#some small creature mirroring their every move. their every thought. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dilvei · 2 months

Text

SILENT SOLACE [part one]

"I'LL MAKE SURE TO KEEP YOU THOROUGHLY ENTERTAINED."

pairing: fushiguro toji x gn! reader

genre: angst, fluff, hurt and comfort

synopsis: After her death, it didn't take long for him to crumble back into his former self. Gambling the meager remains of their wealth, aimlessly drifting from one woman to another, all while neglecting the child they had brought into the world together. But things changed when he met you, once again.

PART ONE: CHILDREN OF MIRROR.

It troubles you sometimes when people say everything works out, that everything will fall magically into place, that all will be fine and none of us needs to worry because everyone will eventually find their purpose in life.

You have found no such purpose. And that scares you.

It scares you, as time mercilessly moves on, marching forward without any regard, indifferent to our struggles and desires.

It scares you, that so many people die, alone, every day and no one will bat an eye.

It scares you, because the world is a harsh and terrifying place, and you are but one of the powerless creatures amidst the vastness of humanity that can do nothing but watch.

You feel trapped, a mist covering your thoughts into nothing but a chalky haze.

Somewhere, deep inside the unconscious of your mind, you wonder if one day, you too can find a purpose. If you too can find meaning before your time in this world inevitably runs out.

Because everyone and everything that lives will always share one common fate.

Because death links all of us together. Because death smiles at us all, and all we can do is smile back.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Your first meeting with Toji was not much of an eventful one.

It was a cold evening in the winter of January, and in your desperate attempt to fend off the biting cold as you walked your way home, you visited the nearest convenience store in hopes of purchasing a hot pack to thaw your nearly-frozen fingers.

Like you said, uneventful.

As you waited in line to pay, a string of irritated murmurs and curses could be heard from the people behind you as you silently watched the snow fall outside the glass doors. They were annoyed, glares fully directed towards the man standing in front of you who was clearly taking his sweet time.

Peering your head behind the man's wide shoulders, you realized why exactly that was. He seemed to be a couple of yen short. Your gaze flickered to the side, taking in the small array of everyday items the man intended to purchase—a toothbrush, some heat packs, two bottles of water, and a couple of packets of instant ramen.

Without a second thought, you stepped forward.

"Want me to pay the rest for you?" The words slipped from your lips softly before you glanced up at him, and in that moment, you truly saw the man's features for the first time.

Eyes of a warm, dark green met yours, framed by straight black hair that reached to his ears. A scar marred the corner of his right lip, adding a rugged charm to his otherwise smooth features.

Somehow, an urge to touch it welled up within you, though you resisted the impulse as quickly as it appeared.

Faced with such a frank question, the muscular man in the too-tight black shirt all but blinked at you.

You blinked back at him before turning your gaze to the lady behind the register with a small smile on your lips. "Here, this should cover the rest of his items, right?" you asked, taking out the exact amount of money needed.

"Do I know you from somewhere?" the gruff voice of the handsome man beside you asked, regarding you with his narrowed eyes. "Of course not." You shook your head, and a faint furrow formed between his brows.

After a beat of silence, the man sighed, gathering his items before wordlessly exiting the convenience store. But he didn't exactly leave, no.

Once you had finished paying for your own items, you stepped outside to find him waiting for you, gaze fixed upon the falling snow as he took a sip from the water bottle in his hand.

You raised a brow, the soft crunch of snow under your feet echoing in the winter night as you slowly walked towards him. "It's pretty cold tonight, isn't it?" Your voice was a quiet thing, but he nodded.

"I'm curious," he said, a half-smirk playing on his lips. "Why'd you help me out? A stranger, no less."

"I just felt the need to," you replied with a shrug, a small chuckle escaping your lips. "It was no trouble at all. Besides, it seemed like a lot of people were already pretty pissed at you behind me."

He hummed in response.

"Who knows what they would've done if you took any longer, huh?" you quipped, a playful tilt in your tone as you massaged the hot pack in your hands, eager for it to quickly warm up.

This time, it was the man himself who chuckled at your words. It's a nice sound, you thought to yourself.

"I would've been fine. You can trust me on that," he replied, finally turning to look at you, gaze steady. "Say, what can I do to thank you? You couldn't have just done all that for nothing, could you? Got too much money on your hands or something?"

You gave him a wide smile. "Just consider it as a random act of kindness."

"Really now?"

You nodded in response, barely containing the urge to burst into laughter as the man appeared momentarily stunned into silence. You were being truthful though, it was simply a random act of kindness on your part.

And, to be completely honest, he had hit the nail on the head with his last question.

With your wallet being the way it was—bulging with cash, to be precise—covering a stranger's purchase at a convenience store wouldn't even make a dent in your finances. It was only a mere drop of water in the ocean of your wealth.

"Hmm."

The man took a step toward you, followed by another, leaning down slightly to meet you at eye level. "Thanks a lot then," he said, gratitude evident in his tone as he offered a small nod of appreciation. "I'll pay you back someday. Name's Toji, by the way."

"No last name?"

"...No," Toji answered back, gaze heavy with unspoken weight. You thought it best not to pry, it was clear that Toji didn't want to discuss the circumstances of his family, a sentiment you understood all too well, given your own family history.

"All right then," you said, extending your hand for a handshake. "You can call me [Name]. A pleasure to meet you, Toji."

Toji shot your hand a long and silent stare, cautious, as if waiting for something to happen, and when no such thing happened, well, a handsome smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "Likewise, [Name]."

His hands weren't warm, but they weren't cold either. The perfect temperature to hold on to, one you wouldn't mind not letting go of if you had to be completely honest.

As you felt the calluses scattered on Toji's palm, you couldn't help but wonder. What kind of hardships had the man in front of you endured that had left such marks on his hands?

"So, no last name either, huh?" he asked, smirking down at you, eyes fixed on your lips.

You laughed, and wiggled a brow at him for good measure. "Interested in me that much?"

"Don't push your luck, [Name]." An exasperated laugh escaped his lips. You felt his hot breath touch the tip of your nose. "I'm just a curious man, that's all."

"A curious man, huh?" you repeated before you both let go. "Well, if we happen to meet up again, I'll be sure to tell you what it is, Toji."

"Looking forward to it then," he casually answered back, and so you reciprocated by giving him a small nod in return.

The two of you parted ways soon after, exchanging phone numbers without even a wave goodbye. It was a fleeting encounter with a stranger, a random act of kindness done for no particular reason.

It wasn't until six years later that your paths would cross once more.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

He hasn't changed much since you last saw him, at least from what you remember years ago anyway.

The man called Toji still exudes the same indifferent aura to those around him, his ruggedly handsome face adorned with a hint of stubble. His choice of attire too remains predominantly black, just as you recall it to be.

"Seat next to you taken, Toji?" you say as you approach him.

His ears catch the sound of your footsteps against the floor loud and clear, but it's the call of his name that causes him to slowly whip his toward you.

You expected those calculating green eyes to be clouded with confusion and lack of recognition, but to your surprise, it's only one of those things. A smile tugs at your lips involuntarily. "It's been a long while hasn't it?"

He scoots away to make room for you to sit down, and you gladly take the seat next to him. Despite sensing a hint of familiarity behind his eyes, he then asks you with a smirk on his face, "Sorry, do I know you from somewhere?"

You play along with him, a playful glint in your eye. "Forgetting me already. Maybe you'll recognize me by the time this game is over, hm?" you say, cocking your head towards the field in front of you both.

Despite the night sky casting its dark hues above, the horse race being held on the field is as lively as ever, excitement palpable everywhere by the chorus of cheers in the air.

You flicker a gaze down, directed to Toji's hand. "Betting on the public's favorite today, aren't you? I thought you more of a gambler than this," you remark.

He narrows his eyes at you, but you sense no hostility, only amusement evident in the smirk on his lips. "Hey, now. I'm just making money with money here. Why would I bet on a losing party?" he retorts.

You laugh. "I guess we'll see who wins then."

The two of you exchange no further banter as you wait for the race to end, and when it finally does, you shoot the familiar man a smirk of your own, a stark contrast to the cute scowl on Toji's face.

"I guess I'm the only one between us bringing home some money, huh?" you say, teasingly waving the betting slip in your hand in front of Toji's face. "I'm sure we could've changed that if we had reunited sooner."

Toji rolls his eyes, then casually inclines his body to rest on the chair, one arm hanging off with an air of nonchalance. "Well, go on."

"Hm?"

"You came here knowing exactly where to find me. And I'm guessing you're not here just for small talk. What do you want?" Toji's tone carries a blend of suspicion and intrigue.

You blink slowly at him, carefreely resting your chin on the palm of your hand. "I'll pay you back someday. You told me that last time we met. Do you remember, Toji?"

"Six years is a long time, [Name]."

Your heart beats a little louder, its rhythm echoing in your chest. "You didn't answer the question, so I'm assuming that you do remember. How sweet," you say, a genuine smile gracing your lips.

"It's not every day a stranger helps me out in the convenience store, out of all places, especially when people tend to stay away," he adds, a note of genuine appreciation underlying his words.

Your gaze finds itself on the ground, avoiding his piercing gaze. After a moment of silence, during which you fiddle with the betting slip in your hand, you sigh softly.

You extend your hand, offering him the paper.

"Here."

Toji arches a brow at your gesture, but he takes the betting slip nonetheless, turning it around in his hand with a thoughtful expression. "You paying me or something?"

The chair creaks as you push your body to stand up, your eyes locked on the expansive field before you, now gradually thinning out as the people disperse. "Something like that," you answer quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Toji waits in silence, his gaze burning hot against the view of your back.

When you're finally ready, when you've mustered the courage within your heart, you turn back to face him, your voice finally found, steady and resolute.

"I need your help. I need you," his eyes lock onto yours as if the two of you are the only ones here, "to kill someone for me."

The smirk he sends you is answer enough.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

< next part >

#jujutsu kaisen #jujustu kaisen x reader #jjk #jjk x reader #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji x you #toji x y/n #fanfic #fanfic series #romance #slow burn #i cant find the artist for this so some help finding them would b very helpful :)#banner by cafekitsune

59 notes · View notes

shalotttower · 4 months

Text

Pholcus phalangioides

Title: Pholcus phalangioides

Fandom: The Collector (2009). Can be read as an original inspired by the source, because I took some creative liberties.

Summary: There's a spider in your bathroom, it lives under the mirror cabinet and you a) don't want to kill it, and b) are too scared to touch it, so now you can either keep giving it one side eye after another, or ask your neighbour for help.

Word count: 4000+

Characters: Asa Emory x Reader

Notes: yandere Asa, spiders and insects descriptions, stalking, voyeurism of sort - Asa watches Reader without her realizing it, kidnapping, vague hinting on body horror, non-con touching, Reader is socially awkward. Asa is not 100% in-movie-character Asa (he actually talks lol), a huge chunk of him is based on my headcanons.

You have this problem - a spider problem, to be precise. Not that it's too big of a deal, but...it also is.

Spiders are generally okay.

They eat unwanted guests, like flies and mosquitos or even other spiders. Make cool webs, which is probably one of the most complicated forms of art, not to mention a mathematical pattern to it - a combination of radial and circular symmetry. The golden ratio in nature.

In general they're important for keeping a backyard ecosystem nice and intact.

But.

But there is a spider in your bathroom, right under the sink cabinet, with thin legs, a long body, and of course - eyes. Quiet, kept to itself, really chill spider who doesn't move much except to crawl around a little and sometimes look at you when it catches you looking.

It probably lived in hiding somewhere, before deciding that dark spaces weren't up to its standards anymore and making an appearance. You haven't swatted it away, caught it, struck it with a paper - mostly because you're not good at killing living creatures, and secondly because the spider isn't doing any harm, just observing your every step, and generally being present.

When you check your makeup bag, it watches. When you brush your teeth, it watches. When you close the cabinet door it wiggles and your heart goes "ee" as if someone shocked it with a static charge. This yellowish-brown witness of your everyday activities, silently approving and judging, lately makes you feel like a nuisance in your own bathroom. You desperately wish there was a way to make it move to another corner. A less centralized one, less straight in your face. Yet the thought of touching it makes you cringe inwardly; your mind conjures images of different scenarios involving spider-related unpleasantries - accidentally squashing it, or getting bitten and dying a slow, miserable death.

It's gotta go.

Because the more you see it, the more your brain tries to assign it human features. And the longer it stares, the bigger the chance it might grow a pair of lips to say "get out of my bathroom".

The thought comes to you in the morning while setting a breakfast plate on the kitchen counter. The house is quiet, all windows are open and you stare through one of them at your neighbour's fence. You rarely see him, though the parked car is always a giveaway of his presence. Emory, that's what the mailbox says, and he has a neat garden, not an extravagant type, but everything is carefully trimmed and arranged into simple patterns.

There's even a stone bench by a small tree. Does it actually get used on sunny days? Probably no. He seems like a loner, from what you've seen so far: tall and pale, with wire-rimmed glasses and still grey eyes. Very focused and put together, a turtleneck and dark trousers kind of Mister. Never waving when passing by, though he does glance sometimes - sharp and attentive.

Once you caught him leaning over a bush with back straight and head hanging low. Your stomach gave this funny, nervous twitch, like when a stranger tries to start a conversation in public. He looked your way and then resumed whatever he was doing.

"Whatever" appeared to be something small, sharp limbs and a shiny body. It looked like a beetle, stretched to an absurd degree, and the way he held that thing felt strangely intimate. The same way you'd cradle a baby animal in your hands, rubbing its forehead with a fingertip. Emory put it in a plastic box, sealed it, and went into his house, not sparing you another glance.

This particular memory - of long fingers and a careful grasp - is what makes you think that maybe, possibly, theoretically, he could handle one pesky spider for you. You've seen him with insects a couple of times after, no doubt Mr. Emory is one of those who glue bugs to display boards. The creepy friend in the bathroom must be right up his alley then.

Five minutes later the two of you are staring at each other in awkward silence. Bothering barely acquainted neighbours isn't usually high on your list of priorities, especially if said neighbours look like they prefer being alone. You know it's odd, you know it probably crosses some boundaries, yet here you are.

With a crease on his brow and a tight mouth, Emory isn't thrilled at this sudden visit. Maybe he was in the middle of something, or is just uncomfortable with people invading his space. In any case, you clear your throat.

"Good morning. I live in the house across the road. The white porch? With-"

"I know," it's a dry reply. Not rude, more matter-of-factly; his eyes are fixed on you with a hint of unsettling peculiarity which makes you shift from one foot to the other.

He's not pest control, you think. Or obligated to help in any way. Emory can tell you to kindly fuck off right now and close the door, why did you even come here? It's stupid and intrusive. You're almost ready to take it all back and go home, pretend like nothing happened and just deal with that spider yourself, when he speaks again.

"What do you need?"

He has a quiet voice, a very even direct tone that doesn't encourage small talk, but prompts answers. Now and without pointless filling.

"I know how it's going to sound," you start, cringing inside, "and apologize in advance for bothering you, but I had an impression you collect...bugs."

"Insects. Arachnids."

"Right. So I was thinking if you'd mind removing a spider from my bathroom. I don't want to kill it, but I can't- I can't touch it."

His gaze slowly shifts from your face to the house behind you. As if Emory has an x-ray vision, or a complete mental map of your household layout. Ha, this would be ridiculous. There's no apparent disapproval in his pale face, but something else, a different kind of assessment. Evaluation of how much it is worth spending time on someone with an overgrown lawn? His eyes return back and you feel pinned down.

The longer he stays silent, the more you wish for the ground to open and swallow you whole.

"If you can't I totally understand-"

"What kind of spider?"

It's your turn to stare. How are you supposed to know, you've never studied spider biology. It looks like any other common variety, except creepier because it refuses to leave its spot and stay in the sewer where it belongs. "I...light-brownish, with long legs. Thin? Slender," there's more you could add but any further description will probably make you sound like a total dunce who can't recognize basic arachnids. "Kind of big."

You expect a 'sure', maybe 'I'll be there shortly' or 'no'. What you get is Emory moving past you and walking up your front porch. The scent of laundry detergent and soap, very clean, hits your nose before you rush to open the door.

"Uhm. Second floor," you explain, awkwardly shuffling after him. For the first time since the day you moved in, you worry about what someone might see inside the house. As far as clutter goes, your place is acceptable, perhaps a few forgotten cups around and yesterday's sweater thrown on a couch. Surely, it's not too bad.

Emory, however, doesn't seem interested in the surroundings. The staircase doesn't even creak under his weight, despite the house being around a century old. He steps over the little border which always makes you trip if you walk too fast, like it's not there. Like the corner you often bump your hip into doesn't exist either. He navigates your home with effortless precision, an inward kind of certainty that makes your eyebrows rise. Maybe...the houses on your street have the same blueprint.

Either way, he walks into your bathroom without hesitation, turning on the light. You hover by the doorway, unsure: should you offer something to drink, ask him if he needs anything else or just step away and leave him to do his thing?

The spider is there, hiding under the cabinet, when Emory leans over to observe it. He's probably seen many different specimens, you think, and this isn't interesting at all compared to the ones who have an intricate design or unique behavior.

"She's a part of the Pholcidae family," Emory says suddenly. Just like that there's 'she', instead of 'it', and the spider twitches and shifts. "Daddy long-legs. Harmless."

He puts his palm up close to its back. At first, it seems startled, but after a moment slowly calms down, and moves a leg - left then right - getting familiar with his hand.

"Docile creatures," Emory continues, while the spider walks along the edge of his palm. No running around, no random leaps, stick-like limbs touch and probe him with curiosity, much like you'd study something new. "They stay in the dark, hide in the corners while feasting on smaller things. Your intruder is a useful tenant."

It makes you feel slightly nauseous, how nonchalant he is about holding something that prompts recoil on instinct.

"Do you want to hold her?" Emory turns to you and there's a faint, strange smile on his lips. It doesn't reach his eyes and makes him look like an alien who tries to mimic human expressions based only on observation. His pupils are so dark that you can barely tell the difference between the irises and the rest. They seem bottomless, absorbing all light, but reflecting none in return. You take one step backwards, shaking your head.

"I'll pass."

He keeps staring at you for what feels like forever before returning his attention to the spider crawling on his skin. Emory reaches into his back pocket for a small container.

"Are you not setting her outside?" You ask. "She...she doesn't look like, uh, a rare species."

Not that you're an expert.

"No," Emory closes the lid with a quiet click. "She isn't one. But I'm going to keep her."

And he does. The little captive spider rests at the very bottom of a plastic case when you send the man on his way and thank him for the help. Emory accepts it with a nod, no further words, and then there's only his back when he leaves. The morning air rushes in, crisp and fresh, smelling like grass, tree leaves and soil.

It feels like you blink, and three days go by. You still keep an eye on the bathroom cabinet by some sort of habit, however there's nothing out of the ordinary lurking there, no creepy critters and definitely no thin legs scattering in multiple directions. All is well, now you can brush your teeth, take care of business and even lean close without fear something might fall on your head.

It's just a spider. You googled it later, and how common it is around the continents should be a bit ridiculous. Keeping it might equal to going on a beach and picking the most unremarkable pebble you see; Emory certainly could find hundreds more Daddy long-legs wherever he pleased - parks, gardens or forests.

So...why?

The question gnaws at you, together with that smile and cold grey eyes hidden behind glasses' frames. The weirdest part wasn't the expression, it was how you couldn't read it. Despite the obvious display of human emotion, however misplaced and alien, it failed to reveal anything. The smile was there, and yet nothing broke through it, not amusement, nor politeness - or any kind of feeling whatsoever.

Your neighbour is odd.

Not necessarily scary, though there's a sense of mystery surrounding him, it makes you feel like standing next to an iceberg and only seeing its tip. Or you've just read far too many psychological thrillers and your imagination likes to conjure up the wildest scenarios, trying to turn each and every thing into something sinister.

Maybe you should just chill and get some tea, and stop being so dramatic about a guy who came over and politely removed a spider for you.

They're not a unique species. Not even remotely uncommon.

He taps the container gently with his index finger, making the spider move back and forth. She doesn't have venom, no poisonous chemicals to injure and kill. Hiding in abandoned corners she does, patient and careful, waiting to catch the wrong fly.

You're just like her. Nothing exciting. Not unique.

Your movement patterns are similar, concealed in a different package you're still predictable: getting home from work, cooking dinner, watching TV shows. Everyday routines.

Fear is a part of your nature. Awkwardness which comes with socializing: you shuffle when uncomfortable, avoid prolonged eye contact and don't like confrontation, he noticed this right away. A quiet type, keeping mostly to yourself unless you need something urgently; and then you rush, like a scared Daddy long legs. There's this shiftiness, an inner desire to be less visible, but also a yearning for recognition because the lack of it hurts. And he saw all those small things, catalogued them one by one, as you moved into his street and became a constant presence.

Asa has never thought about keeping something - someone - so mundane before. Never. He likes rare things, spectacular, and those collected in the basement, they all are, especially when he's finished with them. They're extraordinary, displayed under glass cases and preserved for eternity.

He doesn't collect common species. Daddy long-legs are abundant everywhere around him.

But.

There's the way you linger by the kitchen window during the morning routine, slowly sipping hot coffee. When your lips purse and eyes lose focus for a moment. Or how the corners of them wrinkle sometimes when you have a genuine, amused laugh. It's something like warmth. There's no label for the feeling - positive, negative or neutral, it just is, like one single, meaningless element in an ecosystem.

He shouldn't want someone so average.

And yet Asa watches from the corner of your living room, crouched on the floor by a plant.

You don't hear him, too invested in your personal bubble. Well, he had enough time to polish his craft and figure out how soundless he can be when moving through spaces, how much weight he needs to place onto soles to avoid creaking wood and floorboards.

It's interesting to see you interact with your environment, unaware of being watched. There's an invisible pattern behind each action, even if you think everything is randomized. The web you wove around yourself is cozy, and Asa follows its threads while you check the phone and frown at whatever notification pops up. He is considering. Contemplating this impulsive desire he has yet to identify.

Would it be worth it? Keeping you. Adding you to the collection and seeing what comes out of it, how far his usual approach might take him with you in the same conditions. You're just a face with features. So...ordinary. He wants to pick you apart and look inside to make sure it's not some strange sort of mimicry, camouflage of a different nature hiding something else entirely.

There's this vague idea how those features may feel when touched. He can recall them accurately, even when you've never stood too close. Asa watches quietly from his hiding place, memorizing a displeased mumble and then a frustrated gesture.

You seem so alive.

Those below who are frozen in time now were too, before Asa decided to give them a purpose and make something special and worthy of his attention. They were alive like you, but now they're something better.

What purpose you have remains to be seen.

Asa decides then.

A plain trunk is nestled in the corner behind a coat hanger, no fancy latch or keyhole needed, only an ordinary padlock. You'll fit in nicely, squeezed in the cramped space, it won't be the most comfortable experience, but it's not for long and then...then he can show you the room where others stayed before, and where you'll be next.

Asa looks around one last time: the front door is locked, blinds down, lights off - you get up from the couch and head upstairs, right on the dot. Your house is easy to navigate despite the darkness; Asa knows his way around it, having been here already more than once. A step after a step he follows the soft padding of your bare feet, and when the steps halt, he pulls out a cloth. It's a heavy kind of pleasure to be able to stand right behind and admire your nape, there's a strange sort of vulnerability to it.

Something raw and very exposed.

It takes only a few movements, he catches your yelp into one of his hands and holds it clasped tightly as you thrash. Your nails dig into the fabric of his turtleneck but fail to leave any marks. He's never tired of it, the initial fear of his specimens realizing that their secure habitats are ruined. He doesn't mind this fight for survival.

"Shh," Asa breathes into your ear. "Shh."

The struggle doesn't last long - you're not a fighter - and when your body goes limp, he picks you up. Your perfume is surprisingly light, a very sweet and pleasant aroma, not overwhelming at all like he'd expect it to be.

It's nice.

He puts you in the trunk, a boxy space barely big enough to fit you curled on the side, it's going to take around thirty minutes to reach the hotel and another three to put you in the right cell. You'll sleep the rest of the journey, which is fortunate for everyone. It's always easier to deal with a specimen if they're resting.

The lock clicks softly - it's time to go home.

Something runs down your cheek - a drop, a bead of sweat, a touch - and you blink, trying to make sense of it. The surroundings are unfamiliar, blurry shapes with undefined outlines that stretch and wobble before your eyes. Your jaw hurts, clenched so hard that teeth grind together, and it takes a conscious effort to relax.

Where...what?

The living room, a TV program, a soundless whisper that froze the hairs at your nape, then someone was behind you. You remember a sickly sweet smell, and after that nothing but a haze and the dark, and the sensation of being squeezed into a shape. Your legs feel numb, arms too, like you spent hours immobile in one position. Slowly the world sharpens back into focus, but instead of relief there's only dread.

You're in a room.

No bigger than a regular bathroom and void of any furniture beside a cot-like bed, a toilet in the corner and a sink. The walls are a bluish-gray with thin cracks, tiny fissures that create uneven lines from the ceiling all the way down to the floor.

And there's a man, observing you quietly through the thick glass.

You don't notice him immediately, too busy assessing your new location, and when you do the air feels heavier, difficult to move past your throat. He's wearing a mask. Black rubber or something, covering everything except his eyes. He presses two palms against the barrier separating you, the silence stretches into an eternity.

'Who are you? What do you want?' - these are kind of questions you should be asking, but they don't come out. You remain glued to the spot, counting the passing seconds by their painful tick-tock-tick-tocks. One minute turns into two, and he...just stares without moving a muscle in a beyond unnerving manner. Your gaze dips lower to check his clothes, perhaps find a pattern to identify this person later.

There's none. Everything is plain black, like a uniform made to be invisible - turtleneck, pants, even gloves and boots.

It seems that your silence somehow pleases him, because a few moments later he leaves without looking back.

You don't know how much time passes; there's not a window around, only a bare, stark bulb, yellowish in its brightness and casting unpleasant shadows all over the floor. Not a single sound. Traffic, voices of distant passersby or birds - all is absent and doesn't provide even a bit of understanding where the hell you are.

In the end, you...sit down on the bed and wait, because what else is there? Everything is eerily silent and very, very uncomfortable: this emptiness, the absence of noise, the endless ticking of an invisible clock. It's difficult not to cry, but you try your best, somehow it feels important to remain composed. There has to be a reason behind this. There must be one, and you repeat it over and over, like a mantra to soothe the nerves and present your mind with some semblance of logic: once you figure out what's going on, you'll figure out how to get out as well.

Pulling loose threads from your sleeve is poor entertainment, if anything, the strain of boredom and unease gradually grows into anxiety so sharp that you almost miss the sound of approaching footsteps.

He's back again, the masked stranger who stands in the doorway with hands clasped behind his back. A pair of light grey eyes is a splash of different color, but they are blank. They watch with distant curiosity of an animal trainer monitoring a newborn cub. The comparison makes something ugly squirm inside you. A part of you wants to make a run for it, the other keeps yelling that it would be immensely stupid.

One, two, three, four steps he takes into your cell. Your back meets the wall, the chill coming from its solid surface cuts right through the layers of clothing. Five, six. He stops only when there's less than arm's reach between you, then leans to brush away loose strands of hair sticking to your temples. Your stomach goes taut. This scent. Laundry detergent mixed with soap. The turtleneck, grey eyes, very collected kind of Mister.

A sickly shiver of revulsion shoots down your spine, making you curl tighter into a ball. Emory cups your jaw with both hands - they're cold even through the gloves material. This is too close, an unwanted and unpleasant violation of boundaries, and yet he continues to examine your face, like you're some sort of an object he can handle however he pleases.

Your cheek gets a light pat. Any theories about his identity stay unvoiced, mostly because you fear the reaction they might prompt. Something tells you that screaming is a bad idea too. 'Be quiet,' an insistent whisper says deep inside your skull, 'be still.'

His thumbs press to the corners of your mouth. "Open," he orders, and you can't not, even though the whole thing sounds and feels bizarre. "Wider."

There's a quiet click. A flashlight, of those small ones you can easily hold in one hand, shines right into your eyes, making them water from the unexpected brightness. "Don't bite or I'll remove all of your teeth."

It's a simple threat, delivered with such a calm tone, there's no need for yelling when words are that clear and straightforward.

He inspects your mouth, the edges of teeth and gums, your inner cheeks, and you let him, clenching your fists. There's not much you can do, at least that's what you keep telling yourself to ease the heavy, sinking feeling of powerlessness. Your mind chants 'too close' on a loop, urging to wiggle away; you stay. It's unclear what exactly he's looking for - dental or oral diseases, a sore throat, cavities, or the lack of them?

It lasts forever until he straightens back up and puts the light away.

"Good," Emory states. There's another pat to your head before he turns around to leave. "No biting."

The door panel slides with a soft hum, locking shut. And the silence, and the waiting, and the mind numbing monotony is back again.

#shalott fanfiction #yandere #the collector #the collector (2009)#asa emory #asa emory x reader #slasher fanfiction #slashers

128 notes · View notes

thewulf · 7 days

Text

Together || Aragorn

Summary: Request - So I'd also thought of something with Aragorn where the reader is also an ranger and the group meets her someday on their journey to Mordor as she takes him down unexpectedly as she thinks they're enemies, so she lands on top of him with a sword on his neck and in that moment he falls for her immediately... Read Rest Here

A/N: Okay had a blast writing this one. Happy birthday anon, hope you enjoy it :)

Pairing: Aragorn x Reader

Word Count: 4.1k +

TW: Violence, orc violence, poison, death, blood, crying, angst, lotr warnings

Under the canopy of ancient oaks, the dense forest of Eriador hums with the life of creatures both small and menacing. Among them you move silently, cloaked in the hues of earth and leaf. As a ranger of great skill your keen eyes scan the underbrush for signs of your quarry. For days you have been on the trail of a band of orcs. Their clumsy passage through the woods an affront to the quiet sanctity of nature. With every soft step your hand rests near the hilt of your sword. Your long-time trusted companion in the ever-lonely wilds.

As the sun begins its descent, casting long shadows through the trees, your pursuit leads you to a clearing where the tracks are fresher. Much more hurried. Crouched behind a bush your eyes narrow upon the sight of figures crossing the distance. It was a mixed company, not of orcs, but of men, an elf, a dwarf, and others you cannot readily identify from your hidden vantage.

Driven by a mix of caution and curiosity you watch them, your mind racing with possibilities. Could these travelers be allied with your foes? Perhaps orchestrating the movements of the orcs for darker purposes? The presence of such diverse races together is unusual, but in these troubled times alliances are formed in desperation.

Deciding that the risk of letting potential enemies pass is too great you prepare an ambush. As the group nears you leap from your cover, swift as a shadow at dusk. Your target was the tall, commanding man at the forefront. Before he could react you tackled him to the ground with your sword at his throat. The shock in his eyes mirrors your own fierce determination. You’d managed to take the entire group by surprise.

"Who are you and why do you travel with such company through these woods?" you demand. Your voice a low whisper against the rustling leaves.

Before the man can reply, a powerful voice booms from behind you, "Peace, Y/N! Lower your weapon. These are friends, not foes!" Your eyes crinkle in confusion with your name that you kept so well hidden spoken so freely.

You turn slightly with your blade still pressed to the man’s throat to see an elderly man with a staff. He was dressed in a long grey cloak. His eyes twinkle with a mix of amusement and stern rebuke. He extends a hand in peace, "Forgive the suddenness of our meeting. I am Gandalf, Gandalf the Grey. You have nothing to fear from us my dear child."

"How do you know my name?" you snap as the tension raised in your voice. Few knew of your existence as you preferred the solitude of the forest to the company of towns and taverns.

"It is my business to know much that goes on in this world. Especially when it concerns those who could alter its course," Gandalf answers with a calm that seems to weave peace through the air itself leaving you rather confused by his words. Wizards, you could never understand them with their riddles.

With a frown you turn back to disheveled man sneering at him, “Tell your elf to lower his bow and then we can talk.” You pressed the blade into his neck further careful not to draw blood but to show you meant business at the same time.

The man nodded, “Legolas, please.”

The elf in the group with his bow still pointed in your direction now lowers it and steps forward. “We mean no harm to you or your lands. We seek only passage and perhaps some aid. This quest carries great weight." The elf called Legolas spoke right to you.

His words seemed sincere. They carry a sense of shared purpose. While you're still on edge the immediate threat of the group seems to wane. You slowly stand, sheathing your sword with reluctance. The man you had pinned—Aragorn, as Gandalf introduced him—rises, brushing off his cloak, his gaze never leaving yours. A mix of embarrassment and admiration passes between you.

Gandalf steps forward trying to smooth over the tension. "Aragorn leads us on a quest of great importance," he explains. "And from what I see your skills could aid us greatly. What say you, Y/N? Will you join the Fellowship and lend us your strength?"

You hesitate as your duty to your own lands weighing heavily on you. "I cannot abandon my watch. The darkness grows and my lands need protecting."

Aragorn steps forward. His expression earnest. "I understand your duty for I too am sworn to protect the lands of men in the north. But this quest... if we succeed, all lands will be safer, including yours. We need your strength and skill. I ask you not for my sake but for all our sakes."

Looking from Aragorn to Gandalf and Legolas, you're torn. The sincerity in Aragorn's eyes is compelling and there's a resolve there that speaks of his immediate respect and admiration for you. After a long pause, you nod slowly. "For the greater good, then. I will join you. But we must ensure my lands are safeguarded in my absence." It was no easy choice but even you knew you could hardly handle the orcs now… if it got worse there would be no land for you to protect.

"Agreed," Aragorn replies with a smile, a small, knowing curve of his lips. "Together we will protect all our homes. Walk with me and I will explain this further.” And so, you did.

As you walked alongside Aragorn away from the ears of the others except maybe Legolas, his voice takes on a solemn tone. He speaks of a great burden and a journey that began long ago in the quiet shire of the Hobbits.

“A darkness grows in the East under the shadow of Mordor, where the Dark Lord Sauron forges his malice into a single form,” Aragorn begins. “A ring, one of power and despair, lost for ages has resurfaced. It was found by the most unlikely of creatures—a Hobbit named Bilbo Baggins.”

He tells you how the wizard Gandalf uncovered the truth of this simple golden band. It is the One Ring, through which Sauron can conquer all of middle earth. But it is also his one point of vulnerability.

“The Ring must be destroyed,” Aragorn continues, “and that can only be done in the fires of Mount Doom where it was forged.” His gaze meets yours, impressing upon you the gravity of their task. “A Fellowship has been formed. A company sworn to protect Frodo on this perilous path. For without the Ring’s destruction… darkness will consume our lands, leaving no corner of the world untouched by its ruin.”

He pauses allowing the weight of his words to sink in. “This is our quest to see the end of the Ring and the fall of Sauron. And now you are part of this story, part of our hope. For alone we cannot stand, but together we might prevail.”

The immensity of Aragorn's tale seems to echo through the silence around you. As the responsibility and peril of what lies ahead sinks into your heart. "This is... more than I expected," you confess. Your voice betraying a mix of awe and trepidation. Shadows have been a common adversary in your solitary ranger life but the thought of a single ring holding the fate of all life in middle earth is overwhelming in the worst way.

Aragorn watches you with eyes that have seen the weight of the world but still hold a glimmer of hope. "It is a lot to take in," he acknowledges with his voice a steady presence amidst your inner turmoil. "But remember every meaningful journey begins with a single step. We do not choose the times we live in only how we meet them."

His words meant to comfort kindle a spark of resolve within you. "Then we walk this path together," you say finding strength in his unwavering resolve. "I've fought to keep darkness at bay from my corner of the world. Now it seems I shall extend my watch over the wider lands of middle earth."

Aragorn's eyes soften and a smile plays at the corner of his mouth, a rare break from his stoic mask. "With your help I believe we stand a chance. Let us go forward with hope in our hearts and a steadfast will," he says with a firm belief underpinning his words.

As you start to walk back towards the Fellowship Aragorn's tone lightens once more and he casts you a mischievous glance. "And I must say, for someone so adept at navigating these wild lands your skill at catching us unaware is remarkable," he jests. A playful note in his voice. "Even the elf’s keen eyes did not see you coming, which, I assure you, will be a source of friendly jest for many years to come."

The tension that held you moments before unravels into laughter. The absurdity of the situation finally coming forward. "I'll remember to tread lightly next time—or perhaps not," you respond with a chuckle.

From a distance, Legolas, whose elven senses miss little, looks up from his conversation with Gimli. He casts a mockingly indignant glance toward Aragorn. His eyes speaking silent volumes of an 'I heard that.' His feigned glare dissolves into a smile. Acknowledging the jest with the grace and good humor characteristic of the Woodland Prince.

The shared laughter and Legolas' playful acknowledgment bridge the space between you helped to weave the Fellowship closer together in mutual affection. It's a light-hearted interlude, reminding you all that despite the daunting path ahead you are surrounded by companions who will share the burden with unwavering support and moments of joy.

As you all move forward the sun dips below the horizon and the journey of the Fellowship grows richer by one more warrior. In the fading light Aragorn walks beside you, your strides matched. It was a simple silent acknowledgment of the bond beginning to form. Blossoming from the unexpected encounter that could very well shape the fate of all.

The Fellowship continues its perilous journey through Middle earth. The days meld into each other each bringing its own set of challenges and trials. You find your place among these diverse companions. Your skills as a ranger becoming invaluable as you navigate the treacherous terrain. Whether it's finding safe passages through impassable woods or tracking the movements of distant enemies your expertise does not go unnoticed.

Legolas often joins you on scouting missions. His feather light footfalls barely stirring the leaves. Gimli, the dwarf, though gruff, begins sharing tales of the deep mines of Moria with a relish that only grows with your attentive silence. Even Merry and Pippin find ways to lighten your load, often bringing you sweet, wild berries they gather along the way. Aragorn watches all of this with a thoughtful expression often playing across his face. In dangerous moments when shadowy figures loom and the threat of orcs feels ever-present, he stays close. His protectiveness is subtle, a guiding hand at your back, a cautious glance that lingers just a moment too long. You notice the unspoken bond growing stronger with each passing day.

As the journey presses onward Aragorn finds himself increasingly drawn to your strength and resilience. He respects your independence, the way you move through the forest, part of its shadow and light, yet he feels a burgeoning desire to protect you. It’s a feeling that stirs deep within him, unbidden yet persistent.

One bitterly cold night as the Fellowship encamps in a secluded glen your turn at watch finds you shivering against the chill. The fire is but a low glow as its warmth insufficient against the piercing cold. You hug your cloak tighter around your shoulders. You hear the soft approach of footsteps too heavy to be of Legolas.

Aragorn appears by your side his face etched with concern. Without a word he drapes his own, heavier cloak around your shoulders. The warmth from the cloak that was still holding the heat of his body, seeps into your chilled bones.

But you shake your head at his actions. "You'll be too cold," you protest trying to shrug off the cloak back onto him.

Aragorn shakes his head gently pushing the cloak back over your shoulders. "I'm used to the cold. I’m from the north you are not," he insists softly. "Keep it. It's more important that you stay warm."

Gratefully you wrap the cloak tighter around you as Aragorn settles beside you. "Tell me of your lands," he says quietly. His voice inviting you to share more than just the cold night air.

"My home," you begin. Your voice warming as you describe the hidden valleys and towering forests of your land, "is secluded and wild, full of ancient trees that seem to touch the sky. There are streams that sparkle with the clearest water you've ever seen and fields of flowers that bloom so vividly they look like a painter's canvas."

Aragorn listens intently. His eyes reflecting a growing fascination. "And the creatures," you continue, "are as varied as the plants. From the smallest bird to the majestic stags that roam freely… each adds to the life of the forest. It's a place where the world feels untouched, preserved from the scars of battle and time."

As you speak, Aragorn's gaze deepens as if he can see the very landscapes you describe. "It sounds beautiful," he murmurs looking straight at you as you spoke so lovingly of your home, "a land worth protecting."

Encouraged by his interest you lean into him, seeking warmth in more than just his cloak. Aragorn wraps an arm around you making sure to pull you closer. In the shelter of his embrace, the cold feels a world away. The moment feels suspended in time, your breaths mingling, hearts beating a steady rhythm.

Nestled in the safety of Aragorn's arm feels right even if it’s so foreign to you. You stay like that for the remainder of your watch with the warmth of his presence and the cloak combined keeping the night's chill at bay. When dawn paints the sky with hues of pink and gold, you, and Aragorn rise, knowing that while the journey ahead is fraught with peril, the warmth between you will carry you through the darkest times.

As the days stretch and the challenges of your journey with the Fellowship intensify the bond between you and Aragorn deepens with each shared glance and whispered word. The lightness in the air is palpable. Especially when the hobbits, Merry and Pippin, exchange amused looks or giggle softly whenever you and Aragorn share a tender moment.

One cool morning as the camp stirs awake and prepares for the day’s trek, Aragorn approaches you with a shy demeanor that you've come to cherish. In his hand is a small, intricately carved wooden figurine. “I made this for you,” he says presenting it with a modest pride. “It’s a bird from your forest.” The craftsmanship is exquisite. Somehow he captured the spirit of the wilderness you hold dear.

Moved by this thoughtful gesture you examine the figurine closely, the details meticulously rendered. "Thank you, Aragorn. It's beautiful. More beautiful than the bird itself," you say sincerely. At this, a blush creeps across Aragorn’s cheeks. It was a rare sight that makes him seem almost boyish, his usual composed exterior softened by your appreciation. Surprising both him and you, you wrap your arms around him in a quick, heartfelt hug—a rarity for you, as you've never been one to initiate physical touch save for cold nights.

This closeness that has enveloped you both is fortified not just through acts of tenderness but also through the trials that test your resolve. During a perilous trek through a narrow gorge, a sudden crumbling of the path catches Aragorn off-guard. Reacting with the swift instincts of a seasoned ranger you grab his arm and pull him back from the brink of a deadly fall. Eyes locked with a rush of shared relief and unspoken thanks passes between you. "Thank you, Y/N," he breathes out. His hand squeezed yours in a lingering, grateful touch.

This moment cements your mutual reliance and it's not long before it is tested again under more dire circumstances. As the Fellowship faces an overwhelming assault at the gates of an enemy stronghold, the chaos of battle quickly ensues. Amid the clash of steel and shadow you find yourself momentarily overwhelmed. Panic rising in your chest as an orc nearly breaches your guard. In that critical instant Aragorn is there, his presence a calming force. "Stay strong, Y/N. I am here with you," he whispers fiercely. His words cutting through the din of battle making sure to anchor you back to the moment.

Revitalized by his words you fight with renewed vigor, but the battle tests you further. As you engage a formidable orc chieftain his massive blade swings at you with lethal force. You parry, but the strength behind the attack staggers you. Before the orc can strike the final blow, Aragorn intervenes with a desperate shout deflecting the deadly arc just inches from you. Saving your life twice within a matter of a few moments apart. Together you rally, your movements fluid and fierce and with a powerful combination of strikes you bring the towering foe down.

The battle's intensity doesn’t immediately fade, but as it does Aragorn's hand finds your shoulder. His grip was firm and reassuring. His eyes alight with the fire of battle and something deeper meet yours. "With you by my side I believe there is no battle we cannot win," he declares his voice thick with emotion of the battle and nearly losing you. As you and the rest of the Fellowship take a moment to regroup and recover it’s clear that what you and Aragorn share has evolved beyond companionship to something profound. With each step forward towards the dark heart of Mordor your bond strengthens.

As the harsh landscape of Mordor stretches endlessly before you, the air thick with the stench of doom and the ground scarred by countless battles, the Fellowship readies itself for what everyone understands to be the final confrontation. Amid the chaos of preparations and sharpened swords you and Aragorn find a brief respite behind a jutting crag, a momentary shield from the surrounding turmoil.

Aragorn looks at you carefully. His eyes reflecting the storm of emotions raging inside him—hope, fear, determination. “We have come far, haven’t we?” he says softly. Almost lost in the clamor of the encampment.

“Yes, farther than I ever imagined,” you reply feeling the weight of every mile traveled and battle fought in your bones. “And through it all your presence has been my anchor.”

He takes your hand. His touch steady and sure. “And I will remain by your side,” he vows, “through whatever may come. No matter the darkness that lies ahead… we face it together.”

You nod. Your resolve fortified by his words. “Together,” you affirm, squeezing his hand, the word a silent oath between you.

As you both turn to face the battlefield the ominous shadow of Mount Doom looms in the distance. A stark reminder of the task yet unfinished. The air vibrates with the tension of imminent conflict. As the Fellowship lines up ready to engage the enemy forces, the battle begins with a deafening roar.

The clash is brutal. A maelstrom of steel and shadow as both sides pour their fury into each other. Amidst the chaos your focus narrows to the figures around you—Aragorn fighting with the grace and fury of a born leader. His blade a flash of silver in the dim light.

In the middle of it all the ground shakes violently underfoot. A tremor that sends many stumbling. A profound boom rolls across the battlefield echoing from the direction of Mount Doom. The combatants pause, uncertainty halting their movements as all eyes turn towards the source of the disturbance.

As if by a miracle a great light bursts forth from the mountain. A blinding flash that pierces the shadowed sky. The Ring, the source of so much pain and darkness, has been destroyed. You feel a surge of relief so intense it momentarily takes your breath away. Aragorn's face lights up with unrestrained joy as he turns to you, laughter bubbling up from deep within. "They did it! Sam and Frodo did it!" he shouts his laughter mingling with his words. A sound so full of relief and disbelief that it's contagious.

Around you the enemy falters, confusion and fear taking hold as the reality of their defeat sinks in. The forces of darkness begin to retreat, their will broken by the destruction of the Ring. As the battlefield quiets the dawn begins to break casting the first gentle light over a world freed from tyranny. You and Aragorn embrace each of your laughter mixing with tears of joy. The sound a vivid testament to the overwhelming relief of the moment. “We’re really here,” you giggle with utter relief, “it’s truly over!”

Rejoining the Fellowship your laughter continues, shared amongst friends who have become family. Watching the new day unfold the group shares a moment of elation. The shared laughter a release of months of tension and fear. With the shadow of the past dispelled, hope shines anew on the horizon promising a future filled with peace and renewal. Together with Aragorn at your side, you step forward into a world reborn.

As the harsh landscape of Mordor fades into the distance behind you replaced by the rolling hills and lush greenery of Gondor the Fellowship's journey reaches its conclusion in the grand city of Minas Tirith. Here, amidst the grandeur of the White City, the coronation of Aragorn, the rightful king, takes place—a moment of triumph and renewal for all of middle earth.

The first light of dawn paints the spires of Minas Tirith with a golden hue. The city awakens to a day of profound significance. The air is filled with the sounds of celebration; the streets are bustling with citizens and allies from across middle earth all gathered to witness a historic moment. Today Aragorn will be crowned King, an event that promises a new era of peace and prosperity for the realm.

Throughout the city banners flutter in the breeze, their vibrant colors a stark contrast against the white stone of the city. The coronation ceremony itself is nothing short of magnificent, held in the open air where the morning sun casts a regal glow over the assembled crowd. Aragorn stands before them, a figure of strength and hope, his voice resonant as he speaks the oaths of kingship.

After the formalities as the echoes of the last trumpet fade into the cool air, the new King Aragorn is surrounded by well-wishers and dignitaries each eager to pay their respects. But his eyes scan the crowd for only one face – yours. With a smile that speaks of shared secrets and promises kept he excuses himself from the throng and makes his way toward you.

You meet him halfway, your heart swelling with pride and love as you look upon the man who has overcome so much to claim his rightful place. Aragorn’s expression softens when he sees you, all the weight of his new role momentarily forgotten. “There would be no joy in this day if I could not share it with you, my Y/N,” he says. His voice was low, meant for your ears alone. His hands reach out gently cradling your face. “You have been my courage when fear would take me. My light in the darkest of times. And it is my greatest hope that you will stand by my side, not just today, but always, as my queen. Together.”

Your eyes brimming with tears of joy, meet his gaze. All the noise and celebration around you fade into a hushed silence. Overwhelmed by his words your heart answers with a silent nod, affirming your shared future.

Aragorn’s eyes flicker with a mixture of tenderness and passion as he leans in. The world holds its breath as his lips finally meet yours in a kiss that is both a seal of everything past and a promise of everything to come. It is deep and passionate, conveying years of struggle, sorrow, victory, and an unbreakable bond.

As you part with his lips, breathless and flushed, the world comes rushing back. Cheers rise around you as a joyful noise that celebrates not just a king’s coronation but the love and unity that stands as the true foundation of his reign.

Hand in hand you stand by Aragorn as he faces the people of Gondor, now truly his queen in spirit and soon in title. Together you look out over the sea of faces, over a land that, at last, can dream of peace. And in this moment you know that every step, every sacrifice, has led to this perfect beginning.

(Taglist Sign Up): @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @guacam011y @illisea @il0vebeingdelulu @hiireadstuff @kenn-spencerswifey @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @dnfhascorruptedme

33 notes · View notes

adaines-furious-feast · 25 days

Text

Baron's Game: Fabian Seacaster

Still waiting on AO3 invite, but I can't get this out of my head. Sorry it's so long.

The dust stung Fabian’s eye. He screwed it shut and went to rub it when a loud, low sound vibrated through the room. There was a sudden silence and Fabian became painfully aware of his own breathing.

When he opened his eye again, Fabian was alone.

The silence continued, almost smothering him.

Fabian laughed uncertainly, looking around the room.

“Guys?”

The silence swallowed his voice almost as soon as it left his mouth.

“Hello?”

Fabian scanned the room for any clues, mentally going through his spells to find something that might help.

Movement out of the corner of his eye made Fabian spin around.

A full length mirror stood in the corner, leaning against the wall. Cobwebs clung to it, but the face was eerily clear of dust.

He approached slowly, not sure what to expect.

Fabian found his friends reflected in the mirror. They were talking, but Fabian couldn’t hear anything. Their hand movements indicated they were planning something. Someone waved into the far corner and Fabian realised he was standing there. No, something that looked like him. It joined the conversation and agreed to whatever was being planned.

A thud made Fabian jump out of his skin and he spun around.

Slowly, a small orange ball rolled out from behind some boxes. The sound of it rolling span around the room and Fabian’s head.

“What the-”

Fabian approached gingerly, his hand on his sword hilt. It wasn’t a ball. It was an orange. He reached out and picked up the orange, and only then realised the far side was rotten. He instinctively dropped the orange, which smashed as it hit the floor. The rotten flesh scattered across the floor.

Another nervous laugh escaped Fabian’s lips, only to be immediately swallowed by the silence again.

Fabian turned back to the mirror.

“Jesus Christ!”

The skeleton creature was now in the reflection, standing directly in front of the mirror. It stood with its hands behind its back, head shifted to one side and a perfect smile on its face.

“What the fuck?”

“Do not be afraid, Fabian Seacaster,” the skeleton boy said. It’s mouth did not move. “I am not going to hurt you. Not just yet.”

“What the fuck are you?”

“I am Baron,” the boy said.

“O... kay...” Fabian said slowly, backing away from the mirror.

“It is good to meet you, Fabian Seacaster,” Baron said. “I believe I have you to thank for my existence.”

Fabian didn’t say anything, continuing to edge towards the door. He kept Baron in his sight, as if the creature might jump out of the mirror if he looked away.

When Fabian didn’t reply, Baron stayed silent. The silence seemed to get louder, violently pushing on Fabian’s eardrums.

He reached the door and ripped it open, preparing to run. But when he turned to face it, he found nothing. There was no corridor, no room, no outside. It wasn’t darkness. It was just a void.

“It is very rude to run away during a conversation, Fabian Seacaster,” Baron said. “The conversation will always find you.”

“What the fuck?” Fabian said again. It was all he could think to say. Every other thought he had was drowned out by the question. He heard it on every breath he took as he began to hyperventilate.

“It would seem you are in the mirror,” Baron said. “You have met a terrible fate. Only wat is reflected in the mirror exists. I am sorry I had to put you here. It is important to the game.”

“What game?” Fabian asked, trying to make his voice sound powerful. And failing.

“You will see,” Baron said cheerfully.

Baron sat down, their legs crossed. They leaned their chin against their hands, leaning forward so their head was almost touching the mirror.

“What do you want?” Fabian asked.

“To talk,” Baron said. “You are the friend of my Romance Partner, Riz Gukgak, and responsible for my existence. I would like to get to know you.”

“And then you’ll let me go?” Fabian asked.

“Eventually,” Baron said.

Fabian looked around the room again, but no new ideas came to him. “Fine.”

The answer seemed to please Baron. “I would like to play a game of question and answer.”

“What’s that?”

“I will ask you a question, and you will answer,” Baron said. “Then I will answer any question you have.”

Fabian looked around again. “O...kay...”

“Why did you lie about seeking a relationship with Aelwyn Abernant?” Baron asked.

Fabian frowned again, trying to figure out what on Spyre the freaky creature was talking about.

“I didn’t,” Fabian said. “I mean, I’m a cool guy and she’s a hot girl so I wanted...” Fabian’s stomach heaved and he doubled over before vomiting.

“You should not lie, Fabian Seacaster,” Baron warned. “If you do, there will be grave consequences.”

When Fabian looked up, a crack had appeared in the mirror, crossing Baron’s face and slicing through his empty eye socket.

“I didn’t,” Fabian tried before vomiting again. “Fine, I did but... I’m supposed to get in a relationship with a hot girl. And she kissed me!”

Fabian breathed heavily, wiping drool on the back of his hand.

Baron sat still, waiting.

“Why do you care?” Fabian asked, glaring at him.

“You lied about a relationship, which made your friend, Riz Gukgak, lie about a relationship,” Baron said. “But rather than choosing someone he knew would never date him, Riz Gukgak created me, his Romance Partner.”

“Why would the Ball-”

Baron tutted, wagging a boney finger at Fabian.

“It is my turn to ask a question. If you believe you should be in a relationship, why do you reject those that wish to be in a relationship with you, Fabian Seacaster?”

“Because I don’t want a relationship,” Fabian said, speaking quickly so he could get to his question. “Why are you asking questions you already know the answer to.”

Baron cocked his head, apparently surprised by how quickly Fabian spoke.

“I want you to think about these answers,” Baron said. “There are few things more horrifying than what you really are, Fabian Seacaster. It has already pushed away your parents. It will not be long before those you call your friends will leave too.”

Fabian’s eye was closed. His grip on Fandrangor tightened. If he was trapped in the mirror, there was only one way to get out of here.

He was suddenly thrown to the floor. His eye burst open and he found Ragh on top of him, shouting something.

Fabian found himself in Adaine’s room, his friends around him.

The memory of the mirror world slipped from his mind as he tried to understand what had happened. But there was something digging deep in his subconsciousness that was not going to disappear.

#dimension 20 #fantasy high #fantasy high spoilers #baron from the baronies #fabian seacaster #d20 fic #also I know Jesus Christ doesn't exist in this universe but it's what Lou would say #just imagine the LOTR excuse of “there's something in their language which I translated into our phrase”#ace Fabian #oops all ace

26 notes · View notes

scarydeadlavender · 9 months

Text

꧁༺ 𝓗𝓪𝓹𝓹𝔂 𝓫𝓲𝓻𝓽𝓱𝓭𝓪𝔂 ༻꧂

demande of @thedogisontopofthecarmom :

okay I was wondering if you could do one where it Daniels birthday and because of his sister taking care of him he’s never had a really grand party with a lot of presents and food so the reader and his friends decided to throw him a surprise party so threw out the day they had to act like they forgot which led to Daniel being sad the whole day but when he gets back to the conman room the whole day started to make scenes to him

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

When his alarm went once the noise finally stopped or at least, that's what he

It took him a couple of minutes to decide to leave the comforting warmth. His feet touched the cold floor of the dimly lit dormitory, and

With that done, he moved towards the large mirror next to his wardrobe, adjusting his house-colored tie with a bit of annoyance as it refused to cooperate. After that, he put on his black cape, its inner lining also matching his house's color. On his badge, there were threads that glowed, and stains from potions were visible, especially on the sleeves, making his cape more personal and unique.

He looked at himself in the mirror, attempting to tame his unruly hair, but eventually gave up, just blowing on the strand that fell over his right eye and rolling his eyes at the situation.

But then his gaze landed on the small calendar pinned to a corkboard where a few personal photos and pictures of his friends were hung. There were a lot of notes, and his schedule was posted as well. His eyes scanned each square one by one until he fixated on the date November 22, circled hastily in red. A small note was written beside it.

His eyes widened as he read what was written: "My birthday." A smile spread across his lips. Truth be told, he wondered how he could have forgotten his own birthday. Shame on him.

He chuckled a bit and then looked at his alarm clock, realizing he was running late. So, he dashed to the Great Hall with excitement, eager to see his friends. When he arrived at the entrance of the Great Hall, he grinned like a child in front of a candy store. He approached the table, his friends noticing him. He, who was usually cold, tense, and definitely not a morning person, well... that was somewhat surprising.

Robyn watched him sit down next to Tp, who was enjoying a pancake with some red fruits scattered on his plate.

Daniel: Hey everyone!

She looked at him, surprised by how lively he was in the morning. Usually, she was the energetic one, not him. In a way, their roles were reversed. Despite his thoughts that his friends would all wish him a happy birthday, none of them reacted, too busy with their breakfast. So, he tried to drop them a hint.

Daniel: Do you guys know what day it is?

Kevin: Sandwich Day!

Daniel: Huh?

The blond seemed excited as a flea, striking a dramatic pose in front of his friend, who didn't seem to know what Sandwich Day was.

Kevin: Every Thursday, I bring a peanut butter sandwich for Freddy the Niffler.

Daniel furrowed his brows, not quite understanding what he meant. Daniel: So... Freddy is a Niffler?

Kevin hummed joyfully, clasping his hands together before a slight frown appeared on his face. Kevin: But today we ran out of peanut butter, so I asked Robyn, "What should I bring him?" and she said, "A ham sandwich!" I can't possibly feed Freddy ham! Do you guys know what ham is?

Daniel grabbed a bowl and poured a small amount of cereal into the brown wooden bowl. He then poured milk while listening to his friend rambling, responding with a perplexed tone. Daniel: Meat?

Kevin: IT'S MEAT! If I gave Freddy meat, I'd be a horrible creature!! So, I'm late because I had to go to the kitchen to ask for peanut butter, because all we had was GROSS HAM!!

Kevin shot an angry look at Robyn, who just rolled her eyes. Daniel chuckled a bit and started eating his cereal. Daniel: Kevin, is it really that important?

Kevin looked down at the table, spearing his fork into a pancake before taking a bite, mumbling something under his breath, keeping his thoughts away from Robyn's hearing.

Tp: Oh, by the way, Daniel!

His eyes widened, hoping that she had remembered his birthday. But instead, Tp clasped her hands together in a praying motion, closing her eyes and beseeching Daniel. Tp: After classes, I REALLY need your help to revise for the Potions lesson. Please, help me.

Part of him was indeed glad to help Tp and spend time with her. However, another part of him was saddened that even his best friend had forgotten this important date. He forced a smile and lightly patted Tp's head. Daniel: Yeah, sure.

Tp: Oh my god, you're my savior!

Daniel: You can say that once you get a good grade.

He refocused on his cereal, letting Tp playfully groan at what he just said. He played with the few remaining cereal pieces in his bowl, feeling a bit down, hoping that at least someone would wish him...

Unfortunately, no one did. Even if it had been from the Frey twins, he would have accepted. However, everyone seemed to be avoiding him, as evidenced by their strange behavior.

He studied as planned, but Lottie approached Tp and whispered something in her ear. Seeing Tp laugh, he felt a pang in his heart, realizing that his friends were having fun without him, forgetting his birthday. Perhaps they had something important to do?

Daniel reflected on his day. No, he was avoiding that. It all started during History of Magic class, where Tp usually sat next to him, but this time she sat next to Ivy. Then at the meal, everyone was talking together, and when he approached, they avoided the question, telling him, "Don't worry, it's not about you." Later, he was chatting with Lottie when she left for no apparent reason, leaving him alone in the cold corridors of Hogwarts. And now, Tp was acting as if he wasn't there. It frustrated him not to understand what was going on, but it made him sad not to share these moments with his friends and not to be able to celebrate his birthday with them. Should he eat a poor cupcake with overly sugary frosting and a lone candle? So, he got up, closed the book abruptly, gathered his things, and headed towards the exit of the potion room. But he halted at the sound of Tp's voice.

Tp: Daniel, where are you going? Daniel: I think you have other things to do, Tp.

He could hear Tp asking him to wait, but instead, he continued walking through the corridors of Hogwarts. He wanted to be alone. He felt tears stinging his eyes, and he could also hear his friend's footsteps trailing behind him, persistently asking him to stop.

So when he felt the cold hitting his face, he stopped, clenching his fists, listening to his friend inquire about what was going on. He couldn't contain the sadness he'd been feeling since morning any longer. He turned around abruptly, fixing his gaze on his friend.

Daniel: You want to know what's wrong? Well, I'll tell you! I'm upset that my friends forgot my birthday!

He wiped away tears that were flowing aggressively, while Tp looked at him, allowing him to release the overflow of emotions. He ran his hands through his hair.

Daniel: I... I never had a big birthday when my sister took care of me... so... I wasn't asking for anything other than a simple "happy birthday." Just that! And... it would have made my day really great!

He wanted to stop the tears that were flowing freely down his cold cheeks due to the temperature, but to his surprise, he couldn't. Seeing the situation, Tp didn't know what to say, so she gently enveloped him in a hug, wanting to comfort him.

With his auburn-haired head still crying, apologizing for crying, Tp felt guilty. Not guilty for forgetting his birthday, as she remembered that date and had even been counting the days, hours, and minutes left until that special day. She felt guilty for putting her friend in this state! She couldn't hold back any longer from explaining why she hadn't said anything. So, with a simple gesture, gently taking one of his hands, she guided him, whispering:

"Daniels, come with me."

He didn't understand why he had to follow her. After all, he just wanted to be alone for now. But a small voice told him to listen to the girl. He didn't really notice the moment they arrived at their house's common room, or when Tp uttered the password. But what surprised him most was the common room itself, which was astonishingly dim. He even had to rub his eyes to try to see what was happening.

Daniel: Tp, what's going on here...

Before Tp could reply, the lights came back on, and all his friends were present, wearing birthday hats on their heads. They all shouted in unison:

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DANIEL!"

He was genuinely surprised, and this time, tears of joy streamed down his cheeks. The common room was adorned with colorful garlands, and numerous balloons of every hue adorned the floor. A large table displayed multiple cakes, each with different colors and flavors, and a small pile of presents was right beside it.

Tp smiled at him sadly, her friends not understanding why he was crying as they approached him.

Tp: I'm sorry you thought we had forgotten your birthday...

Lottie: Maaaan, did you really think we forgot your birthday?

Kevin: We've been preparing this for 2 weeks! How could we have forgotten!

Daniel sniffled before smiling.

Daniel: Thank you, friends, thank you for this party... I... I'm sorry for thinking that! All his friends laughed.

Tp: We know you've never really had a birthday, so... we wanted to give you this surprise!

Ivy: Group hug?

Daniel: N-no, no group hug.

Ivy: Come on, just this once!

Daniel chuckled a bit before gesturing for his friends to come in for the hug. After a few seconds, Robyn hopped up and down, clapping her hands.

Robbyn: Now, the cake! Everyone laughed, leading Daniel to a cake in the colors of his house, with several candles placed on it. And for the first time, a group of people he cared about sang the famous "Happy Birthday" song to him. He took a deep breath and blew out the candles, where their flames danced.

No doubt, this birthday filled with laughter, joy, food, and gifts will be etched in his memory...

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

number of words: 2010

oh my god i feel like it went bad TwT , i hope you like it!

#harry potter magic awakened #daniel page #daniel page x reader #hpma x reader #fanfiction #harry potter #hpma #hpma mc #hpma daniel

79 notes · View notes

whumpurr · 1 month

Text

Adrien and Sawdust part 25

masterlist

cw: pet whump, male whumpee, torture (sleep deprivation), animal death

Sawdust ate as much as he could handle, knowing that tonight would be the night he’d prove to Ma’am and Master Adrien that he could survive out in the wild. He could be like a real dog, self sustaining and capable. Though, Sawdust never pictured himself as capable or anything of the sort. No, when he looked at himself in the mirror, he saw something to be used and thrown away. He didn’t know why Master Adrien still kept him, or why Ma’am wants to keep him now.

Nonetheless, he would persist. He ate and then waited until everyone was asleep. It was killing him inside to not talk to Master Adrien about his grand plan. It felt like a betrayal to not tell him. Yet this was something that Sawdust had to do on his own. Once he could prove to Master Adrien that he was a good dog, then maybe he would be less stressed.

Sawdust was curled up in Ma’am’s room, pretending to be asleep in his dog bed while he thought of his plan. He could sneak out of the front door, maybe, but he could remember Ma’am needing a key to unlock it from the inside. She must be really protective of her house if she needs the door to lock from the inside and the outside! He would need to get that key if he wanted to leave that way. He had no clue where the key was.

Maybe he could try the windows? He waited until he heard Ma’am snoring softly before he crept out of the room. He made it to the kitchen and looked around for windows, but his attention was caught by a sound. It sounded like a cough coming from Master Adrien’s room. Sawdust couldn’t ignore his curiosity, he crept over to the door and kneeled on his knees and paws, looking through the keyhole.

Sawdust… didn’t understand what he was looking at.

Master Adrien was laying down on a bed of some kind. It was hardly a bed, more like a table, and it looked like he might be strapped down to it, but Sawdust couldn’t tell. His head extended off the top edge of the table, with the rest of his body on the table. On a stool under Master Adrien’s head was a wide bucket. It sat with its top rim not even an inch away from the tip of Master Adrien’s nose.

Sawdust sat there just long enough to see Master Adrien nod off, falling asleep just for a moment and letting his neck relax just for his face to fall into the bucket. Sawdust heard a splash, then Master Adrien pulled his face out and sputtered, his hair and face dripping. Whatever was happening there made Sawdust even more resolute in his actions, he had to prove to Ma’am and Master Adrien so that the tensions in the house could ease.

Sawdust checked every window in the kitchen and living room until he found one that was unlocked. He pushed it open, then climbed through and closed the window once again.

The outside air was chilly, but not biting. It didn’t sting his skin or his eyes. He tried his best to stay on his two paws, rather than four. It would be quicker to move on two paws, and he did not want to hurt his front paws on the long, rough, gravel road that led to and from Ma’am’s home.

He wobbled as he walked towards the sparse woods that laid down the road a bit. If he could go there, maybe get some kind of proof or item to bring back with him, spend the night, and then get back to his owner, maybe that would be enough to convince them that he could take care of himself. Then maybe Ma’am would focus more on making Master Adrien happy. He deserved it far more than Sawdust did, after all.

The night was far from silent. Owls hooted, small creatures rummaged through the grass and bushes, and yet Sawdust was so far from the rest of town that he could not hear any cars. The same could be said for Master Adrien’s house and the woods that surrounded it. That was not the case for his old master’s home, however.

His old master’s home wasn’t in a busy city, but it was at the end of a dirt driveway just off of a big road with lots of loud cars. Sometimes the other dogs would get upset by the cars, or riled up by the sirens of emergency vehicles. Sometimes Sawdust would peek towards the road just to see another animal, some kind of not-dog, bloated and left on the road. Compared to the loud sounds of the road near his old master’s house, Sawdust far preferred the woods.

The dog stood at the edge of the forest, right where the gravel changes to dirt and sand. Pine needles lay scattered at his paws. The start of the forest was not dense, yet it was still imposingly dark. Sawdust trembled just a bit as he took his first step into it. He tried to breathe, to imagine that this was outside of Master Adrien’s home, that the warm yellow light of the windows was just behind him, waiting.

Sawdust hoped that this forest was truly as empty as he thought. He prayed that there would be nobody else here, that he could find somewhere dry to curl up and take a little nap. It was late, and he was tired.

Each step felt heavy. The tiredness coupled with the fear made it difficult for Sawdust to continue moving, no matter how much he envisioned the space as being familiar. He tried to focus on putting one paw in front of the other, and keeping his eyes peeled as best he could in the darkness.

He walked a little further before he found a spot that looked suitable. A little hollow space, an area that was cleared between and under some bushes. It was just big enough for him to curl up in, and it was dry and the bushes could keep him relatively warm until morning.

Sawdust adjusted his headband and his tail, curling his gangly limbs to the best of his ability so he could fit. He laid his head on top of his arms and closed his eyes.

He drifted in and out of sleep for a while, he couldn’t tell how long. The sounds of the wildlife around him started to lull him to sleep. The trees rustled with the wind, small animals crept to their homes to sleep, and Sawdust was prepared to spend the night outside.

But something was strange. He moved in his sleep, skin crawling. He heard something. Footsteps?

Sawdust opened his eyes and squinted into the darkness, trying to discern what was in front of him. It wasn’t human footsteps, Sawdust counted four. It sounded big. He sat up and propped himself up on his paws, still trying to see.

It was only when the moonlight passed through the trees just perfectly was he alerted to what was truly in front of him. Sawdust shot up out of the bushes, standing up just outside of them as he stared down the creature that woke him up. A mountain lion crept closer to him, its ears pinned back as it let out a rumbling sound from its chest.

Sawdust turned and ran. He had to, he couldn’t fight that thing, but he wasn’t nearly fast enough to outrun it. He whimpered, hearing it thunder after him. It wouldn’t be long before he was caught, but he didn’t stop running. Sawdust could not stop running if he ever wanted to see Master Adrien again. Trees flew past him, his paws slipping on the leaves that covered the forest floor.

His clumsy paws fell out from under him and he tumbled forwards, slamming down into the ground, at the mercy of the animal.

It jumped at him, thick claws digging and dragging down his lower leg. Sawdust screamed, trying to move back away from it. He could never escape it. He was a stupid dog, and he was even more stupid for ever thinking that he could rely on himself. And now he was going to die.

The animal did not waste time staring him down, it did not loom over him. It pulled back, got its massive paws underneath it, and leapt forward. Sawdust squeezed his eyes shut, body tense, only to be met with a loud bang ripping through the forest.

The animal dropped, heavy on Sawdust’s body. He began to cry.

His own blood flowed out freely, soaking his sweatpants and then pooling on the ground. The creature… Sawdust couldn’t bare to look at it. In the brief glance he had seen, there was a small red hole, just above its right brow, and a splattered red mess in the left-back of its head. Sawdust sobbed, he didn’t want to cover his face for fear of smearing blood all over himself. He moved out from underneath the dead animal, only to be greeted with more footsteps. Not animal ones, but those of a human. A man’s voice spoke up.“Now, I expect a you’re welcome, but let’s get you back to my camp.”

taglist :@starnight-whump @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @neuro-whump @whump-me-all-night-long @cupcakes-and-pain @whumpzone @whumpcreations @dancinglifeboat @pinkraindropsfell @looptheloup @cowboy-anon @meetmeinhellcroutons @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @firewheeesky @maracujatangerine @it-will-all-whump-out @theydy-cringeworthy @kim-poce @bluetheautisticrat @whump-in-progress @wh-wh-whu @mylifeisonthebookshelf @grizzlie70 @wolfeyedwitch @nicolepascaline @melancholy-in-the-morning @jumbledbyrd @batfacedliar-yetagain @no-terms-and-conditions-apply @scp-1269 @whumpdreamz @bees-among-the-okami @taterswhump

#whump #whump blog #pet whump #whumpee #whumpblr #whump community #sawdust #whump writing #my writing #adrien and sawdust

16 notes · View notes

ultram0th · 7 months

Text

31 Days of Derek Hale

Day 13: Clown

Info │ 01 │ 02 │ 03 │ 04 │ 05 │ 06 │ 07 │ 08 │ 09 │ 10 │ 11 │ 12 │ 13

Derek practically whimpered like a wolf pup as he watched his husband, Stiles, slowly slump to the couch. The usually vibrant and cheerful human had been going through some hardships at work, and it’d really affected his mood; thus, the normally smiley and singsongy Stiles was all gray and sulky. The alpha werewolf frowned as he saw Stiles’s thin shoulders rise and fall with a sigh.

On a normal day, Derek was the grumpy one, mad at the world and scowling at every living creature that dared to cross his path; and Stiles would be his anchor, calming him down with a simple kiss on the cheek or by placing a warm hand on his broad shoulder. Now that the roles were evidently reversed, Derek was struggling to find out the right things to do/say, empathy never really being one of his strong suits.

“Babe?” Derek asked as he walked over to the couch and placed a hand on his husband’s shoulder as he would’ve done had the roles been swapped. “Um… have you tried not thinking about it?”

Stiles’s frown deepened and he rubbed at his temples, making Derek feel guilty.

Derek flinched and quickly tried to make things better. “Got a headache?” he asked, already dashing to the bathroom. “I’ll grab you some Ibuprofen!”

As Derek leaned over the sink, images of his sad husband kept replaying in his mind, making him grimace. He felt guilty for not being able to cheer up Stiles like he would do for him whenever he was moody. He couldn’t help but feel a little helpless and, what was worse, was that whenever he felt like this, it was usually Stiles who convinced him of otherwise with a little corny joke.

Derek loved his husband with all of his heart, and it pained him to see Stiles sad. He missed his smile, he missed his laugh.

“Damn it,” Derek cursed under his breath, “I wish I could cheer him up.”

The second the words left his mouth, Derek felt a shudder ripple through him. The sensation morphed into an odd tingling that consumed his whole body before fading, but not before being reduced to a tickle that actually made Derek laugh.

“Hyuck! Hyuck!” Derek guffawed, his normal throaty chuckle sounding more like a cartoonish wail that was comically deep. The werewolf jerked back and cleared his throat, wondering why he’d just laughed like that.

He shook it away and opened up the mirror cabinet to grab some Ibuprofen for Stiles, gasping when he saw his reflection after closing it.

His normally jet-black hair was green! Derek dropped the small pills in shock as he ran a shaky hand through his green hair, his eyes wide at the vibrant color that would without a doubt, draw a lot of attention his way.

“What’s, *giggle, wrong with my hair— Hyuck! Hyuck!” Derek laughed again. This time, he finally realized that he’d been smiling the entire time. Although he was confused and slightly panicked over what was happening to him, his face looked alight with zeal. His pearly whites were on full display, which brought about something new to him. Derek had always had larger front teeth, Stiles sometimes referring to them as Bunny Teeth, but his eyes widened when he saw them grow in size until they protruded over his bottom lip, effectively giving him over-exaggerated buck teeth.

Derek barely had time to react to his large teeth before he witnessed his nose shudder. Its skin reddened drastically until it looked cherry red, even taking on a shimmery sheen. It then steadily inflated, rounding out until Derek had a red clown nose affixed to his face.

“I look ridiculous!” Derek giggled, still grinning widely despite his inner panic.

The altered werewolf’s first thought was to rush to Stiles, knowing that his husband would figure out what was happening to him. Derek quickly hurried out of the bathroom, stumbling over his feet as he moved. Derek’s eyes widened even further when he witnessed his feet elongating past their usual size thirteen, growing comically huge with large stumpy toes capping them.

With each step he took, Derek’s new feet slapped loudly against the hardwood floors and he struggled to maintain his balance. His gait resembled someone more clumsy, struggling to walk a straight line. He kept bouncing against the walls, knocking over pictures and causing a ruckus as he moved.

With a loud giggle, Derek waddled into the living room where Stiles moped. His husband took one look at him and scrunched up his eyebrows in confusion.

“Der?” he asked. “What are you doing?”

Instead of asking for help, Derek heard himself laugh, “Hyuck! Hyuck! I heard that there’s someone who’s a little down!” He cringed at how he was acting, this cheery clown attitude a direct contrast with his usual self.

Stiles just stared blankly ahead. “Huh?”

“Want a balloon?” Derek happily asked. “I got a real big one for you!”

With large, flailing motions, Derek searched all around his clothes. His busy show wouldn’t allow him to display his shock over the bright neon colors that his black clothes had been magically dyed to. Derek felt as if he were a passenger in his own body, hearing himself speak and feeling himself move, but he didn’t have any control. He was helpless as he behaved like some sugary sweet clown, unable to stop smiling and giggling the entire time.

When Derek couldn’t find a balloon, he frowned before perking up with an a-ha motion. Pursing his lips and whistling through his large buck teeth, he unzipped his now bright yellow pants and let them fall to the ground.

He exaggeratedly gasped as he looked down at his soft cock, grabbing at his green hair. “Oh no!” he chirped. “You don’t want that small balloon!”

He winced at calling himself small, but then flinched when he saw the corner of Stiles’s mouth slowly pull upward. Seeing Stiles doing so sent a fluttering feeling through Derek’s chest, and he started to feel a little excited, his panic steadily fading.

Derek felt himself stick his thumb in his mouth and take in a deep breath, puffing out his chest. He then puffed out his cheeks and acting like he was blowing air into himself, pausing every so often to take a deep breath.

Stiles let out a little chuckle.

Derek felt himself perk up, his cock instantly rocketing to attention. It swelled up and stood out in front of him. Derek dropped his thumb from his mouth and gestured towards his hard cock.

“Ta-da!” he cheered, puffing his chest back out and setting his hands onto his hips proudly as he pushed his hips forward so that his rock hard member was closer to his husband.

Finally, Stiles’s face broke out into a loud smile and he started to laugh.

At seeing his husband finally laughing and being able to see his beautiful smile again, Derek’s cock throbbed and began to leak precum. His own smile was back in full force.

“Oh, thank you, Der,” Stiles cooed as he sat up and gave his husband a big hug. “You always know how to cheer me up.”

“Hyuck! Hyuck!” Derek guffawed, his face blushing wildly as Stiles kissed his cheek lovingly. Seeing the love of his life smiling again, Derek figured that as long as it made his husband happy, he was fine with being a werewolf clown.

#31 days of derek hale #derek hale #tyler hoechlin #Clown #Clown TF #Hair change #voicechange #foot growth #loss of control #stiles stilinski #sterek

50 notes · View notes

kanatajelly · 2 months

Text

illogical processes

yandere!five pebbles x reader

author's note: hello rain world fandom... i have no idea if y'all are interested in yandere fics lmao, but i love pebbles so i wrote one anyway. also reader is an ancient in this fic.

warnings: general yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, forced isolation, a lot of angst, major character death (reader)

word count: 4134

There was most definitely something wrong about all of this.

It had been so long since someone had come to visit you. Of course, it wasn’t like you weren’t used to being confined to one room for hours and even days on end, but eventually there was always someone who came to visit. Your father, or your aunt, or some of the few friends you’d managed to make in your early childhood, or even sometimes colleagues and acquaintances of your father, who would ask you of his great innovations as if you actually had any worthwhile knowledge of their inner workings.

But now it was just you.

And Five Pebbles.

“Pebbles, I’m bored,” you complained, sluggishly tossing aside a pearl you’d been turning around in your hands for the past few minutes. A pearl that you’d read over and over and over again, just like the rest of them. A sigh came from the robot suspended above you. His umbilical cable moved down the wall as he lowered himself to your level, looking you in the eyes. “Then read something. Or listen to music,” he said matter-of-factly. You glared up at him, annoyed with his response. “I’ve read and listened to everything in this room hundreds of times now,” you pointed out, your voice strained, “Can’t I go outside for once? Or talk to Big Sis Moon and the others? It’s been such a long while since you let me chat with them over communications.”

Five Pebbles mirrored your expression, although his glare contained a venomous iciness that yours lacked. “Don’t you dare say that name,” he seethed. You knew that something had to have happened between him and Looks to the Moon, since he had recently started speaking of her as if she were a horrible person (which she was not); but you had no idea what exactly had happened. Every time you tried to ask, Five Pebbles simply dismissed your inquiries. However, now that you had his full attention, you thought it’d be worth another try. “Why shouldn’t I? I love Big Sis Moon, and I miss her a lot. I know I can’t go and see her anymore, but I want to talk to her at least,” you said, trying to keep your voice as free of frustration as possible so as to not anger Pebbles too much. He avoided your eyes and mumbled something under his breath.

Tilting your head to the side, you pressed, “What was that? I couldn’t hear you.” Pebbles’ eyes darted up to yours again before he repeated, louder this time, “I said, that’s not possible.” Clenching your hand into a fist, you retorted, “Why?! Why isn’t that possible?! You never properly tell me anything, Pebbles! You never tell me about Big Sis Moon… or about my father. Why can’t I see them anymore? Where have they gone?!” Your shoulders heaved along with your breaths. You had been trying to be calm, but his constant dismissals were really starting to grate at your nerves. An odd emotion flashed in Five Pebbles’ eyes for a moment. He looked almost… guilty. But before you could properly process it, it was gone, being once again replaced by the ice-cold annoyance that always seemed to rest on his face. “You ask too many questions. I’m going back to work,” he concluded, returning to his previous position, suspended above you like some sort of god or otherwise ethereal creature.

You were silent for a while, lost in your thoughts. The only noise in the small space was the low hum of Pebbles’ operating system as he worked through his calculations as always. He really never did anything but work, did he? You wondered what he was always doing. You had faint memories of your father explaining why he built Moon and later Pebbles; something about ascension and the Great Problem. You never really understood your people’s obsession with transcending in the first place - you had other things to worry about, after all.

“Pebbles?” you tried again after around ten minutes had passed. He let out another sigh upon hearing you call him, but it wasn’t as exasperated as the last had been. “Yes?” he responded without moving from his spot up in the air. “Can I at least go outside? Just for a bit,” you asked gingerly. Pebbles put a hand to his forehead, rubbing at his temples in frustration. “There’s never an end to the questions with you, is there?” he remarked, surprisingly not sounding as irritated as you assumed he would. You pouted, saying, “Well, if you’re like me and you’re stuck in a plain-looking room for hours on end with your only company being a literal supercomputer who’s always busy and never has time for you, you would do nothing but ask questions too.”

Five Pebbles’ shoulders twitched at your scathing words. He was quiet for a moment, before you felt yourself being lifted off the ground and towards him; a result of his gravity manipulation, no doubt. Once you were close enough to him, he tentatively placed a hand on your shoulder. The contact shocked you a bit, as Pebbles had never been the type to initiate physical affection. Even when you gave him hugs and such in the earlier days of your time together, he would simply grumble and begrudgingly accept, but never reciprocate, the contact. His next words were spoken in a very soft tone that was also out of character for him, “Look. I’ve told you this more times than I can count, and I’ll say it again. You’re sick. Going outside could potentially be dangerous for your bodily condition. Even if I send an Overseer with you, there’s no guarantee of your safety. What if you collapse and nobody’s there to bring you back to me? What if you get found and eaten by some sort of creature? There’s too many unknowns. Just stay here.”

One look at his eyes told you that Pebbles wasn’t budging on his point. Your expression fell, the little bit of hope that you felt from his unusual treatment of you having been extinguished once again. “...You used to let me out,” you murmured, “You used to let me go into the city. I want to do that again. I want to be able to see the view from the top of your superstructure again. Please, Pebbles. I can’t handle being stuck in this room anymore… Please.” His hand fell from your shoulder, instead reaching out to take your hand, but stopping halfway. “That’s not possible anymore. The city isn’t what it used to be,” he replied, his tone almost pensive. He then quickly recomposed himself before turning away from you and continuing, “Either way, I’m busy. If you have nothing worthwhile to say, I’d like for you to stop bothering me now.”

That statement was the last straw for you. “Hah, I’m always bothering you, aren’t I? If you don’t want me around so much, then why don’t you just let me die,” you spat angrily. Five Pebbles snapped his head back around to look at you. “How utterly illogical,” he retaliated, “The way your mind works is impossible for me to understand sometimes. Just do as I say and occupy your time with something other than continuously questioning me about such… ridiculous topics. As I say all the time, I am busy.” With that, he floated you back down to sit on your makeshift bed, and resumed his calculations. As per usual, when Pebbles decided that the conversation was over, you had no say in it anymore.

Your body formed a little ball on your bed, trying to hide the tears that threatened to fall from your eyes. “Things were better when I lived with Big Sis Moon,” you whispered, curling into yourself. Suddenly, the mechanical whirring of Five Pebbles’ computer processes stopped all at once, almost like he’d short-circuited. “What did you say?” he asked, his voice dangerously low. When you didn’t reply, he repeated his words, this time in a furious shout, “I asked, WHAT DID YOU SAY?!” All the electronic systems in the room abruptly flared back to life as soon as Pebbles had raised his voice. Multiple discharges of light that looked almost like thunderbolts projected out of the holographic circle which was always behind him. He was really angry this time, and it honestly scared you. You huddled further into yourself, as if doing that would put you in some sort of safe shell where Five Pebbles couldn’t harm you.

Before either of you could say anything, a loud beeping started ringing out in the room. “Shit!” Pebbles yelled, the expression of profanity an unusual thing to hear from him, “Ugh, of COURSE you made me make an error in my processing! All of you are so absolutely unbearable! Both you, and Moon! You’re always interfering, always getting in the way!” Sticking your head out of the ball you had curled into, you softly said, “Pebbles, I’m so-” Turning to you, he screamed, “SHUT UP! I don’t want to hear anything out of you anymore!” You flinched at his harsh tone, and the tears that had been threatening to spill from your eyes all this time finally came out. As you sobbed quietly, you could hear Pebbles frantically working, trying to fix the apparent error that your interruption had caused him. He was mumbling things to himself, most of which you couldn’t hear. There was one thing you could make out, which he repeated several times, “I hope this didn’t make things any worse…”

Quite a bit of time passed after that - you honestly weren’t sure how long it had been. Pebbles seemed completely engrossed in his work, the multiple screens around the room telling you that he was computing way more parallel processes than he usually did. A thought suddenly occurred to you. Since he seemed so wholly focused on what he was doing, maybe this was your chance. Maybe, just maybe, you could finally get out of this godforsaken room.

As quietly as you could, you crawled off of your bed and slowly walked over to the wall, enough so you were right under the pipe that would take you outside. You glanced over at Pebbles. He was turned away from you. Perfect. You bent your knees to get more momentum, then jumped as high as you possibly could. With the help of the low gravity, you got about halfway up the wall. While floating in the air, you kicked yourself off the wall to further propel yourself upwards, and reached your hands above your head. When you managed to catch the edge of the exit pipe, you used all your strength to pull your body up into it. Although it took a little while and left you feeling exhausted, you eventually managed to pull yourself through the pipe and outside Pebbles’ room. Somehow, you’d done it.

Once you were outside, one look around told you that you’d gone through the wrong pipe. Instead of ending up in the access shaft that would take you on top of Five Pebbles’ can, you had accidentally taken the pipe that led to the inner workings of his superstructure. You considered going back to change pipes, but figured that it was too risky. If Pebbles had already noticed your absence and you went back in, he could use his gravity control to render you essentially immobile. Shrugging, you decided that you’d try and find another way out by going through his superstructure. As long as you avoided the dangerous-looking mechanical parts, you should be fine… right?

As you floated through the center of Five Pebbles, you marvelled at all the colours and noises that filled the large space. Sure, it was a little overwhelming, but it really emphasized the fact that you were inside the heart of a supercomputer. You could see all his neuron flies and other biological parts around you. When you reached out to catch a neuron in your hand, it felt oddly warm, almost like holding someone’s hand. It was a nice feeling compared to the cold metal that Pebbles’ puppet body was made out of. You hugged the neuron fly to your chest for a brief moment before letting it go. Suddenly, you felt awfully guilty for leaving Pebbles alone. Shaking your head, you told yourself that it was fine. You could never understand why he was always so dramatic about you leaving; it wasn’t like you’d be gone forever.

Not long after you’d started your journey, you made it out of what seemed to be the central area of Five Pebbles, and ended up in an area that sported mostly white walls, along with more biomechanical parts. This area was a lot less visually striking than the central part you’d been in before, but it was still fascinating to you. You’d never known that the inside of this superstructure consisted of so many different looking spaces. It just made you admire Pebbles all the more. Of course, this admiration also extended to your father, since he was one of the people who built all of this. You missed your father. Maybe you’d be able to see him after finding a way out, and then you could tell him that you finally understood how amazing his creation was.

Eventually, you exited the white-walled area, and moved into an area which was much darker than the other two you’d been in; although there was a dull, teal-coloured light that illuminated the chamber enough to see. The other odd thing was that this area seemed to have little blue lights along the walls, as well as blue ropes running between them. You continued downwards, wondering if those blue ropes and lights were also some of the biological parts of Five Pebbles.

Suddenly, the entire room shook violently, causing you to freeze, before you suddenly found yourself free-falling. You let out a yelp and managed to barely catch onto one of the blue ropes before you hit a solid surface. Was the gravity on now? The teal background lighting had turned red, so maybe that signified that the zero gravity controls were disabled. That was strange… This hadn’t happened in any other part of the can that you’d travelled through. You wondered if Pebbles himself had been the one to stop the gravity, maybe as a way to prevent you from moving any further; though that theory was quickly debunked once you noted that it also prevented you from going back. Pebbles would never act that “illogically”, as he would say.

As abruptly as the first time it had happened, the room shook once again before the light turned teal, and you felt your body floating. The zero gravity was back on, it seemed. Pushing yourself off the rope you’d been holding onto, you used the momentum to propel yourself further downwards, grabbing onto another blue rope soon after to ensure you didn’t fall when the gravity turned back on, which it soon did. This was definitely strange, but you didn’t really see the point in pondering it too much. After all, you knew very little about the inner workings of the iterators; maybe this was necessary for some specific purpose.

While you waited for the gravity to switch again, you observed the little blue lights on the walls of the room. Suddenly, one of them twitched, almost like it was alive. Your eyes widened, and you decided to look closer. That’s when you realized that these blue lights weren’t a part of the wall; they seemed to belong to fleshy, black creatures that were attached to the wall. The creatures also had stubby little tentacles that protruded from them, wiggling back and forth in the air. As soon as the gravity switched, you let go of the blue rope you’d been holding onto, now very aware that those weren’t part of Five Pebbles, but some other… thing. Whatever they were, you didn’t want to go near them. Unfortunately, as those “ropes” were the only things to hold onto in the open space (other than the occasional metal pole), you were forced to latch onto another one to avoid falling to your death once the gravity turned off again.

Something flashed in the corner of your eye. You looked to the wall next to you, only to jump when you noticed something new coming out of a section of the wall that was devoid of the weird black creatures. Your initial shock faded when you realized it was one of Pebbles’ Overseers. The little robot was projecting a holographic arrow at you, pointing up in the direction which you’d come from. It then added a little picture of Pebbles next to the arrow, obviously trying to convince you to go back to him. “I’m not going back yet,” you told the Overseer, “I want to go outside for once. I’m not leaving forever, I’ll be back at some point. I know you can hear me through this thing, Pebbles - so don’t freak out too much, okay? I promise I’ll be back.”

The Overseer did not seem happy with your reply, shaking back and forth violently as if it were trying to say “no”. It then projected an X in the air, later adding a drawing of a mouth behind the X. “What? Are you asking me to stop talking? My god, Pebbles, you can be so annoying sometimes. I’m leaving,” you stated, propelling yourself off the blue rope you were hanging onto. Pebbles’ Overseer seemed incredibly distressed at this, and went back to trying to convince you to return to Pebbles by pointing upwards. You simply ignored it, huffing in annoyance.

Suddenly, you started to hear a squelching sound. You couldn’t really compare the sound to anything else you’d ever heard in your life, but whatever it was, it made you shudder. You looked below you to see what was producing that sound… only to see a large, spider-like creature advancing up towards you. The main part of the monster looked like the fleshy black things that lined the walls - only this one was mobile and had several long tentacles, some of which it was using to climb upwards. The tentacles that weren’t propelling the creature up were reaching up, reaching towards you. You screamed and frantically swung your limbs upwards, as if you were swimming. The Overseer pointed you upwards once more, towards a metal pole that you could use to pull yourself away from the creature. Reaching out towards the pole, your fingers barely brushed it before the room shook and the zero gravity turned off.

As your body catapulted downwards, you tried to reach for something, anything, that you could grab onto to prevent yourself from falling into the tentacles of the terrifying black-and-blue creature. However, your efforts were in vain. You felt a tentacle wrap itself around your ankle and pull you down towards the creature’s bulbous body. “PEBBLES! HELP!” you cried out, reaching towards his Overseer. Unfortunately, his Overseer could only reach so far, and it wasn’t far enough. And what could it even do for you if it could reach you? Nothing. It was only an Overseer; its only capabilities were hologram projection and acting as a camera for its iterator.

Even as the zero gravity came back on, you were still being dragged downwards, closer and closer to the creature. As you neared it, it latched more of its tentacles onto your other limbs to stop you from struggling. Once you were close enough, it began to shove you into what you assumed was its mouth, despite being unable to see any sort of facial features on its body. First went your legs, then your hips, then your torso. It felt so painful; as if your body was getting crushed up into mush, every bone in your body slowly shattering and the remnants of your limbs being forcibly pushed together as the creature squeezed you into an easily digestible pulp. Before the creature totally consumed your head, you were able to let out one final, broken cry of Pebbles’ name. The last part of you to go was your hand, still outstretched towards the Overseer, something that couldn’t even help you in the first place.

~~~~

After Pebbles had finally managed to correct the error that he had caused due to his anger at your final statement, he turned back towards your corner of the room, ready to apologize and smooth things over with you (as much as he didn’t want to admit his own fault). However, he was shocked to find that you weren’t there. He called your name a few times, only to receive no response. Had you somehow slipped out of his room while he was busy fixing things? “No… How could I have let them get out?!” he shouted, angry at himself. He sent a large number of Overseers out to look for you, covering every part of his can, as well as the exterior of it.

Eventually, Pebbles found you. But he found you in the worst possible place you could be in. You were in the area of his superstructure that he called “Unfortunate Development”, as it was the place where the Rot infecting him was the most virulent. He told his Overseer to convince you to come back as quickly as possible - there was no way you could survive in Unfortunate Development. He could hear you speak through the Overseer, “I’m not going back yet. I want to go outside for once. I’m not leaving forever, I’ll be back at some point. I know you can hear me through this thing, Pebbles - so don’t freak out too much, okay? I promise I’ll be back.”

“Don’t be stupid! You’ll never get out of there alive. Come back, come back right now!” Pebbles shouted, even though you couldn’t hear him. He told his Overseer to tell you to stop speaking, as some of his observations had shown that the mobile Rot cysts reacted mostly to noise. “What? Are you asking me to stop talking? My god, Pebbles, you can be so annoying sometimes. I’m leaving,” you declared through the Overseer, then pushed yourself away from it. Shaking his head, Pebbles screamed, “No, no, NO! LISTEN TO ME!” He continued commanding the Overseer to try and convince you to come back, but his efforts were futile. There was a Rot cyst advancing towards you, and Pebbles couldn’t do anything about it. He had completely lost control over the gravity system in Unfortunate Development some time ago, so he couldn’t propel you away from the Rot cyst; and there was nothing his Overseer could do except project holograms. He could only watch as you were consumed by the Rot.

Five Pebbles had failed once again.

It was all his fault. If he hadn’t been so antagonistic towards you, maybe you wouldn’t have thought of leaving in the first place. If only he was more like Moon; kind, caring, friendly, and warm. But he wasn’t any of those things. He didn’t know how to be kind, didn’t know how to care for others, didn’t have any friends except Seven Red Suns (who he had lost by now), and he was so, so cold. If only he could have made you love him as much as he loved you, maybe this would have never happened. A little voice in his head told him that that wasn’t true. Even though he loved you, it wasn’t like he’d ever told you that. He always treated you horribly too, locking you inside his room with no entertainment other than the pearls that you’d read or listened to over and over again until even they became a source of boredom.

The mechanical whirring that rang out through Pebbles’ room became almost inaudible as he slowly paused or shut down all the processes he’d been working on, as well as all the Overseer camera feeds. They didn’t matter anymore. Nothing did. He’d gotten so used to your presence, and now that you were gone, potentially even dead, Pebbles couldn’t bring himself to do anything. Even if you somehow weren’t dead and you did reincarnate into the next cycle, why would you ever come back to him? There was no way you would. After all, why would you want to be with someone who kept you locked in a tiny room for cycles on end? Pebbles sank to the bottom of his chamber, his legs hitting the floor and putting him in a hunched-over sitting position. He hid his face in his hands; he was sure that if he could cry, he would be right now.

Now he really had nothing.

He was all alone.

Just as he deserved.

#yandere #tw yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #rain world #rain world x reader #yandere rain world #yandere rain world x reader #five pebbles #five pebbles x reader #yandere five pebbles #yandere five pebbles x reader #kanata-writings

13 notes · View notes

whump-me · 1 month

Text

Obscure: Chapter 7

Chapter 7 of Obscure, novel-length interrogation whump about a rebel leader who can erase memories with a thought, an interrogator who can see inside his subjects’ minds… and the connection they share that neither of them suspects.

Masterpost | the Mind Games universe | Read the completed novel on Patreon

---

Elias

Someone had scrubbed the blood off the interrogation room table. It was shiny again, reflecting the light into his eyes like a pair of high beams coming around a curve in the darkness.

No one had bothered to clean Elias up. He had scrubbed the blood from his face as best he could, even taken off his shirt and held it under the faucet. But the harsh soap they had provided him wasn’t enough. The ghost of the stain still dribbled down his front like old ketchup. And now his shirt was damp. It clung to his skin, catching the chill from the air vent and amplifying it.

The metal band was still fastened around his wrist. It gleamed at him like a malevolent promise.

He hadn’t seen himself in days. There was no mirror in his cell. His captors were probably afraid he would break it and try to slit his wrists. But when he reached up to touch his chin, he could feel his own spiky stubble enough to know he had been here for several days. They would have to give him a shower before long, or Kirill wouldn’t be able to stand being in the same room as him.

The door opened, as if Elias had summoned Kirill with his thoughts. “What persona are you putting on today?” Elias asked as Kirill slid into the chair across from him.

Kirill looked like he hadn’t slept all night. Actually, he looked like he hadn’t slept in a week. His face looked older in some indefinable way, and his eyes were tired around the edges and dull at the centers. He moved like he was trudging through quicksand with every step.

It wasn’t his conscience troubling him, or he never would have made it this far in the interrogation. Could the repeated obscuring have had some physical effect? Elias had never used it so many times on the same person in so short a time—not since he was a child and didn’t know better, and his power hadn’t been as strong then.

If that was the problem, Kirill had already solved it with the metal band around Elias’s wrist. Still, Elias indulged in a small moment of triumph.

“I looked into the child,” Kirill said, instead of answering.

The memory of the day Sammy was taken again. Pacing back and forth. The clock ticking, each movement of the second hand as loud as a drumbeat. As loud as his own heartbeat in his ear.

He had never thought he could get tired of his own grief.

He shoved the memory away and took a deep breath. He hadn’t been lying—he had practiced this. Bringing up memories of Sammy again and again, until the grief welled up, then ruthlessly forcing it down.

He had thought it would be enough.

“An eight-year-old boy,” Kirill continued. “Someone who entered PERI a year or two before Elias Kitzner came into existence. A positive blood test, but no active abilities.”

Something crawled out of Elias’s memory. A creature ten feet tall and spindly as a scarecrow, with a mouth full of jagged teeth. A childhood memory, a monster from a horror movie, stalking Elias through long-forgotten nightmares. The creature peered around the corner where he stood pressed against the wall, quivering. I found you… it crooned in a voice like rustling leaves.

Kirill had found Sammy. That was what he was saying, wasn’t it?

“We found three potential matches,” said Kirill. “We match their blood to the sample we took from you when you came in. For one of them, the genetics were a match.”

Elias didn’t have a name for the emotions that came over him at that. But it must have been bad, because the memories came like a flood.

Lisbeth smiling, exhausted, holding the baby and beckoning him close.

Elias walking back and forth in the dark nursery, bouncing the crying infant in his arms. Come on, buddy. Go to sleep. His voice was rough from too little sleep and too many lullabies.

Then calling Sammy’s name in the grocery store, and rounding a corner to see him safe and sound and rearranging the items on a potato-chip display.

Watching the school bus swallow him. Standing at the end of the driveway later that same day, arms open, as he hurtled off the bus with a round-cheeked grin on his face.

Pacing back and forth on that horrible afternoon as the clock ticked the seconds away.

Lost and found and lost again. Lost. Lost. Lost.

Elias tried to breathe the memories away. He couldn’t breathe away the feeling of a tight hand wrapping around his heart and squeezing. But he did claw his way out from the images enough to see Kirill’s face in front of him.

He stared into Kirill’s eyes. Kirill looked down at the bracelet. Elias followed his gaze and gave a tiny nod of acknowledgment. He didn’t complete the obscuring.

“So you’re officially admitting that PERI kidnaps children,” he said.

“It isn’t as if you’ll tell anyone.” But Kirill seemed to take no pleasure in the retort. The coldness of yesterday was gone, too—from his voice and from his eyes. He sounded ragged.

“So what happens now?” Elias asked. “You talk about my child to make me feel something, until you get at every memory in my head? I thought you said you were tired of that game.” He shot a pointed look down at the bracelet. “I thought we were doing things differently now.”

Despite all his practice, Elias knew the strategy would work. Kirill might not get everything, but he would get something. What had just happened was proof enough of that.

For all the good it would do Kirill. He could take every memory Elias had of Sammy, and it wouldn’t bring him any closer to capturing the rest of Elias’s network.

All it would do was scrape out Elias’s insides, like a knife trying to get at the last dried-out bits of peanut butter in the jar. Not only a violation, but a useless one. What could PERI do with all those memories? They had no value to anyone but Elias.

“That wouldn’t help,” said Kirill. “We don’t need memories of your child. We need memories related to your network—that is, if you won’t answer my questions directly.”

Elias gave him a thin, unfriendly smile. “I might have thought you had read my mind, if I didn’t know your talents lay in other directions.”

“Will you?” Kirill asked. “Answer my question directly.” Every word sounded like a struggle. Kirill sagged in his chair.

“You know the answer to that,” said Elias. “I formed my network to save people like Sammy, since it was too late to save him. Betraying them would be like failing him all over again.” Only worse. Losing his son had been a singular, personal tragedy. If his network disappeared, it would mean many more future losses, for parents and spouses and other loved ones all across the country. His loss, multiplied by hundreds or thousands.

Not to mention all the people who had worked for him over the years, who would end up in a room like this one. Maybe they would meet that fate eventually. But he wouldn’t be the one to put them there.

“To save people like your child,” Kirill echoed. He looked down at the table, breaking their gaze for the first time today. “People like me.”

Elias sat up straight. He shot a sharp look at interrogator’s bowed head.

He hadn’t given much thought to how Kirill had ended up here. The man had seemed happy with his position—happy enough to be smug about it. Elias had been satisfied naming him a traitor and being done with it.

But it made sense that he had ended up here the same way Sammy had. Almost every Enhanced who worked for PERI did—all except the few who made deals and went willingly. At least assuming the rumors of lab-grown experiments, raised to slavery from birth, had no truth behind them.

Kirill’s head stayed bowed, but Kirill looked up at Elias. Only his eyes moved.

“Trying to evoke my sympathy?” Elias asked. “You’ve tried that before. I remember how we met.”

Kirill looked over his shoulder, toward the exit. No, toward the left-hand corner of the ceiling. Elias followed his gaze. He saw nothing but a slight bulge in the ceiling, and a spot where the matte white paint was strangely shiny.

“The camera,” Kirill explained. “I turned it off before I came in this morning.”

“I have no way of knowing whether that’s true,” Elias pointed out. “But even assuming it is, that doesn’t tell me why you would do that.”

“I want to hear about Sammy.”

How did Kirill know his son’s name? Of course he knew—he had read it in the records. The mere sound of the name made the memories flow again. Elias scrambled for serenity like a man trying to dig his way out of his own grave. He felt the dirt under his fingernails.

“You’ve gotten plenty from my memories already,” he forced out. “Anyway, I thought you were here to find out about my network, not my past griefs.”

“Not today,” said Kirill. “Today, I want to know what you did to find him.”

“So you can guess what other parents will try?” Elias asked. “To make it easier for PERI to stop them? You don’t need the cameras off for that. Especially since I don’t plan to tell you.”

But Kirill would get the answers from his memories soon enough, if he kept up that line of questioning. Already, Elias was picturing the jowly face of the police officer who had dutifully taken his report, and the narrow alley that held the private investigator’s office he had visited six months later.

“So I know what my own parents did!” Kirill’s sharp words echoed through the room. Elias jerked up straight in his chair, his hands leaping up to protect him against another blow.

But Kirill didn’t lean across the table to punch him. He only sat back in his chair, letting out his breath in a quiet, abashed huff, like he was faintly embarrassed by his outburst.

“I don’t remember getting a blood test,” said Kirill. “I guess that kind of thing doesn’t stick in a kid’s memory, if it’s routine. But I assume that’s how they got me. My power wasn’t active back then. Not until they gave me their injections. They had to strap me down.” He rubbed his wrists, as if remembering restraints.

Elias opened his mouth to tell Kirill he shouldn’t expect any sympathy from him. But before he could form words, memories gushed from him like blood from a mortal wound. Anger, fear, horror… they all coalesced into the single imagined image of metal cuffed around his son’s small wrists. And Elias bled, and bled, and bled.

The jowly police officer, flinching as Elias threw a thick hardcover inches past his ear. I don’t want to hear your statistics! Just tell me what you’re doing to find him!

Weeks earlier. The day Sammy hadn’t come home. Calling hospital after hospital, asking about eight-year-old boys. Hovering his hand over the phone, wondering whether to call the morgue. His wife grabbing it off the table before he could dial. No. Don’t think like that. As if thinking it could make it happen. As if the worst hadn’t already happened.

The private investigator, with his sooty windows and the cluttered office that smelled of cigar smoke. The second private investigator, who had kept looking at his watch like he was calculating his fee down to the minute.

The day of the disappearance again. Calling hospitals in the next state over. Leaving an angry message for the school principal—How is it possible to lose a child?

“This is why you created the network, isn’t it?” Kirill’s soft voice threaded through the memories without stemming the flood. “You have people all over the country searching for children in his position. Adults, too. Finding them before we can.”

A woman peering at spreadsheets in a central office of a large lab that processed blood tests, watching for anomalies—not in the data itself, but in people showing too much interest into routine sets of results. A hacker, not yet out of college, who pinpointed suspicious payments to doctors across three states with unnerving accuracy. A retired couple who spent their days browsing online communities for questions asked by people whose powers had just activated, people who didn’t understand the danger they were in yet. Their faces flashed through his mind, along with half a dozen more.

Through the chaotic slideshow of memories, he only just made out Kirill’s pale unfocused eyes, and his mouth curving upward in a hungry smile.

Elias strained to focus on those pale eyes. He slipped into Kirill’s mind—

And pain shot through his wrist. It flooded his body, clenching his muscles against his will, arching his back against the uncomfortable chair. When the pain released him, he sat back bonelessly, panting.

He hadn’t made it into Kirill’s mind enough to obscure him. He hadn’t expected to.

But the pain had distracted him. It had shut off the flow of memories.

“So that’s what you were doing.” Elias’s voice was rough with pain. He was glad for that. He would rather Kirill hear pain from him than fear. Although there was no way Kirill didn’t notice the fear, which even now was releasing a steady trickle of memories from his thoughts.

It didn’t matter how much Elias practiced. Sammy would always be a way into his head.

“Some of it was real,” said Kirill. “The injections. The restraints.”

“How did you actually end up here?”

“By choice,” Kirill said simply. “Some people recognize a good opportunity when they see it.”

Elias shook his head. “No one joins by choice.” Almost no one. Another short, sharp burst of memory. The heat of the fire; the sickening stink of everything he had loved going up in flames. Then a different stink, years later, of mold and body odor and despair. That filthy room. The feel of Max’s hand letting go.

“The ghost boy,” Kirill said as his eyes slowly came back into focus.

“Ghost boy?”

“With the boy without a face. The one from your memories. He joined voluntarily, didn’t he?”

Elias tried to swallow down a burst of anger at the violation. Other people had known about his son’s loss, even though they hadn’t known the truth of the situation, but what had happened with Max was a private grief. No one was left alive who so much as knew the boy had existed. In the years since Max’s betrayal, Elias had never even spoken his name.

“He had a face,” Elias said. “I’ve just done my best to forget it.”

Something flickered in Kirill’s eyes. Genuine emotion? If so, it was the first Elias had seen from him. The first sign he had gotten that the man was capable of feeling something.

Still, he wouldn’t have put it past him for it to be another ruse.

“You joined voluntarily,” said Elias. “Do you have regrets?”

“Of course not.” Kirill’s tone was dismissive. That flicker of emotion was gone.

But it had been there. Real or not. And if it hadn’t been real, Kirill wouldn’t have been trying to cover it up now.

“Are the recordings actually off?” Elias asked.

Kirill shook his head.

“Of course not,” said Elias. “All the same, would you mind taking a break from trying to get answers from me?”

The corners of Kirill’s mouth curved upward, as if he had found Elias’s words amusing. “Why would I agree to that?”

“Because I’d like to ask you something,” said Elias. “Humor me.”

Elias expected a no. To his surprise, Kirill nodded. “Why not?”

---

Tagged: @cakeinthevoid @suspicious-whumping-egg

Ask to be added or removed from taglist.

#whump #whump novel #my writing #my writing: Obscure #my writing: Mind Games #interrogation whump #superpower whump #emotional whump

7 notes · View notes

jettblanche · 2 years

Text

cw: hypnosis, weird magic shit (??) resistance

You're starting to panic. Maybe this isn't just part of the show after all. After a long day of going on fast-paced thrill rides, you decide to settle down and go through a walk-through attraction, and the one that catches your eye first is the "House of Wonders".

Small groups of about 5-7 people were let in at a time led by a tour guide. The attraction started out normal enough. The first room your group entered was a small zoo full of animatronic fantasy creatures, such as unicorns or griffons. The tour guide excitedly drew attention to each and every one of the creatures,allowed the guests to take pictures, and moved on to the next room. The next room was a large garden full of animatronic plants, the next a hall of mirrors, and so on. Everything seemed to be normal, a little mundane compared to the other attractions at the park even, until your group finally reached the last room of the attraction: the theatre room.

You were all seated in front of a large curtain, which parted to reveal a grandfather clock. The pendulum of the clock was swinging back and forth, and the clock's face began to form a dark purple halo of light around it. You instantly start to feel weak as you notice a bright purple stream of light appearing, stretching from your forehead to the clock's face. You feel a strange sensation in your brain, as if your thoughts are being sucked out of your brain. The feeling wasn't unpleasant, but it was strong enough to be impossible to ignore. Everyone else in the room also appeared to have this stream of light emitting from their forehead, and all had their gaze fixed on the clock. This strange feeling that the light is making you feel worries you, and you ask to leave the attraction, but no words are coming out of your mouth. The tour guide seems to have slipped away and the other guests are unresponsive, some even having their eyes closed or mouths hanging open.

Something definitely isn't right. You try to struggle, but your body isn't responding to you. At first, you are able to move your eyes around, but eventually, your gaze becomes fixed on the clock and you are no longer able to move your eyes. As if it was being possessed, you feel your body acting on its own, your head slightly rocking back and forth and your breath slowing down.

From inside your brain, you hear an unfamiliar voice. It's a soft masculine voice, and something about it seems to seep into every nook and cranny of your mind.

The voice begins to speak:

"You can't win. Don't fight it."

You try your best to ignore the voice, but it's no use.

"Just let it happen. It'll feel really good."

You fight to look away from the clock, but nothing works until you realize that you can move your eyelids. Without thinking, you close your eyes, tearing your gaze away from the clock. For a moment, you think that you've won before you realize that this has only made you sink deeper. Your panic fades away as you drift away, and your body and mind are instantly ensnared in a powerful, pleasant sensation.

You start to feel yourself fall asleep, but before you do, you hear the voice speak one last time.

"I've got you now..."

#minors dni #brainwashing #hypnokink #hypnosis #mind control #hypnotized #rp #nsft

131 notes · View notes

cevansbrat0007 · 2 years

Text

Dance With My Father Again

Summary: Andy escorts Bianca and Katrina to a Father Dance. Andy Barber x Black!Reader, Bianca Barber, Katrina Barber

Warnings: Fluff, Andy’s Hate of Country Music, Child Bribery, Minors DNI

A/N: This scenario is based on something that happened between myself and my own dad when I was the girl’s age. It’s a good memory for me. Apologies for bashing country music. All mistakes my own. Written on my phone. Let me know your thoughts. Thanks for reading!

___

“Alright ladies, let’s put the finishing touches on these outfits before Daddy sees you.”

Both girls look at themselves in the mirror. And when Bianca does a little spin, Katrina is quick to do the same.

“We lookin’ pretty Mama?” Your older baby asks.

“Gorgeous.”

Bianca was wearing a dress with a black bodice that flared out into a white chiffon tutu covered in back polka dots. Whereas Katrina had chosen a sparkly silver ensemble that ended just below her knees.

Per her request, you’d straightened BiBi’s hair and then spun it into big, loose curls. And as for your other girl, you’d slicked her hair back and piled it high on top of her head.

And for the final touch? A small spritz of perfume and a dab of pink lipgloss.

“We ready, Mama?”

“I think so. In fact, I think Daddy is gonna be blown away.”

Opening the door, you lead them to the top of the stairs.

“Daddy! Are you ready to see your dates for the evening?”

“Ready?” Your husband yells back. “I can hardly wait!”

Arm in arm, you lead them both down the stairs. “Close your eyes, honey…”

You make it the bottom and hand the girls their respective purses. “You can open them now.”

When he does, your suit clad husband gasps before clutching his chest and falling backwards onto the couch.

Jesus, how they looked like their Mama! God, he was gonna be in trouble when they hit puberty…

“Oh. My. Goodness. You two look stunning. I mean absolutely stunning.” The goofy smile on his face let’s you know that he means every word. “In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen two more beautiful little creatures!”

They weren’t going to be allowed to date until he was dead and gone…

Blushing softly, your sweet girls do a little spin. “We picked these out ourselves.” Bianca tells him.

“Well, you both look amazing. So amazing, that Daddy went out and got these just for you.” Reaching over, your man pulls out two plastic boxes containing…

Two different colored corsages.

“C’mere, my lovely ladies.” He beckons. “This pink one is for my brilliant BiBi.” Andy places if on her little wrist. “And this purple one is for my creative little KitCat.

“Bootiful, Dada.” She delicately strokes the flowers on her wrist.

“Yeah! Beautiful gift from our handsome Daddy. We’d kiss you, but lip gloss.” She tells him.

You rub your swollen belly and smile. “Alright, let Mama get a picture of the best looking trio in town before our Prince Charming here whisks you off to the ball.”

___

Holding hands with the most gorgeous girls this side of Boston, he walks them into their school gym.

Huh. He thinks to himself. These decorations are odd…

The invite that was sent home in their folders had nothing about a country western theme…

“Oh good God.” He mutters to himself. “Please tell me tonight isn’t what I think it is. Please tell me it’s not…”

“Well, howdy pardner!” A man by the name of Mr. Bruins greets you. “And welcome to this here Square Dance!”

Andy feels himself go pale. If there was one thing he hated more than dangerous criminals, banana pudding, and slow walkers…it was Country Music.

Especially Square Dancing.

Immediately, his girls move to the center of the floor and start dancing their little hearts out.

“C’mon Daddy!”

With a sigh, he two-steps his way over, clapping his hands the whole time.

He’d do anything for his girls, but he would also do anything to get out of this nightmare.

Andy needed a plan - one that wouldn’t upset his girls. So he had to think…

And then think some more.

___

Thirty minutes later…

He’d been dancing nonstop with his babies. Throwing them in the air. Swinging them around. At one point, he’d thought he’d lost KitCat…

Only to realize his already tiny baby girl had done the splits and gotten stuck.

“C’mon ladies, let’s go grab ourselves some punch.”

He leads them over to the snack table and gets them something to drink before unleashing his plan.

“Now, ladies…I know we’re all having a good time, but Daddy has an idea about something even more fun that we could do. You wanna hear it?”

“Yeah!” They both shout.

Andy crouches down in front of them. “Okay, so we could stay here…

And let Daddy’s ears bleed.

“Or, we could get outta here and go see a movie. I’m talkin’ all the candy, popcorn, and soda you want.”

Their eyes go wide.

“I’m talking Sour Patch Kids, Gummy Bears, Reese Pieces…whatever your little hearts desire.”

“And nachos wif’ dah popcorn?” BiBi asks.

“Yep. Sure. Sounds fantastic.”

Andrew Barber was a desperate man.

“And Daddy will hand you his phone so you girls can figure out what movie you want to see on the way to the theatre. Think of it as an extra special date - just the three of us.”

He flashes then his most charming smile. It worked on everyone, even his wife…sometimes.

“Okay! Movie night!” Screeches Bianca. “And special date wif’ our Daddy! C’mon KitCat, to dah car.”

Katrina grabs his big hand and drags him out and away from his personal hell.

Thank goodness for his girls.

And for his belief in bribery.

END

#chris evans imagines #andy barber imagines #chris evans #andy barber #chris evans woc!reader #chris evans black!reader #bianca barber #cevansbrat0007 fics #katrina barber #chris evans x fem!reader #chris evans x you #andy barber black reader #andy barber x fem!reader #andy barber x yn #chris evans x yn #andy barber woc!reader

171 notes · View notes

marsbutterfly · 2 years

Text

The Devil Within

Summary: A few encounters with Eren later, you realize something is growing inside of you and you try to find a way to tell him the news.

← Part 1 | Wattpad! | Ao3! | Word Count: 5.6K

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: nsfw, fem! reader, pregnant reader, pregnancy sex, pegging, oral sex (m! & f! receiving), multiple cream pies, breeding kink, deep throating, throat fucking, vaginal sex, cunnilingus, demons, cum licking, cum play, praising, anal sex.

Sixteen weeks.

It had been exactly sixteen weeks since the first time you encountered Eren, the incubus. There was a familiarity to every time he came over to see you although, with every time, he would bring with him new positions to try out with you.

As you mark on the calendar above your bed how many days you have left to see him, you realize that the past few months have been missing a red mark that indicates when you last got your period and a shear wave of panic washes over you.

So immediately you reach for your phone, the long sleeves of your sweater getting trapped on your many rings as you dial the first number that comes to mind: Mikasa’s. The line rings for a little less than a minute and you feel so anxious that you could throw up.

Finally, she answers the phone and you notice a person sitting on her lap, their back facing the phone but you could tell that their face was buried on the black-haired girl’s neck, the sound of kisses filling the air and a few breathless moans escaping Mikasa’s lips.

“What do you want?” She asks, barely being able to keep her phone still as the person’s face now comes in contact with hers, lips sealed together in an undeniable hunger that it nearly makes you feel bad for calling her at such a moment.

“I think I’m pregnant,” you respond, your voice trembling with every syllable that comes out. You notice that the girl now has her eyes wide open, the kissing noises finally ceasing as the person who once sat on top of her now moves and, since the lights are out, you are unable to tell who it is.

“Ok, this is what we’re going to do,” Mikasa starts as she stands up, she places her phone on the ground and you can tell that she isn’t wearing any pants so you avert your gaze to give her some privacy. You only turn your head around again when you hear the sound the zipper makes as it goes up. “I’m going to the store and buying you three pregnancy tests, a bottle of tequila and a bunch of chocolate.”

“Thank you,” you say with tears in your eyes before hanging up the phone. You lay there, your stomach lying flat down on the bed as you listen closely to the ticks of the clock. You take a deep breath in and, for a split second, it feels like something has moved inside of you.

Eyes wide in horror, you immediately stand up and rush towards the full body length mirror. Slowly, you raise the lower edge of your sweatshirt and you look down at your stomach, trembling hands coming in contact with your skin and you can see it, clear as day, a small foot stretching your skin with its kick.

Immediately, you fall on your ass, hot tears begin to burn in your eyes as you gasp in fear, “what the fuck was that?” You ask yourself, though the answer is obvious. A flood of nausea takes over your body and you have to do everything in your power to at least reach for the trash can you keep in your room.

It burns your throat as it comes out and you only have enough time to pull your hair back as it all comes out. The tears in your eyes begin to flow as you gag, the creature in your stomach still moving and it feels like it is pushing against your vital organs.

“Fuck, this can’t be happening,” you think to yourself but before you can get too far ahead, a knock on the door pulls you away from the horrified thoughts going through your brain.

A feeling that can only be described as comfort does enter your soul when Mikasa pushes her face in the door and you know that the vision before her is concerning, especially the way you clutch the trash can in your hands.

She takes a few steps closer but you feel once more as the baby kicks in your stomach, stretching your skin and a worried expression takes over her features. She now rushes towards you, dropping the bag she once held on the side as she uses her now free hands to pull your hair back.

Once the wave of nausea passes, you spit a few times and decide that you are no longer going to throw up. While still holding your hair back, Mikasa stretches her body towards your bedside table to reach a box of tissues which she gladly hands to you while making sure not to look in the trash can.

“It’s ok!” she kept repeating, the last thing she wanted was for you to feel bad about the situation at hand. Even so, you made sure to apologize at every moment your mouth wasn’t hovering over the trash. “Do you feel ok enough to go pee on this stick?” She asks with compassion in her voice and it earns a positive nod out of you.

When Mikasa hands you the pregnancy test, your heart drops to your gut as you feel the creature inside of you moving once again. Horrified eyes fall to your stomach and you realize that she also noticed the movement, so she just immediately takes it back from your hand.

“I don’t think we need this,” she says, throwing the unopened packaging in the trash and you are too stunned to say anything. The feeling of its movement startles you and it sends another wave of shear panic down your spine and you can feel it as yet another influx of nausea burns in your throat, “How far along can you be for it to be moving like that?”

“I don’t know, but you need to go,” you barely sound coherent. Not that you want to push her away, but that means that you must think of a way to tell the incubus the news. Though you are not worried about his reaction, you realize that you don’t know anything about being pregnant, especially about being pregnant with a half demon hybrid.

“Put my number on the speed dial, ok?” Mikasa says, her hand rubbing the back of your shoulder affirmingly. You reach your right arm across your chest and over your shoulder so your fingers are touching hers and a smile appears on your lips. Before she lets go, the black haired girl plants a single kiss on your cheek and it takes a few seconds for her to move away, “I’ll be back whenever you need me.”

When she rushes out of the door, you pull your laptop from underneath the bed to begin your research on the topic, though you do stare at the search bar for a few minutes, watching as the little mark blinks every other second while your fingers ghostly move on top of the keyboard.

After what feels like an eternity, you decide to type in your first question: “Incubus Off-spring.” With that, you learn that the creature in your stomach’s technical name is a cambion and you learn that they are false infants who wail for milk but can never be satisfied.

Your entire face turns pale and the feeling that could only be described as shear panic takes over all the other senses in your body. The world goes black for a second and you can’t hear anything other than your heartbeat pulsating in your ear.

The next thing you type out is: “gestation period for a cambion,” though you come back from your research empty-handed. The amount of information out there for… situations such as yours is scarce and you know that the only way to get to know more about it is to get it from the source.

You know that Eren will come over in a couple of days but you can’t wait that long, so you rush towards your closet and open the doors with an unnecessary amount of strength and it nearly breaks the wood, not that you care about it at the moment. You search through the piles of clothes until you finally find the object you had hidden so long ago and were looking for, the ouija board.

To set the mood, you light up a few candles and close the curtains in a failed attempt to stop the outside light from coming into the room. You place the pointer on the center of the board and close your eyes, exhaling a desperate breath.

“Eren,” his name falls from your mouth in a shaky voice, “I need you,” no one responds. You are afraid that he won’t come to you in your time of need, even if he has promised you countless times that you are his and he is yours.

You decide to try one more time, “Ren, please,” you think that maybe using a pet name may be of help. A few more minutes go by and nothing. Desperation begins to settle in your stomach and you want to scream his name, beg for him to show up but you don’t want to seem too needy.

“I’m pregnant,” you whisper with your fingers still touching the pointer, tears streaming from your eyes onto your nose until they drip on top of the board. In that moment, a rushed wind makes its way past your body, even if the windows are closed. Goosebumps rise on your arms through your spine and you feel plumbed lips kissing the back of your neck, his cold digits touching your forearm.

“You are?” His whispers in your ear and you yelp in response, not expecting him to show up so incredibly fast. He uses his free hand to cover your mouth, making sure you aren’t too loud and you can feel your sex drive beginning to rise, nipples hardening just as a response to his touch while your pussy aches for his touch. You nod, “that’s fantastic news.”

You look back at him to meet those emerald green eyes as they undress you completely, you notice that his hair is up in a bun and it takes everything in you not to tangle your fingers in his locks and undo the updo. From its place on top of your mouth, he brings his hand towards your neck as he begins applying pressure on the sides. It stops air from entering your lungs for a few seconds and your eyes roll to the back of your head, it’s a delicious sensation that you have missed more than you care to admit.

“Are you happy?” you ask as soon as he lets go of you. He gives you his hand in the hopes of helping you up and you notice that he has no pants on, meaning that he is already completely naked and you get a good view of how hard his cock is for you. Not letting him help, you sit on your knees while walking closer to his crotch, a devious smile appearing on his lips.

“That’s the first of the many babies I plan on putting inside of you,” he growls, removing your hair from its spot on your lips while moving it to the side. With an eager hand, he grabs a fistful and pulls it back, eagerly guiding you towards the tip of his cock. It is your favorite shade of pink, “Open wide, baby girl.”

You oblige to his requests and spread your lips apart. Slowly, he begins placing his length inside the warmth of your mouth and he spares no efforts to make you take it all until it touches the back of your throat and you have to use everything in you to hold back a gag.

“Oh, you take me so well,” Eren says, thumb brushing against your bottom lip. His balls touch your chin as he feels your throat tightening around him, trying to adjust to the sudden, though wanted, invasion, “Like that, princess.”

Eren jerked his hips to little avail, already hilted in your mouth. He tried to pull back, but you held him close, instead teasing the underside of his shaft with your tongue, wanting to draw out his pleasure for as long as he'd allow.

Your lips wrapped snugly around his thin shaft as it twitched, precum constantly threatening to slide down your throat. The viscous liquid glazed the inside of your mouth and Eren realized that he missed fucking your throat more than he had realized.

A few tears form in your eyes and you finally slide your head back, removing his cock from your mouth with a pop sounds, “Fuck my throat, use my head however you would like,” you say to him, drool hanging from the corner of your mouth as you spread your lips apart once more.

Oh, the smile on his lips was brighter than the sun. As you look up at him, Eren’s grip on the back of your hair tightens as he slowly shoves himself into your mouth once again. Your hands hold onto his hips until your lips are touching the hairs on his pelvis.

He glides his cock down your mouth and a loud grunt escapes his lips as he catches a quick glance of the bulge that formed in your throat and, somehow, it makes him harder than before.

There was a gag, a smile, tears piling up in the corner of eyes lighted by hunger; Eren didn’t stop; not until long after the sight of you was too much to bear, too much for him to be able to hold back, “Fuck, I’m going to come,” he informed.

Eren’s warm cum glides down your throat and you gulp, trying to swallow all of it.

Thick threads of spit connected your lips and his throbbing member when Eren pulled out. You collected the spit with apparent calm, giving yourself a few moments to also collect your senses and recompose your numb mind.

“Stand up, baby,” he requests and once again, you comply. He takes your hand on his and, before you can fully wrap your mind around what is going on, Eren has you bent down over the wooden surface of the dresser, his hand on your hair never losing its control on you, “Is there anything you want to know?”

Your mouth hangs open for a few seconds, a few drops of his cum still leaking down the side of your mouth as your torso comes in contact with the surface. For a few seconds, you are able to see your stomach in the mirror and you finally notice how prominent the bump is and you beat yourself up mentally for not realizing it sooner.

Eren brings his hands towards your mouth, “Spit,” and you do as you are told. With the saliva, he rubs it over his hard cock, lubricating the shaft while the pink tip gently brushes against the entrance of your pussy.

Finally, you can think of a question.

“How long is the gestation period of a human/demon hybrid?” You ask him, feeling as his cock slowly enters you, spreading your soaking folds apart. Eren then brings his right hand towards the lower half of your stomach, supporting the baby up and taking away the pressure for a second.

“A few weeks, twenty two weeks maximum,” he growls in a low voice. With his free hand, he gently pushes your body down so your back is perfectly straight and you are the perfect height for his crotch, “Also, let’s think of a name for it when we are done here.”

Your hands immediately reach for the wooden dresser, searching for some sort of balance as you stand on the tip of your toes. You can see it in the mirror: Eren’s dark wings spread open, his once green eyes now completely black with lust, his long hair a mess as an immediate result of your hands playing with the locks. He looks deviously sexy.

He proceeds to push his hips forward and watch closely as your mouth shifts from closed to hanging open, though not a sound comes out. You can feel it, the entirety of his length inside of you as it stretches your tight pussy, wetness dripping down your legs in excitement.

When he pulls back out, you whine while missing the feeling of his large cock inside of you. It doesn’t take long before Eren rewards your good behavior with another buck of his hips, making it past your folds until he is ball deep in.

You lower your head, trying to muffle the quiet cries that exit your body. You want him, you want to be his good girl and his personal cum dumpster, you want him to put yet another baby inside of you, and another, and another.

His hips begin moving in a rhythmic way, his hand still pushing your body down while the one that once held your stomach has now found its way down to your swollen clit. He brings his digits up to your mouth, brushing them against your lips before they enter your mouth, you know what he wants.

So you lick them until they are completely covered in saliva and the taste you left behind on them is completely gone. Eren reaches for your clit once more with his now slick fingers as he begins rubbing circles on the area once again.

He pulls your head back so your lips can meet his halfway for a much needed kiss, his tongue runs circles around yours before he gently nibs on it. The intrusion results in a few drops of the mixture of his cum and saliva to become attached to his mustache and, when he inevitably is the first to pull away, he licks the area and you can feel the heat pooling in your cunt.

Eren proceeds to speed up his movements, fingers no longer touching your clit as he now chases his own relief, hoping to fill you up with his cum before satisfying you with his mouth. He can feel it perfectly as you tighten your walls around him, trapping his cock in place even if he fights for the right to move it.

“Shit,” he curses underneath his breath and it is barely audible. This time, you are the one to wrap your arm around his neck and pull him close.

“Come inside me baby,” you whisper against his lips, “fill me with your cum.”

A smirk takes over his mouth and you realize he had no intention of pulling out even if you wanted him to. You hold his head close, tongues battling inside for dominance as Eren’s pumps become less coordinated. He is rough, rougher than usual, though you don’t care, all you need in this moment is for Eren to release himself inside of your aching cunt.

It doesn’t take much longer for your wishes to be fulfilled and soon, Eren buries his face on the crook of your neck as he releases a cry, the viscous liquid filling you from the inside and you can feel it as it overflows and it drips down your unstable legs. You solely depend on him for support.

He pulls his throbbing cock from its place inside of you and you whine, not ready for the feeling to leave your body. You, however, don’t have time to complain before he has picked you up in his arms making you feel as if you weighed less than a feather.

While still carrying you in his arms, Eren lays on the bed before placing both of your legs on each side of his body, his wet cock gently brushing against the velvety skin of your asshole, tickling even and it nearly feels like he is asking for permission to place himself inside of you.

“Yes,” you whisper breathlessly, bringing your body forward as it towers over his. Eren’s eyes shine with desire, his hair is tangled around his horns as the feathers of his wings brush against your sides. You reach for his member and guide it towards your hole, using the wetness that came from your pussy to lubricate the area.

Eren grunted as he rocked his cock back and forth a bit in the depths of your ashshole. He took pride in being the first to conquer your asshole and he was going to savor every second. Eren gripped your cheeks tightly and remarked, “Is this ok?”

You nod, remaining the calm you’ve had before. Though this isn’t the first time he has used your asshole, it is however the first time something other than his tail has entered your hole, so he feels the need to treat you like a pure virgin he is about to corrupt. And the thought alone was enough to make him harder than a stone.

Eren then pulled back as far as he could, the outer rim of your stretched hole hugging to his shaft as he unsheathed himself halfway and then thrusted back in. This was all the warm he’d give you as he started fucking you for real, his pace remaining a bit slow due to the resistance but nonentheless he was making you squeal, scream and moan into his neck.

Eren pounded away into you for a solid five minutes, his balls covered in your juices. One of his hands has a firm grip on your hips while the other gently brushes against the skin of your left breast before reaching for your nipple and twisting the bud with the perfect amount of strength, just how you like it.

“Tighten your asshole around me, princess,” he pleads. Though his pounding is relentless and his nails dig on the dips of your hips, this is the softest expression you have ever seen on his face, so quickly you tighten your hole around him, trapping his member inside and watch as his eyes roll to the back of his head in delight, a hum leaving his throat, “just like that.”

“Oh, Eren,” you moan, planting kisses alongside his pecks, “You’re going to make me come.”

“Good,” he responds, bringing his other hand down to your hips so he can move your body in a much more rapid speed, “let’s come together,” and just by hearing him say those words, you feel as the muscles of your pussy clench and, consequently, your asshole squeezes his cock out. It only lasts a second before you guide him back inside and, with perfect timing, you feel as the warm drops of his cum begin to leak inside of you.

You sit up, throwing your head backwards while feeling as Eren’s seed overflows once more and now falls onto the bed sheets, there’s just so much cum your tight holes can take. Your breathing is irregular and while you try to catch your breath, you watch him closely.

While he is still oversensitive from his second orgasm, he pulls out and it nearly feels like a dam has just been broken inside of you seeing as immediately a heavy flow of his cum comes rushing out. You laugh in embarrassment, thinking that maybe you are too loose to keep it inside of you when, in reality, Eren just hasn’t fucked you in a week and there is just a lot of it.

Gently, Eren places a hand on your back before switching positions so now you are on the bottom with your legs spread wide open. His eyes are now covered by the black pupils, a look he only gets when he needs extreme focus.

He doesn’t need to say anything for you to understand exactly what he is doing, so you just sit back and enjoy the kisses he leaves over your torso. When his face lines up with your core, he presses his nose into your cunt, lightly inhaling as his fingers leave to grip your thighs that are already trying to close together around his head.

His lips close around your clit and your spine curves unwittingly, hands grasping at his soft curls. He growls into your pussy when you tug at the strands. The sound makes your cheeks bloom with a heat that pours over your shoulders and down into your chest.

His mouth is so soft, driving you to a perfect delirium with every languid stroke of his tongue. He savors you, spearing his tongue into your entrance, arms wrapping around your thighs and pulling you closer so he can lick deeper, consume you from the inside out.

His nose nudges your clit and you grind against his face, dragging your pussy against his lips. He groans in encouragement — a low sound that sends vibrations straight to your core as he tastes a mixture between your fluids and his.

“I can feel how close you are,” he murmurs against your cunt, “are you going to come for me, babygirl?” He asks, knowing damn well the answer to that question. It’s not until your nipples become hard and your legs trap his head in place while your pelvis rises to meet his lips halfway that you notice just how close you actually were to your orgasm.

Your fingers’ grip on his hair tighten and you close your eyes shut with great force. You remain in that position until the wave of your orgasm has mostly washed away, though the movement of Eren’s tongue hasn’t stopped for even a second.

The incubus continuously applies pressure to the bud, even if he fights hard to keep his tongue to remain connected to your clit. You try to catch your breath as best as you can, fighting the urge to ride his face once more, but a better idea comes to mind instead.

Eren uses your thigh as a napkin to wipe away all the pussy juice that remains around his lips and you giggle at the sensation. When he brings his body back up, you use your thumb to gently brush the skin of his cheek, eyes staring at his that have now returned to their original color.

“I want to try something new,” you whisper against his skin in between kisses. The hairs on the back of his neck immediately rise and his asshole clutches, he knows exactly where you are going with this.

“Careful not to hurt yourself,” Eren says while watching as you hang from the edge of the bed, his hands grabbing a hold of your ankles to secure you from falling, "Is that what I think it is...? That look on your face, what is it that you want me to do, y/n?" His voice echoed through the room in a much louder tone than it needed to be, and for him to say such a thing was nothing short of embarrassing.

"I... I want to... I'm sorry I’m - a bit filthy for wanting such things, but please.. I'm so desperate right now" You plead, a flustered and breathless mess. Eren knows what you want but, at the same time that he wants to make you work for it, he notices the look on your face and any strong facade he puts up comes crumbling down.

Eren huffed, leaning in to kiss you, tongues immediately raveling in a messy kiss, saliva starting to drip down your chins until you both were panting for air.

"I'll do whatever you want," the incubus says, "You have my consent for anything, even the filthy thoughts you have about me, no matter what they are" your eyes widened, thinking he would put up more of a fight.

"Then.... just... stay here," You say, pressing another kiss to his lips before wrapping the leathery strap around your waist. The material finds a home in the dips of your hips, the dildo slips through the tight fit of the hole and it bumps against the skin of your thigh, “On your knees.”

And for the first time, he obliges without putting up a fight. You use one hand to cradle his chin while you gently dip him back, moving him closer. He can feel your hands in his face, you sucking his tongue and he is going limp in your arms. You can tell no one has kissed him like this before.

Your mouth descends from his lips down his jaw, his throat, licking and teasing with a graze of teeth. He's in pure bliss, being touched for the first time like this. By you, nevertheless. He shifts his hips closer until his ass touches the head of the dildo and he whines against your mouth when your hands hold him by his thighs. You go down his Adam's apple, beautiful as he swallows and gives those low little moans, until you go bite on his neck.

Bringing your fingers close to his mouth and he opens wide, eager to receive you. His tongue goes through your digits, lubricating the area while his asshole contracts with excitement, he has never done anything like this before.

Once ready, you bring your now wet fingers to his tight hole, slowly placing one inside of you. Eren’s grip on the bed sheets tightens and he squeezes down on you, nearly pushing you out of his semi-prepared orifice. When it comes the time to insert a second digit, the incubus rolls his hips backwards so you will enter him down to the third knuckle, eagerly moving his ass around in search of more contact with you.

“I’m ready… Please…” He begs and you smile, adoring the feeling of being in control of the situation for once. You pull your fingers out and, with your other hand, you reach down towards your cum-filled pussy, burying them inside of you with a moan before pulling your fingers out, a coat of Eren’s seed and your own wetness on them and you use that mixture to lubrify the dildo.

After a few long and careful strokes in and out, getting him acquainted with an object moving inside his body, you begin to pick up the pace. You snap your hips back and forth—a little clumsily, with it being your first time holding your body in such a position. Your knees ache with a dull cramping but the angelic sight of Eren’s sweat-slicked back and panting breaths are worth it.

Finally, you began thrusting harshly, the bed creaking with your movements. “Oh, oh,” Eren sobbed, his thighs shaking at your rough thrusts. The moans he had tried so hard to hide were dribbling out of his mouth without his control, his eyes rolling into the back of his head at the feeling of the dildo inside him.

You continued to thrust, holding his hips so tightly, he was sure bruises would form when you were done with this. Eren was in pure bliss now, gripping the sheets so tightly his knuckles were white. You felt a drop of sweat drip down your face as you watched.

“You’re such a good boy,” you purr in his ear, taking his cock in your free hand and beginning to stroke him in time with your pumps. The incubus shuttered at your touch as pushed his face into the pillow to try to quiet the now-loud moans coming out of his mouth. He was now relaxed and his asshole didn’t feel tight anymore.

The strap rubs against your clit and the more you pump your fake cock into him, the more you listen to his sobs of pleasure, the closer you get to an orgasm of your own. Even if you don’t want this moment to end, you realize that you can’t control yourself any longer.

With one long cry of your name, Eren tightens his asshole around you so intensely that it ends up getting the dildo to come out with a pop sound, the ropes of his cum shoot onto your hand as his uses his own to guide the dildo back to his gaping hole.

The material finds its way back inside of him and it causes a second wave of orgasm to wash over both of your bodies immediately after the first one dims down. You throw your body up on top of his, both of you panting and gasping for air while a breathless laughter makes its way past your lips, the smile on his face is the biggest you have ever seen.

“Now I get why you like being fucked so much,” he says and you exhale, nodding against the sweaty skin of his back. You bring your hand close to your mouth before licking the white liquid that rests against your digits, it tastes almost sweet, “How’s the baby?”

“The baby is fine and so am I,” you guarantee and he nods. Then, he flips around causing you to fall onto the mattress, Eren brings his face close to your stomach while gently stroking it with his tail, it’s the gentlest action you have ever seen him portray and, in that moment, you realize something, “Is this your first offspring?”

“Yes,” He blushes, “I’ve been collecting sperm in my succubus form for many years but this is the first time I have made a child on my own.”

“I will give you as many offspring as I can throughout my life,” You promise him and he smiles.

“I think… No, I know - I love you!” He exclaims loudly and you smile, fingers going through the locks of his hair as you watch as his cock becomes as hard as a rock once more, “Let’s go for round 2.”

“I can’t fucking wait,” You respond, straddling the sides of his body while lowering yourself in for a kiss. You are intoxicated by him.

277 notes · View notes

takeyourcyanide · 6 months

Text

A Sense of Calm Before the Inevitable Storm

(Soul Eater Fanfiction)

A feeling akin to boredom, of which few could truly comprehend.

He felt as though his very existence was esoteric, a rebellion of some sort. This boredom, this certain dissatisfaction with the banality that surrounded him constantly buzzed within his mind. It led him to chase incessantly after even the tiniest bursts of dopamine, adrenaline, and curiosity. This pursuit of curiosity and his own, often drastic desires is something of which he was never a stranger to. Even as a small, young child, despite the fact that small, young children are meant to be innocent and sweet creatures. This ultimately left him entirely alone, something of which he never once minded.

Staring into his washroom mirror, he contemplated deeply his humanity, just as it seemed many had already. What he sees within the mirror is, though familiar, distant. Unreal. He is aware that this body is meant to be “his”, of course, but is still left to ponder the validity of that supposed “fact”. His eyes appeared so unbelievably misplaced from the body he peered at, seemingly belonging to the likings of a bloated corpse, as opposed to a live human with blood still coursing through its veins.

Despite his being lost in thought, he acknowledged the fact that it would be best to move on from his dimly lit washroom. He moved to his computer screen, of which had been long ago placed upon his desk inside of the office area of his laboratory, of which, too, is particularly dark. Within his PC were hundreds upon hundreds of files worth of scientific research and general

inquires. In his current state of mind, he practically felt utterly nothing towards his dedication to the sciences. For he recognizes that where there is man, he does not belong, even within the scientific community, in the end. Laws and regulations will always be oppressing.

He has his head resting upon his keyboard, a seemingly endless string of numbers and letters being accidentally typed into the bar in which one is meant to enter their password. His body feels heavy and fatigued, even simply twitching is a cumbersome task to carry out. After all, it takes all of his energy to exhibit the amount of self control that he must every single day, and has every single day for his entire life.

He hears little whispers every so often, the product of a tired and drowsy mind, surely. Hopefully. The creaking of the doors to his living quarters/laboratory stir him from his floaty, dazed, dream-like state of mind. The woman has returned now. She had blonde hair that fell, quite prettily, just a few centimeters past her shoulders. Her light brown eyes squinted as she struggled and strained to see in the dark, distantly viewing the burning and piercing light of his monitor. The woman adorned a black, long sleeved shirt, of which had something akin to a v-neck style collar, with the actually collar standing slightly tall. The shirt was corset like in the waist. She wore a long skirt of a matching black, only with golden stripes on the sides. This all being paired with a pair of gray heels. A considerably odd pairing.

“Franken?”

Her voice, whilst gentle, felt a bit grating on his ears in his current state of mind. Despite this, he almost didn’t mind it, as her voice sometimes assisted him in distracting himself from his thoughts and crippling desire to smoke a fine cigarette.

She entered the room.

“Stein? What are you doing lying there? Are you all right?” She inquired, eyes giving away her clear concern. Stein can hardly bother to lift his head, though he tries his best to at the very least position his eyes in such a way that he can see more than her shoes, and the bottom half of her skirt. “I’m fine, Marie.” He replies, voice dripping in misery, tiredness, and emptiness. Upon hearing this clear lie escape his mouth, she lifted her fingers to run them delicately through his bangs, in order to uncover his green, dull eyes. His body subsequently tensed for a brief moment under her tender touch. Marie simply decided upon continuing the act of thinning her lithe fingers through his hair.

The act itself felt intimate. A common affectionate gesture used in this context to utter feelings that could not be conveyed. She knew that she could not fully understand his suffering, but was content to remain patient. He wanted to express whatever small amount of gratitude he hoped was there, as a man who could not feel regular human emotions as regular humans do. He at the very least found her desire to at least attempt to understand him endearing.

‘He seems to enjoy this,’ she notes, happily. Though the struggles he bears and the boredom he faces remains evident on his visage, his body felt, if only just the slightest bit, less tense.

And for a few tranquil minutes, they remain silent.

That is, until…

“Marie?”

“Yes?”

“I want- no… I need to dismember you. I’m not sure how much I longer I can continue like this.”

The voice- the way in which he speaks and sounds is utterly indescribable. You can hardly tell he is even alive.

His face - his appearance… so incredibly disheveled. He almost looks as though he’s experienced shell shock of some kind - or even perhaps endured great trauma, all within the span of one day.

She only continues to graciously run her fingers through his hair, and gently caress and scratch his scalp.

He hums in response. The hum reverberates lightly against his throat.

A sense of calm before the inevitable storm that awaited them.

#soul eater #dr stein #marie mjolnir #Franken stein #depersonalization #derealization #hallucinations #boredom #cigarette

11 notes · View notes

midnightstar-90 · 2 years

Note

Can we have a TW where Snape is your dad and he finds out you’ve been self har!ing again

I Don't Belong

Taglist | Request | Wattpad

Main Masterlist | Harry Potter Masterlist

Severus Snape x Daughter! Reader

Summary: Snape is called to the infirmary because of his daughter.

Warnings: Self-harm Trigger Warning, Mentions of Bullying

A/N: This story works better if you aren't a Slytherin. You don't have to change your house for the story, but I'm just saying it works better that way.

Snape stormed through the infirmary doors. He wore the all-black robe he wore every day.

Hearing the doors slam open, Madam Pomfrey walks up to the professor, stopping him in his tracks. "Professor, may I please talk to you outside?" the small older woman asks quietly.

"What is this? Where is my daughter?" Severus looks over and around the school nurse, in search of his daughter. From what he could see, three beds had become occupied.

Madam Pomfrey tried her best to push the man toward the door he had just walked through. "Please. I will take you to your daughter as soon as I get what I need to say out. It's important," she begged.

Snape looked between the three students. One was sat on the bed, wearing a Hufflepuff uniform. He seemed to have a long scratch down his leg that possibly came from Care of Magical Creatures class. Another student wore a gown as she had been sick for days, and at some point was forced to change due to some sort of accident. The last bed was at the end of the room. A girl laid unconsciously. She wore Y/H/H (Your Hogwarts House) robes. Her messy Y/H/C (Your Hair Color) hair immediately told him where his daughter was. Now knowing his daughter was safe, he gave into the nurse's cries to leave the room.

The two adults carefully slipped out of the large doors. Madam Pomfrey cracked the door, to keep notice of what was going on in the room as she talked to the dark-haired teacher.

"Now, when was the last time you talked to your daughter?" Madam Pomfrey asked.

"What does this have to do with my daughter?" Snape asked, getting angry.

"Just answer the question, Severus."

"Last night. I talked to her right before she went to bed," he answered.

"Do you guys talk normally?"

"Yes- sometimes. If she's with her friends, no. But when she's alone, sure... we talk."

"Has she worn any short sleeves in the past month?"

Snape never thought about what his daughter wore. She mostly wore long sleeve shirts around him, along with matching jeans. Now that he thought about it, he had never seen her in her school uniform. It was always her normal clothes, unless she had class, then she would wear the uniform.

"Now that I think about it... no," Snape says. After that question, Severus became interested in what the woman would say next. It also worried him, considering it is his daughter.

"Well, Y/N's friends found her this morning. She was passed out on her bathroom floor. Ms. Jackson and Ms. Ramsay claim that she was passed out on the floor with a piece of the mirror that had broken off a while back. They said that Y/N had gotten rid of it when it broke, seeing as she was there at the time it happened, but I don't think it was an accident that it broke off."

"And why is that?" Snape asked.

"Because she had old and fresh cuts all up her arms." Madam Pomfrey watched the tall teacher with caution of retaliation. When she saw he wasn't moving, she continued. "She was covered in blood, Severus. She passed out from blood loss."

Severus took a deep breath. He looked the woman in the eyes as he said, "Take me to my daughter." Pomfrey nodded her head, leading the Professor back into the room.

The black-haired man moved from behind the nurse and made his own way to his daughter. He pulled up a chair next to her bed and sat down. He watched as her eyes twitched every once in a while. She was dreaming. "But of what?" he asked himself.

He softly looked down at her body. Seeing that her arm was covered by the blanket placed on top of her, he decided to see if what Madam Pomfrey was saying was true. He slowly, but carefully pulled her arm out.

Y/N's arm was fully wrapped in bandages. Yet, there were some areas that contained blood spots. He assumed that those cuts were so deep that they required stitches. And knowing Pomfrey, he knew she stitched her up with care.

Y/N's eyes twitched once more, but this time she woke up. Snape looked into Y/N's Y/E/C (Your Eye Color) eyes as if he was holding her in his arms for the first time all over again. "Dad?" She grumbled. Snape shushed her soaking in the moment before he learned about his daughter's doings.

"Dad? What am I doing here?" Y/N asked, looking at her father concerned.

"I think you know," he said, holding up Y/N's bandaged arm. Y/N looked down in disappointment. "Why?" Y/N looked back up with tears in her eyes.

"Some Y/H/H students were bullying me. They have been since I was placed there. They tell me that I'm worthless and I should have never been placed in Y/H/H. But this year, the mean comments got worse," Y/N explains.

"That mirror didn't break on its own did it?" Y/N shook her head at the question. She sniffled. "They told me to kill myself, and I guess I took it literally."

Severus pulls his daughter into his arms. He holds her head to his chest. "Why didn't tell me?" he asked.

"I wanted to when it first started, but when they said, "Go cry to your Slytherin daddy like the true Slytherin you are" it made me think that I could handle it on my own without you, but it continued."

Snape didn't talk. He only held the girl closer. He laid his face into her hair, taking in her scent. His eyes filled with tears at the thought of his daughter being bullied right under his nose.

Y/N felt bad that her father had to figure out that she was being bullied like this. She really didn't want him to know. So she sat there, listening to her father cry because of her. She felt her father hold her tighter.

"I'm gonna need names," he said in a low tone. He was still holding her.

Y/N's eyes went wide at what that meant. "Dad?!"

"Names! Now!"

Taglist: @siriusstwelveyears, @alexxavicry, @kaitieskidmore1, @alex-snap3, @sebbybucky12

#severus snape #severus snape x daughter!reader #x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #hogwarts #harry potter x reader #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fandom #harry potter imagine #harry potter #bullying #trigger warning #requested #self-harm #tw self-harm #depression #severus snape x reader

346 notes · View notes