#nb reader

[anonymousewrites]

Nobody's Soldier (Book 1) Chapter Thirty-Five

Found Family! Supernatural x Teen! Reader

Chapter Thirty-Five: Confronting a Brother and a Demon

Summary: Dean and (Y/N) find Sam and Ruby.

Mouse Note: One of my favorite chapters I've written (my fave for this book) so let me know what you think!

            “Hey, kid.”

            (Y/N) groaned and opened their eyes to see Dean and Bobby standing over them. They sat up, and Dean hauled them up to their feet.

            “What happened?” they said, rubbing the back of their head and wincing.

            “Sam got out,” said Dean grimly.

            (Y/N) blinked in surprise. He had gotten out of the panic room and attacked people who cared about him to get away? That detox wasn’t helpful at all.

            They followed Dean and Bobby downstairs to the panic room itself.

            “How in the hell did he get out?” said Dean, staring at the empty panic room. Somehow, Sam had gotten out and knocked both (Y/N) and Bobby out before leaving in a car.

            “Maybe he had help,” said Bobby grimly as he examined the room. “Room full of busted devil’s traps.” Even the iron devil’s trap embedded in the ground was broken.

            “Demons?” Dean’s eyes narrowed. “Ruby.”

            “That’d be my guess,” said Bobby.

            “How’d she get through the traps, though?” said (Y/N), frowning. “She can’t touch the door even.”

            “I didn’t think so,” said Dean, examining the door. “I don’t know, man.”

            “Well, what difference does it make? How he got gone ain’t as important as where he got to,” said Bobby.

            “Yeah, well, I’ll tell you one thing,” said Dean. “At this point, I hope he’s with Ruby.”

            What has the world come to? (Y/N) made a face. “Why?”

            “Cause killing her’s the next big item on my to-do list,” snapped Dean.

            “I thought you were on-call for angel duty,” said Bobby.

            “I am on-call! On my way to murder the bitch!” shouted Dean.

            “I’m coming!” said (Y/N) before any arguments. They wanted a swing at Ruby, too, on principle.

            “One thing,” said Bobby.

            “What?” said Dean and (Y/N).

            “Sam don’t want to be found,” reminded Bobby. “Which means he’s gonna be damn near impossible to find.”

            “Yeah, we’ll see.” Dean could always find his brother.

            And, soon enough, they were on his trail despite Sam’s attempt to steal a car that wasn’t his style.

l

            (Y/N) followed Dean into the hotel—not a motel, another attempt on Sam’s part to throw them off. After a quick distraction and peek at reservations for names Sam would never use, the pair headed upstairs. They hesitated at a corner, waiting around it. Dean kept an eye on the door, and, soon enough, Sam came out and headed down the hall in the other direction.

            Dean went to the door and opened it. No sooner did Ruby turn around and widen her eyes in surprise than he lunged at her. She blocked him, gritted her teeth, and twisted his arm back so the knife couldn’t touch her. Dean used her hold on him to swing her into a wall, and Ruby grunted. Dean forced the knife farther towards her throat, and (Y/N) moved forward. They kicked the back of Ruby’s legs, and Ruby’s legs gave way. She scrambled to hold herself up as the dagger dipped and touched her skin.

            “No! Let her go!” Sam burst into the room and grabbed Dean by the arm. He wrenched Dean back, and Dean spun and hit the ground. Sam gripped the knife tightly in his hand. “Just take it easy.” He looked warily at (Y/N) and angrily at Dean.

            Dean stood, face full of disappointment but far more powerful anger. “Wow, that must be some party you two had going considering how hard you tried to keep us from crashing it. Well, solid try, but here we are.”

            “Dean…(Y/N)…I’m glad you’re here,” said Sam, appearing honest, but (Y/N) didn’t—couldn’t—trust appearances. “Look, let’s just talk about this.”

            Ruby rolled her eyes slightly, exasperated, and (Y/N) glared.

            “Soon as she’s dead, we can talk all you want,” said Dean, vehemently against letting Ruby live.

            “Ruby, get out of here,” said Sam.

            “She’s not going anywhere!” said Dean, but Sam stepped between him and Ruby as she darted out of the room.

            (Y/N) took one glance at Dean and ran for the door. Sam moved in alarm but with far less harshness towards them, but Dean tried for the door, too, and Sam grabbed him.

            “(Y/N)!” he shouted back at them, but (Y/N) was already down the hall after Ruby, and the further shouts between Dean and Sam were nonsensical to them.

            (Y/N) arrived in the parking lot and looked around at the empty lot. They spotted Ruby hurrying away and sprinted after her. Ruby pivoted as she heard (Y/N), and she pulled out her own knife. (Y/N) slowed slightly, warily glancing at it. They had no real weapon to hurt Ruby, but they damn-well weren’t going to let her go.

            “Walk away, kiddo,” snapped Ruby in warning.

            “No,” said (Y/N). “You’re hurting Sam. That blood is killing him.” They swallowed and faced the demon head-on. “I’m not gonna let you hurt him.”

            Ruby grinned, and the expression sent a shiver down (Y/N)’s spine. “Oh, please. Sam loves the blood. He loves me. You can’t do a goddamn thing.”

            It was a threat. Towards Sam? (Y/N) furrowed their brow, and Ruby lunged. (Y/N) blocked her slash, swiping their leg. Ruby stumbled as she was pushed off-balance, but she recovered quickly and pivoted to stab at (Y/N). They blocked, but Ruby grabbed their arm, slashing across their arm with her knife. (Y/N) yelped and kicked to get back. They hit the curb and fell. Ruby stabbed downwards, and (Y/N) rolled to the side.

            Holy shit, she’s really going to kill me, they realized with their mind in a whirl.

            This was the Ruby Sam refused to see. She was a demon through and through, and she was going to kill (Y/N) before they could say anything to Dean or Sam about it. Ruby kicked them, and (Y/N) gritted their teeth, scrambling to get to their feet, but Ruby was on them in a moment. She hooked an arm around their throat and kicked the back of their knees. (Y/N) coughed and gasped for air, and they froze as Ruby’s knife appeared at their side.

            “You’re such an interfering little brat,” said Ruby. “This all would’ve been simpler if it was just the brother, but, no, you just had to survive.”

            What? (Y/N) had no time to review the words as Ruby choked them.

            “Whatever. I’ll fix that now.”

            (Y/N) gasped as the sharp, cold knife plunged into their side, reopening the healing wound from Alastair. Ruby wrenched it out, and (Y/N) whimpered painfully, scrambling to remain conscious and scratching at Ruby’s arms.

            “I’ll have to dump you somewhere…” mused Ruby, letting go of (Y/N), and they collapsed to the ground. “Otherwise, Sam’ll notice. Pity. He’ll be sad when you’re gone. Not me. But, you know, gotta keep the man happy.”

            I hate her… thought (Y/N) blearily.

            Hauling (Y/N) up over her shoulder, Ruby stepped towards the bushes leading down to a creek behind the hotel. Ruby tossed them over, and (Y/N) cried out as they hit the ground, rolling downwards until they lay half-submerged in the water.

            Ruby smirked down at them, wiped her blade clean, and walked away. (Y/N) stared up at the dark, starry sky above them. The stars winked in and out above them, and (Y/N) felt a painful, fearful sob bubble up in their throat. They had been stabbed with Alastair. The ghouls had feasted on their blood. But this was the most scared they’d been since their parents died. At least in those moments, (Y/N) hadn’t been alone. Now they were dying in a ditch alone and cold, abandoned to the world.

            (Y/N) felt a cold tear fall down their cheek. They sobbed, the sound dying with exhaustion in their throat. With all the effort they had, one of their hands rose to cradle their necklace as if it could truly protect them.

            Please…if anyone, anything’s out there… (Y/N) blinked, eyelids heavy. The world was growing darker, and the pinprick lights of stars were going out above them. Help me…I don’t want to die… (Y/N) sobbed, eyes falling shut to darkness. I don’t want to die…

            The wind whooshed over the small, cold, teenage body lying in the woods, but they were too far gone to notice.

l

            “He’s gone,” said Dean, groaning and holding his head. “Yeah, Bobby. Gone. Left with the demon bitch.”

            “He’s far gone,” said Bobby on the other end of the phone. “What about (Y/N)? Did he hurt them?” That would be unforgivable and a sign that Sam was completely gone. He wouldn’t hurt a kid like that.

            “(Y/N) went after Ruby to keep track of her,” said Dean. “So no. But they probably did something stupid.” He stood from where he leaned on the wall. “I’ll call you when we’re heading back. We need to regroup.” Sam was no longer on their team.

            “Right,” said Bobby.

            Dean hung up and headed outside. He looked around, expecting to see (Y/N) looking frustrated and grumbling about Ruby getting away and giving them a good hit over the head or something. But they weren’t by the impala. He couldn’t see them anywhere. Dean frowned. That wasn’t right.

            He opened his phone and dialed their number. It rang, but there was no response. It went to voicemail instantly. Dead or broken. Great, grumbled Dean. That was just what he needed. On top of Sam going off the rails for a demon, (Y/N) was missing.

            “(Y/N)?” called Dean. He listened for an answer and shouted again. “(Y/N)?” He walked towards the street and looked up and down it for an unconscious kid. Ruby would be the one to knock them out and just leave them there. She was a demon and a bitch. However, Dean saw nothing. He frowned. Where the hell are they?

            The wind blew through the parking lot, and a branch hit Dean’s face. He spluttered and stumbled clumsily. Only a bit, but it turned him, and when he wiped the leaves away from his face, he stood in front of the bushes at the side of the parking lot. Something glittered in the light, and Dean frowned. He peered over the bushes, and a small purple crystal glinted up at him.

            Dean’s eyes widened, and he scrambled down the embankment to the creek. (Y/N) lay unmoving, half in the water.

            “Shit, shit, shit,” he cursed, crouching beside them. “Hey, kid? Kid!”

            Dean shook them, but (Y/N) didn’t move. Their skin was cold, and blood stained their side. This was worse than the other injuries they’d experienced, and Dean felt his heartbeat quicken with panic. He pulled their shirt up slightly to examine the wound. By some miracle, it was no longer gushing blood, but with the amount that stained the dirt and leaves beneath them, it didn’t mean they were out of danger.

            Dean pressed a hand to their wound to staunch the bleeding and dialed Bobby again. He felt his hand tremble, and he forced himself to remain still. (Y/N)’s life rested in his ability to keep calm.

            “Dean?” said Bobby.

            “Bobby, I found (Y/N), but they’re bleeding bad,” said Dean. “I don’t know-I don’t know how long they’ve been lying here, but Ruby, she, shit, they’re dying, Bobby. They’re halfway there.”

            “I’ll get everything ready,” said Bobby instantly. He wanted (Y/N) to pull through as much as Dean. “Get them back.”

            Dean didn’t answer and hung up. Carefully, he picked (Y/N) up, and they remained limp and unmoving in his arms. “Come on, kid,” he whispered. “Keep breathing. I’ve got you.”

            As Dean carried (Y/N) to the impala, bundled up in his arms, their hand slipped off their necklace. Even with blood smeared across it, the crystal winked in the light as if mimicking (Y/N)’s life waning.

l

            “Sam?” Far away from the hotel, Ruby closed the drunk of her and Sam’s latest car. “Your head in the game here?”

            Sam swallowed and stopped staring into space. “I’m good. Let’s go.” He just had too much on his mind. He had needed to go with Ruby, and he wished (Y/N) and Dean understood that, but he regretted the way he had fought Dean and Dean’s last words to him.

            “You okay?” asked Ruby. She couldn’t have him backing out now.

            “I just said I was,” said Sam, facing her completely.

            “Look, I know hand-holding really isn’t my thing…but, still, Dean was wrong saying what he said to you,” said Ruby.

            “No,” said Sam softly. “He was right to say it. I mean, I don’t blame him, after what I did.”

            “Well, after we’re done, you guys will patch things up,” said Ruby to encourage Sam and get him out of his worry. “I mean, you always do.”

            “You’re talking like I got an ‘after,’ ” said Sam.

            “Don’t say that,” said Ruby.

            Sam shook his head slightly. “I can feel it inside me, Ruby. I’ve changed—for good. There’s no going back now.”

            “Sam—”

            “Look, I know what I got to do,” said Sam. He grimaced but shrugged. “It’s okay. I’m just saying…Dean and (Y/N) are better off as far away from me as possible.” He looked at Ruby. “Was…(Y/N) was upset, weren’t they?”

            “Yeah,” said Ruby. “They think they’re doing the right thing, but they don’t get what you have to do.”

            “Were they okay when you left?” asked Sam.

            “I lost them in town,” said Ruby. “I don’t know what happened.”

            Sam’s shoulders relaxed, and he nodded. “Let’s just get this over with.”

            Ruby watched him get into the car. She glanced at her knife and inspected it carefully. No evidence of blood remained. Good.

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[09sno1]

Test

High school au, no curses, ft Gojo, you can take this as romantic or platonic

You were having a test for a subject you absolutely hate and didn't study for even if you knew there was a test

You only frowned at the questions before raising your head to look at your smart friend, Kento Nanami

Too bad you two are far apart, but you know how to do gestures to get an answer if he will give you one

You called out for him at the start, loud enough to call him but not enough to get the teacher's attention

"Hey! Hey Nanami!" You called out, which got his attention

Once he looked at you, you immediately showed your paper to him, pointing at number 3 to 8 before mouthing to him "what's the answer" which he immediately understood

But

He didn't give you the answer, only side eyeing you, you were begging him to give you the answers

Luckily for you, his seatmate went to another seat to go sit beside their friend, you immediately grabbed your test paper and sat on it as soon as his seatmate left

Unlucky for Gojo because he was the one that gestured and asked Nanami's seatmate to move, which he was stunned to get his seat stolen

You only grinned at Gojo before looking at Kento and smiled, cheerfully saying "Hi Nanami, please let me copy the answers 3 to 8" you silently whispered beside him

Nanami only looked at you before sighing and letting you look at his paper, which you immediately started copying

After the test, you all passed your papers to the teacher to get graded

The teacher was grading the paper In front of the class and announcing the scores loudly for everyone to hear

Nanami got a 22/25 while you only got 6/25 and the only correct answers were from the ones you copied from Nanami

You only sighed before saying "at least I got a score more than nothing" you sweat dropped

You looked at Nanami and thanked him for letting you copy from his paper

"Thanks for letting me copy, you're an angel from heaven" you exaggerated which earned you a chuckle from him

"what about we sit together so I can teach you things that you don't understand?" Nanami suggested which you immediately accepted happily

[hattersrabbit]

SICKNESS OF THE HEART

batfamily x mileena! reader | sfw

CW! all platonic, good parent Bruce Wayne supremacy, mk1 mileena, gn reader, hurt comfort, r has killed people (under tarkot), Hugo Strange is creepy, mentions and use of needles, implied cannibalism, Damian & r are the same age (14), androgynous/nb! reader, implied future su!c!de attempt, implied future yandere batfam

Summary! Bruce finds a child under a threatening disease that seems to have no cure, and under Dr. Strange’s horrid guidance.

✎ᝰ.backstory for reader is inspired by my dc oc’s backstory (+ mileena is one of her inspiration as well)

next | series

˖꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷

“Dear, please be still.”

You growled lowly as the needle entered your skin and the disease went away.

“Can’t have you attacking me now can I?” Dr. Strange smiled creepily. In your sober mind; clear of the disease that plagued you hatred filled your being.

A glare in your eyes that were no longer a form of orange, red, and yellow. No slit in those eyes, and not a like a predator without a mind of their own.

“Do behave won’t you, child.

You still growled. He found you after you murdered your father, mother, and twin sister. Covered in their blood. Around your mouth and sharp teeth.

Gone was your humanity and then a monster. A cannibalistic monster in front of him who was in tears and no realization of what just happened.

You were old enough to know clearly what happened.

After all, they used you to deal with unruly patients.

“Good job though. You swallowed him whole.” The bones were clear enough. Blood and spare flesh on the ground. Blood around your mouth and on your hands. You stared at your palms in horror.

Hatred for him and yourself. The wish to die from this disease, but this man wouldn’t let you die. You were a curiosity.

A rare disease never seen before. Mysteriously he conjured a cure of some kind to stop it, but not forever. It wore off and back your humanity would come.

But you’d always be a monster. Always.

-

“There’s a child in Arkham Asylum?”

Batman stared at Harley, whose normally smiling face was wild. She wasn’t now, and her expression was full of worry.

“Yes, Damian’s age if I remember correctly.” She played with her low pigtails with a worried face. Her eyes were wary as they thought of the child. “Under Dr. Strange’s watch. I talked to the child quite a lot before, and I smelled blood.”

“Blood?” Batman stilled.

Harley huffed, “I asked about and…was disturbed. Like they knew, but didn’t.”

“I think it’s a disease. A rare one or something like that. They went wild, and immediately were pulled into somewhere else in the asylum.” Harley went quiet. She wasn’t thinking, or not able to articulate what she wanted to say.

“Harley?”

“I heard screams. They are loud and guttural. They stopped in an instant.” Harley shivered. Harley doesn’t shiver.

“Save them. Save the kid because I fear otherwise he’ll make something of them, and they won’t be themselves ever again.” Harley looked with pleading eyes.

Batman stared blankly. His brain going miles a minute about the information he was just told. A child in the care of Dr. Strange, and he was a dangerous man.

A child with rare sickness that was both dangerous to others and the person itself. That child would be made a weapon he was sure.

“I’ll save them, Harley.”

-

“They have a child in Arkham?” Stephanie blinked crazily. Her brow furrowed down because she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“Yes, and I’m afraid they are in big danger.” Bruce wiped away the grease paint off of his face. “Tim, please.”

The pale boy made no comment and did what he was told. “This is crazy.” He whispered to himself as he looked for files on this child. A child that was Damian’s age.

The demon child himself was thinking. “Father, how exactly are we to get this other person out of Arkham?”

“We’ll come up with a plan.”

Damian stared and went back to where Tim was working.

“Indeed there is a child in Arkham Asylum. Very discreet, but nothing is too hard for me to find.” Normally, Tim would be smug but he was grim. His gaze dark and concerned over what he’s found.

“What did you find?” Dick asked, as he and Damian looked over his shoulder. Bruce most importantly listening intently.

“A report of a child named [ ] [ ], whose parents and twin sister reportedly killed. The details surrounding their deaths are murky, but considering what information Harley gave, it’s best to assume they got the illness and killed them.” Tim’s brows furrowed. “The file on the child shows that they are under Hugo Strange’s watch, and there have been complaints from civilians of not being able to see relatives.”

“Are you saying that…?” Duke asked. Cass grabbed his hand and squeezed it. Her eyes glazed over with anger. “Yes, the child was used to kill them if that’s the case.”

Dick breathed in a sigh. He didn’t even realize he was holding in his breath.

“Who would do that to a poor child.” Stephanie mumbled to herself. “That poor baby, and she’s only Damian’s age?”

Bruce huffed grimly, “Yes, unfortunately.”

“Guys! There’s been an outbreak at Arkham Asylum!” Barbara’s voice rang loud and frantic.

“What?!” Dick exclaimed.

“Got it! Everyone get ready and head out! Oracle, let Jason know!”

“On it!”

Upstairs Alfred stood listening to the radio with a blank expression. The information that a young looking child was seen running away from Arkham Asylum. A crazed kind of look in their eyes.

Frantic and looking to get away from that horrid place. Even Hugo Strange’s voice saying that he was willing to pay anyone who’s call in on his missing patient.

The butler breathed a sigh of relief when the radio reported that the figure had been seen going towards Crime Alley.

-

The urge to bite into someone was heavy on your conscious. You did everything to evade this illness.

Hissing every time the needles poked your skin. You didn’t like them but they stopped you from going crazy and loosing your mind. You couldn’t handle another life loss due to your affliction.

Maybe when you got somewhere then you’d could end it all. Stop the horror that was you and nobody would die.

You were in Crime Alley and on the run. You knew that it was a good place to hide; you grew up there with your sister.

A life you wished you could get back. To get back your beloved mother and father. If only you didn’t get this damn rare disease. You wondered why it affected you, and you couldn’t get treatment either.

And then you killed them.

Covered in their blood. Them inside you and becoming a part of your soul. Carrying their souls on your back.

Unfortunately you wouldn’t be able to do what you planned because you were stopped in your tracks by a man in a red mask. Tall and intimidating.

Guns held in his hands.

You froze in the alleyway and backed into the corner. You only wanted to take a breath, and you were found.

They’d take you back to that horror, and face the other patients. The fear of being used as the punishment against disobedient patients.

The man didn’t step forward. He was silent and observed you. Slowly he put his guns in the holsters. He focused even more when you hissed from needles pricking your skin once again.

“You’re the child that escaped Hugo Strange.” He spoke lowly. Studying you carefully.

On instinct you growled. Who could you trust? And this man, whoever he was, didn’t know who he was dealing with. He could get the disease too and you didn’t wish that on anyone.

How you wished for the illness to take you six feet under. To be rid of this pain and carnage you dealt.

The man said nothing still watching you behind that red mask.

“Stay away from me! I-I’ll hurt you!” Yelling back at him. Already you could feel the pressure of your illness in your mind pushing. A parasite in your body that you tried so hard to refuse. No, you wouldn’t kill and you didn’t want to.

The man didn’t moved nor did he say anything. He reached up to face and pressed something. A soft “found them” from his covered lips surfaced.

Your body flared up at the fact he told someone he found you. They would send you back to Arkham Asylum and you would be with Strange again. You would will and suffer again.

People would look at you fearfully again.

Even Harley, the one person who still gave kindness to you, still acted in apprehension. Her eyes on you changed after you lost it and went on a rampage. You didn't blame her, and honestly, you expected it.

The masked man placed his hands up. The guns are still in the holsters. He was calm and slowly approaching you. Instictivley, beastly; you let out a growl.

The needles are once again hitting your skin. You hissed as you felt the tears of your cheeks retracting. Maybe then he would kill you. The red-masked man would see you for the monster that you really were.

But at the same time, you would attack him.

You would hurt his man. He seemed kind enough if he was placing his hands up in the air. Letting you know he was coming in peace, despite stepping closer to you at every step.

"Hey, kid, it's alright. I'm not here to hurt you, or throw you back into that hell hole." His voice was calm and gentle talking to you. Hearing his voice, but the voice of the disease was haunting you. The need to chomp onto his bare neck was stronger than ever.

He kneeled in front of you.

You're backed up against the wall and trying to get away from him.

"I'm..." He thought for a second. Flinching hard when his arms lifted to his face, and off came the mask. A fair-skinned man with a fair amount of scars, and black locks with a white tuft. Most alarming, you caught sight of a J etched into his cheek.

"You can call me Red Hood, or Jason kid." Serene blue eyes that seemed uncommon for such a hardened face. A face that had been hardened for a long time. You only nodded in response. The itch of the disease was getting worse, and you were pushing back.

"I'm not here to hurt you." His eyes flickered to your bare arms, where numerous scars lay. Some deep and some shallow, some old, and some fresh. "He hurt you?"

You nodded. Nails digging into your skin to keep the monster at bay,

"I'm here to help you, okay? It'll be alright, just come with me."

You shook your head. His blue eyes widened when you released your arm to reveal sharpened nails and breached bleeding skin. "I-Im a monster..."

You cried as the disease tore your mouth apart and into a wide mouth of sharp teeth and a long tongue. Disturbing for anyone to see. A fourteen-year-old morphing into a monster. Frantically, you grabbed a needle while, with a single leg, you pushed him away.

He made a noise as your above normal strength pushed him away. "Hey! You'll hit a vein-"

He watched as you desperately stabbed a needle into your neck and pushed in the serum.

Just as you did, you felt a blunt object hitting the back of your head. A faint yell from Jason was heard as you fell unconscious.

"Robin!" Jason expressed to the child next to you. Having hit you in the back of the head with his katana.

"They were going manic? Weren't they, Red Hood? You should have tread more carefully. The illness they have could have sparked at any moment." His gloved hand removed the needle from your hand. Numerous of the needles were seen by the two.

"Fuck-"

"Yes, as you would say. They could have killed themselves if they hit right here. Luckily they didn't hit a vein." Damian informed as he collected the needles into his utility belt.

"Pick them up. Everyone else is at Arkham Asylum and trying to find Dr. Strange." Under his breath he cursed a name.

Jason made no complaints as he picked you up from the ground. His eyes glazing over the numerous scars on your arms and legs. Seeing how your mouth morphed back to normal. "Those needles must have a serum that keeps it from taking over."

"Yes, however it's incapable of stopping the disease."

"Let's get home." The two took you home.

News you could be heard that Arkham had been ransacked. Batman was more ruthless than ever. Mean ever than before. Black Bat, she was more violent than ever.

Files found by Red Robin and Spoiler of the many experiments and who exactly you were. A young child who contracted a man made disease, and murdered your parents and twin sister. Having heard of it affecting someone, Hugo Strange retrieved you.

Saying a young child with problems that needed much more complicated help. Hiding the fact that a manmade disease hadn't affected you and turned you into a monster.

Using you as a punishment for disobedient patients. Eating them alive and making the entire asylum listen to the carnage.

After reading such things Nightwing; ever the more angry he slammed the doctor hard for what he had done. "They aren't a weapon!" He would yell in defense of you.

A feeling of protectiveness overfilled them. As did Red Hood, Robin, Signal, and Alfred you looked at you so much more deeply.

Other serums in your body. Most scars having been caused by attempts to keep you contained. Pulling at chains and rope. Your neck bleeding heavily due to the needle you stabbed into your neck.

A child that was forced into Arkham Asylum because of man and forced to become a weapon against human kind. Ridding the world of people who needed help.

The vigilantes cursed the doctor heavily. Releasing exactly what had been done, and there was pushback. Nuanced views of it being a child, but a monster who still killed people.

A disease with no cure that could potentially kill more people. Others may be after your head.

It was at that moment when Jason and Damian met up with their family is that they saw what horrors you saw and experienced.

A certain horroric feeling of protecting you, from death. Taking away the disease eating at you and making sure death never touches you ever again.

Anyone who tried to take you away from them would face the wrath of vigilante. A child that needed help and wasn't at fault for anything that happened.

Bruce would brush your face of blood on your face. Soft blue eyes promising that he would give you the love you never got.

Your new siblings willing enough to give you the sibling love you lost so early on.

Truly you would be safe and sound. Away from all the horrors of the world.

[rene-darling]

Hi hiii

How do you feel about Choso from jjk? He's literally so fucking pretty, maybe it was the cool lighting in the episode but bro is majestic. I need to fuck him dumb so bad until he's babbling and his mind is so gone.

Yeah but that's me, how do you feel about him?

(⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

DUMB- choso

...I feel the same ml, pretty sure this is gender neutral since I didn't use any pronouns for the reader, if I did feel free to inform me!...pic credits..sybbatra

...choso...

Choso is a pretty tame person, he's had limited contact with people so Imagine this hundred of years old curse who has never slept with anyone,

He's so pretty, isn't he? He definitely throws his head back while you're fucking him. Deep breathy moans and when he's really far gone he starts whining and pleading with you, what's he pleading for? He doesn't know. He just is.

Fuck him on your lap facing him towards a mirror, he's far too embarrassed to look. Throwing his head back onto your shoulder, his hot breath tickles your neck while he moans and whines right into your ear.

Getting too embarrassed by moaning into you, he's forced to look forward, to look at himself being fucked dumb it's so embarrassing he starts crying from shame! Cute darling is now crying into your neck, hiding his face in shame.

"aww... what's wrong soso-..? Hm?" fuck. He hates that nickname- no, he loves it. What? He hates it when you act dumb. "..so mean..y-you're-..s-so meAN-!" cutting off his babbling by suddenly grabbing and jerking his sloppy dick

It's tip is a raging red. It looks so silly.

His long hair flows down his neck and over your shoulder and back as he rests his head there. You jerk his dick a few times before letting it go, his hard-on slaps against his stomach with a wet sound, it makes you chuckle, while he whines at the sound. You're really so mean!!

His muscles tense up, he's really so close! You can tell. It's like clockwork how his body acts the same way before every release, you have its pattern memorized.

Tensing up, his mouth falls dry, and his breath hitches. He convulses, slightly shivering as his body slumps back into you.

His hand reaches out towards yours, and he grabs at it, tugging it, shaking his head he mumbles out "Mhm..n-no more...please, I've-...I've had enough, it's enough experimenting- f-..for today." He finds the energy to turn his head and look over at you. His eyes glossed over as he tries finding mercy in yours.

Sighing, you shake your head, getting a strained whine from him "I told you, we'll fuck until you can't speak- but it seems my pretty boyfriend here is quite coherent and able to make sense of things. We can't have that can we?"

You're so mean, so very mean. But he loves you, and he loves how you make him feel, so he takes a deep breath as he nods squeezing his eyes shut as he pouts his lips, he at least wants a kiss from you before you ravage him again!

[talkbycolor]

john doe game headcanons . . . ↷

A/N; i'm actually really sensitive about john doe JHSAJHSAJAS

Pairing; "John Doe" x GN!Reader

CW; Just doe being the weirdo we love / PISSPISSPISS / implied cannibalism? not so much tho / ew stinky gay / sex with a hairball

john doe as a partner.

His love for you is pure, but the lack of understanding in humans makes it complicated, he doesn't know how to express it in a "correct" way.

He has little interest in humans but all his interest in You, do you want to learn to play an instrument? Doe too, he would learn to use a phone to call you although it would be useless since in the end he would follow you to work, he can't stand having you away for even a second!

He tried to eat you (unfortunately not in a sexual way), he wanted to bite, pull your teeth, and tear them out of your cheeks to eat them, you had to use a lot of patience to explain to him that this was painful and you could die

He likes your fluids, your sweat smells so good, it tastes great, your tears, he knows that tears mean something is wrong but he can't help but want to lick them, at least he's like a puppy in that way and that will make you laugh, Doe wants to help! your urine, he will drink it all without a problem, if you are both having a loving session in bed and you want to go to the bathroom, forget it, he will open your legs and help empty your bladder, he loved being your personal toilet, your blood is the sweetest of his paradise, be careful with accidental cuts or his mouth will stick like a leech to your wound

Ideas for romantic activities will probably come from television, be careful what he watches

At this point, Doe lives by and for you, he will adapt to your lifestyle and tastes, although he cannot understand most of them, the idea of "breaking up" does not exist in his head, you can walk away, even stop talking to him and he will continue behind you

But he has feelings, why don't you talk to him anymore? Did he do something wrong? He no longer leaves rats in the kitchen, he no longer tries to make You dinners with raw meat, is that the way he looks? Tell him your standards! Doe will change everything for you, even reality

He can definitely purr, he's more like an old, ugly, stray cat that will rest on your lap, but he's YOUR, old, ugly, stray cat.

He doesn't know how to give compliments, it's more like observations or comments about how you make him feel "You're wearing a big hat!" "A red dress!", "I'm so happy to see you!" but it's adorable that he reminds you that you are his whole life…somehow

It's like having a child at home, in the strangest way possible, he will try to make horrible crafts for you and help with housework without much success.

If you demand sex, Doe would probably do his best to make a nice cock, just for you, or a pussy depending on what you like, he will be submissive but if you ask him to take control he will try

And that will probably be the messiest and hardest sex you've ever had in your life, Doe always adores you like it's your last day on earth so in a sexual sphere it would be ten times worse

If you put on a movie at night, he will fall asleep halfway through, no exceptions, the sound of the television and your smell will be enough

Doe would definitely kill for you, he doesn't understand jokes so please don't say "Ugh I hate that guy, I hope he's dead" because yes, the guy will be dead.

In case You doesn't like the smelly boy, Doe will try to take showers regularly, at least to not smell like something out of the sewer, the pain doesn't matter if it's about you

Loves physical contact and quality time

Surprisingly, Doe has a driver's license, he would be your personal chauffeur, you may think it's an adorable gesture but he just wants to be sure where you are at every hour of the day… and help, of course.

Aside from adoring you, Doe actually has his own tastes and hobbies, he HAS feelings! He has tried knitting since the technology is very confusing, he really is like an old man

He tries to have a good relationship with your friends and family, if you have a big family he will probably feel overwhelmed but that doesn't mean he will stop trying to show that he loves you and wants to be with you.

Your younger nephews love it, they think of Doe as a weird-looking uncle who lets them play with his hair

Doe shirt always has hearts when he looks at You.

♡

[chosoclub]

☆ cocky football player gojo who doesn't take a liking to you when he finds out you're his publicist

tags. football as in soccer, sfw, gojo w/ big ego, nb reader!! geto makes a cameo, oh shit almost forgot about angsty gojo kinda (daddy issues question mark), gives head ruffles ✌︎('◡'✌︎ ), ONE affectionate name (doll) wc. 3.7k!

Gojo Satoru was a publicist’s nightmare. He had recently come under scrutiny for causing his team’s loss due to his hotheaded nature and big ego, earning him a red card for the game and his team, the playoffs. You started at the firm in conjunction with the headlines, and the task was immediately passed onto you akin to hazing from your coworkers who had all reached a point of not wanting to deal with this. 

You stand against one of the bright red seats, observing from the stands while they practice. The white-hot sun laminates the seats with a gleam, waves of heat diffracting off the plastic. You stare across the green field; You couldn’t miss his stark, white hair and his speed compared to the other players. He darted around the field like a dazzling ball of light, you blinked while he was in the corner, and by the next blink he was already in the offensive center ready for a goal.

They had a short break, enough time for the coach to speak to the team and the manager to approach you in the stands. He thanked you for showing up to practice, that it’s been a challenging season for the club. From the corner of your eye, you spot Gojo, tilting his head up to find the source of the conversation. One of his hands shades his eyes and the other stays on his hip, head cocked back looking through the stands until spotting you. For how far down he is, you can still see a scowl begin to contort his face, knowing the reason you’re here is him. 

The break is short, by the time he switches his gaze back down, they’re dismissed for drills. You watch them run from one point of the field to the other as you make your way down the steep steps and onto the grass. Every so often while he strides from end to end, you catch him glowering towards you again, the sun catches in his glacier eyes, the way they narrow until he turns his head again. He makes the drill look easy, almost jumping off the ground each time the hind leg takes off, his arms swing effortlessly by his chest, and he dashes forward akin to a stallion. 

“He’s a damn good player,” you hear one of the coaches tell you as you approach them, away from the blaze of the sun and against the concrete drop-off that elevates the stands from the field. “He knows it too, that he’s irreplaceable.”

“It’s not good for the team to only depend on one player,” you respond, both coaches humming in solemn agreement and the three of you have turned to the field again. “Do you think there’s a chance at redemption to move on to finals?”

“There better be,” he answers. 

Practice is halted by the sharp ring of the whistle. You lean against the cement wall, scribbling on your leaflet, trying to get a grasp of each player. You think over the research you’d done on them all, their strengths, their weaknesses. You don’t notice when they’re walking by you to the locker room. You only notice the way your pen runs down the notepad in a second so fast you’re convinced you began to have a muscle spasm if it wasn’t for the fingers gripping onto the binding rings, pulling the leaflet from your grasp. 

“The fuck are you writing on here, anyway?” Gojo quickly turns the pad towards himself, his eyes skimming the page, his mouth turning to a smirk. “You think I run like a stallion?”

“Give it back,” you reach for it but his reflexes are too quick when he reaches his arm back in perfect parallel.

“Don’t think so, doll. I wanna make sure you’re portraying me in a good light.” The guys continue walking by, some of them chuckling half-heartedly, seemingly feeling bad that you got caught at the brunt end of Gojo’s taunt. He scoffs, quickly having transitioned from a playful mood to being bored of the jest altogether. How childish, you think as he flips the notepad back into your palm. He tips his head forward, close enough that you can see his pupils contract. “This is what they hired you for? I don’t need some failed-Pulitzer-wannabe telling me what I already know.” 

Without much reserve, you scowl, “I’m surprised you even know what Pulitzer is.” Saying so was a surprise to even you, the harshness lingering bitter on your tongue, because you didn’t know this person, being so rude felt crass. No formal introduction, no small talk. However, it would only be more evident that Gojo was the kind of person who thrived off being able to grab you by the shins and drag you down to his juvenile level. 

He opens his mouth to respond but a hand barrels against the back of his shoulder, knocking him out of balance that he has to take a few steps forward to regain. “Keep it moving, you prick.”  

The man, a player a little taller and wider in stature, has long dark hair, strands coated in sweat that stick to his neck like vines down to his shoulders. He’s more solemn by miles, like night and day. You notice the black Captain band around his bicep. He reaches his calloused hand to shake yours, “Geto Suguru.”

“___, thank you.”

He continues walking along, seemingly dazed from the long practice that if he stood still for another second he would collapse from the exhaustion. You hear Gojo scoff walking away ahead of him, your name now etched in his brain to only torment you further. 

✰ 

It’s weeks of this. You begin to understand why writing about a group of 11 adrenaline-crazed, testosterone-driven football players, one of whom is by lack of reserve, an asshole was a project no one else wanted to take on. They spent most days practicing, but if it wasn’t practicing, they were fighting, gripping each other by the collar over a missed shot or an ignored pass when the other player was wide open. And if it wasn’t for either, Gojo spends any minute to let you know how much he doesn’t need your help. If it wasn’t for his scoffs and his scowls when he walked by you in the morning, it was the way your gaze would snap with his while he was whispering to another player, a smirk on both their faces, both sets of eyes transfixed on you.  

It’s a late afternoon, the sun still unwilling to waver its heat, washing the field a sea of vermillion, the grass no longer a shining vibrant green but coated amber by its rays. Practice ended maybe an hour ago, you couldn’t see far enough behind you where the clock hung in the box seats. You sat at one of the ruby seats close to the ground level, the blistering heat sizzling under your legs. You watched Gojo, the only player in the saffron-shaded field, reaching for a ball from his duffel, standing back from its position and kicking it with forceful speed, like a gutter punch, or the cocking of a gun. Like a bullet, the ball flies into the net and topples down to join the other dozen or so ones that had reached the same target. 

Gojo was a damn good player. You wondered if the problem was that he believed he was one in a million, or if he truly was one in a million and it pissed everyone off to see his lack of humility. In the meantime, he’s moved closer to left field where you sit, maybe just out of your earshot, to shoot from the left. He jogs back, running up to the ball, winding his right leg back then quickly switching his hips when his leg palindromes forward with his arms outstretched to the outreach of the field. You watch the ball dart through, once again, enveloped by the white mesh and landing on the patch. 

He pays you no mind, you’re not even sure he knows you’re there, it’s like he doesn’t even know where he is or it doesn’t matter where he is, in the amber grass, in the mud, it’s just about any way he can get a ball in the warp of the net. It was fully quiet by this point, except for the cicadas that danced with their signature anthem, though not too loud lest they break his focus. 

You smirk to yourself with a vicious idea. You watch him jog back again, gearing up for his shot, you watch him charge his right leg back, you wait for the moment the forefront of his foot is about to scoop the ball, and—

“Perfect weather we’re having, yeah?” You holler. The ball goes flying, hitting the perimeter pole with a clang! 

Gojo groans, fists balled up at his side, he lolls his head back to look skyward. The sun accentuates the sweat on the bridge of his nose, he is shaded blood orange all over. He turns to you, exasperated. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” 

“Woah, I’m just trying to make small talk.”

He swings his head back, rolling his eyes, “Yeah, fucking small talk, I’m sure you are. What the hell are you still doing here anyway?” 

“Doing my job.”

He chuckles, a patronizing smile still tugging at his lips, “Hard day’s work, huh?” His condescending blue eyes flicker to yours. A bead of sweat runs down his neck and reaches the valley of his already glistening collarbone. 

“Hey, I’m here to help you. Matter of fact, I’ve been reading a bit while here.”

“Yeah?” 

He shifts from leg to leg, hands on his hips when he’s turned to you, under the same daze as Geto Suguru, unable to still his body in fear the piston halts. 

“Yeah, quite mad. A boy from Northside sent to Kyoto F.C. as a football prodigy. The third game from starting with the team, second half, scores a goal for the other team, I think might’ve been for —God, I can’t remember now—“

“Okayama,” he scoffs, he grins now but you can’t tell if this one is in malice or not, “I scored a goal for Okayama. What is this, you’re stalking me now? Reading my life story?”

“I do my research.”

Gojo pauses for a second, looking at the ball that he twirls from foot to foot, seemingly not saying much else and going back to his practice. 

“Though I’ll have you know, that team made it to J1 because of me.” You roll your eyes at this and it doesn’t go unnoticed. “What? I’m serious. And I’ll do the same with this team too. Write that in your little notebook.” 

“You really do think you’re one in a million,” you mumble. This doesn’t go unnoticed either despite the fact he’s standing far enough away that it should. 

“I am one in a million.” 

You tap your pen against the rigid white paper, wondering if it’s worth arguing, and by the tenth tap, deciding it is. “You’re one in eleven. In a match, one in twenty-two, with every player even for a small fragment thinking they’re one in a million.”

His smile isn’t genuine anymore, nor is it lingering on his lips at all. “You should focus more on your useless journalism,” he says, contempt like bile spitting from his lips.

“You should focus more on being one of eleven if you actually want to win tomorrow.”

Yeah, fucking high-road me, Gojo thinks. The pressure pinpoints at the base of his chest at the statement, for he understands what it means. It wasn’t about him, in any context. Even when he was benched. For bullshit reasons, he recalls. Idiot Suguru, instead of passing the ball to me when I’m wide open, he motions to move it to another. Ball gets intercepted and in a snap moment of rage, I try to intercept the intercept, foot sliding under the ball and knocking the opponent to the ground with a forceful push to the chest. Even then, even when it cost the team a loss, he thought if it wasn’t for him being benched, they would’ve won. But, if it wasn’t for his anger, his ego, he wouldn’t have gotten benched in the first place. If he thought as one in eleven, he wouldn’t have cost the whole team the chance at J1. 

He stares at the ball that comes to a halt at his ankles. If it was only that easy, he thinks. Before he joined Kyoto, he was made to believe he was special. How impossible it was for someone at his young age to be scouted by such a big team, even if they were nowhere near the Premier back then. He was made to believe he was the one who had to always score, who was the saving grace in the second half that tied the score and eventually overtook it completely. While he was part of a team, it was Gojo Satoru that the newscast would mention by name over and over. This pressure was only stacked on by his family until it became second nature for him to think so too. 

Gojo remembers the night he scored a goal for the other team. He smiled just then but back then, it was a gut punch, a sudden realization that hit him like a freight train for the first time since he was eight: Maybe he didn’t have it, he was a fool to think he was special. He couldn’t forget how bright the stadium lights all of a sudden shined. Have they always been this blindingly white? How he heard them ring loudly for the first time. He m

couldn’t forget the silence in the crowd, a breathless second before the cacophony of cheers and boos. He could never forget the way his father berated him in the car after everyone had already left the stadium. You’re either a winner or a failure. If you don’t win, this was all a waste and I’ve wasted my time on you. Back then, all Gojo could do was ball his fists, knuckles white, eyes locked onto his knees lest he dared shed a tear. From that moment, a second realization followed, he had to believe he was one in a million, he had no other choice. It wasn’t a player part of a team. It was either being a winner or a failure. 

“Whatever,” he grumbles quietly to his ball, kicking it and watching it warily bounce only a few feet ahead. For the first time since the morning, he notices his heart thumping in his rib cage. He grabs his duffel, paying no mind to you, and walks off the field.

✰

It’s the day of the match and Gojo hasn’t stopped noticing his heart pumping in his chest. Since the evening prior, when he was in bed unable to sleep due to the loud thump, thump, thump that he swore was reverberating from his chest to his wrists and ankles to this morning on the way to the stadium to now, in the locker room. He could only fix his gaze on the floor beneath him, his coach’s speech muffled like he was speaking from the end of a tunnel. 

It’s only the way his Captain shuts his own locker, purposefully slamming so the metal rings for a second too long to snap Gojo from his daze. 

“The fuck is up with you?” He asks.

Gojo blinks in surprise like his eyes just learned how to blink. “Nothing.”

Geto sneers, “You're not nervous, are you?”

By this point, Gojo’s eyes have learned how to throw glaring daggers.

“No, I’m not fucking nervous. I’m just thinking.”

“Can’t believe you do that.”

Fuck you, he wants to spit back but grits his teeth instead, for he wouldn’t even be able to hear himself say it due to the bass that rumbles against the bones of his ribcage. 

✰

It’s the day of the match and you don’t think you can feel yourself breathe. The atmosphere of the stadium is so palpably loud, fans from either team unforgiving with their cheers or boos. As you make your way down the steps to your seat next to the managers and stakeholders, a cold breeze that contrasts the warm weather from this past week reminds you of yesterday. You couldn’t get the image of Gojo walking off the field out of your head, the way he didn’t go back to practicing his strikes, the way his shoulders slumped and trembled, the grimace overtaking each feature of his face. A part of you feels bad for having potentially set him off like that, unsure of what it was that completely changed his body language like a ventriloquist that all of a sudden tugged at the strings so hard, that he pulled the egotistical Gojo out and left behind this hollow shell. You’re not able to mull over it much longer because the players have already begun walking out to the playfield, and the announcers begin their commentary.

This could be this team’s make-or-break match, a defining game that takes them closer to the finals and closer to their Premier. We all witnessed the Ace of the team, Gojo Satoru, penalize the team weeks ago. Do you think he has it in him to cooperate this time? 

You don’t catch any part of the answer, the roars of the crowd when the players shuffle out ringing from ear to ear. You can immediately spot Geto Suguru at the front, his stoic manner not letting up to how loud the crowd cheers for him. Gojo is last, at the end, and he too doesn’t give much reaction. Surprisingly. 

The players file in a straight line, parallel to the opposing team. Geto and the opposing team’s captain join the referee for the coin toss. It is by a stroke of pure coincidence that amid hundreds of people, Gojo glances up and immediately spots you in the second row from the drop-off and it is by a sliver of luck that you connect his gaze in that same moment. He takes this as a good sign. What are the fucking odds? He wants to be annoyed but can’t ignore the comedic jab from deep within his ribcage. You watch as he doesn’t scowl, doesn’t narrow his eyes like lasers, but shakes his head, a chuckle shuddering through him. 

It’s three minutes left of the added time and the teams are tied 1-1. Your insides feel like scrambled eggs. Gojo hadn’t scored a goal yet; the first and only goal played by Geto. The crowd had gone crazy for that one, you even caught yourself gasping in your seat when the ball spun in the net. The crowd’s cheers and nerves were contagious. The way your heart raced for a sport you hadn’t given much second thought a month ago was deafening, but you knew how the boys played, you got to see each of their tactics and their sportsmanship as a team. The way the offense switched legs last minute to divert the ball and make a pass to another. The way the goalie hopped from foot to foot never ending and always anticipating. 

It’s only a couple minutes left of time and both teams are level. Both teams have brought out their best tonight from the dugout, it’s been a tough match.

Intercept. That’s what Geto does when he gains possession of the ball. You heard the word a lot when you’d watch commentated games hours into the night. 

A through pass from Geto and Gojo is immediately off with it! He’s a tough player to catch, it’s him against another player, we know he might take this and could. But he makes a quick pass to a wide-open Haibara! 

Your body feels numb watching the pass, how quickly Gojo slides his leg, almost slipping and falling to pass to Haibara who stands to the left of him and quickly receives the ball. 

And he scores it! 

The crowd roars like a thrashing wave, and you catch yourself scrambling to your feet and cheering too. Gojo sprints to Haibara, jumping in his arms; He smiles hard, you don’t think you’ve seen his full set of teeth before. The rest of the boys topple on top of them like sardines as the referee rings the final whistle of the game. 

What a play we’ve seen tonight, it’s like night and day with this team. This only puts them closer to the Premier and hope they can keep this up for the season.

You wait for him in the same tunnel he stormed through the day before. You don’t want to admit that you’re waiting for him, but the stadium lights illuminate your presence standing there so perfectly that you can’t even hide it. You watch them walk through, all smiles, one player having their arm around another, another walking by you still in disbelief, another running by with a player on his back, guiding them towards the lockers. You spot Gojo walking up alone, chest heaving, and glistening. He looks up to immediately meet your gaze, a grin taking over his face, this one most genuine. 

“Hey, there you are,” he breathes out. He slows down in front of you, placing his head atop the crown of your head. He gives your hair a ruffle and chuckles breathlessly. You can’t ignore the way your heart is doing summersaults in your chest. “You were right by the way.” 

“Yeah? About what?”

“That teambuilding bullshit you were talking about, yesterday and all. I think without you, we would’ve stayed tied.”

Maybe you had a freak accident at some point during this project, hit your head so hard you forgot to feel any animosity towards Gojo because the stadium lights spotlight the most ridiculous smile on your face for everyone to see. 

“Guess I was useful after all.”

Gojo laughs at that, a real-from-the-belly laugh. He gives your head one last gentle pat before he continues his stride to the locker room, looking back once more for your reaction. 

NOTE: i feel a bit burnt out and wanted to write a simple drabble w/ this idea however it surpassed the drabble word count but not the low-effort drabble vibes i hope -- maybe MAYBE in the future i can make a second part thats more juiceyyyy come chat! lmk what you thought! mwah (▰˘◡˘▰)

[monstersflashlight]

Queer masterlist

The goal of this masterlist is to get all the LGBT+ stories in only one place so y'all can browse thru them easily (all the stories are also in their respective monster masterlist). This includes any stories that include m/m, f/f, trans characters or other queer identities.

Long-ish stories

Helping neighbors (orc x minotaur x fem!reader)

[SFW] Misunderstanding your werewolf boyfriend (gn!reader)

The bratty human and his vampire dom (male!reader)

Pastel colored girlfriend (fem!vampire x fem!reader)

Sulfur (gn!reader)

Worshipping the doctor’s pussy (fem!succubus x fem!reader)

Bear daddy (were-bear x gn!witch x gn!reader)

[Commission] The hole in the wall (Orc x minotaur x werewolf x chubby trans masc!reader)

[Commission] Quest to ecstasy (Monsters (werewolf, gator-monster, pale man) x transmasc!reader)

[Commission] Tangled in you (Fem!orc x fem!elf (3rd person))

[Commission] Mark me, mate (male!reader)

[Commission] Ruined skirt (succubus x trans fem!reader)

[Patreon Commission] Monster-tale (tentacle monster x fem!OC x fem!reader)

[Commission] Measuring tape (mothman x trans masc!reader)

Read the contract (unicorn x male!reader)

Chasing the bounty hunter (griffin x gn!reader)

[SFW] Why are you peeing on my petunias (gn!reader)

[Patreon commission] Are you stupid? (minotaur x fem!human x chubby fem!reader)

[Patreon Commission] Intergalactic idiots (alien x orc x fem!reader)

Tentacled (gn!tentacle-monster x fem!reader)

Monster smash (multiple monsters x fem!reader) [SFW] || part 2 || part 3

[Patreon Commission] Mastering the CEO (minotaur x fem!human x chubby fem!reader)

Easter special: Egg hunt (alien x gn!reader)

[Patreon Commission] Sword crossing (shapeshifter (they/them) x trans(ftm)!reader)

Vampire relief-system (fem!vampire x fem!reader)

Requests

The morning after (orc x minotaur x fem!reader) (Helping neighbors part 2)

Pussy for breakfast (orc x minotaur x fem!reader) (Helping neighbors part 3)

Untitled (fem!werewolf x fem!reader)

Feral creature (male!reader)

“Use your words, pretty boy” (male!reader)

Hang in there (pun intended) (male!vampire x fem!demon x fem!reader)

Burn me down (male!reader)

The abandoned pool (gn!water-monster x fem!reader)

Three heads are better than one (nb!cerberus x fem!reader)

Three heads are better than one: the day after (nb!cerberus x fem!reader)

“Rain on me” or how to unlock a new kink (gator-monster x male!reader)

The magic drink (incubus x succubus x fem!reader)

Sleep paralysis demon (fem!monster x gn!reader)

When the heat comes (werewolf x trans fem!bunny hybrid)

Do you need a reminder? (bull-hybrid x cow-hybrid x chubby fem!reader)

Storm (gn!reader)

Sweaty (orc x minotaur x chubby male!reader)

Sinner (biblical angel x gn!reader)

Helping-tentacles (tentacle-monster x transmasc!reader)

Gymbro dragon meets human dude (male!reader)

Interspecies relationship (elf x gn!reader) [SFW]

Peace (biblical angel x male!reader)

Cryptid dance (trans!mothwoman x fem!reader)

Pretty little red dress (were-dinosaur x male!reader)

Movie worth (alien x trans!male reader)

Monster smash (part 3) (minotaur x dragon x lizard woman x fem!reader) [SFW]

Pentagram (fem!demon x fem!reader)

Domming the minotur (minotur x trans male!reader)

Strap on (fem!vampire x fem!reader)

Battleground (orc x male!reader)

You gotta be squidding me (merman x male!reader)

Bratting to close to the dom (werewolf x trans masc!vampire reader)

Both? Both. (dragon x dragon x fem!reader)

The most prized possession (dragon x gn!reader)

Perfect date (fem!dragon x fem!reader)

Chocking on air for you (merman x gn!reader)

Knotting out boyfriends (wolf-hybrid x puppy-hybrid x puppy-hybrid fem!reader)

Professor-fucker (naga x male!reader)

Txt

Most of the txt stories are non-gendered, those are classified in the individual monster masterlist you can find in my main post here.

I do not consent to have any form of reproduction, replication, or translation of my stories without my explicit consent. This includes reposting my stories on other websites, platforms, etc.

[picklebunbun]

summary; You've had relationship problems with Ratio, even through your wedding preparations. You weren't even sure if you wanted to get married and you ultimately chose to leave him at the alter because you couldn't take it anymore

﹒🪼| ౨ৎ˚₊‧ | ↪ ; cw ; this is supposed to make you cry, implied? cheating?mentions of emotional relationship neglect, Dr. Ratio is upset in this one, everyone is invited except those stupid fucking losers (Jade and Sparkle), even idrilla is there

๋࣭ ⭑ Dr. Ratio x GN Reader, Modern AU, you/yours pronouns, you will be referred to spouse, no AGAB, reader doesn't specifically have a dress or suit but will be implied as a 'bride' { they walk down the aisle and wear white },

{ angel's notes 🪽; I know I've been gone for a long time, I just started freshman year and everything has been piling on, I'll try to make more updates with requests. This took way too long }

lıllılı.ıllı.ılılıılıı.lllııılı.

now playing [fish.]

0:26 ———♡——— 3:50

◁◁ ▐ ▌ ▷▷

italics; thinking | bold; yelling

Silence..

You stare at the stained window, you've been meaning to clean it for a while, but just couldn't find the motivation to do so. The candle by your bedside going out, as you stared at the window for what seems to be hours. Completely empty, eyes growing tired as you continue to patiently wait for your fiance ,

mm,,, no,, that word didn't feel quite right

What else are you supposed to call him anyways? You looked down, of course he did it again, he always does this, what's the point of getting married if you don't have enough time for your partner? If this is what commitment looks like,, then I don't want it

It seemed like the educated man was staying home from work, this always happens, what did you expect? It's not like the relationship was supposed to last this long, you weren't even sure if you wanted to get married in the first place, everything just happened too fast, like everything spiraled in one. Why was it in that moment that you felt so sure that this was the path you wanted to choose? Was it how lonely you were? Veritas wasn't a bad lover, but it would've been preferable if he didn't ignore them most of the time, which was because of work. The thing was , you suspected that there was this co-worker, that Ratio often spent time with, had this crush on him. It was this blonde man, with unbelievably beautiful eyes, flamboyant yet extravagant sense of style, he always smelt like a bakery, vanilla with a hint of floral essence. It definitely made you nervous, it was Aventurine, right?

You brought it up with the Greek man, to which he caressed your back and kissed your panic away. It's not like he's a terrible boyf... err.. fiance. He won't cheat, he's not that type of person. He just has a lot going on, that's why he's at work all the time.. but what if it's to see that shorter man, he could be his type, this is so surreal, I can't feel my face, what do I do? What do I do? I just want to go home..

This deep pit in your stomach became more evident as you..

..held him

Told him that you loved him

Kissed him

You put a hand over their mouth, a jittering feeling over-taking you as you felt more sick. Stop deceiving him like this, he's done so much for you, why can't you see that,

This hollow hole rested in your entire being, nothing had any color. In any moment, there could be an intruder and you wouldn't know, just too distracted by your thoughts swallowing them whole. You grasp for your greasy, unkept hair, been meaning to wash it for days but never got to it. Tears swell up as an air bubble gets lodged in the your throat, gasping for air as you try to get over your anxiety attack, neck feeling sore as you continue soaking in your tears. The room was spinning, it set in on how alone everything was, everything was feeling so uncomfortable now, nothing is correct anymore.

"someone help me.."

a meekly voice erupts,

but no one will hear you

The scenery was beautiful, a vibrant orange and purple sunset cascaded over the venue. It was at a ginormous church, freshly polished ivory walls, decorated with gold linings. The roof was painted with cherubs, faint but noticeable. Golden frames make sure to accentuate the oil painting of Mother Mary. An eccentric church, Dr. Ratio would've pegged it to be a catholic institution, to which, as always, he was correct.

Pillars centering towards the pink blossom archway. Herta was there as well, she just wanted to be there to judge everything rather than being emotional support, you looked at Dr. Ratio inspecting everything, he was always so meticulous about these types of buildings. From what you recalled, Veritas used to think that structures with a maximalist style always had something wrong with the actual structure, he always said that they try to hide something behind all the glamour. It was humiliating just looking at him, the priest and betrothed being exchanged glances as Veritas knocked on the girthy, stained glass. It was art of Jesus Christ with two divine servants at his feet, exquisitely crafted. It was just his way to see how thick and secure it was. The whole church must've taken at least 10 years straight to skillfully complete the entire establishment.

You dove your hands in your pockets. The frost biting at your reddening fingertips, fluffy snow covered the car by now, the weather was not suitable for a warm-welcoming wedding, but it was what Veritas wanted, so that is what he got. To be honest, you didn't really do anything for the planning, Ratio just told you to not worry about preparation and to relax, nothing really interesting these days. you can see the glistering, ivory slush on the exterior of the venue. Veritas' co=workers would think that this would be an immensely magnificent place, being tempted to touch everything.

"Veritas, I think the church is fine"

You sigh out, this was getting too awkward for you.

"Hold on, dear"

The woman in purple robes speaks up, talking to you.

"How much did you spend on this alone?"

"You should ask him, he's been the one doing all the planning"

"How come? You didn't want to be involved?"

"Eh,, it's not that, he just didn't want me to help him I guess"

"Did he not trust you?"

"N...no, it's not that, we just fought a lot about it"

"Is it because of the decorations? Did you not want a wedding?"

You feel throw up come up

"No, no, I do want to get married.."

"Are you sure? If I didn't know any better, I would've assumed that you didn't want to get married"

The porcelain soul giggled, and you gave a half-hearted one. You felt your heart sinking as well, remembering that you did indeed have to marry this man, is it too late to back out? That comment made you stare at the floor, nothing on your mind, it took you aback. You felt your muscles getting heavier with each passing second, it didn't help that every minute you spent at this idiotic place was excruciatingly painful.

You felt your nostrils flare from the rapid heating traveling to your face. The major migraine coming through as you re-play the recent scenarios through your head, flying off the handle. How irritating and bothersome,

Can he just hurry up?

Honestly. How long do I have to wait here for?

The church is completely fine!

Why is he being so dramatic!

This is getting so annoying.

JUST HURRY UP

Your fingers tapped the side of your thigh as your jaw clenches, it would've hurt if your weren't acting like a bear with a sore head. The sole of your shoes aggressively drummed against the polished, marble floors. The ache in your brain was getting worse, god, it was insufferable, just like Ratio's tedious need to check everything in place, it's like you can never win! An exasperated groan escaped your lips.

"Veritas, let's go."

"Hold on, [name]"

Seeming to not pay any mind to your tone, since he was basically measuring the elongated, wooden seats, he responded carelessly.

Oh, he's really in it now.

"Let's go."

"In a minute"

Oh my god?!

"Veritas."

"Just wait-"

you grind your teeth as your anger reaches a boiling point

"DAMN IT! RATIO"

His head whips back, pupils shrink as his eyelids widen. Herta looked at you, judgment coursing through her mind, seems like she wasn't all that surprised, but she still let out a little 'yikes'. You crossed your arms against your chest, you were gripping the sides of your arm sleeves, it felt like they were going to rip off. The echo from your shout faded into obscurity, it was the silence that followed after that seemed to be blaring in your ears. The immense space of the Lord’s house was what made your hollering almost deafening, it would be no surprise if outsiders could’ve heard you. Ratio waits for a second before finally getting up, not wanting to aggravate you even further. You see him dust off any soot that remained stuck on his pants, footsteps approach you, indicating that he’s coming closer, he begins to dubiously suggest to exit, whenever you blew a fuse, it was pretty effortless to lash out.

“Alright, then.. let’s go”

"You two can proceed without me, I'll remain here a while longer"

You lumber to the car, Veritas following behind you. Crunchy, thin layers of snow compressed under your foot. Blusterous winds coming at you, gnawing on your nose and cheeks, your thews were getting numb from the frost. Jesus, how do people live in this weather?! While walking, you took the chance to puff on your stinging hands, the numbness leaving your skin. Oh, how you long to place your hand over a fire, pyro flames crackling from the moisture escaping. Ash would be decorated around the fireplace, it give the comforting feeling that you're back home and never have to leave. The heat would engulf you, hugging you as it protects you from the cold. Not even massaging your upper arms would fully reheat you back, Mother Nature was not gentle this season, attacking outsiders vigorously.

Creased brows adorned Veritas' face, a dip was shown between his eyebrows. His crossed arms and the needless stomping of his feet made it apparent that he was getting exacerbated by the previous predicament. The Greek man's upper half was lunging towards the driver's seat. Ratio used to hold the door for you, it was his way of being polite, you would be lying if you didn't have a soft spot for that tiny habit of his, it'd touch your heart. Although, now, he didn't do it,

The audacity..!

Does he know how he already treats me?

And he's the angry one?

Stop throwing a tantrum Ratio.

Ignoring how you behaved wouldn't make you feel better, but you were just so pent up from Veritas' emotional neglect and the constant worrying about that colleague, especially since he's so flirtatious with him.

Agh! It was so distressing just seeing them together,

I just want to wipe that smug look off his face,

worse part is, Ratio invited him to the wedding,

I told him that he makes me uneasy,

I know he's trying to steal Ratio,

why can't he just listen to me?!

You were getting furious again, the way you slammed the car could've made it obvious enough. You two were truly a match made in heaven to be worked up at the same time. Huffing and puffing in your seats while you two look straight ahead, the scorching temperature in your coat along with the feverishness from your wrathful attitude made it unbearable to stay still, it felt like your skin was being pricked with blazing needles. The tension between you two was so thick that you could cut it with a knife, only god knows how this is going to go down.

" What. Was. That."

You mentally sigh,

"How do you mean?"

"The minor altercation you had esteemed with me at the church—might there be a particular rationale for your current discontent, manifesting in such unseemly volumes directed at me?"

"I.. just wanted to go home"

"Are you so pessimistic as to raise your voice in my presence? I think not."

"Ugh.. I don't want to have this conversation with you.."

"You were quite insistent in having vociferously summoned my attention."

"That's because I didn't feel well and wanted to go home!"

"Might you kindly elucidate the matter that troubles you, or shall you indulge in yet another of your temper tantrums?"

"Why are you this agitated about the fact that I asked if we could go?!"

"Screech not asked."

You shriek in rage, you shuffled in your seat as fire boils up to your cheeks. Sweat beads down your forehead from how overwhelmed you were.

"This epitomizes my point, you have retreated like an infant."

"You keep badgering me expecting an answer but sometimes I just don't want to respond because you have this urge to insult me for how I feel!"

"Such a predicament could have been averted had you communicated with me."

"Ratio! You barely have the time to actually listen, it's like I have to beg you to do it! Even when you do, you NEVER listen You're focused on work and not the wedding, which I originally wanted to help with by the way! You're focused on that slutty, blonde co-worker of yours more than your own future spouse, huh?!"

"Aventurine?! Shall we PERSIST in this discourse? I have conveyed to you that there is no intimate relationship between us. What further assurances do you seek? Am I unable to indulge your desires ?!"

"Why are you acting like it's an issue to comfort me?!"

"It's like I constantly have to console you, it never ends with you!"

"Are you kidding me?! Do you know how Aventurine looks at you, oh my Aeons, Veritas! It's like he's eye-fucking you right in front of me!"

"No he doesn't, this is what you do, you blow everything out of proportion, what is happening with you?!"

"Oh, I'm sure you don't know how I feel because you're too busy spending time with that HOMEWRECKER"

"Stop criticizing him with high-school insults , you're acting like a toddler, [Name]!"

"I can't even believe this, you won't ask why I've been changing but you'll immediately point how how I'm complaining about that blonde bimbo?! Do you even care?!"

"Of course I care, but you insulting my dearest friend won't make you feel better"

dearest friend?!

"Really?! Dearest friend?! HAH! Don't make me laugh!"

"Do you want me to brag about you all the time?! Is that what this is?!"

"You sure as hell don't have a problem talking about Aventurine!"

"DEFENDING him is not the same as complimenting"

"All this time we've been arguing, never ONCE have you mentioned how alone I feel, you've just been focused on that whore!"

"Because I don't know what you want me to say, what more can I do, I can't fix your insecurities for you!"

"I'm not asking you to, I just want you to be there for me!"

" There's always something with you, sometimes it's just draining being with you. I just wish for once you could stop dragging everyone down with you, you've become ill, I can't even recognize you! You just spew ignorance just from this conversation!"

...

Your breath hitches, this sense of betrayal hunches over you. Your voice gets caught in your throat, heart pounding as you could hear it thunderously breaking out of your chest. It's like your consciousness was detached from your whole body, you could feel the water works were coming to you. No control over what your brain decides to do, and you feel pain in your hit you square in the gut, no, he was hitting you in the gut. The utter cruelness you had to reach in order to tell your fiance off because they were discussing their feelings was astounding. Oh, how you wish that you could go back to the espresso scented mornings, and shared baths. Why did everything have to turn out this way,

Why did I have to make it this way

Voice shrill as you accidentally let out a tiny cry. You turn your head to view the car window. The sight was not pleasant, it's an eyesore looking at broken down, rusty cars being trapped in snow. Wore down tires stuck to the road from the frost. and beaten-in dents really accentuated how crappy the car is. The ugliest thing by far were the moldy plazas, the signs were growing mysterious brown stains, it looks like it hasn't cleaned in years.

You could feel Veritas' eyes burning in the back o your skull, the worst feeling is knowing that someone's blue in the face by how your coming off, and the most wretched thing about it is that you know that it's most likely entirely your fault.

Hot teardrops run down your cheeks, trying to simultaneously brush them away with your sleeve. It's not like Ratio would reassure you, whenever you end up crying after an argument, he doesn't. He always said how you brought it upon yourself, that you shouldn't have tried to verbally brawl with him if you were going to end up wailing.

I wish I could call mom right now..

"Are you going to call your mother like you always do?"

He deeply exhales at your foolishness,

You look back at him, a glare goes right for him, your eyes were puffy from how your water blobs overpower your eyes' the drainage system. The hell is wrong with this man?

"None of your business."

"That's what you always do anyways I don't even need to ask."

"To hell with you, it must be nice thinking you've won this dispute, everything is just a competition to you, even your own fiance's feelings."

You breathe out a mini "asshole", the ferocity of your anger was shown from how brutally you shut the car door.

..

This was all a mistake

You weren't supposed to marry him yet

but you can't back out now

what a nasty man...

No no no no no no no no no no no nononononononononono...

It's gone

It's completely gone

I lost it

nonononononononononononononononoNONONONONONO

You were pacing around the room, there was this beautiful golden necklace that disappeared, a thick Singaporean necklace which was plated in diamonds. The center of it all was a beautiful... jade or aventurine gem, You prayed to god that it wasn't an aventurine gem. Despite that, it fit with the jewelry nicely, reflective and a stunning little thing. It was a grim couple of weeks, After that squabble with Veritas, you broke down, it was the late night fretting that really got to you. Fly-aways in your hair became worse, and it was getting really tiring to untangle it every time, it feels like you have to battle with it just to keep it mildly tame.

You placed both your hands on your heartbeat, you couldn't believe this, how did you lose such a treasure in such a short amount of seconds. You've checked EVERYWHERE, under the couch placed in the dressing room, the vanity, the bathroom, behind the potted plants, but nothing. Oh, Aeons, this is the worse, you idiot! how did you lose it this quickly!

Damn it, Ratio is not going to let you hear the end of it

Desperately looking for a sign, something to give you a hint to where it is.

Aeons, please help me..

You've been ready for quite a while, but it was just that one piece that was missing..

AND IT WAS THAT STUPID NECKLACE!

You stumble back, your back calf bumping into the stool seat. You're fingers ravels across your whole face. Is it just you, or is the air getting harder to respire in. Heat flashes overtake you as your blood runs cold. You can hear yourself hyperventilating, wheezes escaping your mouth as you attempt to tranquil yourself. It was hard to exhale in general, each time you felt a puff wander up your esophagus, a sharp, sore pain pricks your nerves. Sweat enclose on your whole body from head to toe, your skin feels extremely sticky, smelling your incredibly slicked hair just from the moisture.

Exceedingly shaky hands try to reach for your ice cold water, contrasting with your heating hands. When the frigid glass met your skin, it startled you, causing you to immediately drop your cup on instinct. Fresh water spilling everywhere, covering decoration pieces and the spotless, clear mirror. You internally curse yourself out before you scream it out,

"SHIT!"

This dramatic gasp was hear, it was you. You try to wipe the water on your expensive outfit, but decided against it. Your enchanting outfit was hand-crafted by Tingyun herself, and she clearly stated that your ivory, platinum attire should not get wet as it would ruin the material. Not really remembering anything after that, all that your brain could muster up was the fox lady making operatic gestures on how absolutely "dangerous" it is to drench the clothing with any fluid.

You can not take that possible risk and ruin the matrimony any longer. This day was just splendid, you have nowhere to wipe your soaked hands, you lost your (almost) husband's vital necklace, and now you're sniffling from the fact that you're about to cry. This day was a mess- no.. maybe it was a sign being wedded was not the ideal situation for your destiny.

I just can't take this anymore,

my makeup is going to get ruined

Aventurine is here

I can't find that damn adornment

I spilt water

I'm just a complete mess..

I.. can't do this anymore..

The trickles of a familiar saline liquid fall down your lashes. Restrained sobs flee from your grasp as you try to stay quiet. Your chest rapidly went up and down, hoping to still your breath, but it didn't work-

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

AAAAHHHHHHH WHAT THE FUCK!

You shout

"AH!-"

"[Name]? It's Topaz!"

"Uhm- and Aventurine.."

You grimaced just by the mention of his name,

"Ack! Whatever, are you okay, sweetie?"

"Yeah, we heard you crying"

As if you'd fucking care!

"em.. uh.. yeah.. I'm.. okay.."

It got muted, everything was serene. It gives you a chance to catch your breath and tranquilize your state of mind. You view your trembling hands that wouldn't settle themselves. Perturbed eyes that got more damaged from the high concentration of salt.

"[Name]."

"Yeah..?"

"Please don't lie to me"

...

"Sorry... You guys can come in"

You swiftly swab away your tears, nose sniffling. Your throat felt sticky with the mucus covering it. This uncontrollable throbbing pain was getting more apparent, it was vague but you could still undoubtedly feel it. The blaring illumination from the vanity mirror was just making it worse. It's like a hangover, maddening and agonizing, you have to wait all day until the bothersome migraine flees away.

The door creaks open, this sudden pain shoots through your ears and brain from the mosquito-like noise. Topaz was wearing this beautiful silk dress, flashy but sophisticated, gleaming gold arches on her dress are placed on her rib area. this exquisitely detailed pendant was connected to a shiny, band on her neck. It was all decorated in a French-style.

Topaz had this uneased expression on her face, she rushed her way towards you. The woman didn't have time to pull up a chair, her friend was in distress, and as a bridesmaid, she was determined to drop everything to aid you. Her manicured hand rests on your cheek, it's soft, and strangely comforting.

Aventurine, on the other hand, was standing near the doorway. He had this floral embroidered waistcoat, it was a dusty pink, damn he looked good. Under the vest, a puffy, Ouji dress shirt fit nicely with the rest of the outfit. It was a pristine, pale color, everything about his attire just screamed polished. Reflective, blonde locks were ornamented with blooming hairpieces.

"What happened? Are you nervous about the wedding? Oh, I'm sure Dr. Ratio will think your absolutely gorgeous-"

"-No.. no.. no, it's just that.. I lost this stupid necklace that Veritas gave me. I can't find it anywhere, and I'm scared that he'll get mad at me.."

Topaz and Aventurine exchanged troubled glances.

"Ah... well.. uhm, I'm sure he won't get mad!"

Easy for you to say!

"He'll only get mad if you don't tell him early on"

Oh, I'm sure you'd know, Aventurine.

"Right! We should tell him now!"

..What

"W.. What?! No!"

"Don't worry it'll be fine! If you tell him right now then you won't have to worry after! I'll be back!"

"Wait! Topaz!"

You reach out to pull her back, but her wrist disappears before you can even touch it. Topaz picks a bit of her dress up so her heels wouldn't trap it, it was a floor-length, dark, barbie pink, it was also provided by Tingyun, for free at that.

There was this mortified look on your face, your eyelids were expansive. The world was crumbling right before you, ready to get faced with Veritas' disastrous fury. Lava would be swarming over you if he found out, Aeons, he'd be so inflamed with you.

My life is so over.

Your heart was going up your esophagus, you can feel it pulsing with all it's power. Your organs can feel the impending doom coming up, your stomach was bubbling, your lungs were rapidly gasping for air, your brain was panicking, all these scenarios were running through your head.

Your head was down, you can't even look at him, you'd just turn into a pitiful goop on the floor, stuck to it for eternity. Aventurine was still in the room, unsure of what to do. He had the idea that you did despise the very existence of him, so he wasn't sure if he should even dab your skin with his velvet glove.

You hear heels clacking

she's coming back, and with Ratio, you presume

Oh no

Are you going to vomit or burp

Either way something's coming up

"Topaz, what was so urgent that you had to rush me over to my future spouse's dressing room"

?

huh.. ?

"It's just something important!"

You can hear a snort come up, it seemed to be Aventurine.

What's so funny, Aventurine.

"What's so funny, Aventurine?"

"Just the new 'sunglasses' you have, they really fit you, Doctor~"

He purrs at Dr. Ratio, what the hell is wrong with him?!

He's basically making ou- wait what? Sunglasses?

You pick your head up

what the?!

There it was, Topaz, on her tippy toes, her hands barely reaching his eyebrows. Her whole body was strained just to cover his eyes. It seemed like Ratio had to bend his knees a bit just so she had an easier time.

"Topaz, please uncover my eyes"

"No can do! You can't see them before the wedding, it's bad luck!"

I think this whole ceremony is an indication of bad luck

You hear Veritas sigh

"What's the problem that was so critical for me to hear"

Topaz gestures for you to say it, her eyes beaming bright, and a supportive smile dousing her lips.

uhm..

"Uh.. uhm.."

"Hm?"

"Uhm.."

...

"I might've lost the necklace you gave me..."

"Dear, I can't hear you if you speak so quietly"

"I.. lost the necklace.."

"What?"

"I lost the.. necklace you gave me..:

"."

...

"Excuse me?"

Ouhhh....

"I.. uhm.."

"What is wrong with you?! Do you just lose everything that I give you?!"

Your head immediately perks up to look at him.

"It was just a-"

"[Name], I give you a necklace ESPECIALLY for YOU to wear. How. Do. You. Lose. It."

"I did have it, you don't have to yell at me!"

"CLEARLY, not since you just somehow lost it, how insolent do you have to be"

"ok, Doctor-"

"Not now, Aventurine."

"You make enough money to buy a second one, It's not like I lost it on purpose!"

"It's not that, it's the fact that you're so FORGETFUL that you just misplace ANYTHING I give you. You have to be more responsible I can't KEEP HOLDING YOUR HAND"

"STOP YELLING AT ME"

The Doctor rips Topaz's hands of his face

"Ratio!-"

"It seems that you didn't lose your phone, what? Are you gonna call your mom again?!"

"Why do you keep bringing her up?!"

"Because, you ALWAYS RUN from your problems"

"I DON'T RUN, YOU'RE JUST NEVER THERE"

"THIS AGAIN, HONESTLY, STOP ACTING LIKE A CHILD"

...

"..."

".. I'm going back, get ready."

"..."

You can hear his formal, polish, black leather shoes tromp on the floor, and even louder was the thunderclap following the door slam. You flinched, now hyper-aware of everything, it's like your lungs were feebly inhaling, hands cupped up as they were placed upon your chest. Little sharp coughs release the ache in your throat walls, a corrosive feeling in your eyes weren't as tormenting as the images of Ratio's expressively wrathful face.

Low sobs were getting muffled from the seclusion of your hands. Your back was hunched, legs pressed together tightly, like sardines. It's like someone punched the air right out of you, making it difficult to breathe through your blubbering, messy breakdown.

"Oh, geez, uhm- here, [Name]"

You could hear Topaz's fancy heels making their way towards you. She lifts your head up and leisurely wipes your tears away with a soft, cotton tissue.

"Hey, hey, hey, it's going to be okay. He's just stressed because it's his big day. Before you know it, everything will end up perfect, this is just a little hiccup, you'll be okay"

"Oh, shoot.. make sure their make-up doesn't get ruined.."

Aventurine makes his way over to you, he dabs your cheeks with his finger to fix your blush.

"You look so beautiful, [Name]"

"Yeah, Ratio will realize how pretty you are"

"Hey, do you think the church would know if a cherub figure was missing?"

"Depends on how big it is"

"It's pretty tiny, it so pretty though, I just want to snatch it up!"

muffled

..

Aeons, they're so annoying

Could you just stop talking

Stop touching my face.

Stop touching my hair.

Stop it,

Stop it, stop it,

StopstopstopstopstopstopstopstOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOP IT STOP IT I DON'T LIKE THIS

"CAN YOU JUST LEAVE ME ALONE?!"

The duo's hands abruptly pause. trembling hands reach your face, feeling your wet cheeks, Your whole body was shuddering from the aggravation coursing through your body. You can feel your entire head tottering uncontrollably, hot flashes coming in and out.

"Wh-"

"I just can't,,,- do this anymore!"

You shove their hands away as you rose up from your seat, your leg bulldozing the seat out of the way, almost tripping on the way to the bathroom.

"Wait! Are-"

SLAM

...

Wedding bells ring, piercing through your ears. This church was aged, the bells were still intact, the workers were taking special care of this long-lived building. It was a truly magnificent venue, as elegant as Dr. Ratio, or, at least his tastes. The perfume of the bouquet was infiltrating your nostrils,

EVERYONE was invited, even idrila, which was who Argenti was looking for, anyone could see that rose-headed knight searching around. His armor was getting noisy, irritating the guests. Topaz was a bridesmaid, and Screwllum was the best man, right by the groom's side. Clara was the most excited, other than Ratio, she was a flower girl. Pink, sparkly, blossoming mini-heels, they weren't the cheap princess ones that toddlers usually get for their birthday party, but instead made of the most intricate crystals. Her dress was completely pink with a blinging gemstone tiara to match her curly up-do.

It was a full house, something that made you nervous. You didn't feel your best, or looked your best, this contagious feeling of suspense was pulling you back. Oh no, this isn't what you wanted, this isn't what you should have.

You found the damned necklace, you should be thrilled that you discovered it. You should be cheerful that you're going to finally marry this man.

You should be..

But you're not.

You were devoid of any happiness, the sight of his face makes you sick. Even worse, the sight of him with that enchantress makes you get more ill. Veritas isn't the right one, you should've said something a long time ago.

Your legs unconsciously move back,

You have to walk the aisle

Oh Aeons, the music's starting

You have to stay

No

You have to move, this isn't how you'll live you're life

You don't deserve this anymore

Move

MOVE

All of a sudden, The carnations and roses got launched on the floor, the petals falling off. Such exquisiteness shouldn't merit such treatment, but neither should you. Your back slouched, like someone gagging over a sink, knees buckled. Sweat beading in your forehead, hands vigorously gripping that stupid necklace.

Diamonds falling everywhere, little thuds appearing on the red carpet.

..

Veritas' huffed out some frustration, fixing his collar. Today was supposed to be perfect, but he ruined it by squalling at his fiance. How stupid could he honestly be, it was really just a necklace, not even a valuable heirloom. He had to confess, he was a little tense from the amount of people present. Ratio was never the uneasy one, it was usually you, he just spewed pride, whether it was his intelligence or his body. Even worse, you were most likely disturbed from how he treated you.

He mentally facepalms himself from how idiotic he was being. The Grecian has noticed your deteriorating psychological state, he shouldn't have triggered it any longer.

The man noticed everyone rubbing their arms, he should've turned on the heater. It was terribly frigid, icicles could form inside the church if they wanted to. Normally, Veritas wouldn't even notice how chilly it was, always setting the thermostat 60 or below. You used to reprimand him, complaining about that he lives with another person and how he should stop changing it to a frosty temperature.

However, he was amazingly stubborn, so he continued doing it. In the winter, it was a nuisance to deal with. It was so fatiguing tackling the heavy snow and dense ice off your tires so your car could move, and it was worse coming home to a house that was the same degree as Antarctica.

Silly bickers would arise from it, but no matter how many disputes you two had, it seemed that the scholar would rather that than even consider raising the thermostat. It's not like it was that alone

Every single time, his hardheadedness got the best of him, and he'd only be left with nobody but himself

Dr. Ratio saw how queasy Topaz and Aventurine were. First of all, the blonde man was rubbing his neck and keep messing with his watch, Topaz eyes darted everywhere, she tapped her foot on the ground rapidly.

Huh, it seems like the ceremony was about to begin

Ratio fixed himself up as much as he could.

,,,

It seemed like you were a little late.

.

..

...

Uh..

Everyone immediately looked at the man.

The worst was true to come.

You weren't there.

He looks at Topaz,

She looks back, a petrified look appears on her face,

He looks at Aventurine,

This surprised look appears on his face.

Oh no,

Ratio finally realized

..

You were gone

and so was your mother.

,,

A few gasps were heard, everyone knew what happened

Veritas rushes behind the marble doors, it was extreme in weight, but no match for Ratio

..

All he saw, was a broken necklace and a destroyed bouquet on the floor.

[ravcnism]

please tag your fem!reader fics. it's 2024.

[tommiieimagiines]

hihihi

uhm so am i allowed to request again (i don’t wanna spam) 😭😭🙏

and if i am can u pls do a rui x hopeless romantic best friend reader (i’m totally normal about best friends to lovers lmfao)

so like the reader is always yapping about hot guys and it’s a little angsty at first because rui is thinking to himself ‘why did i have to fall inlove with someone that won’t ever choose me’ and then one day a hot guy comes up to reader and asks her out, reader is about to say yes but then she realises that she barely knew him and there was someone (rui) who had been by her side since day one and she figures out who she really loves (RUIII) so she rejects him and when rui asks why she just hugs him and says ‘because your the one i really want’ mwah mwah i feel like such a genius (i really hope this made sense lmao be prepared for a million bestie-> lovers and angst-> fluff rui requests 😼)

thank youyoyoyoyoyuuu!!

hi guys! i’m so so incredibly sorry for how inactive i have been! unfortunately, the fanfic writer curse caught up to me, and i’ve had considerably bad things happen to me! ToT

i had developed a really bad addiction after a recent episode - which may be why i’ve loved to write my characters so miserable, but they get a happy ending in the end - and have recently relapsed after a couple months. i’ve also been struggling with a lot of things, like being bullied again, pressure from theater, classes, autism, parental issues, memory of past trauma, having no friends, things like that. i’ve just been having a really hard time, so writing has been super difficult for me. i’m currently having some of the worst mental health in my life, and am un-recovering from other things i’ve had in the past too, after seeing the results of my recovery. sorry if this triggered anybody, i just needed to get this off my chest, and felt also that i should explain where i have been. you all supporting me has kept me going, and i hope you enjoy this one too! LETS END THE PITY PARTY!!!

in other - not so depressing news - here you guys go!! sorry for OOCness, obviously this is a more dramatic approach to a story! happy ending, j tried to write the inner narration differently for how you two were feeling at the time.. and ty once again for such a great idea, mama ^3^

“I don’t think I could stand to be where you don’t see me.”

If he has to sit here and listen to this one more time, he thinks he’ll go insane.

Rui Kamishiro loves you. He truly does. You’re his best friend, his partner in crime, his-

Never mind.

Rui loves you, but he absolutely HATES your taste in guys, and it’s driving him nuts. Nodding and agreeing can only get him so far before he wants to rip his own hair out, and tonight is no exception.

“I give up! All boys are dumb, I don’t need them!” You lament, resting your chin in your hands. It’s the same song and dance over and over. You swear off boys, you get attention, you get sucked in, and he has to pick up the pieces when it inevitably fails. How many times has he thought about how much better he would treat you now? He doesn’t know. He’d be a classical lover, he’d never speak to you the way those stupid unprincipled high school boys do.

Gross. That’s his best friend, why’d he think that? And when did he start being so self confident? He really outta look at himself in the mirror. What an egomaniac he’s turning out to be.

He shakes his head.

“You do know I’m still a boy, right?” He prods, trying to cheer you up. He knows this situation well, and he knows exactly how to make you feel better. Again he’d pull you out of this, and again he’d watch you fall in love.

He wishes you could be happy. He wishes you weren’t in love with being in love. You’re too pure for true love, love is disgusting, depraved, and unkind. You’re not anything like that.

“I know, I know, but you’re the only good one!” You point, words self-assured. “I don’t need a boyfriend, you do everything boyfriendy for me anyway!”

Ouch. Thanks a lot, that’s exactly what he needed to hear right now. He’s not gonna dwell on that last bit for now, he’ll wait until he’s home. Then he can- he doesn’t know. Cry, or something juvenile like that.

“So I’m back-up-boyfriend?” He masks himself in jest, smiling teasingly at you.

“Eh, maybe,” you snicker, “you’d definitely be cute if you weren’t my friend.”

He turns to his school work sharply, trying to mask his complete and utter despair. Ugh, why does he have to be so dramatic? His own personality makes his skin crawl with disgust and hatred, and that only makes him cringe more. He could think about how obnoxious he is all day. Maybe he should use that go home and cry pass early. He pretends to check the time, as if that isn’t all he’s been doing.

“It’s getting late, after this problem I should get going.” He mutters, scribbling some random numbers into his notebook. You yawn in response, being broken out of absentmindedly scrolling through your phone.

“Ugh, I wish you didn’t have to go!” You drape an arm over his torso, trying to hold him in. He smiles fondly, wrestling to get you off of him.

“I’d have to walk home in the dark then, do you want that?” He knows you’d never let him, and he sees it immediately.

Your face looks knowing, and you let him go right away. It amuses him at first, but quickly fills him with overwhelming pity. You’re so kindhearted it makes him sick. You shouldn’t worry about someone like him, it’s bad for your health.

“Would you like me to walk home with you?!” You shoot up, the idea of him not being safe running through your head. Maybe he should’ve kept his mouth shut. How emasculating! He’s not a helpless young girl! He’s just as manly as those boys who you long for, he’s not a puppy to be walked!

God, is jealously turning him into a bigot? He shakes his head once again, this time not just to clear his thoughts. He’s absolutely not letting you walk him home, it’d be mortifying. He takes your attention belly up, you should have a break. Maybe some time to yourself for a change? God, Rui, get a grip.

“I’m fine, I don’t want you out late by yourself either,” he assures, looking at you in haste.

“Ah. You have a point.”

“I always do.” He means more to that, and he wishes he could tell you. He wants you to see that even he knows what he’s talking about. He needs you to see him, just for once. Not as a best friend, or backup boyfriend, just as a regular one. As a lover who dances in the rain, or ties your shoes

He needs to stop. He shouldn’t think about you like that. It’s lecherous.

You two exchange goodbyes, giving him a long hug (much to his horror). He hates how feverish it is it hold you like this, it makes him feel guilty. His body gets hot, his cheeks flare up, his throat feels tight- it makes him feel like a pervert, even if his thoughts are the farthest thing from lewd.

He feels that everything he thinks about you is repulsive, though.

“Be safe”’s and “See you later”’s are passed between you two, and he walks down your front steps, now completely alone. His eyes scan the damp pavement, seeing the golden hues from the sky light the boring rock. That’s how he feels about you, he decides. You’re the sun, and he’s the pavement. He humors himself by thinking that your suitors are the clouds, stopping you from shining your light for him so he can grow weeds in the cracks of his soul. That’s what these feelings are. Weeds.

He wants to live life beautifully with you, he decides. He wants to tie your shoes, he wants to twirl you as you dance.

He wishes he could be the moon. Something of consequence- of importance, but he’s just the pavement. Not the earth, not the stars, not the clouds, or rain, he’s just a man made monster who destroys nature - you - and is walked over by people who do matter.

He should quit being this way, he grumbles, it doesn’t do anybody any good to be so flowery. He’s too girly- too weak. Maybe that’s why you don’t like him. If you’re willing to date anything that moves other than him, that must mean he’s on a completely new level, huh?

That’s what dreaming gets you, Rui. Crushed dreams and embarrassment.

He lets out a pitiful sigh, kicking a pebble with his shoe. He sees a worm in a lawn which reminds him of himself, he sees a couple shopping for a new game which reminds him of you, he sees a convenience store which reminds him that he’s hungry-

His life can be so mundane sometimes, what a drag.

He’s about to reach his front door, when he steps into a puddle. It feels like an appropriate representation of his life right now. A sense of disgraceful hilarity washes over him, and he begins to laugh. He laughs a while, he laughs as he takes his shoes off, he laughs as he peels his button up down, and he laughs as he lays in his bed. How dramatic he could be some times!

He falls asleep quickly. He has a dream about being on stage and forgetting his lines.

He wakes up with a thud, he fell out of bed. How embarrassing. He decides to check his phone.

Weirdo: RUII

Weirdo: wanna hang w me 2day?? u don’t have dance time right??

Weirdo: gonna kill you. WAKE UP

Me: I’m awake, sorry!

Weirdo: finally sleeping beauty

Weirdo: wanna get a snack? i’m simply starved…

Me: When?

Weirdo: an hr maybe…

Me: Okay :) I’ll tell you when I leave.

Weirdo: kay!!

He really doesn’t feel like being social today, but he’d never pass up an opportunity to see you. He’s an obscene degenerate when it comes to you, pouncing on your attention like a sick dog. It’s mortifyingly pathetic.

He gets dressed, throwing on a boring striped sweater. It’s getting colder outside recently, and he’s always ran cold anyway. His hands are shaky and nervous as he brushes his teeth, the anxiousness to see you making his body jittery. He considers breakfast, but quickly shuts the idea down. He doesn’t want to be stressed out - at least more than he already is - when he sees you. Twitchy hands lock his door, and he gets a few feet away before he double checks that he did, in fact, lock it. Pull yourself together, Rui! He screams at himself.

The walk is just as unexciting as he expected, albeit a bit chilly. He’s feeling thankful for the sweater. The breeze runs its hands through his hair, and he’s reminded that winter is coming. He always liked Autumn flowers the best, hibiscus flowers are pretty too, he supposes. It’s nice to have the warmth of the sun soothing his cold hands during summer, for sure.

He trips over a rock on the way, and his pants get wet on the knees. Khaki blends into an ugly brown, and he sighs. How unlucky, would anything go right for him today?

Turns out it will, you look really good today.

You great him at the door, practically buzzing with eagerness. It makes him smile, knowing that you do, in fact, want to see him. Or at least are acting like it. You’re a good friend to him, he’s lucky to have you.

“Rui!” You hug him as a greeting, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist. His heart soothes, eyes closing in relaxation. Problems feel obscure and distant when you two are like this, despite his reluctance last night. He can forget about corrupt feelings - or misguided love- and he can just be your best friend. Despite his apprehension to be cared for, he is flattered that you, at least, seem to like him.

“Hey.” He breaths you in, his voice soft. He hopes you don’t notice, it’s embarrassing.

“Hey!” You reply, pulling away. “Big things planned, Rui!”

“What big things?” He asks, amused. “Big things” for you were junk food and shopping.

“Big things! It’s a surprise!” You put your shoes on, and he can’t help but feel jealous as he watches your hands tie them dutifully. He sighs, stretching. He decides to make it a challenge to act normal the whole day. No weird thoughts are going to beguile his mind, he promises himself.

You lock your front door, twisting the knob to make sure that it did, in fact, lock. This fills him with a child-like sense of delight, maybe you two really were similar.

Nah, not possible. You’re too pure - too perfect. Ugh, Rui, no more stupid thoughts.

He watches you check the time, make a face at a nearby bird, and cover your cheeks with your hands. You suddenly perk up, wrapping your arms around him.

“Warm me up, will ya?” You scowl at the cool air, grip tightening. He gulps. It’s weird he reacts like this, considering you two have done things like this all the time. It’s normal, so why does he have to be such a creep? His arms wrap around yours, running his hands up and down to create heat.

“Should’ve worn a jacket,” he chides, “wouldn’t be cold, y’know?” His voice is so casual, like everything is totally fine. It is fine. Fine, fine, fine.

“Gotta look good. I’m on the hunt, obviously,” you joke. It isn’t funny to him, but he lets out a laugh.

“You’re hopeless.”

You two stop at a convenience store first, and you all but sprint to the drinks. He had this ritual down to a science. You grab two different color slushies, and he grabs whatever odd snack catches your collective stomachs eye today. Today the two of you decide to split a cookie, and walk to the counter. The cashier gives you a smirk, and he averts his eyes.

“This it?” The boy cocks his head, and you get the memo. You immediately jump on the opportunity.

“Mhm!” You wink, resting your chin in your hands while leaning against the counter. In all honestly, he wasn’t even that cute. At least, that’s what Rui kept telling himself.

“Don’t worry about it, than. I got you guys,” he waves you off. Score! You think, but he adds. “If I can get your number.” Rui feels like falling into the floor, how awkward! You just scribble it onto a stray receipt, winking.

“Thank you! You’re the sweetest!!” You singsong, skipping along with Rui following suite. You immediately burst into laughter, throwing a fake punch at Rui. “What a weirdo! Like I’d call him over what, 1000 yen?! I don’t even know him, yuck!”

So you did have some sense, he feels like letting out a sigh of relief. You hold your hands out.

“Which one do you want? I got your favorite!!” You look so proud, and he wants to laugh. His “favorite” isn’t actually his favorite, but he’d never tell you that.

The lie started one day in middle school, when the two of you suddenly had a weird craving for slushies. When you picked them out, you had gotten a red one and a blue one, and asked him what he wanted. While he really didn’t like red, he knew you liked blue, so he said red. Now for the past four years, you’ve always ended up getting him a red one, thinking it was his favorite. He’ll deal with it for you. Seeing your blue tongue stick out with brain freeze is better than any sugary drink anyway.

“Red, duh.” He scoffs playfully, taking a sip of it. The taste doesn’t really bother him all that much anymore. It reminds him of you.

You always let him divide the snacks, thinking he gives himself the bigger half. He never does, but he eats slower so you think he did. You skip along, enjoying it.

“Y’know, this isn’t bad. Wish they had the brownie, though. That never does us wrong.” God, don’t make him think of the ‘crack brownies’ - as you two call them. Those are great, and he likes them, so you never miss an opportunity to shove them down his throat.

“Don’t complain. Remember the egg roll incident?” He points, laughing at the memory. You two steer clear of that section now, having gotten sick.

“Ugh, I haven’t thought about that in a while! I’m never eating an egg roll again after that day! Ugh,” you gag.

Moments of silly memories like this make him feel like he’s known you forever. He can’t even remember a moment where he hasn’t loved you.

“Where’re we going now, commander?” He salutes, following the trail of sunshine you left behind.

“Where ever the wind blows us, kind sir!” You salute back, pushing him along. Your constant checks of your phone don’t go unnoticed by him, and he fights the urge to roll his eyes.

“Who’re you texting? Don’t tell me it’s that guy.” He tries to sound casual, knocking his shoulder against yours playfully.

“‘M not a total idiot, I’ll have you know!” You huff, holding your phone to your chest. “It’s just somebody we went to school with a while back, ‘m seeing if I can pull the moves.”

“Do I know him?”

“Dunno, never saw you two talking, so maybe not. He was in my english class, remember, the only class we didn’t have together?”

“Ah.”

You two walk in silence, except for when he yanks you back from the collar so you don’t walk into oncoming traffic, which amuses you greatly. You two soon arrive at the small mall, and he tails you as you run with excitement. You two browse everything, constantly pointing out cute plushies, or interesting keychains.

“Rui, look! Look!” You shake him, pointing to the back of somebody’s head inconspicuously. “Wait don’t yet- Okay, now! He’s turning around! That’s the guy! What a coincidence we see him here, right? Do you recognize him?”

Ha. Yeah, he knows this guy. He definitely knows him. He’s the one who would trip him during passing periods, he’s the one who left flowers on his desk. They make eye contact, and it’s like all of his growth left his body. He’s just the same freak from middle school, he’s still thirteen.

He shudders at the guys smirk, sensing that he definitely knows that Rui knows him. He jogs over to the two of you, and Rui already knows what’s about to happen, due to the lopsided smile on your face.

Damnit, this is the first time he doesn’t think he can act like it’s okay.

“Oh wow, what a coincidence! Must be fate we run into each other like this, ehe…” You giggle awkwardly, a dumb expression gracing your face. It’s painful seeing you that way for anybody other than him, and he looks away awkwardly.

“Must be.” He answers, swaggering closer towards you. Rui thanks whatever God above because - despite his current situation - at least this asshole didn’t go to highschool with you guys.

He looks down at his shoes, and tries to shuffle away, knowing this jackass is about to say something. He’s quickly stopped.

“Who’s this, huh? Feel like a recognize him from somewhere…” He trails off, smirking through his nose as he turns his attention to him. “Have we met before?”

“This is Kamishiro Rui, he’s my friend! He went to middle school with us, remember?” You happily answer for him.

Ha, friend? What happened to back-up boyfriend? He’s a little hurt, to be honest.

He feels bitter, it’s unbecoming- God, he doesn’t care. He should feel bad for getting so angry over it, it’s not like you belong to him. He’s such a freak, getting attached to you like this.

He starts to pick at his fingers, then he plays with a loose string on his sweater. You two continue to chat like nothings wrong, and he keeps thinking. It’s something he’s gotten good at recently.

He stops feeling bad about himself for a second- a split second where he resents you, and wishes his pain upon you. Wants you to know what it’s like to be so disgustingly, guiltily, revoltingly obsessed with someone. In this split second, he can’t even find it in himself to feel guilty about it, which is unlike him. He wishes you felt love like this, that you were as psychotic about it.

But this doesn’t last long, because he remembers that he loves you more than anything. He’s lucky to be your friend. You’re a great friend, you’re an amazing person, you’re the sun, the sun, the sun.

He’s the pavement, he has to remember.

“I’m- I’ll leave you to it, y’know? Fabric store.” He stutters, choking on his voice. You don’t even notice, waving him off.

You do, however, remember to press his shoulder, uttering an absentminded “Okay, Rui, bye,” and he remembers again how perfect you are for doing it subconsciously. He lets himself feel the touch, long after he’s walked away. He deserves it after the trouble he’s reliving.

When he makes it to the fabric store - which he really didn’t need anything from, Nene had gotten some the other day - he can’t help himself from wishing he could just go home. Malls were always overwhelming already, and now his saving grace has the attention of another man. He walks through aisles, but realizes that he now has to buy something.

‘Least he knows that social cue, he laughs bitterly, running his hands across his face in frustration. He’s so ridiculous.

Meanwhile, you were chatting up a storm. It was your first time talking in person since middle school, after all! You feel giddy for a while, but it cuts abruptly. You feel a strange sense of urgency, something’s missing.

Oh, your best friend.

But where had he gone? You’re sure he was just here. You smile apologetically at the cute boy, putting on your best performance.

“Oh, I better go get my friend now. I don’t like walking home when it’s late. Was nice seein’ you, let’s hang out soon, ‘kay?” You singsong, stepping closer. You want to give yourself a pat on the back, you’re so cute.

He rolls his eyes, and you’re hit with a wave of uneasiness. That noise he made sounds strangely dismissive, he’s not the kind of guy to be a jerk though, you must be hearing things-

“Leave ‘im. Between you and me, he was a total freak in middle school. Probably is now, too. Probably likes you or somethin’, total nutcase.” His voice sounds so casual, like it’s not the douchiest thing you’ve heard all day.

You let other men walk all over you, sure. You let them cheat on you, lie, whatever. But you’re not about to stand here and insult Rui. He’s the only untouched thing in your life - the only person who isn’t cruel. He’s so gangly and awkward, but in the best way. You could live a million times and not be able to deserve him, at least you think so. He’s so unusual, and that’s what you love most about him. Little things like not liking loud lights, or liking the red slushies the best, make your heart buzzy with familiarity. He’s the one constant in your life.

You’ve been awfully worried about him recently, though. His particularly (as you like to call it) has gone to the an extreme, and it’s been a battle getting him to eat real food. You’re not blind, you see the way he’s been spacing out, or tapping a little too much. You just thought he’d been overwhelmed. He worries you to death sometimes, but despite all of his own struggles, he always seems to not care about it, deciding to always be there for you instead. Ah, he’s just such an amazing guy - no, not guy, he’s not anything like those other boys you talk to. He’d never insult someone like that. He’s not just a guy, he’s like your person.

Yeah, he’s definitely your person.

Your heart sputters at the thought, and you feel something you’ve never really felt before - save for hugs between the two of you that lasted just a second too long, or words a little too romantic. The feeling makes your mind fuzzy, and your heart hurt terribly with something you could only place as homesickness.

Oh.

“I,” you begin, backing away. “Yeah, I’m sorry but I’ll really be going now-“

“What? C’mon I was just messing with you, even though having guy friend’s kinda weird.” He rolls his eyes.

“Yeah whatever, I’ll call you back,” you say dismissively.

You’re totally lying, you laugh, you’re not calling him back.

He didn’t seem to like that.

“Damn, can’t even joke around with you people. Whatever, weirdo, sorry I insulted your little boyfriend.” The change in tone amuses you.

Yeah, good riddance, pal.

You turn away, walking through the mall with pace. It takes a while, but you spot him watching a pet stores aquarium.

He’s a funny one.

You wave your hands, trying to get his attention. He swallows, knowing that it’s probably to ask him if it’s cool to walk home by himself. Emotions are stupid, and ironically, you both think that at the same time.

“Rui! Rui! Hey c’mon, let’s go home, yeah?” You smile, face feeling warm. It’s a different feeling from when you usually talk to him. He looks at you, a little shocked. He had assumed you were smiling wide because you set up a date, so he turns his head.

“Where is he, huh?” He looks away, back to the fish tank. You shift in place, was he mad at you? You’re a little irritated at the mention of the guy, though, and huff.

“Don’t worry about that. Seems like I only attract douchebags, so I decided to go.” You explain, poking his shoulder. “Hey,” you start, “let’s just walk home, I wanna talk to you about something.” The idea makes you feel dizzy, but you’ll have to illustrate your feelings one day.

You can leave out the “I think I’m in love with you” part, you think.

The two of you walk in an excruciating silence, staring down at the reflection of the setting sun in the puddles. His heart tightens, remembering his earlier comparison. Even now, you’re so perfect. Even if he’s frustrated with you - despite you turning down the guy in the end (he doesn’t know why, he wanted to ask) - even if he’s ready to scream, and cry, and ask you what it is he did for you to be so turned off by him, he still thinks you’re the most heavenly, divine person to ever grace his view. He wants to be where you see him, he wants to be in your orbit.

“You’re like the sun-“ He blurts out, immediately regretting it. He didn’t mean to say that, God, he’s so fucking stupid. He sees you stop walking, smiling that same stupid, dopey, lopsided smile that he’s always so jealous of-

Oh. It’s for him.

He chokes, stopping to meet you eye-to-eye. You look up at him too, laughing giddily.

“What does that mean?”

He sputters, stepping away. “N-no it’s nothing- It was stupid anyway so-“

“No, tell me!” You urge, laughing a little harder. “What if it was something bad, ‘nd you were making fun of me? That’s not nice, Rui!”

“I- Hey-“ His voice goes a touch higher, a defensive tone rising. “That’s not-“

“Then tell me.”

“It’s just,” he breaths, trying to word it in the least creepy way possible. How does convey the fact that he sees you as a divine presence, that he sees himself as a worthless creature compared to you, without sounding like he’s hopelessly possessed by love for you? “I just- you’re so amazing,” he starts, “I thought of this stupid thing the other day when I was walking home - you know how I am - and well, I just thought of you when the sun reflected off the pavement - since it rained, y’know? - and well, it just- Sorry, it was dumb-“ He rambles, covering his face in anguish.

Nobody’s ever put that much thought into you. Sure, you’ve received a few ‘You’re so gorgeous’’s, where you’ve had to wonder where they learnt such a “big word”, but never something as poetic as that. The usual Rui-ratic explanation endeared you to him even more. You look at him, the smile never leaving. He’s just… so Rui. His stupid striped sweater, his half up hair - that you’d begged him to grow out - his eyes, whatever. Everything about him you treasure, and little do you know he cherished you even that more intensely.

“I think you’re the moon, Rui. Or maybe the earth, since I take care of you, hah!” You snicker, stepping closer to him. He takes a step back in return, and you grab his hands to make him stay put. His heart throbs, and he almost goes crashing down.

“I.. I don’t-“

You yank his hands, making him look back up at you. “Hey, Rui, I,” you look at him assuringly, “I wanna say something, and you can’t laugh okay?”

He holds his breath, so do you.

Fuck it, just tell him.

“I think I’m in love with you, Rui.” You gaze at him, the words shooting out faster than you can second guess them.

“I don’t-“ He breaks away, his fists balling up. You messed up, you think, you really, really messed up. “I’m not- I’m not going to- You can’t just say that because you got rejected. I- It wouldn’t be nice to- You don’t love me-“

“Rui,” you beg, grabbing his arm again, “holding hands on the way to school, cuddling while doing homework, knowing everything about eachother, these aren’t-“ You breath, “I’ve wanted somebody to love me for so long, Rui, and I was so blind to the fact that I was loved. But the love that I felt for you, - that I feel for you - Rui, isn’t the kind where I can be- where I can just be so- so normal about those things!” You monologue, saying whatever’s on your mind. You’re the rambling one now.

“I found myself comparing you to these piece-of-garbage dude’s I’m always with, wishing I could just date somebody like you instead! But now I realize that it is you-“

His heart falls into his gut, and he breaks free from you again. His hands move to his face, covering his eyes. His voice is broken and cracky as he begins to cry. “That was- you-“ He pulls you into a desperate embrace, arms holding you like you’ll disappear. “You shouldn’t, you’re wrong.” He sobs, “I’m- the way I love you is- You don’t understand, the way I feel isn’t normal I- My love is disgusting, and horrible, and depraved-“ He shakes, you rub his back. “You are so perfect compared to me, I’d never be able to- I love you so much, more than friends are supposed to, more than anyone’s supposed to at our age-“

“Rui, hey Rui please don’t cry.” You beg, smoothing out the ridges in his sweater. “I don’t- I don’t agree with that, and I can scream that at you, but I’m sure you won’t believe me. You’re not disgusting for feeling emotions different, Rui that’s what I love about you.”

“Stop- stop saying my name like that. It’s too hard to-“

“Rui, I love you. You don’t need to accept it, but I love you. More than being in love, more than being loved-“

“I love you, too,” his voice cracks, “that’s why I’m so scared. I don’t want to ruin a friendship that’s all I have, if this is just- I’m scared I’d lose you in any way, and I can’t live in a world where you don’t see me. I won’t. It’s sounds horrible but-“ He stops as you pull away from the hug, and wipes his face hastily. You put your pinky out, and his stomach drops again.

“C’mon, just like when we were kids. Pinky promise that no matter what, we’ll always see each other. That way you don’t need to worry anymore, y’know? I never break my kissy pinky promises, ever.”

Just like when you two were little.

He locks his with yours, just like you taught him all those years ago. He remembers your shared handshake for theater, he remembers your shared handshake for testing, and he remembers the song you two had to duet for choir - when you have forced him into it for a year. He holds everything of you so dear to his heart, you endear everything about him to you as well.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“I see you.”

“I see you, too.”

You two kiss your hands, then bring them down, still interlinked. You stare at him, and he stares back at you. In a moment of profound sincerity, you lean forward, and kiss him. It’s slow and gentle, and you unlock your hands half way through to hold his face, which he mirrors. His heart settles for the first time. You see him. He’s your moon, your earth, you’re his sun, his stars.

He’s suddenly alarmed by a quick pushing off of him, gasping out a “Rui!”

“I-“ he pants, wiping his mouth. “Hm?”

“we’re in the middle of a park!”

[defectivevillain]

those who fall

pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Reader (can be platonic or romantic)

reader's race and gender are ambiguous; no pronouns or physical descriptors are used.

summary: “What’s your name?” you ask your companion. “Hannibal,” he responds. The man doesn’t look the slightest bit malnourished, despite your predicament. Either he’s new here, or he’s been able to keep his hunger satiated. “Hannibal,” you repeat, taking note of his vaguely European accent. “That’s a strange name.” Hannibal just blinks. The man looks almost expressionless, but you can see a hint of irritation at the edges of his faux smile.

word count: 3k | ao3 version

warnings: canon-typical blood and violence, death, suicide, cannibalism, gore, suicidal ideation/self-harm. Emphasis on the cannibalism — both willing and non-consensual cannibalism. Mentions of throwing up/vomiting.

author's notes: Happy spooky pride! (I'm being told it's also called Halloween...? Weird.) Here’s a really fucked up fic. :3

If y’all haven’t watched The Platform, here’s the trailer, which should explain things. I’ve also attempted to write an explanation, but it’s long and bad. Here it is anyways, in case you don’t want to watch the trailer:

There is a vertical prison system that stretches more than 300 levels down. Each floor houses two people, and there’s a large hole in the middle to accommodate a table. Each day, a single table starts at Floor 0 and makes a stop at each floor. The table is loaded with a ton of dishes for a large and extravagant meal. Floor 1 gets the table for a short time before it drops to Floor 2. So on and so forth. People aren’t allowed to take things from the table to save for later, so it’s a scramble to eat enough to keep them nourished until the next day. They’re all eating from the same table, so as the floors get lower, there’s less and less food left. Inhabitants stay on their floor for one month, before they’re exposed to gas and moved to a different floor for another month. Basically, the lower the floor, the less likely you’ll be to get any food. In theory, if each person ate only their own ration, the food might last. But some people are greedy, wasteful, etc... A floor below 100 is virtually a death sentence, because that means 200 people pick at the food before you get to.

heed the warnings listed above before reading!

You wake up, blinking away the traces of a gas-induced sleep. It’s the beginning of the month, which means you’ve been transported to another floor in the facility. Groaning, you blink blearily, only to find someone staring down at you. You flinch and get up, hoping he’ll move away. But he continues looming over you, looking at you with a scrutinizing gaze. 

“You must be my new roommate,” he says emotionlessly. 

“How’d you wake up so fast?” you respond, squinting at the daylight seeping through the room. Typically, the gas is strong enough to leave you knocked out for at least twelve hours. But this man is already awake, and there’s no telling how long he’s been standing before you, watching you. The thought unnerves you. 

He just shrugs in lieu of a response to your question. You take a deep breath and turn towards the far wall, dread coiling in your chest as your eyes find the number of the floor you’re on: 139. Fuck. You’ve never been this low before. You had the 76th floor last month and the 23rd the month before that, then 87, 6, and 53. You had no idea the floors went down past 100; all you knew was that you’d be getting a new roommate this month, in light of your past roommate’s death. 

Floor 139 is practically a death sentence. You’d normally be able to fast thirty days, but you spent all of last month fasting at Floor 76. (You didn’t have much of a choice, as the food never made it down to you in the first place.) You push yourself to your feet and walk near the center of the space, glancing down only to find more floors stretching down as far as the eye can see. There are dozens—maybe hundreds—of people beneath you. You want to throw up. 

“You look frightened,” your new roommate remarks, breaking you out of your spiraling thoughts. You glance at him, unable to hide your irritation. 

“Of course I am,” you snap, beginning to pace around the edge of the hole in the floor. “The food will never make it down this far.” 

“How do you know?” he hums. There’s a knowing smile on his face, as if he wants you to concede and utter the words aloud. 

“The food didn’t even make it down to level 87,” you recall, shaking your head as you try to fight off memories of an aching stomach and a debilitating weakness anchoring you to your bed. “And we’re fifty-two levels beneath that.” 

Silence. You swallow hard and try to maintain your composure. Panicking won’t do you any good.  And you definitely don’t trust this stranger enough to show him any sort of emotional vulnerability. You bite the inside of your cheek and think for several minutes. “What’s your name?” You later ask your companion. 

“Hannibal,” he responds. He takes another step backwards and light falls on his face, revealing a chiseled facial structure, brown-grey hair, and glimmering brown eyes. The man doesn’t look the slightest bit malnourished, despite your predicament. Either he’s new here, or he’s been able to keep his hunger satiated. 

“Hannibal,” you repeat, taking note of his vaguely European accent. “That’s a strange name.” Hannibal just blinks. The man looks almost expressionless, but you can see a hint of irritation at the edges of his faux smile. 

“How’d you lose your roommate?” you continue determinedly, desperate for some information on this guy. Something about him unsettles you. It must be the unbothered way with which he analyzes your surroundings, as if you hadn’t both just been given a finite expiration date.  

Hannibal studies you for a long moment. “You don’t want the answer to that question.” He eventually answers. A shiver rolls down your spine. 

“You killed them,” you realize aloud. 

“And ate them,” he confirms casually. Your heart starts thudding quickly in your chest. You pretend not to be affected by his confession. Internally, you’re scared for your life. To think that you’d survived months of starvation, only to die at the hands of another human? “What happened to your roommate?” Hannibal continues, before you can truly collect your thoughts. 

“They jumped,” you remember to say, the taste of bile climbing up your throat. There’s no need for further explanation. 

“Ah.” A tense quiet descends on the air once more, and the two of you spend the seemingly countless hours before the table’s arrival in silence. 

When you finally hear the telltale whirring of the table above, your stomach growls. You need food rather desperately—especially after not receiving any legitimate nutrition last month. Your hands are shaky; your vision is blurry; and your legs feel as if they’ll cave in at any moment. 

The glassware rattles and the table sinks down to your floor. Hannibal and you both look at the remnants of the meal from above, only to find plates licked clean and glasses entirely empty. As you expected, there is nothing left for you to eat: not even a crumb or bone. 

There is, however, a man crouched on the table. He stares ahead with blank eyes, as if he doesn’t even see either of you. You look at him for a few moments, immediately promising yourself not to get any closer. In this place, vulnerability is weakness. You’ve seen it happen before: someone will extend a helpful hand to another person, only to be stabbed through the back in the same breath. There is no saving anyone here. You are all destined for death, regardless of when it may come. 

Hannibal regards the new arrival for several seconds, before quickly reaching out and grabbing his collar, yanking him off the table and onto the pavement. You watch in disbelief as Hannibal brandishes a knife—when in the hell did he get that?—and stabs him several times. Your roommate’s ferocity ensures the man’s death. Calmly, Hannibal drags the corpse by the ankles until it’s closer to the walls. 

Then, he sinks his knife into the body’s skin. The victim, unsurprisingly, doesn’t so much as flinch. The knife pierces the skin of his chest and Hannibal sinks his hand into the cavity, gripping the entrails and pulling them out with practiced precision. He gets to his feet, holding the liver in his hand. You watch in silent horror as his head turns and his gaze finds you, his eyes trained on you even as he raises the organ to his mouth and begins eating. 

Your stomach turns in disgust and revulsion. You’ve survived months of fasting—you never ate another human, despite the earsplitting screams from above and below indicating that several other inhabitants did. Even though you know you need to eat, the thought of tearing into that corpse is enough to make your appetite disappear. You quickly turn your head and clamp a hand over your mouth, before raising it to cover both your nose and mouth. The scent is enough to make you nearly hurl. You close your eyes and pretend you’re somewhere else—anywhere else, but trapped on this floor with a cannibal. 

Your ears are ringing at the confirmation that Hannibal is a seasoned killer. This was not his first kill, and it likely won’t be his last. There is a very good chance you’ll be his next meal. Fear pulsing through your veins, you manage to pull your knees close to your chest and close your eyes. The cool metal of your lighter grounds you to this horrible moment, this stiff and unfeeling air. 

If you had known just what horrors you would be subjected to, you would’ve chosen a different object to bring. Maybe you would’ve even chosen a weapon to protect yourself or a form of entertainment. But your naive self chose a lighter—not even for smoking, but just to watch the flickering flame. Your finger now twitches to bring the flame to your skin, but you resist the urge. There is enough pain and suffering here without your own self-inflicted torture. 

It is hard to sleep that night. Your thoughts are buzzing too loudly. It takes a while for your eyelids to slip shut, and once the table comes rocketing by, you shudder awake and have to fall asleep once more. When you finally succumb to slumber, your dreams are distorted and cryptic. 

The weird sensation of something in your mouth pulls you from slumber. You open your eyes to find Hannibal standing over you, the crimson light casting shadows across his face. You instinctively want to belch at the foreign material, but Hannibal’s hand is secured firmly over your mouth. You immediately catch on to what he’s doing: he’s feeding you some of the corpse’s meat. 

You try to fight back—attempting to shove him off—but his grip is too strong and you’re weakened by hunger and lack of sleep. You’re forced to chew, unless you want to choke and die. A shudder runs through your entire body as you chew, disgusted with the texture. The taste of iron and copper runs through your mouth; the smell alone is enough to make you gag. After what feels like far too long, you manage to swallow. 

Satisfied, Hannibal steps away—and you immediately fall off your bed and to the floor, stumbling to the sink to drink some water and flush the organ down. “Fuck you,” you spit at him, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. It comes back bloody, and you take extra effort to scrub your face clean. Hannibal doesn’t seem to be affected by the insult. Rather, he’s wearing an understanding smile on his face—and you’re growing more and more overtaken with the urge to punch that look off his face. You clench the faucet with an increasingly tight grip, until there are bolts of pain sliding through your fingers. 

“You will thank me soon,” Hannibal remarks, staring at you. You can see his heated gaze in the cracked mirror before you. It’s clear what he’s trying to say: if you don’t eat, you will die.  

“I won’t,” you say numbly, your heart roaring in your ears. “You should’ve left me alone.” Your voice breaks at the end of that sentence; if Hannibal notices, he doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he only looks at you imploringly. 

“You need proper nourishment,” Hannibal maintains. 

You hiss and walk back to your bed, turning to the side so you don’t have to look at him. You’re not foolish enough to turn your back on him—not when you know just what he can do. You don’t want to indulge his murderous sensibilities. You spend the rest of the day split between seething and suppressing the urge to throw up.

When night falls, Hannibal goes to sleep. You only pretend. When you hear the steady rise and fall of his breathing, you push yourself up quietly and sit on your bed. You will not fall asleep tonight. You don’t want a repeat of last night. 

Despite your quiet movements, it doesn’t take Hannibal long to notice that you’ve shifted. “You’re not sleeping,” he says aloud, admittedly startling you as the uneasy silence across the space is broken. When you comprehend his remark, you can’t stop the wry laugh that falls from your lips. 

“I don’t trust you,” you respond candidly. There’s no point in pretending otherwise.  

Hannibal lets out a strange noise. It takes you a few moments to realize that he’s just laughing. “If I wanted to kill you, I would’ve done it already,” he then says. “You are… the least insufferable of my companions so far.”

You blink in the near darkness. “Thanks,” you say dryly. That statement isn’t reassuring in the slightest. You don’t want to wake up to find him forcing organs down your throat again. The thought sends a renewed wave of nausea through you, and it takes you several moments of measured breathing to fight it off. 

Eventually, you fall asleep. You can only fight off the exhaustion for so long, and if you’re not eating, then you definitely need to be resting to conserve energy. 

You wake the next morning breathing hard, expecting to see Hannibal looming over you. But he’s only sitting on his bed, regarding you with a blandly amused look. It appears he won’t be forcing you to consume human entrails again. 

But little do you know, Hannibal doesn’t have to force you next time. 

It’s been sixteen days since that horrible night. Sixteen days without food. Your body has grown incredibly weak. You can barely push yourself up to get to the faucet across the room. Speaking takes too much energy. Most of the time, you just lie on your bed and stare at some point in the distance, losing yourself in memories long gone. 

You can’t find the energy to waste on getting angry. Instead, you’re just… empty. The movement of the table is the only thing that helps you discern the time. The corpse Hannibal took all those days ago has since become a rotted pile. Neither of you have seen anything resembling food on the table. The people above are merciless. They eat the rations of several people; they spit on everything in reach. 

You don’t bother to look up at the table’s arrival today. There will be nothing for you to eat. And indeed, when you finally drag your eyes over, there is only glassware and silverware… scattered around a person in the center. They sit cross-legged and stare ahead with that similar unseeing expression from the man all those days ago. 

You don’t need to watch to know what happens next: Hannibal drags them onto the pavement, brandishes his knife, and kills them. He dissects them with the mercy of a disinterested scientist, before sparing you a simple look. There’s a single drop of blood carving a path down his lips. Hannibal wipes it away. 

You extend a hand wordlessly. 

Hannibal stares at you, a complex emotion passing over his face as quick as lightning. He places a bloodied chunk in your palm. The crimson stain spreads across your skin. You look down at it and feel… nothing. There’s an echo of disgust and horror, perhaps. But beyond that, you’re an empty shell. This place has changed you. Emotions do not survive here—instinct does. And your instincts tell you that you need food. 

Minutes later, the gnawing pain in your stomach has subsided and there’s the horrifically familiar taste of iron settling on your tongue. You swallow hard and slowly push yourself to your feet, mechanically walking over to the sink and getting some water to wash it all down. Your hands are shaking but you manage to satisfy your thirst. Turning the faucet off with shaking hands, you lean against the wall and sink down into a sitting position. 

There’s dried blood on your hands. It doesn’t matter that you washed it away—you can still see it. It haunts you, even when the night arrives and the floor is drenched in crimson light. You’ve since migrated to your bed, but you can’t get yourself to move from your sitting position and lie down. You can’t give yourself comfort. You don’t deserve it—not after what you’ve done. 

You’re not sure how long you sit silently, watching the darkness settle and fade into a dusky light. There’s a persistent pain in your back and your cuticles are picked open, yet these sensations fade to obscurity when you remember the meal you just willingly consumed. You had no choice seventeen days ago. You can’t say the same for yesterday.

There’s an uncomfortable wetness clinging to your cheeks and eyelashes. You’re crying, you realize. It’s been a while since you’ve cried, even with all the horrors you’ve witnessed here. You shakily wipe at your tears, but they keep falling. Falling prey to the burning in your throat, you bury your head in your bent knees and struggle for breath. 

At some point, there’s a hand on your back. You’re so exhausted that you don’t even flinch, because you can’t seem to muster up the energy. Your body is wracked with chills and phantom shivers as you try to comprehend just who is offering you comfort. The same person who kills others with ease and feasts on their remains… is wrapping an arm around your shoulders and sitting on your bed next to you. 

You don’t have the strength to push Hannibal away. You lack the strength and fortitude to do so. Hannibal is the only human contact you will have, if you continue living. You don’t have a choice—if you want to maintain your sanity, you’re forced to cave into the loneliness screaming behind the confines of your rib cage. That’s what you tell yourself as you reluctantly begin to relax in his hold. You cling to him with increasing desperation. Hannibal’s hand rises to the nape of your neck, cradling your head in what feels like an intimate gesture. 

You can’t stop the sobs crawling out of your throat. 

You want to assign Hannibal the blame. But you know it’s not that simple. He didn’t put you in this prison system; he is nothing more than another participant: one with the courage to keep themself alive, at any cost. Perhaps you should be more like him.

…It’s a chilling thought. 

You have never been so desperate for answers, inside bleak cement walls that give you nothing except more questions. The sparkling silverware; the gleaming glassware; the callous cruelty of those above; the painful plight of those below. There is no solidarity or community amongst the people in these walls: only the concepts of superior and inferior… and the fallen. Those who have been above, have savored without suffering… only fall from grace and stumble into starvation’s relentless grip once more. 

Your tongue recognizes the taste of copper; your hands the crimson stain that becomes a murky brown as time passes. You have fallen. And of one thing, you are certain: you will never rise again.

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[anonymousewrites]

Nobody's Soldier (Book 1) Chapter Thirty-Four

Found Family! Supernatural x Teen! Reader

Chapter Thirty-Four: Demon Blood Withdrawal

Summary: Sam's detox does not go as planned.

Mouse Note: Buckle up, everyone. Just this chapter and two more for the end of this book.

            (Y/N) flinched as yet another scream pierced the air. Even outside of Bobby’s house in the cool evening air, Sam’s cries of pain and panic were clear as day. Ever since his detox had begun, his hallucinations and physical symptoms of withdrawal had grown stronger and stronger. (Y/N) hadn’t seen it abate once, and it hurt to know their friend was going through so much pain.           

            But the demon blood was an addiction. He compulsively sought it, lying and tricking people to get it. He tore through a demon’s throat for it. Sam was different because of it.

            (Y/N) heard another pained cry, and they curled up on Bobby’s porch. They held onto their necklace, the spirit quartz cool like the air.

            Please. Let Sam survive this. Let him be okay.

            He had made a mistake. He didn’t deserve to die for it.

            “Kid?”

            (Y/N) looked up to see Bobby in his doorway.

            “C’mon. Time to eat,” he said.

            (Y/N) nodded, finally getting up. Bobby watched them enter the house and frowned. They were worried, just like Dean and Bobby. And if even a kid could see how dangerous this situation had become, just how bad was it in reality?

            They all knew: Apocalypse bad.

l

            “The news,” said Bobby grimly, putting a paper down on the table. “And the news ain’t good.”

            “This is what Rufus called about?” asked Dean, looking at it. “ ‘Key West sees 10 Species go Extinct?’ ”

            “Yep,” said Bobby. “Plus, Alaska—fifteen-man fishing crew, all stricken blind, cause unknown. New York—teacher goes postal, locks the door, kills exactly sixty-six kids. All this in a single day?”

            Dean’s jaw clenched, and (Y/N)’s gaze dropped.

            “I looked them up. There’s no doubt about it. They’re all seals,” said Bobby.

            “Breaking,” said (Y/N) softly. “Fast. Too fast.”

            “How many are left?” asked Dean.

            “Who knows? Can’t be many,” said Bobby. “Where the hell are your angel pals?”

            “You tell me,” grumbled Dean.

            Bobby looked at (Y/N), and they made a face showing it was as bad as it sounded. He cleared his throat. “I’m just wondering…”

            “What?” said Dean.

            “With the Apocalypse being nigh and all, is now really the right time to be having this little domestic drama of ours?” said Bobby.

            “What, Castiel and Dean not talking?” said (Y/N), and Dean glowered. (Y/N) shrugged innocently.

            “There’s no domestic drama,” huffed Dean.

            Bobby rolled his eyes. “Deam, I don’t like this any more than you do, but…Sam can kill demons. He’s got a shot at stopping Armageddon.”

            “So, what, sacrifice Sam’s life, his soul, for the greater good? Is that what you’re saying?” snapped Dean. “Times are bad, so let’s use Sam as a nuclear warhead?”

            “Look, I know you hate me for suggesting it,” said Bobby. “I hate me for suggesting it. I love that boy like a son. All I’m saying is, maybe he’s here right now instead of on the battlefield ‘cause we love him too much.”

            Dean’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t say anything. He protected Sam. That’s what he’d been raised to do. He loved Sam. He wanted to protect him. But Bobby had a point. Sam was a warrior just like Dean was.

            “I don’t think it’s a good idea,” said (Y/N) softly, and Bobby and Dean looked at them. “Yeah, Sam can fight demons, but he can fight without demon blood. I know I haven’t known him like you two have, but I like him more without the blood. With it, he’s…” they paused awkwardly “…scary.”

            Dean and Bobby exchanged looks. That simple word was far more significant than (Y/N) knew. The Sam Dean and Bobby knew wouldn’t want to frighten a child.

l

            “Dean out?” asked (Y/N).

            Bobby nodded. “Disappeared to go driving.”

            That meant Dean was doing some serious thinking. Hopefully, he came to a good decision about all the chaotic thoughts he had to deal with. God knew that the world was going to shit one way or another, and for some reason, the Winchesters, Bobby, and (Y/N) were the people standing between the world and the Apocalypse.

            Another scream hit the air, begs and pleads to be left alone, to be freed, and (Y/N) winced. Bobby grimaced.

            “C’mon,” said Bobby. “Let’s try to find more seals.”

            “When we know them, it’s too late,” said (Y/N).

            “But it’ll tell us how many we got left,” said Bobby. It would give the kid something to focus on.

            (Y/N) nodded and headed to the computer to check the latest headlines while Bobby copied sigils for protection into a notebook for later use. It was one of his many projects for the panic room in case the end of the world did come (on top of fresh weapons, plenty of salt rounds, and a ton of amateur hex bags).

            While (Y/N) scrolled through headlines and wrote some down to get checked later, Bobby glanced at them. A roar of anger from Sam echoed up, and Bobby frowned. “So, kid.”

            “Yeah?” asked (Y/N).

            “What were your parents like as hunters?” There. Safe conversation. Hunting was a good place to be. Anyways, (Y/N)’s parents were unheard of, so the question was whether or not they had issues that needed to be addressed. God knew how many topics Bobby had to avoid with Dean and Sam because of their upbringing with John.

            (Y/N) paused and shrugged. “Dunno. I never saw them hunt. I didn’t even know they knew all this stuff until they died.”

            “You think they were retired or something?” asked Bobby. It was unusual for a hunter to truly be able to retire, and (Y/N)’s parents weren’t an example of it since they had faced the fate of hundreds of hunters before them.

            “I don’t know,” said (Y/N). They had stopped scrolling on the computer. “I didn’t—I didn’t get a chance to know anything about their work. They were at home, with me. They taught me about monsters and myths on top of all the math and the science and the history. They made me learn self-defense. It was all normal. I didn’t think anything was weird until—” their hand went to their necklace, and they went silent.

            Bobby didn’t pry. He knew that it was the night their parents had died. “Did they give you that?”

            “My necklace?” (Y/N) looked at the amulet in their palm. “Yeah. Spirit quartz. People say it’s for protection.” They let out a wry laugh. “Lot of good it did, right?”

            “You found us.” Bobby didn’t really believe in all that crystal magic—he had seen a lot, but without a spell, witches and magic weren’t anything—but he wanted (Y/N) to relax. They were a kid. Bobby had a soft spot. “Maybe it did something.”

            (Y/N) smiled slightly. “Yeah. Maybe.” They knew it had helped against Tracy the witch. Who knew if it would do anything else. They doubted it.

            Bobby watched them turn back to screen, satisfied that their brightness had returned. They were too young to lose that, and it would be stolen too soon by hunting. The (L/N)s might not have survived to teach their kid, but (Y/N) had found people who could.

            Especially since they were so out of the game that I don’t even know their name. Bobby shook his head. Lone hunters always ended up dead. It was just a shame (Y/N) was left behind.

l

            Sam swallowed and panted, turning away from the latest of a series of horrible visions that tortured him, reminding him of the monster he had become and was always fated to be. Instead of a moment of respite, however, he was faced with yet another person.

            This time, it was (Y/N) in front of him, blood pouring down their side. He recognized the stab wound Alastair had left on them the first time they had encountered him. This time, though, their face was pale. Deathly pale.

            “Why didn’t you help me?” said (Y/N) softly.

            “I did,” said Sam instantly, reaching out.

            “No, you didn’t. You were weak. You let him hurt me,” said (Y/N), glaring at him. Their hands curled into fists.

            “I tried, (Y/N), I tried to help. He was strong, but I got stronger, please—”

            “You got stronger? You’ve lost your head,” scoffed (Y/N). “And you’re going to get me killed. This is your fault.” They held up their hand, bloody from their wound, and Sam swallowed. “Every single drop of my blood is on your hands because you can’t help people. You just get them hurt. I’m going to die a child, and it’s going to be your fault!”

l

            “Guys! Help!” Sam’s screams still hadn’t stopped after hours.

            Dean had returned to the same situation he had left, but at least now…he had done the right thing to protect the people he cared about. He could do what the angels wanted if he ahd that assurance. He looked at Bobby and (Y/N), swallowing.

            “You willingly signed up to be the angels’ bitch?” said Bobby, arms crossed. Dean glared. “I’m sorry, would you prefer sucker?” Dean looked away.

            “After everything they’ve threatened and done, you’re going to trust them now?” said (Y/N) incredulously.

            “Give me a little credit, (Y/N),” said Dean. “I’ve never trusted them less. I mean, they come on like shady politicians from planet Vulcan!”

            That’s honestly disrespectful to Vulcans, thought (Y/N)

            “Well, then, why in the hell—”

            Dean cut Bobby off. “Because what other option do I have?! It’s either trust the angels or let Sammy trust a demon!”

            Bobby grimaced. “I see your point.”

            So did (Y/N), but, “I still don’t like it,” they muttered.

            Dean suddenly paused and frowned. “Do you hear that?” There was complete silence.

            “That’s a little too much nothing,” said Bobby.

            (Y/N) moved towards the stairs with Dean. No one had gone through a demon-blood detox before, and that meant Sam could be going through withdrawal symptoms that could kill him. All three hunters thundered downstairs to the panic room.

            Opening the small window, Dean looked in and saw Sam contorting on the ground. “What if he’s faking?” he breathed worriedly.

            “You really think he would?” said Bobby.

            Sam let out a groan as he rolled around, muscles spasming.

            “He’s addicted. He’ll do anything,” said (Y/N).

            Then, Sam’s body rose into the air and hit the side of the room.

            “That ain’t faking,” said Bobby, and Dean scrambled for the door.

            Sam was thrown across the room again, and Dean ran into the panic room. Dean and Bobby grabbed Sam, pulling him from the wall to the stretcher in the middle of the room. Sam cried out, thrashing against them. (Y/N) watched from the doorway, horrified and concerned.

            “We’re gonna have to tie him down for his own safety,” said Bobby. Dean just stared sorrowfully at Sam. “Dean? You with me?” Nothing.

            “Dean!” said (Y/N). “We have to help him now.” It would protect Sam from hurting himself more

            “Yeah, yeah!” said Dean gruffly, fighting back his previous weakness. “Let’s just get it over with.” They forced Sam down and tightened the straps around his legs and arms, keeping him tied down.

            (Y/N) watched and swallowed. This wasn’t getting better. Sam was only getting worse.

l

            “I’m going to ask one last time. Are we absolutely sure we’re doing the right thing?” questioned Bobby.

            “Bobby, you saw what was happening to him down there,” said Dean. “The demon blood is killing him.”

            “No, it isn’t. We are,” said Bobby.

            “What?” said (Y/N).

            “I can’t bite my tongue any longer,” said Bobby, shaking his head. “We’re killing him. Keeping him locked up down there. This ‘cold turkey’ thing isn’t working. If he doesn’t get what he needs…soon…Sam’s not gonna last much longer.”

            Dean swallowed, eyes burning with tears.

            (Y/N) held their necklace tightly. So…how can we help him? He couldn’t continue with the demon blood. But he couldn’t go on like this, either. And I don’t want Dean to give in to the angels. They had no solutions or powers there.

            “No,” said Dean firmly, despite his worry. “I’m not giving him demon blood. I won’t do it.”

            “And if he dies?” said Bobby.

            “Then at least he dies human!” said Dean, grief already in his voice. That was what mattered to him.

l

            (Y/N) yawned as they flicked through Revelations and compared yet another seal to the list of headlines they’d compiled. The more connections they found, the worse their chances of stopping Lucifer’s rise became, and that just exhausted them more.

            They stared outside at the moonlit night and rubbed their eyes. They should go to bed soon and rest, but they felt like it was their duty to keep working. (Y/N) had to keep going to help everyone.

            Creak

            (Y/N) turned around. Dean and Bobby were working in the junkyard, but the sound of a footstep echoed clearly through the house. (Y/N) walked towards the hall warily. Nothing. They frowned.

            What was—

            That was the last thought before something hit their head, and they collapsed.

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[maj-3k]

Y.N: How do I look?

Constantine: Like goth teen, whose father left for milk, and is weary into satanism.

Y.N: Good

[harbinger-of-enmity]

Delicate . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Trans Sunday x GN Reader 🪽

✒︎ Notes; Transmale Sunday (usage of words p-ssy, c-nt and c-it), gender neutral reader, dom reader, sub Sunday, face sitting, hint of overstimulation, short work… Let me know if I missed anything!

✒︎ Vincent’s Ramblings; Repost because Tumblrs being weird and hid this for a bit on my other accoubt, lawl. sorry if the endings poor, i never know how to end my works 🫶😭

Sunday felt you press your hands into his hips, pulling him closer to your face, a shrill cry escaping him when your thumb dragged over his swollen clit.

Here you had Sunday, the powerful head of the Oak Family, sitting on your face, crying as you bullied his pussy with your mouth. You didn’t quite know how you ended up with Sunday riding your face, but you did know the sweet sounds the man released were like a drug.

Your hands squeezed the supple flesh of Sunday’s thighs, his pale skin taking on a red hue as you did. Sunday moaned, hands pawing at anything he could reach, “[Name]- ‘S too much! Ahh ha—“ Sunday uttered these words but pressed himself further against your face, gasping as your tongue sunk deeper into him.

His thighs squeezed your face, Sunday’s knuckles turning white from how tightly he balled his fists. Sunday’s wings flapped as you pulled your tongue in and out of his body, frame trembling like a leaf in the wind.

“I’m gonna cum! I— Oh, Aeons!” Sunday’s hands curled around his headboard, back arching. You felt his cunt squeeze around your tongue, and you purposely pressed it against his walls, ripping a cry from him.

You felt the bitter, almost sour, taste of Sunday’s fluids on your tongue but couldn’t help the need for more, more of Sunday on your tongue. Pulling your tongue along his most sensitive places, hearing a sweet mewl escape his lips.

Sunday felt that familiar pain bubbling up in his belly, lips parting in a gasp at the feeling, “Ffhh— [Name],” He croaked out, lifting his hips off your face. Your gaze met Sunday’s, the hazy look in his eyes barely processing your face, “Thank you..” Sunday murmured weakly, sitting himself atop your chest.,

The little wings on the sides of his face puffed a bit when you grunted at the feeling of his weight landing atop your body. He squeaked out a quick apology, still within his pleasured haze, too dumb to process the world around him completely.

You reached up to cup Sunday’s face, chuckling as he leaned into your touch, “You okay, birdie?” You asked softly, Sunday nodding against your hand in response. He shifted off your torso, laying beside you, tucking his face into your neck. You could only laugh in response, running your hand through his soft hair.

It wasn’t long until you heard his snoring in your ear, the soft rasp filling the quiet room. You continued to pet Sunday’s head until you yourself fell asleep, holding the Halovian close to your chest.

[yunnimilk]

"ROUGH AND SWEET."

NU; CARNIVAL

to my dearest yakumo ~

serv. top! AMAB! Yakumo x bot! AMAB! gn! Reader.

tags ⵌ.ᐟ.ᐟ | praise kink, BDSM, choking , impact play, tooth - rotting aftercare !!

YUNNI / I know I've been gone, but I was really busy this winter. Visited family for christmas and new years, and spent most of that time with my partner as well. BUT!!! your loyal writer, yunni, is back

SUMMARY: your lover gives you a massage to relieve stress

...

MINORS DNI [18+ DRABBLE] ！！！

YAKUMO ...

God, these grocery bags are so heavy...

You limp your way to your front door, heavy plastic bags in hand. It felt like your arms were just about to pop off, the soreness overcoming everything. How tempting it was to just drop them and leave them there for the bitter winter to freeze everything.

Unfortunately, you had to supply your fridge with food or else you'd starve to death.

Maybe you should move, the space between the parking lot and your apartment was like traveling through the Sahara Desert, too long and difficult for comfort.

Fingertips and toes growing numb from the persistent, apathetic, frigid winter.

"aughh... I'm going to die"

A groan left your lips,

You finally made it to your place of residence, letting the weight pulling down your limbs go.

This sigh of relief escaped you. Standing there for a moment to enjoy the silence.

You reached down to your pocket to find your keys,

.. oh no.. don't tell me..

"did I lose those damn keys?"

Panic slowly sets in your mind, you curse yourself out for being so forgetful. You grip the outsides of your pockets in frustration, just great.

Eyes getting glossy and hot from the tears threatening to fall down. But before you could begin your mini-tantrum, the door suddenly opened. You turned your head at the sudden motion

"Yakumo!"

You whimper out his name, you involuntarily slouch your body to welcome his with open arms. You stain his clothing with your sobs.

"a-ah! [name]!"

"I'm so glad you're here..."

"uhm.. did something happen, love?"

"nothing.. I'm just so relieved to see you.."

Yakumo's face flushes.

"come on.. let's get you inside"

---

"ah.."

Yakumo's slender fingers knead your strained muscles. The massage slightly tickling you, getting dangerously close to your neck. Your partner let out tiny giggles from how easy it was to calm you down.

"mm.."

You let out little noises of approval,

but there was this specific spot that Yakumo grazed over.

"hnGH!"

You both stopped.

Oh shit..

".. my love..?"

Yakumo spoke up, you cautiously turned your head.

"uhm... yeah?"

---

"HyAH!.. fuhh.. Yakumommngh...~"

"mnn! oh.. [name].. you feel so good!"

He desperately humps into your puffy hole, like a bunny trying to mate. He could feel your tight walls clamping down on his cock.

You could feel every vein roughly rub itself with your prostate, the bumps made you arch your back. Fuck.. even that was getting sore. You feel his sneaky little hands hugging you from the back.

It was starting to become painful from the cuffs on your wrists, the metal digging into your skin. Yakumo's hand wrapped around your throat, lightly squeezing it. The pressure made you focus on the electrifying satisfaction, the force on your neck jostled tears out of your eyes.

"Mnh! mmfuhck! YAkumuoo..!"

"hah! You're being so good for me! ~"

"hUNGH!"

Your walls compressed Yakiumo's fat cock so tightly that he couldn't move, his pathetic moans reach your ears, it made you so horny!

"o-oh! I'm about to!"

Yakumo exclaimed in euphoria,

"P-PWease come with m-me! HAH!"

Hands unconsciously enclose around your throat more as your partner slaps his hips against your ass. Squelching sounds being overpowered by ruthless clapping noises. None of that, however, could come close to your manic screaming.

"OH! HUah! ah! aH! AH!"

"hnm!.. come with me! ha.. HAH!"

"NGH?!"

You suddenly felt hot, splurging cum overtaking your insides. The feeling alone made you release spunk all over the couch. You were all sticky but it was so good.

Hands still tied, you fell down with your behind still raised up, sore hole leaking out thick liquid, squirting out on occasion. The aftereffects made you drowsy and cockdrunk, breathing out moans, it was so hard to stay conscious.

"guh!"

You jolt from a wet feeling on your bottom, it was Yakumo wiping you down with baby wipes. How did he fix himself up so quickly?

"sorry for going so hard! I was just lost in the moment.."

After he finished, he wrapped you in a fluffy blanket, the frost being withered from the heat of the cloth. he kissed you cheek.

You wrapped you in his arms and stayed there for the whole night.

"I love you, Yakumo.."

"I love you too, dearie"

[mlm-writer]

Thoughtful (Wade Wilson x GN!Reader)

Pairing: Wade Wilson aka Deadpool x Gender Neutral Reader Rating: Mature (because reader says fuck) Words: 821 POV: Second Summary: Little domestic snippet with your boyfriend <3 Note: No proofreading because I am lazy. If you see a typo, no you don't. Tags: domestic fluff, cuddles, established relationship and chocolate milk

A waft of cold air infiltrated the apartment, rousing you from your warmed nap by the radiator. “NO,” you exclaimed reflexively, without even regaining full consciousness. You thrashed around on the couch, the thick blanket you had draped over yourself got tangled in your legs. A leather-clad hand came to rest on your shoulder. You relaxed and felt the blanket slowly being freed and tucket under your cold body.  

“Just stay half-asleep,” Wade’s gentle voice soothed you as he placed the blanket over you again. “Just don’t fully sleep, cause then the writer will have to write me doing stuff to you while you sleep and while I am a good guy, it still feels a little weird.” 

You turned over to your other side. “Shut up, Wade,” you mumbled, making your boyfriend giggle like a little lovestruck teenage girl. A bit later you felt a large weight crushing you just as you were about to fall back asleep. You groaned. “You’re heavy, get off me!” Wade pulled the blanket off your face and started peppering it in little kisses. 

“Come on babyboo, you love me so much, how can you resist me?” You thrashed around, trying to wrestle Wade off you, but he captured your lips with his, going in for the killer move of distracting you with slow and deep kisses. His rough lips slid against yours; his tongue coaxed its way inside your mouth to dance with yours. Your lips parted with a gasp and in the split second that Wade was distracted too, you chucked him off you, sending him from the couch to the cold hard floor. 

“You underestimate how much I love breathing,” you grinned in victory. Wade shifted on the floor, getting into a more elegant position where he laid on his side with one knee bent and an arm supporting his head. You rolled your eyes as he made suggestive eyebrow wiggles at you. “You woke me up. You owe me a hot chocolate.” It took your boyfriend less than two seconds to get on his feet and be on his way to the kitchen to fulfill your very high demands. You stayed on the couch like a burrito, staring at the black screen of the TV. Turning it on would require sticking your arm out into the cold. 

“I love this show!” Wade quipped from behind you where he was heating up the milk in the microwave. “I love the part where the person does the thing at the place. Don't you?” You rolled your eyes so hard they almost proverbially rolled out of your sockets. Wade chattered on an on about ‘the show’. “And I really like the entity that says the words that mean a lot. You know when it said the thing that helped the other character do the other thing? Oh what a great episode that was!” He didn't shut up until he came into your field of vision and kissed your cheek. “Here you go my little love spring roll.” He said down next to you and turned on the TV. He held the mug at your neck height. In the Pinkie Pie mug sat a glittery pink reusable straw. You smiled and craned your neck down to take a sip without exposing anything but your face to the air. 

“Thank you, baby,” you hummed happily as he put on a bad comedy movie and diligently held the mug up for you. When you had drank it all, he put it down and tugged softly at the corner of your blanket. “Fine, you have earned cocoon rights…” you sigh as you open up the blanket long enough for Wade to also crawl under it. You hissed at his cold skin coming into contact with you. “Fuck you're so cold,” you complained as you wrapped your arms around him, warming him with your body heat. Wade tugged his head under your chin, drinking in your warmth and scent. 

“You'll have to deal with it baby. The nonnie requested cuddles.”

“The who?”

“Oh don't worry about it sweet cheeks.”

You diverted your eyes back to the screen. Wade had the tendency to wiggle around, but your steady arms around him kept him safe and warm. He was surprisingly still. You didn't make it to the credits, the warm coziness lulling you back into a peaceful slumber before dinner. When you woke up, you noticed two things. One, you were a lonely burrito. Two, you could smell take out. You rolled off the couch and followed your nose to the dinner table, where a white plastic back with red lanterns on it was waiting for you. The receipt was taped on top with the back facing you. Red ink adorned the back of the receipt, the message “will be back after killing some bad guys! Love you!” was surrounded by little hearts. A smile stretched over your face. How thoughtful. 

—————

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