully standing there with wide, red eyes, and swept her inside before she could get two words out. 

Nosebleed? Not enough terror with her fear-- and he hated, was grateful, that he could differentiate her fears. Scully didn't appear to be in pain, seem nauseous, or exhibit any other physical symptom: she slid her coat off, walked somberly to the couch, and sat down without taking her shoes off. Absentminded, sticking to routines. A scatterbrained Scully was never a good sign.  

The case had been… hers. He’d dropped in halfway through because of her request, thought her blind spots were inhibiting her logical deductions, and tried to help the only way he knew how: by managing. He’d noted that she didn’t protest. 

The last girl-- Roberta Dryer-- died, anyway. 

The last time they'd talked was in the car driving away from the crime scene. 

“What happened out there, Scully?”

She’d shaken her head, shivering, staring blankly ahead. Didn’t take his coat. Repeated his words during his own crisis of faith: “I don’t know.” 

Mulder sat down, wondering if Scully wanted his opinion or his final vote. 

*****

“Scully?” 

He could never sit long with silence, she mused. To Mulder, silence was darkness, was brooding, was the final gasp of sound after his sister had been swept away.

“Y’know, I think silence was invented for crazy people,” he'd joked-- half-joked-- once. “You can’t get rid of me that easily, Agent Mulder”-- they’d been newly partnered then, she remembered-- “I do my best thinking in silence; and I have to keep up with your spooky theories." When was the last time they’d joked about his reputation, or hers? 

“Scully?” Antsy now, on the verge of some discoveries of his own. 

She wet her lips, quietly cleared her throat, sighed out her tremors. “Mulder, do the dead come to me because I can’t let them go?”  

*****

He was stunned-- felt his mouth dry up and the hairs on his neck stand, electrified. 

“Emily appeared to me again… in the church.” Scully’s passivity broke: her brows drew down, her nose began to splotch, a tear began to dangerously rim her lower left eyelid. “She asked-- she begged me.... ‘Mommy, please let me go’.” 

Mulder scooted further towards her, arms open to let her cry it out on his shoulder; but she remained rigidly in her seat. 

“And I wonder if… if maybe… they’re…” neither needed to directly name her father, her sister, her daughter, “not at peace because I won’t let them go. Maybe they keep coming back because I can’t accept they’re gone. Do I… am I?” 

Scully looked piercingly at his face, crumpled and bleeding tears and horrified. 

Of course not, he wanted to insist. Scully you know that doesn’t make sense, he wanted to yell. But his eyes fell on her necklace, a splinter of one of her tears collecting on its angles; and Mulder didn’t know what he could say that wouldn’t offend those raw beliefs. She’d let him express his doubts, swallowed back her hurt when he practically spat them; and was here now, tattered and ripping apart. 

*****

It wasn’t hard to miss that Mulder-- bewildered, lost, and hesitant-- had locked onto her cross. Scully could practically hear his gears turning, shifting, jamming as he slammed up against the symbol of her faith, one he'd tried to reinterpret after carrying her necklace around for the months she'd been taken. He’d wanted to forget it had a meaning before he came along. 

“Mulder.” 

His head snapped up, caught. His eyes were less lost, more frustrated. Not at her, but--

“Do you think my faith holds me back?” 

Fox “the truth is all I have” Mulder blanked.

Yes, yes he did.

“I… maybe you believe it does.” 

That brought her up short, too. 

*****

They both weighed each other in the silence, eyes locked and faces carefully guarded. 

Then Scully looked out his window, trying to gather strength from the perversely glowing sunshine; and Mulder looked down, carefully stringing together his next sentence. 

*****

Scully spoke first. 

“Mulder, every time you’ve been drawn into my faith it’s been communicated to you through the language of only its most ardent followers. Penance, saints, true believers, the kingdom of Heaven-- words that, when taken out of their strict contexts, lose the power of their original intent.” 

Her partner sat, attentive, conceding her point while not relinquishing his.

Fair enough. 

“My journey of faith is not unlike yours: my childhood experiences were put behind me as I grew up and lived life. But they came back to me and challenged me, and I believed again-- not like the blind or zealots do, without question, without skepticism.” 

His arms had lowered and stayed on the couch when she’d rejected them earlier (too overwrought to say her peace without cracking at his compassion); so, she leaned forward a little, nudged his hand goodnaturedly. “‘I have the same doubts as you do’. ‘You taught me that’.”

Mulder dropped his mouth with a quick, delighted hee. “Two for two, Scully. You have a recording of my greatest hits?”

“I indulge in them along with my daily proverbs. Wouldn’t want to read the sections on fools and their follies without a list of examples.” 

His delight was tempered with a desire to escape her biblical allusion. “Face it, Scully, the only thing you truly worship is your hair dryer.” 

Not his best joke, though it was a perfect opportunity to snatch, reverse, and score her own layup. But Scully had a point to prove, and let her easy victory pass. Banter would have to wait. 

“My point is, Mulder, that I am as skeptical of my faith as you are of your beliefs. I live my life on my own terms through the dictates of my own conscience; and I am just as disturbed as you are when religion is weaponized against the people who practice it in peace.” 

“So then why….” Mulder dropped off, letting her fill in the blanks. Why the tears at my apartment door? Why the catastrophic self-doubt five minutes ago?

“I think….” 

What did she think? Scully thought she came here to hear what Mulder had to think. Scully thought she wanted to hear that she wasn’t crazy. Scully thought she wanted to hear opinions from someone unbiased. 

Picking the most biased, “crazy” person I know to do so. Good going, Dana. 

“I said once that the dead are speaking and that no one is listening. While I was in confession this morning,” she appreciated that Mulder didn’t flinch, “I realized that I was afraid God was talking and that nobody was listening. And--”

“And you’re wondering if you're the one not listening?” 

Yes. “I think so.” 

*****

Mulder didn’t now and knew he never would believe what Scully did-- not the way she did. Loose Catholic though she was, his partner carried weights and burdens parallel to his own-- his truth, her belief; his conviction, her faith-- but she corded hers together with science and miracles and he with the supernatural and unexplained.  

He also had a sneaking suspicion that the weights Scully tied together were largely separate from her religion; and that she mistakenly linked them as naturally as her cross and its chain. In her own very Catholic family, she was the odd one out: Maggie Scully believed in her faith and her visions, Melissa had grown mystical branches from her childhood roots, and even Bill believed in his faith alongside his and Tara’s IVF. Scully herself stated she believed he-- an unbeliever-- would join her in a beautiful beyond while the two of them were salting away in the Norwegian Sea. 

The dead she clasped in her hands, carried on her back, held in her heart Scully now believed were joining God in casting judgment on her-- demanding she accept the Almighty’s Plan and let them go. 

“Scully, does your faith allow for freewill?”

She looked at him, searching for the second head he must have grown. “Yes.” Translated: you already knew that. 

“Do you believe they came to you out of judgment, or of their own freewill?” 

She was tearing up again, torn between his idea and her doubts. 

“And you know them, Scully--” he talked right over the momentary flash of scientific denial creeping at her mouth, “--and I knew… Melissa. And Emily. And both of them were….” Mulder paused, searching for the right word. “Decided.” 

That earned his first laugh: a small whoosh of relief and acknowledgement, but he’d take it.

“I believe they moved heaven and earth to help each other, to help you-- just as you’d move heaven and earth to help me.” 

*****

Scully was afraid to ask but had to know. “My father?” she exhaled through shaky breath. 

Mulder didn’t know him, never met him, never even knew about his visitation in her coma. He had memories from the Luthor Lee Boggs’s case-- sharp rebukes and pale, determined warnings and baffled questions when she chose not to pursue the truth-- and that was it. As Scully intended it to be. 

He sank further into the couch, glancing down at his knuckles as they flexed back and forth loosely. “Scully, I… I never told you that I saw my father, too. After he’d died.” 

She sat up, forced herself not to search the shadows in her periphery. “What?” 

“I saw him after I blew up in the train car.” New Mexico. “He came to me while I was recovering. Apologized. Told me Samantha wasn’t with him.” 

I saw you, she thought. Shuddered. Noticed he looked up abruptly to assess how much she believed him. Knew he never remembered that particular visitation. 

“I wasn’t dead, Scully-- I was between it and life. Dad had unfinished business with me-- to talk, not to punish. I’d bet your father meant the same.” 

***** 

They contemplated in their separate silences. 

*****

“Maybe I’m afraid. Death is so final-- I chose it for a career, to give the dead their voices. To correct the wrongs and injustices they faced. And I moved away from it into the field, so I could more directly stop death from occurring in the first place.”

He sat up, reflecting on his partner’s admission. “Do you think you’re visited because you’ve failed to give them closure?” 

“Yes. No. I don’t know what to think.”

There’s Scully. Time to ease off of what Science Scully deemed impossibilities. “Scully, even in your faith death isn’t final-- there’s the afterlife, angels, the New Kingdom--”

“Now who’s reading their proverbs over breakfast?” 

“It helps balance out my Lucky Charms.” 

“Life cereal, Mulder. 'My first religious joke' always involved Life cereal.” 

“I’d probably know that, Scully, if there weren’t other very interesting substitutes to read over breakfast.”

The Scully eye roll. Progress, progress.  

“Death isn’t the end, Scully. Even if there’s nothing beyond this mortal coil-- even if everyone hits the ground and stops running-- they leave bits of themselves behind, coming back to us from wherever their soul rests. Even the strictest scientist can read the map of their bodies and put their life’s story into words.” This time he nudged her hand. “To give them answers. To give them peace.” 

*****

“I’ve asked them.”

Scully watched Mulder’s eyebrows fly upward. “You asked them?” 

“Yes. I’ve asked them what they wanted.”

“You interrogated them.” 

She sputtered, paused, stopped. “They wouldn’t tell me.” 

He was unfazed, leaning forward to spring from the couch. “Of course not-- they’re Scullys. How many times have I asked you what you saw and you never gave me a straight answer?” He shambled off towards the kitchen. “Water?” 

“Mulder, those are two completely different--.” She stopped again. “Water.” 

*****

“I think the problem is you want a straight answer. Something explainable or clean cut.”

She didn’t acknowledge this point, of course; but Mulder knew she was listening. “And I think you thought your faith was as clean cut as your science. But how many unexplained things have we seen, Scully? How many people that science has yet to begin to understand let alone explain? And how many more unknowns will you and I find? I think it’s unfair to cut off the possibilities because they don’t fit your expectations-- to them and to yourself.” 

He saw Scully retreating from this theoretical trail: she’d take his reassurance, not his logic, and move forward with that. She’d probably even have another crisis of faith-- draw away from and back to it-- as her security waxed and waned. 

Scully, the tide. Scully, the skeptic. Scully, the self-doubter. Scully, the ride-or-die only to him. 

Mulder was aware of how much faith she placed in him-- won from trust and leaps of faith and long years being mocked and proven right. He was also aware she was aware that his own limited broadband couldn't afford to carry her burdens as well as his own. They both ran away from internal crises; but his legs were longer, his stamina more intense, his focus more honed, and it allowed him to go greater distances before collapse. He could run back, try to support her, even cheer her on-- but he hadn’t yet figured out how to relieve the pressure from his partner's shoulders.  

Yet somehow, someway, his efforts always seemed to help. At any rate, Scully always showed up to his apartment first during a crisis; and that, he figured, was a tell of some sort. 

*****

They hadn’t touched on her deeper questions-- God, judgment, purpose, failure-- and neither wanted to return to it. Instead, they were content to return to the couch, waters in hand, and recharge while watching whatever channel they landed on.

Together and apart, different and alike.

As it should be.

*****

Thank you for reading~

Enjoy!

Tagging @today-in-fic and @xffictober2023 and @fictober-event

#txf #fic #Fictober #2023 #Day 20 #“My Religious Convictions Are Hardly the Issue Here” #the irony of the title #mine #this was long and late #but it got done!!!!!! #another theme I'm weirdly returning to this fictober #that and Looney Tunes #All Souls #S5 #Scully #Mulder #talking afterward

[rebelspykatie]

that green light, i want it

Part 9

Hopper comes down the stairs. “We’re gonna spin this as a spurned lover. Henry here,” He looks at the empty porch again, somehow knowing exactly where the body is despite the lack of evidence, “couldn’t get over Nancy rejecting him, so he stalked her and attacked her. She called Steve for help, who called me. Munson, you can leave if you want, keep your name out of it.” 

Eddie shakes his head. “I was at work when this started, I need an excuse to show my boss. Police report seems about as good as anything to get him off my back.” 

“Okay, you two,” Hopper points to Eddie and Steve, “are old friends. Steve visited the graveyard earlier and knew you were working. When Nancy called for help, Steve picked up Eddie for backup after calling me. I got here first, found Henry attacking Nancy and got him outside. When you showed up he tried to attack you, too. That’s when I shot him.”

“You just came up with all that on the spot?” Eddie can’t help asking. 

Hopper shoots him a wry, unamused look. “Steve’s been working on this for years, long before I got involved. But I’ve had plenty of time to concoct a plan for what to do if Henry was caught.” He cocks his head in Eddie’s direction. “You were easy enough to work into that plan.”

“Hopper’s almost as prepared as Nancy is for anything,” Steve says, helping Nancy sit up. 

“I’m not sure anyone’s as prepared as Wheeler,” Hopper jokes, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, like this is some inside joke Eddie’s on the outside of understanding. 

The smile disappears as quickly as it came when they hear sirens in the distance. “Steve, undo the spell.” 

Eddie’s eyes follow Steve up the stairs as his hands flit around, undoing the cloak over Henry. The dead body lying there is just as jarring as seeing him fall to the ground with a bullet between his eyes. There’s more blood than Eddie remembered pooling around him on the ground.

Steve makes it back to Nancy’s side right before the first set of cars pull up outside. Officers Eddie vaguely recognizes from when he got busted dealing meet them on the lawn. 

They give their statements, sticking as closely to Hopper’s story as they can. Eddie embellishing a bit on Steve finding him in the graveyard, frantic and asking for help as Eddie was working to restore Herman’s disturbed gravesite, covering Steve’s tracks on that front. 

Eddie’s statement doesn’t take as long as Steve and Nancy’s. He sits back and watches the investigators document everything, the tedious removal of Henry’s body. There’s a fleeting thought that he’ll probably see him again in a week or two once his body is cleared for burial. As long as he hasn’t been fired, that is. 

After the cops clear them to go home, Steve takes a moment alone with Nancy. Eddie tries not to watch as he rubs her arms and pulls her into another tight hug, both of them pretty shaken after tonight. Eddie can’t imagine what they’ve been through after the past couple of years, suspicious of everyone and desperate to find answers. 

Nancy was clearly so involved that she lost sight of herself, at least physically. She’s gaunt and barely able to stand on her own after that spell on Henry. The effect on Steve is less noticeable, shaky hands shoved into jean pockets, sweat beading his forehead, shoulders tense and up to his ears. Eddie wonders again who is taking care of Steve while he’s busy taking care of Nancy. 

With one last look at the crime scene, where Hopper stands protectively beside Nancy and nods at them as they pull out of the driveway, Eddie sinks into the passenger seat. It’s silent for a beat, Eddie watching Steve, Steve watching the road. He’s positive if Steve wasn’t gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles, his hands would still be shaking. 

At the stop sign at the end of Nancy’s road, Steve asks, “Am I taking you home or back to the graveyard?” His voice is monotone, as if life has left Steve.

“Steve,” Eddie reaches out and places a hand over his on the wheel. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine. We caught the bad guy, it’s over.” Steve’s grip tightens under Eddie’s hand. 

“That doesn’t mean you’re okay. I’m not as emotionally involved in all of this as you are, you can scream or cry or break down if you need to.” Steve doesn’t look at him, just stares through the windshield into the starry night. “I just thought, maybe you were holding it together for Nancy. It’s okay to let go now.” 

Before Eddie can say anything else, Steve’s putting the car in park, right there at the stop sign, and dragging him into an embrace across the console. It’s fierce, one of the tighter hugs Eddie’s received in his whole life. Probably third to the hug from his mother before she passed away and the one from Wayne when he showed up on his doorstep after Al abandoned him. 

It’s desperate and clingy, if a bit uncomfortable with the hard plastic digging into their sides. Against his chest, Eddie senses Steve’s breathing hitch, a small hiccup as he otherwise silently falls apart. Tears stain the front of Eddie’s t-shirt and Eddie wishes he had something fancier to soak up Steve’s grief.

They stay like that for a while, no cars on the road to disturb them at this hour. Steve burrowed into the side of Eddie’s neck, face pressed into his shoulder and arms tightly wound behind Eddie’s back. At some point, Eddie started unconsciously stroking Steve’s hair the same way his mother used to when she was trying to calm Eddie. 

When Steve finally lets go and shuffles back self-consciously to his side of the car, pressing his back against the door, he looks sheepish. 

There’s an apology there on the tip of his tongue that Eddie stops with a quick, “No,” he shakes his head and does a slashing motion in the air, “Absolutely no apologies, unless it’s about how I have to fix Herman’s grave.” A huff of amusement leaves Steve. “You’ve been through a lot, Steve. I think you should’ve run screaming from this years ago. But you’re brave.” Steve opens his mouth to protest. “No, nope! I’m right, deal with it. You’re brave and kind and loyal.”

Steve rubs at the back of his face with the sleeve of his sweater, drying up the last remaining tear tracks. He mumbles thanks into the fabric. 

“Now, I’m not sure I’m comfortable leaving you alone in that horrible house tonight. Not after everything. Nancy said you can’t trust the rest of the coven either, so I don’t think you should be alone. You’re a sitting target then.” 

Steve’s face scrunches in confusion. “What are you suggesting?” 

“Well,” and here he hesitates. They still don’t know each other very well, but Eddie feels trauma bonded to Steve in a way that should probably be frightening, but feels natural, like they were always meant to find each other. Everything in him is telling him to not walk away from Steve. “I could stay with you tonight. And whenever you need, really, since I work right behind your house most nights.”

“Y-you want to stay with me?” Steve’s voice is meek, almost too quiet to hear in the dead of night. 

Eddie reaches out again, taking one of Steve’s hands. They’re warm, despite the chill in the air, and Eddie doesn’t ever want to let go. “Has anyone checked on you during all of this? Besides Hopper and Nancy?” Steve shakes his head no. “Let me look out for you. I know I won’t help against magic, but at least I know everything. You can talk to me about it. That’s something, right?” 

It takes a long time for Steve to answer, emotions flickering across his face, looking at Eddie like he can pick apart his brain. “I’d like that.” 

A weight lifts off Eddie’s shoulders. Steve’s not going to magically disappear from his life just like he came. He’s going to let someone in. He’s going to let Eddie in. And Eddie won’t take that opportunity for granted. 

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine | Epilogue | AO3

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #katie writes

[curatoroffiction]

MC who is physically aggressive in their sleep

Wrote this on my phone, so sorry if the formatting sucks.

This one came to me because I saw this art post in which Azul gets woken up by the Tweels by an aggressive tackle, and I mused to myself "How would I handle waking up that way?"

And I remembered that I am notoriously a physically aggressive sleeper.

I'm talking, my brother once came into my room and grabbed me to wake me up, and the only thing I remember is waking up to someone touching me and opening my eyes to realize my fist was primed to punch him and my hand was gripping his shirt to hold him in place.

".. You ASKED me to wake you up??"

".. I am so sorry. You are so right. My b."

So this one goes out to my peeps who wake up swinging like they're in a bar fight.

First and foremost, characters who love to mess with people and see what makes them tick? They're gonna fuckin' love this little problem of yours. The first time you wake up swinging at them, they're going to get a thrill out of it, out of getting to see a new side of you. Bonus points if you're normally a chill person, because this is gonna make them see stars.

Responsible characters will find it off-putting and will earnestly be a little shocked at first. They'll make the connection pretty quickly that you probably had something in your life that made this a problem for you. Some environment of survival, where you weren't safe, even in your sleep. I hope you like protective people, because once a responsible character realizes this is a defense mechanism, they're gonna do everything within their power to make you feel physically safe. They might also be itching to personally kick some ass on your behalf.

Characters with a rough past might feel a certain kindredness with you. Seeing you become aggressive at being touched in your sleep would surprise them at first, but they'd instantly get it. They'd apologize, and if you tried to apologize for almost tearing their lights right out of their head, they'd probably just go "Nah, it was my bad for touching you in your sleep. Your reaction was fine." - If they weren't already hanging out with you, they definitely gravitate towards you now.

Sweet characters will probably panic. You wake up to wide eyes and cowering. When you get flustered and apologize, they just get kind of quiet and ask why you do that when touched in your sleep. Even if you tell them it's nothing serious, and that you feel more embarassed that anything, they will absolutely take it more personally. I feel like sweet characters would fall into two subsects where some would be scared/nervous around you when you're asleep - Meanwhile, others would catch on way more quickly than anyone else that it's a defense mechanism, and their anger on your behalf would be palpable.

Chill characters would laugh it off like "Haha, what the fuck my guy" but they'd probably be calculating what kinds of environments or incidents could have caused you to do that.

Your best bud type characters would scoff like "What the FUCK- CHILL" and probably reprimand you for scaring the crap out of them, but they'd also start asking a lot of questions. If you don't like answering questions, be prepared for them to tell everyone and their mother "Don't wake ___ up, they'll beat the crap outta you for it". You will never live it down, and they WILL laugh at you for it.

Calculating characters would probably be caught offguard if they woke you up and you almost punched their lights out. Temporarily shaken that they hadn't anticipated this outcome, they might need a minute before they'll re-regulate again. They will also be infinitely more interested in learning about you, since they obviously don't know enough.

Stoic characters wouldn't be phased by it, but they also would be concerned for you. Might tell the responsible characters about what you did so they can help you, if they feel like they themselves aren't equipped to help you.

Bonus;

Non-human characters wonder if this is a human trait, and have to have this idea challenged by other humans. God help whatever circumstance or people made you the "Wake up swinging" brand of fucked up, because if the non-human discovers it's a sign if trauma, they're gonna be ready to tear some heads off.

#MC #GN MC #Gender Neutral MC #Fandom Neutral #Reader Insert #Musings #MC Concept #MC Idea #MC Ideas #MC Concepts #Twisted Wonderland #Twst #Obey Me #Obey Me! #Arcana Twilight #arcana twilight mc #arcana twilight

[teabutmakeitazure]

Twisted but Tender - 12: Power Imbalance

>Yan! Childe x Fem! Reader

a/n: Childe: Mhm yes, if I put a blade to my darling's neck she'll tell me everything and wouldn't mind it at all

Chapter summary: sometimes misunderstandings can be... scary

Warnings: threatening, being treated harshly (not sure if it would be counted as physical assault), unhealthy mentality.

Word count: ~1.5k

Series Masterlist

You keep as still as you possibly can as the blade presses into your skin. This is not how you thought things would turn out today. Everything was fine a moment ago, so what came over him?

The hand holding your arm squeezes the flesh and you wince in pain. "Sweetheart. You have some explaining to do." His chin rests above your head which means that he isn't paying attention to the blade in his hand.

This situation is scary and you want to cry. However, you can't. He'll take it the wrong way and seeing that he's doing this unprompted right now, who knows what he'll do if he's provoked.

"W-what are you talking about?"

At your question, he merely laughs. Leaning into your ear, he blows, breath warm compared to the cold air.

"The letter you drafted to send to your parents. You think that I wouldn't know if you wrote about everything that happened two weeks ago? And in such detail too, I'm impressed at how good you are with words. Still," the blade presses up to your neck even more and you whimper, "did you really think I'ld miss that?"

Shit. That letter, you started writing with the intention of a letter home but then you trailed off and wrote about Ajax putting you in that room and those recurring hallucinations. He ended up not doing it when you broke down and clung to him but you were still shaken up.

By all means, that wasn't what you wanted to send and never will you ever send something like that back home. You don't want your parents to worry. And besides, it's not like they can do anything. After writing everything down, you shoved the draft with the other papers with the intention to burn it later but forgot.

Seems like he read it.

"Answer me." His voice was low but threatening.

You're shaking. So badly, in fact, that you feel like your legs might give out any second. Your tongue feels numb and despite attempting to say something, all that you can do is weep.

Uncaring, Ajax releases his hold, spins you around and pushes you to a tree. When your back hits the trunk harshly, he presses the cool hydro to your neck once again. The free hand slams the surface right next to your face and you flinch horribly.

"I told you to answer me," he commands without raising his voice.

You close your eyes, think about Jax to calm yourself and try speaking again. "It's… it's not what you think."

"Oh really? Then I wonder what it might be. Enlighten me."

"I never intended to send that! I swear. I I just ended up wri- writing it because I was still… disturbed. I trailed off and didn't realise that it was a letter for my parents."

"Ah, an easy excuse. Come on, you really think I'm dumb?"

Why doesn't he listen to the truth!

"I swear Ajax. If I wanted to send that, I already would have posted it. I didn't! I was going to burn it but it slipped my mind."

"Ah, really?"

His words betray his actions because he's staring at you like a hawk, hand gripping the blade so tight you bet his knuckles are white.

"Yes."

"And how can I be sure that you're not lying to me?"

"You… you know how forgetful I am. Things slip my mind easily. And… and you know that I would never talk about our personal matters with anyone, not even my mother."

"I'm not convinced."

With a frozen tear piercing your eye, you admit defeat. "I don't know how to convince you. I really don't." You bite back a sob and continue, "I really am telling the truth Ajax. There are no schemes here."

He stares into your watery eyes for a few moments till he dispels the hydro blade and pulls you in for a hug. Immediately, your legs give out and now that the adrenaline is wearing off, your head starts pounding.

He seats the both of you on the snowy ground and holds you tight, face in his chest. It's then when you realise that you're sobbing.

The man you live with is as crazy as you first thought him to be. You don't know whether you should accept his comfort right now or not. Would it really be okay for you to? Especially right after he had a blade pressed to your neck over something that he didn't even know was true?

But your hands are shaking so badly. It's not even from the cold! Ajax, however, is so warm despite the cold actions earlier. It wouldn't hurt to lean in right? But…

No.

As you pull back for air, you push him away with all your strength. Even with that, he nudges only a little but enough to let you go. Scrambling away and backwards, you hold onto what you can grab off the tree to ground your consciousness.

He looks… hurt.

Really? Right after all that, he's the one who's hurt? He's playing with your feelings.

All this time, you thought you were using his feelings for you to your advantage but he was in on it too, as it seems. What a cruel joke.

He calls your name with a stern voice and you flinch, clutching the tree harder. The breeze that was blowing earlier completely stops, adding a complimenting silence to the atmosphere. It's ominous, just like his eyes.

The two of you idly stare at each other for a while till he decides to crawl towards you. He's slow, deliberately, to test the waters. When your hands scramble on the tree trunk as though it will offer protection, he stops.

Ajax realises that you're terrified, but it's okay. He made a mistake. You'll forgive him if he apologises because when you make a mistake, you apologise. If you think about it, it isn't his fault! He has a short temper when it comes to you, so when he saw something that could damage your relationship with him, he got angry.

He'll apologise and make it up to you. After all, he didn't mean to put a blade to your neck. You'll forgive him, won't you?

He reaches for you again and you let go of the tree to get up and run, but he grabs your leg short of the process. "Wait!" Turning your head to look at him, you brush off snow and hair from your face and try your best to pull your leg free.

However, he's stronger and he doesn't let go. Is there something else he has in store for you? Maybe that's why he isn't letting you go. This morning you had certainly called it when you said that he might pull something last minute.

And so here you are. With your husband dragging you towards him by the foot he's grabbed and then seating up your shaking form as you hyperventilate and push at his chest to let you go. He doesn't. He would never let you go. He hugs you like he's greeting a child and you don't think you've ever forgotten to breathe like this.

Even with all the struggling you're doing, he remains as firm as a rock. Snow crunches beneath you both as he readjusts the position to you being between his legs instead of over them. Then, he starts rubbing his hand soothingly over your back like he's calming you down after a nightmare. The funny part is that he is the nightmare you want to get away from.

After caging you in with both arms, legs and chest, he lays the both of you down in the snow. He tucks your head under his chin and whispers something you can't quite make out.

"I'm sorry."

He's apologising?

"I… don't know what came over me."

Is he serious?

"Please, forgive me. I promise I'll make it up to you."

You wriggle out an arm from his hold to push at his chest, but he grabs it. After a kiss, he readjusts it back and goes back to whispering apologies into your ear. With a pounding head, you hear every single one of them.

You're powerless here. Even in refusing a hug, you can't do anything. That's just the power imbalance between you both. You’re just glad that the ordeal ended with that because you don’t think you could’ve digested any more physical assault.

That night, when you got home, you excused yourself from dinner and went straight to the study. He didn't comment. You went to bed after that and ended up waking up to an empty one.

Ajax left for work and you're here. All alone and all silence, in the estate that he plays house with you.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin impact x reader #childe x reader #yandere x reader #yandere childe #yandere childe x reader #yandere genshin x reader #yandere tartaglia #yandere tartaglia x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin imagines #genshin x you #twistedbuttender

[lovedeathalice]

Suffocate

𝒀𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝑬𝒓𝒆𝒏 𝑱. 𝒙 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

⊱ sʏɴᴏᴘsɪs: A small discreet act of rebellion goes wrong. You know you shouldn't have done it– but now, you're going to learn the hard way.

A/N: This one's for u @lovereren man we were going CRAZY with these ideas lmfao ilysm❤️

This is a random side scenario far down the line after 𝐂𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 takes place. Please read the tags, and to whoever somehow finds this, enjoy :)

⊱ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: heavy physical and verbal abuse, mentions of birth control, implied rape/noncon, uses of derogatory terms

Word count: 1.1k

Ao3 link

𝟷𝟾+, ᴍɪɴᴏʀs ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛ.

•━━ꕥ━━•

It's been a few hours since you delivered your baby.

You sit there, still in silent shock. Not only from the severe stress your body endured during labor, but from the fact that you can't process just how you still got pregnant.

For the past 9 months, you've done nothing but rethink all the precautions you took to prevent another pregnancy. Birth control. Cleaning out Eren's cum from inside of you when he's asleep. And so much more.

And yet you still ended up with a positive pregnancy test in your hands.

Why?

In the midst of your stupor, you're shaken up by the door being pushed open.

None other than your husband, Eren, enters the room. He's donned in one of those countless pristine suits of his, striding in with his air of suffocating confidence and a sinister expression plastered on his face.

He walks up to you, standing next to the hospital bed, hands in the pockets of his slacks. He reaches a hand out and you lightly flinch, making Eren click his teeth in disapproval.

He continues to place his hand on your cheek, stroking it softly.

"How's the baby, hm?"

"The baby is... fine."

"Mmm."

You slowly sit up as Eren stands there beside you, quiet and observing. The air always feels unbearably suffocating every time he's present. You just wish he would leave.

In the corner of your vision, you see Eren fish something out of the pocket in his blazer. Something is smacked down harshly onto the bedside table, and you flinch violently at the sound.

You quickly look over to see what it is, and your blood freezes.

The birth control.

Your eyes widen, and that familiar ice cold sensation of horror floods your veins.

"What's this. Hm?"

Your mouth gapes like a fish out of water, immediately grappling for excuses as to why you'd have such a thing in your possession.

"It's– it's for a condition I have. I can explain–"

"Shut your fucking mouth." Eren spits with absolute indignation, glaring at you in fury.

"Do you think I'm fucking stupid? Huh?" He leans over you, caging you in with his arms. "Did you actually think that I wouldn't find out? That you'd be a disobedient fucking whore and take this shit?"

You have no excuse now. You have no idea what to do.

So you beg. You beg for his forgiveness.

Tears begin to flood your eyes, obscuring your vision. "Baby, please. I'm so sorry. I am so so sorry. Please. I just– I just wanted to rest for a little bit. Pregnancy is very hard for me, and... and..." Your voice trails off with a pathetic little whimper, as you cast your eyes down towards your hands. You begin to full on sob, praying to any force out there that Eren would somehow, somewhat have mercy on you this one single time. Just this once, you begin to chant in your head. But of course, it's nothing but wishful thinking.

Because he doesn't.

Your yell of surprise is cut off as Eren's large veiny hands wrap around your throat, squeezing it with all he has and robbing you of your ability to breathe.

You cough and sputter, kicking out your legs weakly as the tears spill down your face.

He brings his face right in front of yours, the tips of your noses touching. Your pupils dilate in fear, locked onto the monster in front of you. His sharp emerald eyes pierce right through your own and into your soul, siezing your entire being in absolute fear.

"Don't you ever. Fucking. Cross me like that again. You fuckin' hear me, bitch?"

You try to nod, but Eren's hands are still constricting your windpipes, preventing you from speaking.

"You like to play dumb all the time, don't you? Dumb fucking whore."

Finally, he releases your throat, and instantly, you're sent into a hysterical fit of coughs, face purple and a thin sheen of sweat coating your forehead and temples. "I'm sorry Eren–"

Your face snaps to the side. For a little moment, the world is silent, and the only thing cutting through the silence is a static ringing noise throughout your ears.

Eren had slapped you senseless.

You're brought back to the present by Eren grabbing your face and turning it to face him.

"By taking this fucking shit–" he nudges his head towards the bedside table where the birth control rests "–you're mistreating my fucking property. You are my fucking property. I've told you before that you're not. Fucking. Allowed. To take this shit. But you keep disobeying me like you always do."

Your chest is choked up with sobs, and you can only sit there as Eren glares down at you.

Eren releases your face. You hesitantly try to bring up a hand to rub your cheek, but Eren grabs it, squeezing it and making you whimper in pain.

Once again, he puts his face right in front of yours. His face twists into a sick sneer, in an unsettling mixture between anger and arrogance.

"You really like getting punished, huh?"

"Baby–"

"Shut the fuck up. When we get home... I'm gonna teach you a fucking lesson. Be grateful that I'm not doing it right here."

You stay silent, heeding his commands. You have nothing to do. You have nothing to say.

"You're mine. I fucking own you. Your thoughts, your actions, every single fucking part of you is mine, and when I say there's something you can't do, you better fucking listen. Understand?"

You stay silent, gaze still downcast.

"I said fucking LOOK AT ME!!" Eren roars in your face, grabbing a fistful of your hair to lift your head off the bed as he jerks it closer to his face.

"Yes! Yes, I'm sorry Eren, I didn't mean to stay quiet! Please baby, I'm sorry." You sob pathetically, earning a glare of disgust from Eren.

Eren grits his teeth and growls. "When we get home... you're gonna fucking get it. I don't fucking care if the whole house hears. If the kids hear. I'm gonna teach you nice & properly that you're fucking mine. And you better not mess with me again. Understand?"

You have nothing you can do. Nothing you can say.

Submissively, you raise your gaze to meet his. Your lips still quiver from the shock of being beaten, trembling in the presence of your husband.

"Yes. Yes, I understand."

"That's a good little wife."

He grabs your face and kisses you roughly, forcing his tongue into your mouth, moaning at the taste of your tears. He forcefully molds his lips onto yours, and you lay there and take it.

Finally Eren lets you go, letting your head harshly fall back onto the hospital bed.

He storms out, and you instantly break down, crumpling up in defeat.

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A/N: Thanks so much for reading!! Likes & Reblogs so my work can be shared are greatly appreciated🥰

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[lets-try-some-writing]

Optimus & Bumblebee Headcannon (part 4)

Are there things I should be doing? Yes. Am I doing them? No. Is my fixation with Transformers unhealthy? Most certainly. Now on with the fluff!

Sparklinghood (3rd Edition)

It's only a few weeks after the party hosted in Bee's honor that he begins to show signs of growth yet again, this time physically.

When Ratchet does his regular checkup, he notes that Bee has gained a few inches in height and his plating seems to be a lot tighter against his protoform.

Such a thing is normal and shows that Bee is nearly ready to undergo his first reformat as his protoform grows beyond his armor's capacity.

Ratchet goes to great lengths to ensure that Optimus and Bee's other Caretakers know that this is normal and that it will happen around three to four more times throughout Bee's life before he grows into his final frame.

However Ratchet, assuming Optimus was already aware of such common knowledge, fails to inform the Prime that reformatting is by no means a pleasant experience.

And Optimus, having emerged from the well fully framed and having only ever experienced the Matrix's forced reformat when he bonded with it, has next to no knowledge of what normal reformatting entails.

As such when Bee wakes up screaming during the middle of the night, clawing at his plating in agony, Optimus's first response is to assume something has gone horribly horribly wrong.

At first Optimus tries talking to Bee, trying to understand what is wrong, but all he gets in response is cries of "It hurts!" as his sparkling squirms within his grasp.

As Bee's frame begins to rapidly heat up to near scalding degrees and his cries take on a new pitch, any and all pretense of composure vacates Optimus's processors.

Fearing that he might lose his precious sparkling and not knowing what to do, Optimus takes Bee to the bot he trusts most, Ratchet.

Cradling Bee against his chassis, Optimus barrels through the halls, his optics wide and his vision beginning to blur from the sheer amount of panic plaguing his processors as he considers every worst case scenario imaginable.

Any poor bot wandering through the base is very nearly run over as Optimus makes his mad dash to the medbay.

Not fearing the consequences, Optimus kicks to medbay doors down, sending them flying across the room in a shrill shriek as the hinges are torn to pieces.

Ratchet is so startled that in his sleep deprived state he spits his energon all over himself and his monitor before he promptly falls out of his chair in a desperate attempt to pull out his blades in self defense.

However upon seeing that there are no enemies and only a very shaken Caretaker and sparkling in the room he quickly comes to his senses and has Bee laid down on the examination table.

A quick scan is all Ratchet needs before he informs Optimus, and consequently the small army of concerned bots hanging around the doorway, that Bee is just beginning his reformat and he will be perfectly fine.

With that, most of the observers take their leave, safe in the knowledge that Bee is unharmed.

Optimus is dumbfounded, he never expected reformatting to be so painful.

The reformat he underwent with the Matrix was something he thought to be uniquely agonizing. He never would have guessed that every sparkling goes through a similar process, not once, but up to four times.

Armed with a newfound respect for every sparkling ever, especially Bee, Optimus listens closely as Ratchet explains just what he can do to help his little mechling through the process.

Once he finishes his rather rushed education on reformatting, Optimus carries the whimpering Bee back to his berthroom.

Jazz and Prowl tag along just to make sure Optimus actually knows what he is doing.

Once he finally gets to his room the very first thing Optimus does is have Bee set into an oil bath.

Prowl brings some towels and sets them up besides the tub and Jazz collects some energon from the cafeteria. Both stay out of the way and mostly just watch to see if Optimus needs assistance.

Optimus hardly notices them, his focus on helping Bee as his plating begins to crack and separate from his protoform.

Despite his tiredness, Bee manages to cry out and flail briefly as the thin plating he was forged with breaks and slides off his frame, leaving the newly exposed protoform covered in a sticky gel.

All throughout the process Optimus stays by Bee's side, holding his servo and removing disconnected plating from the bath while singing to try and keep Bee as calm and comfortable as possible.

Periodically Jazz and Prowl reheat the oil in order to keep Bee's systems at the appropriate temperature so that there will be no risk of damage while he is without his insulative armor.

Eventually as night turns to day and with Optimus having long since proven capable of easing Bee through his reformat, Jazz and Prowl leave to fill in for Optimus as best they can while he cares for his sparkling.

Later, if Jazz and Prowl find energon goodies and a few bottles of high grade in their offices they kindly never point it out, instead accepting the recondition of their efforts quietly.

It takes several hours but when the last piece of plating finally disconnects from Bee, the little sparkling is exhausted, hardly conscience and only able to weakly sputter as Optimus pulls him out of the now cold oil bath.

Quickly as to allow Bee rest, Optimus wipes him down gently with a towel, careful to not agitate the very sensitive and newly exposed protoform.

Once Bee is cleaned he immediately starts shivering, his protoform unused to being uncovered.

Optimus takes note and swaddles Bee in several layers of thermoplastic blankets before cuddling up with him on his berth.

Without any real reason Optimus is compelled to open his chassis slightly, he swiftly obliges, allowing some of the Matrix's warmth and light escape as he holds Bee close.

He hums a quiet lullaby he was not aware he knew as the Matrix thrums within him, its light arcing out and touching Bee almost lovingly as his spark calls out to Bee's own, sending waves of comfort and love.

As soon as he does this Bee relaxes within his hold, the stress of the night finally catching up to him and pulling him into deep recharge.

Optimus allows a smile to grace his features as Bee snuggles even closer to him, content and free of pain for the first time in hours. The Prime presses a light kiss to Bee's helm before also succumbing to the tantalizing pull of recharge.

The next several days consist mostly of Bee resting within his nest of blankets, too weak from the effort of reformatting to move.

Throughout this Optimus refuses to leave him for any extended period of time. Paranoid as he is, the Prime constantly checks to see if Bee is comfortable and well fueled.

Ratchet drops by a handful of times just to ensure there are no issues with Bee's reformat, but besides that, no one else is willing to bother the Prime and sparkling.

However the Decepticon's subscribe to no such niceties, and only a few days after Bee's reformat, just as he starts to move around again, Optimus is forced to return to the battlefield.

Every member of Autobot command can feel the barely veiled anger emanating from the Prime as he is hauled into a strategy meeting by Ultra Magnus.

It's even worse when Optimus meets Megatron in combat. There is no mercy to be found in his optics as the Prime furiously attacks the Decepticon leader.

Megatron survives the encounter, but the vicious gashes on his face and slight limp he bears afterword serve as a testament to Optimus's wrath at being taken from Bee's side.

Megatron doesn't know what caused Optimus's shift in attitude, but he does shiver when he recalls the total lack of empathy usually present in Optimus's optics.

He is NOT afraid, he simply reasons that Optimus is going through something, and to ensure that his Decepticons suffer minimal casualties he pulls his forces back for a few days.

Meanwhile Bee is with his teachers in the medical bay, picking out the correct waxes and paints for his freshly formed plating.

When a sparkling first emerges they only are colored in mixes of gray and silver, however after their first reformat they are capable of getting their first paintjob.

With this in mind Ironhide and Wheeljack insist that bright red/green are excellent choices, however both end up becoming too engrossed in their own bickering to press the idea.

First Aid and Perceptor recommend quieter tones, dark colors to make Bee less of a target.

Jazz, Prowl, and surprisingly, Ultra Magnus put forward the idea of choosing a mix of both, a bright base color and a darker accenting color.

Bee ends up following his secondary Caretakers advice, selecting neon yellow and black in order to have a similar coloration to Optimus's own of bright red and dark blue.

However no bot is able to say anything against his choice when Bee dances around happily, flapping his underdeveloped doorwings to watch his freshly waxed paint shimmer in the light.

When Optimus returns he hardly recognizes Bee, but he is pleased nonetheless when he sees that huge smile on his sparkling's face.

Not caring for who may be watching Optimus picks up Bee and spins him around, overjoyed to finally be back home with his mechling.

For the next few weeks Bee walks with a new pep in his step, showing off his paint with pride, much to the amusement of every bot at base.

Just a drabble

Bee: *walks around Autobot command showing off his paint*

Every bot at base: You are so adorable

Bee *Flaps his doorwings to show how they shine*

Every bot at base: *Putting on sunglasses* So cuTE!

Bee: *does a little spin to display all his newly colored plates*

Every bot at base: *Shielding their optics* sO pUrE!

Bee: *Gives a beaming smile*

Every bot at base: *clutching their chassis's from the sheer level of cuteness* wHyAreYousOperfEct!?!

#transformers sparklings #bumblebee #optimus prime #transformers #transformers prime #father son relationship #fluff #baby bumblebee #ratchet #tfp #jazz #prowl #cybertronian culture #little baby grows up #he's still cute tho