hmm-self-indulgence

[hmm-self-indulgence]

@bluevelvetthing I never got any complaints lol! I feel like it’s impossible to write these characters without the kind of obsession that comes with the “Yandere” title! Like it would be impossible to have a healthy relationship with an entity like that. So go off! Shout ur thoughts! 

(If it makes you feel better, I broke that damn 2 years ago, so blame me lol)

Yandere Michael Distortion x Reader HC

Requested headcanon - "May you do yandere headcanons for michael distortion?"

Sorry for how long this took, but honestly being a slow writer is a personality trait at this point and I have a small pt 2 in the works that will feature a bit more yandere themes, so be warned. Let me know if I forgot to tag anything. Also comments are super appreciated i will give you a soft platonic smooch on the hand in return, criticism or fixes are totally allowed.

YANDERE FIC! This is not a healthy relationship, do not read if you are under 16 years of age. SFW. I have a part 2 ready to release soon so hold on. Michael is creepy. Also this could technically be read as platonic.

TW: Stalking, yandere behavior, kidnapping, reader is GN but likes men? or at least thinks Michael is hot. Reader is called pretty. Confusing use of pronouns bc Michael is a mess of them and I like it (he/him, they/them, it/it’s and generally calling Michael 2 people, Them is used for distortion). Repetition. Reader is called pretty. Reader has a pet, but no specific animal is named( he vaguely threatens it) . Michael watches you sleep. Michael Kills someone for you. General fuckeray with the plot at my whims, and yeah this is prob a bit out of character but its the best I can do.

No one has the permission to repost this on any website. I will not post these on other websites so if you see any of my writing on another site, let me know. Do not use my content or claim it as your own! I do not own these characters, they are made, owned and are the property of Johnathan Sims. I am in no way profiting off of this and this is made with full respect to Rusty Quill.

 They were following the vase held by Salesa. They didn't need to follow the vase, it had no target and it would not be hard for the Distortion to find later, the spiral things called to each other, but they followed anyway. That is when It saw you, It was not sure what drew you to them, but from the moment it saw you, they needed to know more. You were just another person on the street, not even the target of the fractals.

They weren't sure what it was that drew the Avatar to you, but it could not look away. Just a normal, unmarked human. Normal fears, nothing that gorged any power in particular but they needed to know more. So they followed you. Days passed, and Their obsession only grew. They knew where you lived, and they wanted to see you. 

It was easy to watch you, you couldn’t hide from what wasn’t there and never looked. It wasn’t the eye, and could not see through yours, but your doors were easy to manipulate, and getting into your home was child's play. Doors like that only keep out the real things, and They were not real. Your home was better than They could have expected, so full of you and Michael felt at ease when they watched you. You were peaceful when you slept, Michael and the thing that was not Michael liked that about you. 

You had a pet. A squishy thing that did not like Them at first, but They were around often enough that the creature tolerated Them eventually. They could not pet the squishy thing, nor did either beings wish for it, as Michael’s hands were sharp, so they merely ignored each other. The squishy thing never alerted you to his presence, so Michael was fine to let it live. 

A few weeks of just watching you sleep and go about your day was not enough. He enjoyed watching you when you slept, going through your phone and listening in at work, but he wanted to know more. To be closer to you. That was normal with a target (that is what he had to call you in his mind). 

Obviously he was not attached to you. Just vaguely interested, right? That is what Michael told himself when a customer was cruel to you. Words you didn't need to hear spilled from the wretched stranger, and for the first time in a long while Michael was angry. What right did that thing have to criticize you? Michael resigned himself to not act, he was not a watcher but he would just observe, that is what he said as the cruel man walked right into one of michael's conveniently placed doors. Michael fed himself on that wretch’s fear, and spat him out when nothing was left but a broken mind. Michael still watched you cry that night, and that is when he decided he needed to properly meet you. 

Your attention would be divided at work, and he wanted it all. Your job would be inconvenient, so they planned. Your phone wasn’t fully charged on Saturday when you always went to the coffee shop, courtesy of Michael unplugging it. You liked the routine so you went anyway, bringing a book you swore you would read at some point. So you sat, drinking and listening to the boring music in the cafe. Michael could not be sated by watching, he needed to have your attention on him. So he entered the shop as Michael Shelley. They would blend in there, Blonde curls on a pretty demure boy wouldn't raise any alarms, but their real form would. He took a table next to you, acquired a drink from the counter he had no capacity nor will to consume, pulled out a phone charger, and waited. 

They just had to wait for attention as you fiddled and cursed your phone for being unplugged, so Michael offered his (it was from your home, but you would never know). You moved and plugged your phone in, feeling obligated to talk to the young man who offered to help you. You asked his name. Its nature pulled it to lie, to deceive and to tell you something that was not truth. But It didn’t. “Michael,” the man said. That is all it took for you to give him your name. They already knew it, but it felt like a promise to the Thing calling itself Michael. You gave him your name, what a silly mistake. You two talked for a bit, likely less than an hour, your book left to the side as you spoke, and you left to continue with your day. 

Later that day you called a friend, you told them of the pretty boy at the coffee shop. Michael’s unnatural smile grew even larger as he heard that. They thought you were pretty too. You cursed yourself for not getting his number. He laughed, having no number or phone. They felt seen when you spoke of them, not the type of invasive seen the wretched watching one gave, but noticed. But you called him pretty, that means you saw him. You were drawn to him as he was drawn to you. 

The Distortion knew it was likely the mother of spiders was pulling the strings here. How else would they be so drawn to you? But for all the discomfort the thought of being manipulated by the spider was worth it if it meant having you. It was meant to be, the Mother of Spiders did not make mistakes, and they did not sully you by marking your flesh, so they could forgive the intervention.

The distortion was almost content with the arrangement you had, even if only They knew of it. Watching you throughout the day, feeding on some fools when needed, and standing over your bed while you slept. It even became routine to meet at your coffee shop,where he talked in riddles and listened to your laugh, you never questioned why theirs gave you a headache. He got bolder, showing up to certain places he knew you would be at, the store down the street for groceries, outside a bus stop he knew you would pass, and even went to your work once. It was almost comical, how easy it was for him to insert himself into your life in small ways without you even noticing something odd. 

It went wrong when the corruption arrived at your job. A coworker with the writhing mass of rot on their mind. It would not allow the infestation to spread, you wouldn’t know till its too late. You were in danger. You were not in danger. You would be in danger. You wouldn’t be in danger with them. The crawling rot wouldn’t taint you. They could keep you somewhere where it wouldn’t infect you. You would stay with them. The plan would take time, no more than a few days but Michael was enraged at the thought of you being hurt by the squirming mass you saw as a coworker, so Michael got rid of them. It was easy enough, the corruption would lose a thing close to becoming an avatar and you would be safe while they plan. Even though the rot was taken care of, you were not touched by powers, and you would be susceptible to their whims. It made him sick to think that you would be harmed, you weren't strong enough on your own. So he planned to take you. 

It made sense to keep you in the halls, It existed in and as the halls, you belong with it, and you weren’t safe outside of them. Maybe… if you found the center of the place that does not exist you would join them. You would be safe as a part of them. The spiral protects its own. But for now, you will open a door and will not be where you were. You would lose your mind to the fractal madness of shifting stairs and doors, but you are safe from those who would corrupt you with their power. You were too good for them, no other power deserved your fear. 

If only you hadn’t been special that day, or called them pretty. Perhaps if you hadn’t lived alone then someone could have saved you, but there is nothing to save you now. If only the door was labeled “do not open”.

[hmm-self-indulgence]

This idea makes me foam at the mouth

Durge x Astarion where Astarion gets the idea of marriage into his head and finds himself embarrassingly daydreaming of marrying Durge. Meanwhile Durge hears about it and is instantly like “are you out of your fucking mind???” This of course is quite disheartening to Astarion until Durge describes what he thinks a wedding is. (Ie. Take your partner to Bhaal’s temple, murder them, and then commit su1c1de)

Alternatively: Durge has to learn the normal versions of customs and etiquette, not the Bhaal versions.

[hmm-self-indulgence]

SCREAMING AND CRYING AND LOSING MY MIND!!! This is brilliant! This is awe inspiring!! This is HEARTBREAKING!!! I’m literally so in love everyone read this and fall in love as well.

I feel like I need to awaken from my year long slumber to write for Gerry now

Gerard Keay x Lonely Avatar! Reader

Tw: suicidal thoughts; mentioned character death

XXX

You missed Michael. You missed him so much you ached. You missed his breezy laugh and fun sweaters and how he always made tea for the two of you every morning. You missed your best friend, and his absence weighed on you like a stone.

You never worked together exactly; but you were an assistant to Elias, and you took the same route home every day and he was just so friendly it was hard not spend time with the sweet and sensitive man.

You didn’t have many friends. Hardly any except for Michael. And by extension, you were on friendly terms with Gerard Keay, who worked closely with Micheal and Miss Robinson on several statement cases. You were… intrigued by Gerard. Michael had encouraged you several times to “go for it”, to suck down your cowardice and just asked the attractive book-burner out for drinks; but you were so, so awkward; even more bumbling than Blackwood.

It felt like a miracle Elias hasn’t fired you yet. You assume it’s because you’ve memorized his coffee order and know exactly where to buy the biscuits he enjoys so much. You really didn’t do much in the was of assisting. You help take names and numbers of potential statement givers, arranged for them to meet an archivist or archivist assistance, fetch coffee and teas, and mostly just sit at the desk in front of Elias’s office and look busy. Whatever papers Elias gives you usually are meant for someone else and all you do is have the building’s mail system bring them to the specific person, so you don’t really do any actual filing.

Well, it’s a living.

A small reprieve from the hum drum of your boring work life was Michael and his fun stories.

Now you don’t even have that.

You wore all black for three weeks in mourning when you realized Michael wasn’t coming back. He wasn’t the first assistant to disappear, but it was the first that affected you. Elias and Gertrude said nothing about the change of your attire and attitude.

You also haven’t seen Gerard in ages. You had seen him once in passing as he exited the building while you were walking up to the stairs, smoking heavily with a dark look on his face. You have to assume he knows of Michael, you couldn’t imagine telling him, and Gerard always seems to know about everything that happens in the Institute. He eyed you briefly, in your dark clothes and somber expression, and he gave you a pitying look before walking in the opposite direction.

Not a word was exchanged, and you had felt so utterly and horribly alone since.

The loneliness creeps into your chest cavity, hollows it out and curls in there like a fog on a pier. Michael was gone, Gerard hasn’t been back in so long, and you were so alone.

Elias briefly checks up on you, asks about your morning walk and compliments your new shoes, wishes you a peaceful weekend and lends you an umbrella when it’s storming. But he’s no friend, and you are under no delusions that you are replaceable to him if needed.

You had no family to turn to. No more friends. Even the stray cat you were feeding regrettably was hit by a car. You felt so desolate and solitary.

You used to cry about it frequently. Every night even, especially after Micheal’s disappearance. But now you can’t even bring yourself to shed tears, they dried long ago; now all you have is the cold knowledge that you have nothing, and that nobody wants you.

When Gerard comes to the Institute again, you don’t even see him at first. You used to jump at the chance to even look upon the handsome man with his badly dyed hair and plethora of tattoos, but now when you hear the other people in the office tittering over his arrival, you just… acknowledge he’s there in the building. You don’t feel excitement or dread or anything. You meant nothing to Gerard, why would he visit you? You don’t even leave your desk to see him.

You felt it again, the loneliness. The heavy fog settling in your brain where you just stare ahead and register nothing going on around you, not processing anything, just barely existing.

Maybe you’ll kill your self today, your thoughts muse in the back of your mind. Death must be nice. To not have to worry about anything; not about friends dying or abandoning you, about poor strays on the street, about perfectly distant bosses and co workers…

It’d be easy; people kill themselves all the time. The Institute was a rather tall building. A drop from there would surely end you; and you know where all the key copies were to get access to the roof.

You had to cross a bridge over a river to get to work; on your way home you could easily crawl over the railing if you wanted.

You were suddenly acutely aware of the sleeping pills in your apartment, ones you bought months ago to aid with your insomnia. It’d be like taking a long rest, like going to bed.

Someone was shaking your shoulders, someone was saying your name with a rising pitch of desperateness. You felt your office chair swivel to face a dark mass and warm warm hands cupped your face.

Rough thumbs wiped away at the hot tears settling on your face. When your vision focused, you saw Gerard. Black lipstick, teased hair, tattoos and dark, wide, worried eyes.

He says your name again and it sound like it aches in his throat to say it.

Several long moments were in silence as the book-burner wiped your face with his finger and smoothed your hair down, eyes darting around your figure as if to search for an injury.

Finally, your voice croaked. “Hi…”

A sigh of relief escapes him, he visibly sags. Hands rest on your shoulders heavily. “Hey. You were crying, did something happen?”

A part of you wants to be enraged. Of course something happened. Micheal is probably dead. The cat that sleeps in your apartment all winter is dead. You want to be dead. You want to carve out your insides so your body reflects how you feel and this whole time he wasn’t there-

But you can’t even feel the anger within you anymore. The burning spite inside you is snuffed out by the chill of your indifference of the situation.

“… I’m fine…” you eventually mutter, looking to your desk. The files on the surface were meant to be sent out ages ago, you should really get on that.

Don’t want to leave your replacement a messy desk after all.

You see Gerard flinch in your peripheral. “Listen- I’ve been meaning to talk to you…”

He smells like cigarettes and sweat, and you briefly realized you will miss that smell when you kill yourself. He flinched again.

“It’s really kind of important, um, can we talk about it over drinks? Right after you get off?”

This stalls your brain. Sure, suicide was a sudden desire, but it felt like the right decision to make. Drinks would just put off the inevitable.

Gerard’s hands came back up to your face again, warm and solid. “Please?”

… you’ve never heard Gerard Keay say please before. At least not earnestly. Usually it was sarcastic and in annoyance. The sincerity of the word casts off whatever dregs of the fog were left, and now you were hyper aware of yourself and your surroundings.

Your cheeks were wet; when did you start to cry? And your hands were balled up into fists so tight your knuckles changed colors. Your mouth was incredibly dry and your jaw aches which how tightly you were clenching your teeth.

Gerard’s presence was warm, comforting. It almost make you choke a sob, and you felt very suddenly the desire to spill every thought about your plans to kill yourself to him, and the only thing that stopped you was social graces and the idea that Elias was right behind the door beside you both and could probably hear you.

“Drinks?” You inquire, blinking away the swell of cold tears in your eyes “um, it’s Tuesday, though-“

He shakes his head. “Don’t worry about that. Just-just say you’ll come. I’ll walk with you after work.”

It sounded more like a plan for himself but you were always so weak willed you didn’t have it in yourself to contest him. So you nodded. Gerard smiles and breathes out a long breath, like he was holding it in. “Good.” He concludes, rising up from his crouching position and removing his hand from your face. “Good. I’ll see you at five.”

He almost turns to leave, before staring hard at Elias’s door. Thick rubber soles squeaked slightly as he steps even closer to you. He looks down at you, eyes wide and searching. One of his black painted finer nails prodded at your fist until it was pulled apart and relaxed by his ministrations.

“Hey…” he sighs, “I’m… I am sorry for not coming back to you sooner.”

A small frown pulls at your mouth. You never meant to make Gerard feel guilty. “It’s fine.” You assure, voice soft.

His eyes alight with sadness. “It’s not. It’s not okay, you need to know that.” He stresses, before finally turning and leaving.

As soon as the door to the hallway close, Elias’s door opens.

He says something about a meeting he has tomorrow with a Board member, a Mr. Lukas, and he asks you to be sure to brew strong coffee for the gentleman when he arrives tomorrow.

You nod, and plan on maybe killing yourself later in the week; to make it easier on everyone.

—

Five pm rolls around at a snails pace, but surely and dutifully, Gerard is there at the door to the exit, waiting for you.

He looks… not stressed, just anxious. Like he’s itching to leave the building as soon as you’re within reach. And that’s exactly what he does. The second he saw you his face erupts into a smile and one of his pale, tattooed hands reached out and gently grabs your elbow, pulling through the front door and down the steps to the road as he sings praises about the bar the two of you were going to; nothing too stuffy but not overtly casual, and he promises that the cocktails are unique and the music they play is a far better selection than most.

You knew from his description he was probably taking you to a goth bar; you didn’t really mind. The idea of strong drinks and black painted walls and sad music almost seemed like a comfort to you.

The hand on your elbow migrates down to your wrist, and finally your hand. His grip was sturdy, and he never let your digits go, squeezing slightly whenever he thought the two of you might get separated.

Gerard was always affectionate with you before. Casually playing with your hair whenever he passed by you in the hallway, placing a hand on your shoulder as you laugh along with Michael over the latest office mishaps, even a few times bringing his lips to your knuckles when you handed him a well appreciated cup of tea whenever he was staying late at the Institute. The touching was not foreign territory, but it felt like forever since you’ve been there, like walking through your childhood house after having been moved out for decades.

When you finally make it to the bar, which was in fact a hole in the wall goth bar, Gerard lead you to the darken back corner, and huddled up next to you comfortably, as if you’ve done this a thousand times before, like it was a regular thing. His arm was heavy and warm around your shoulders and he handed you a cocktail menu.

True to his word, they all had fairly spooky names and sounded tasty. You didn’t even really know which to pick, but Gerry points to one that seems like it’ll suit your taste just fine. You almost titter at how well he knows you, before swallowing down your excitement. You could just be an easy read.

You don’t even order for yourself; as soon as the waitress, decked in black and spiked black hair, came over, Gerard ordered for himself and you, his voice lilting and he seemed utterly uninterested in even looking at the woman, rather eyeing you as he moves some hair out of your face as he spoke.

While the drinks were being made, he fusses over you, asking small conversational questions like, “How is Elias treating you?” and, “You’ve been sleeping well, I hope?”

After weeks of no one even asking after your health you flush under the attention, answering each question softly and as briefly as you can surmise, shy and bashful as Gerard’s dark eyes roam your face and observes your mouth every time you opened your lips to answer. He nods along and occasionally his hand rubs your shoulder.

You feel like he’s avoiding the obvious. Avoiding Michael. Maybe the loss was felt as keenly for him as you felt it. Maybe he was just as wrecked by the blond’s disappearance and is trying to find solace and common ground in you.

When the drinks do come, the goth man removes his arm from your shoulders and sets a napkin in front of you, moving your cocktail onto it without prompt. A tense moment of silence settles now that you’re alone again, and Gerard heaves a heavy sigh.

“I never should have left you alone for so long after he left.” He chokes out, eyes searching your face for your reactions to his words. When not a muscle twitches in your expression, Gerard continues. “I was… hurting. I was angry, and it had nothing to do with you but I was acting ugly and I didn’t want you to see that side of me.”

You nod, ready to let forgiveness slip past your lips when he cuts you off.

“It wasn’t okay of me, it’s not alright. I should have never, ever, let you go through that alone.” He looks so regretful, so sorrowful, it made your heart ache; it was one of the strongest emotions you’ve felt in a while. “I- I don’t even know how to make it up to you, for abandoning you like that.”

The earnestness in his voice makes you stall. You’re not the kind of person people seek forgiveness from. You just got walked over and forgotten and you were used to it. To have anyone, especially someone as high up and composed as Gerard, beseech you for amnesty, seemed to fully pull you from whatever slump you’ve been in these past few weeks.

Your face finally emoted; you frowned and your eyebrows drew together in sympathy, and you shouldered the darkly dressed man. “Drinks is a good start, but I don’t want you beating yourself up over it. You’re here now.” You tried really hard to show that all was forgiven. “Just… try not and leave me again for so long?”

It felt silly to even ask, like a child begging their parent to return safely from a business trip.

Gerard looked at you very seriously, one of his hands coming to yours that were clasped in your lap. “Not as long as I live.”

—

The night was a blur, your drinks were consumed and you’re not entirely sure when you kissed Gerard on the cheek in gratitude or when he kissed your shoulder in fondness but somehow the two you ended up just… kissing in the dark alley next to the bar.

Gerard was all consuming; the way he leaned into you, how his thumb ran over the pulse in your wrist with one hand and his other thumb pressed into your jugular. He smelled like cigarettes and old books up close, he felt warm and heavy against you, how he sighed and moaned when you grabbed onto the lapels of his leather duster to pull him in closer. Every time you opened your eyes all you saw was his dark and brooding set gaze at you from behind heavy lids and the sight was too much for your heart to handle so you close them again, Gerard pulling you closer.

Any closer and you’d become one.

Maybe you wouldn’t be so lonely then.

His head ducks down, nosing your neck and the hand the occupied your throat drops down to your waist. A hot tongue licks your pulse and you gasp, eyes rolling in the back of your head. A black jean clad leg slips between yours, and you’re effectively pinned against the brick wall.

“Missed you…” he moaned, teeth scraping against your skin. “Missed seeing you, being around you, talking to you…” a hand snaked around and pulled you closer by the small of your back. “Fuck me for leaving.”

You gasp and groan, and come to the realisation. That Gerard was a talker, and that you were easily swayed by words. You didn’t even realise that Gerard even liked you this way until about twenty minutes ago. How long has he harboured a crush on you? Had he thought of kissing you often? As often as you thought of kissing him?

He said other things, salacious things, directly in you ear as his hands moved up and down your body, hot breath puffing against the shell of your ear as he occasionally dipped down to kiss you or give you love bites along your neck.

You desperately wanted to do something besides just being there, allowing yourself to be kissed and bitten and wooed. You wanted to move, kiss back, make Gerard as flustered as you were; but the skin to skin contact, the affection, the confirmation of attraction overwhelmed you so much you almost choked up.

In fact you did.

A small sob crashed through your lips as tears welled in your eyes.

The sound causes Gerard to straighten up, and he quickly took in the sight of you crying and stepped away from you, concern of his face.

“Shit- I’m sorry.” He rushes out. “Fuck I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry!”

The separation makes you feel cold and lonely again and your stomach swoops in dread because Gerard, beautiful, wonderful Gerard, is now looking at you like some fragile breakable thing and you just can’t stand the idea that you’ve ruined all the ground you covered in the last hour, and that after this he’ll never want to talk to you again. Boys don’t like people who cry when you kiss them.

Fog begins to seep into the alley, coming off from the street and the dead end a few yards away from you. You don’t try to comprehend how fog just manifested from no where, you just sob again because Gerard was going to shun you out for being too damn weird and unapproachable.

You babbled apologies, heart clenching, trying to verbalise that you were fine, that he didn’t do anything wrong, just that you were fucked up about everything and he should probably just ignore you forever after this.

The fog became thicker and you shiver at the coldness it brings. You sob again, hiding your face in your hands so you can stop looking at the man’s beautiful and worried face.

God, you wished that the wall would swallow you up entirely; you wished you could just disappear and stop being such a nuisance; you should’ve just gone home and killed yourself.

So a brief second, the sound of the air about you had changed. The music leaking through the wall stopped, cars were no longer passing by the mouth of the alley, you didn’t hear the wind shake the plastic lid to the dumpster, you even stopped hearing Gerard’s breath in front of you. The silence was deafening, frightening. For that second, you felt utterly, terribly alone. Like you were the only person in the entire world.

And just as soon as the sounds of the world were gone, they were back. Cars hitting the puddle on the road, early aught goth music seeping through the brick, and Gerard saying your name with desperation.

Warm warm hands clasp your shoulders and you finally peer through your fingers to see the man, lipstick smudged and hair frizzy from the fog. He eyes looked wild, fearful, and he gripped your person so tightly like a life line, like you’d runaway if he let go.

Gerard says your name very lowly. And your sobbing ceased at his tone. Oh god, he was going to yell at you or something, you were certain. He was going to call you a freak and that he never should have even bothered with you in the first place-

“You need to breathe.” He commands. “Look at me, and breathe; be here with me right now, get out of your head.”

Your eyes dart wildly around the alley, not wanting to meet his gaze. God, why couldn’t just be normal for once-

A small pang of pain snapped across your brow, right between your eyes.

You look ludicrously to Gerard, eyes moist from tear and voice shaking from crying. “Did you just flick me?” You warbled.

“Yes.” He admits readily. “Now, calm down.”

His word sounded normal but felt… staticky in your ears. Like tv fuzz was playing just under his voice.

Almost instantly your breathing evened out and you no longer felt the desire to cry; your mind wasn’t filled with self-hateful thought but now just focused on Gerard, who was watching you carefully.

Reaching into the pocket of his duster, he pulls out handkerchief, and wipes at your face, sighing. He looked expressionless, and you feared the worse.

“I’m… I’m not great at this.” He says softly, stowing the cloth back into his coat. “I always go too fast, I’m told, It’s just-“ he screws his lips together as he thinks. “I- I feel like if I left you alone for too long, you’d forget about me, and I just wanted to make sure you didn’t think I’ve lost interest in you, I didn’t even think that I’d, well, overwhelm you like I did.”

You swallow thickly, considering his words.

“I never knew you were interested in me.” Was all you can say.

Gerard sighs. “Yeah, I’m piecing that together now.” He winces. “I had it in my head that this was a long time coming for both of us, I never stop to think that I might be surprising you with my sudden infatuation. I’m sorry.”

Your mouth is already opening to forgive him when he silences you with a cool look.

“I… must’ve freaked you out pretty badly, huh?” He questions, moving closer to you, but refraining from touching you again.

“It’s not that you freaked me out,” you’re quick to answer, “it’s just… yeah, it came out of nowhere to me.” He looks down casted and you wait a moment before speaking again. “I like you so much, Gerry.” You confess, voice creaking with emotion. “I’ve just been so lonely, and it’s hard for me to think that you’d like me too.”

He looks to you, sympathetic. And he nods to himself before extending one hand to yours, gently grasping your fingers.

“How about we do this a little more properly?” He suggests. “Would you like to go to dinner with me?”

You almost laugh at how hopeful he looks, like you would say no.

The idea of dinner was nice, but the thought of going back to your empty apartment scares you now. Being alone again scares you; the idea of someone not watching you scares you because what if you get lost in your own head again and this time the silence wouldn’t disappear after a second.

“Tonight?” You ask, stomach twisting. It’s wasn’t exactly early evening any more, by all rights he could deny you.

He nods, decisively and eagerly. “My place?” He suggests.

A smile fights its way across your face. “Scary movies too?”

Highly amused, Gerard smiles, and pretends to think for a moment. “Well, if we do that, you might be too scared to go home by yourself.” He reasons.

“Sounds like I’ll need to sleep over, then.”

“Brilliant.”

[hmm-self-indulgence]

Hello! I was looking through your blog and I encountered a Michael TMA / Reader Insert which was specifically labeled as gender neutral, but in the very first few sentences, the fic's version of Jonathan Sims genders the reader. He refers to the reader insert as 'Her' multiple times. The post is titled 'Michael Shelley x Gn!Reader'. I am confident it was unintentional, but as the story is specifically labeled 'gender neutral' I saw fit to draw it to your attention. I hope you are having a wonderful day or evening whenever you read this!

Thank you thank you thank you for pointing this out!!!! I didn’t even realize that I wrote that, but I really appreciate you reaching out. I’m glad I can fix that mistake even if I’m not super active anymore! I’m reading though it again and changing what I find!

❤️❤️❤️

[hmm-self-indulgence]

Hey if yall like this and want more parts im down to write more along this line. I'd love some nen ideas for reader, if anyone knows where I can find some I would really appreciate it! feel free to @ or dm me ideas. Im personally thinking of an emotion based ability but honestly its just an idea. I will have to further brainstorm

Kiss it better (Illumi x reader)

Hisoka's strange friend (you) kiss his wounds better. Illumi doesnt know why you do it. Alternate title, Four times you kissed his wounds

CW - Reader’s mother is mentioned. Violence against Hisoka, you are friends with a crazy clown. Gore mentioned, blood, wound description, and slight gun violence. GN reader! You are called my dear by hisoka once. Also I have never heard of a timeline and I do not believe in canon, so everything is incorrect just an FYI.

Let me know if something is spelled wrong! Enjoy!

Illumi didn't understand why you did this. The two of you had met through Hisoka, and he found you just as confusing as the clown. While you were the least psychopathic and malicious of the trio, he still found you interesting. Your nen was strong, and you were obviously interesting enough for Hisoka to not murder you, your intregue did not stop there. For a hunter and someone who specializes in theft, you had odd habits. 

The first time Illumi noticed this strange habit of yours was after Gon broke his arm. While you already had your license, you had stopped by the final examination room and watched as Illumi and Hisoka left. This was not the first time you two had met, as Hisoka wanted the assassin to meet his “ old friend”. But after the exam you offered your aid for his broken arm. While he did not trust you, he assumed Hisoka wouldn't invite someone else to try and kill him, so he relented. You had sat him down on the ugly couch and held your hand over the broken bone, using your nen to maneuver the shards to its correct position before wrapping the arm in a splint. 

Hisoka seemed disinterested in the process, but had been bragging about this boy he had met during training and how badly he wanted to fight him. You nodded along as you used your nen to speed up the healing process slightly, and once you were done you bent down and brushed your lips on the top of the splint before returning his arm and standing up. You continued to listen to Hisoka as he spoke, answering when appropriate. 

Illumi had stayed silent during this encounter, and had looked at you in confusion after you pressed that kiss to his arm. He had assumed it had to do with your nen ability, but your aura had stayed the same and he felt no nen presence after the bone was set again. He chose not to comment on this behavior, but when he looked up he saw one of Hisoka’s menacing grins.

—----------

You managed to find him the next time he was injured. 

“Sit”

He tilted his head to the side to convey his confusion, but otherwise did not move until your hand pressed on his chest, gently pushing him to sit on the couch. 

You both knew he was allowing this to happen, as you were not physically strong enough to manhandle him around (honestly you doubt anyone could) but you appreciated that he was at least curious enough to let you do this. After making sure he was still sitting on the couch, you went to grab a medical kit before sitting close enough to him that your legs almost touched as you held his arm gingerly in your hands. 

After opening the kit, you worked to clean the wound and secured a bandage to it. Once it was done, you leaned just a bit further down to press a small kiss to the top of the bandage. After pulling away you released your hold on his arm and gave him a smile. 

“You have done that before, why?” Illumi asked. It was obvious he wasn't upset, if he was he would have stopped you at any time, he was just confused. You took a moment to think of an answer before responding. 

“It's something my mother used to do, she used to say it makes it hurt less” you said, as casual as ever. 

“It already did not hurt, and I doubt this helps the healing process.”

You pouted for a moment, but were not offended by his behavior and comments. The parenting style of the Zoldyck family was not a mystery to you, and obviously you were more concerned about the wound than he was. 

“I always do it, and I think it helps us both feel better”' you spoke, shrugging your shoulders and not mentioning the fact that he hasn't moved a muscle since you had sat down. There were moments of silence as you decompressed from the fight, adrenaline slowly leaving your body as you sat. Glancing at Illumi, you assumed he was watching you and thinking about your actions, but the line of questioning seemed to have stopped. He didn't immediately kill you, so you assumed he simply didn't care enough to stop you. 

“I’d hate for you to bleed out in an alleyway, so feel free to stop by if you need top notch medical care” you said, gently tapping the medical kit with a smile, obviously pleased with your joke. You were both aware that you were not a doctor, nor was your apartment a succificent hospital, but you did very well for what you had on hand. 

“I doubt that would happen, I am a proficient assassin” He paused as he thought for a moment, realizing that it would be proper to thank you for this, so he spoke again “Though the offer is appreciated”

You gave him a beaming smile and that turned into an over exaggerated sneer as you kept speaking  “Maybe I’m just inviting you so if you die at my apartment I can claim the bounty I assume is on your head.” you giggled at your own joke, still putting the rest of the medical supplies back in the case. Illumi blinked in confusion, but realized you were joking after analyzing your expression. 

“That would be an intelligent move, though I do not believe the authorities would believe you killed me” He said, causing you to laugh loudly at his attempt at a joke. His expression softened as he watched you laugh, and while you had never seen him smile, you assumed this was the closest he could get to smiling while looking natural. 

—-------------------------

When Hisoka called in a favor, Illumi expected to be doing a serious job. What he did not expect was for Hisoka to summon him with the expectations of pulling what was extensively a prank on you. Hisoka was aware that you were in York New, and that you had a job assassinating a target. While this was not normally the kind of job you would take, this out of character move was what excited the clown to mess with you. He had called in Illumi to help him kill your target before you were able to, just because he could. 

They had completed the job and as the corpse lay in the bloodstained hotel room, Illumi could sense your nen nearby. When the door was kicked open and a vase from the hallway was thrown at Hisoka’s head, Illumi hardly flinched. Hisoka batted the vase away with his hand, breaking it in the process and getting a small shard of it in his palm. 

“You are such an ass, Hisoka” You yelled as you entered, clearly annoyed with him. This caused Hisoka to laugh maniacally as you observed the room, eyes laying on your dead target. After noticing Illumi, you waved a greeting with a smile on your face at the dark haired assassin who reciprocated with a slight nod. Hisoka's laugh stopped abruptly as he realized his hand was bleeding. 

“Oh, I am so wounded” Hisoka dramatically cried out, acting like he was about to die as he threw himself at your arms, knowing you would at least hold him from hitting the floor. He threw the injured hand above his head in a fake fainting motion, and after a few moments of simply staring at him with an annoyed expression, you dropped him to the floor. He stayed in the same position with his hand above his head, and you crouched enough to pull the vase shard out, toss it on the floor, before resting your hands on your knees. 

“Still horrifically wounded, my dear. It's as if you aren't even trying to save me” Hisoka continued his dramatics. You rolled your eyes and went down just far enough to press a soft kiss to his hand before standing up and kicking him lightly in the ribs. Moving towards the target you noticed one of Illumi’s needles in the dead person, and as you pulled it out and handed it to the assassin he spoke. 

“I still do not understand why you do that” Illumi spoke. 

You shrugged, “Maybe I just think it makes us both feel better” you offered as a possible answer. 

—----

Illumi knew your apartment was close, and while he felt an urge to stop by he had no reason to, so he didn't. If you were working together, then you always offered a drink at your place or to patch him up again, but neither of those excuses were viable in this situation so he resigned not to go. It was only while he was finishing off his target that he realized if he was injured, he could stop by to get patched up. 

With this realization he slowed down intentionally and allowed the man's bullet to graze his calf, something he would normally never allow. After confirming that the target was dead and the money was transferred to his account, he made his way to your door. He found knocking tedious, but did so anyway because you would always give Hisoka an earful if he just broke in. It only took a minute, but he could sense you approaching the door and opening it. 

“Hello Illumi! Long time no see!” You beamed as you motioned for him to come in your apartment. It had only taken a moment for you to realize his leg was wounded. 

“Go sit, give me just a moment” 

The routine was pretty much the same, only you were sitting on your heels as you rolled his pant leg up so it wasnt in the way. After confirming the bullet was not in his leg, you applied pressure to stop the bleeding and continued with the process of patching him up. When the bandage was applied, you hesitated to kiss the wound, instead, you just let his leg go and expected him to move it out of your lap. 

When he did not move a muscle, you looked up and saw what you thought was his normal deadpan expression, but after a moment you realized he was waiting. So you gave him a small smile and bent just enough to kiss the wound as you always did. You held your lips for just another second than you normally did before letting go of his leg. He moved his leg away from your lap so you could stand back up while offering you a hand for balance. 

—--------

This job didn't need two people, especially if one of them was a Zoldyck, but he did not mind as long as he could be around you. The job was successful and done efficiently, but it was one of the few times he ever saw you injured. One of the target's bodyguards managed to slice your upper arm, practically by your shoulder before Illumi killed him, but that did not stop the wound. 

‘You are bleeding” he mentioned once he saw the scarlet drip down your arm.

“Yes it does seem that way” you said, flinching as you inspected the wound. “Has the client responded?” 

“Yes, the money is in our separate accounts” Illumi said. “Do you need medical assistance?” 

“No hospitals, My hotel isn't that far and I can patch myself up there” you spoke as you made your way towards the street, covering the wound just enough that no one sparing you a glance would be able to tell for now. You weren’t sure why he followed you, but he seemed lost in thought as you took the short walk back to the hotel lobby. 

As you entered, the receptionist at the front looked up with concern as she noticed the blood, and was about to talk when Illumi gave a soul piercing glare that shut her right up and allowed you both to get on the elevator to your room. It felt odd to have Illumi willingly hang around you, as you normally felt like you were coercing the man to simply be in your apartment. That's not to say you didn't enjoy the company, but it still felt strange. Your thoughts were racing as you entered the hotel room, 

He watched you with his usual dead expression as you grabbed the medical kit and sat down, peeling the blood soaked fabric away from your arm, obviously intending to do this yourself. He was silent as he moved closer, mimicking what you had done previously and sitting down next to you, just close enough for your knees to touch as he took the medical kit from you. You were stunned, clearly not expecting this as he carefully wiped the blood away with a clean cloth before applying antiseptic to the wound. It was deep enough to need stitches, and he placed a comforting hand on your lower arm as he worked to close the wound. 

You appreciated the welcome distraction of his hand from the sharp and uncomfortable feeling of the needle in your flesh. His grip seemed to tighten ever so slightly when you flinched, and after noticing your pain he quickly finished. Just to be safe, he wrapped the wound in gauze and secured it with gauze tape. He hesitated after wrapping the wound, seeming unsure of himself for a moment before leaning closer to your shoulder and gently brushing his lips over the gauze the same way you had done multiple times before to him before pulling away. When he made eye contact with you again he saw the blush covering your face at his actions, and you gave him a bright smile as you thanked him. 

He thinks he gets why you kissed his wounds now, he would do it all over again just to see that smile. 

[hmm-self-indulgence]

May you do yandere headcanons for michael distortion?

It hath been posted! thank you for waiting, Im a real slow writer at the best of times but I am hoping I can post more over the summer!

[hmm-self-indulgence]

Yandere Michael Distortion x Reader HC

Requested headcanon - "May you do yandere headcanons for michael distortion?"

Sorry for how long this took, but honestly being a slow writer is a personality trait at this point and I have a small pt 2 in the works that will feature a bit more yandere themes, so be warned. Let me know if I forgot to tag anything. Also comments are super appreciated i will give you a soft platonic smooch on the hand in return, criticism or fixes are totally allowed.

YANDERE FIC! This is not a healthy relationship, do not read if you are under 16 years of age. SFW. I have a part 2 ready to release soon so hold on. Michael is creepy. Also this could technically be read as platonic.

TW: Stalking, yandere behavior, kidnapping, reader is GN but likes men? or at least thinks Michael is hot. Reader is called pretty. Confusing use of pronouns bc Michael is a mess of them and I like it (he/him, they/them, it/it’s and generally calling Michael 2 people, Them is used for distortion). Repetition. Reader is called pretty. Reader has a pet, but no specific animal is named( he vaguely threatens it) . Michael watches you sleep. Michael Kills someone for you. General fuckeray with the plot at my whims, and yeah this is prob a bit out of character but its the best I can do.

No one has the permission to repost this on any website. I will not post these on other websites so if you see any of my writing on another site, let me know. Do not use my content or claim it as your own! I do not own these characters, they are made, owned and are the property of Johnathan Sims. I am in no way profiting off of this and this is made with full respect to Rusty Quill.

 They were following the vase held by Salesa. They didn't need to follow the vase, it had no target and it would not be hard for the Distortion to find later, the spiral things called to each other, but they followed anyway. That is when It saw you, It was not sure what drew you to them, but from the moment it saw you, they needed to know more. You were just another person on the street, not even the target of the fractals.

They weren't sure what it was that drew the Avatar to you, but it could not look away. Just a normal, unmarked human. Normal fears, nothing that gorged any power in particular but they needed to know more. So they followed you. Days passed, and Their obsession only grew. They knew where you lived, and they wanted to see you. 

It was easy to watch you, you couldn’t hide from what wasn’t there and never looked. It wasn’t the eye, and could not see through yours, but your doors were easy to manipulate, and getting into your home was child's play. Doors like that only keep out the real things, and They were not real. Your home was better than They could have expected, so full of you and Michael felt at ease when they watched you. You were peaceful when you slept, Michael and the thing that was not Michael liked that about you. 

You had a pet. A squishy thing that did not like Them at first, but They were around often enough that the creature tolerated Them eventually. They could not pet the squishy thing, nor did either beings wish for it, as Michael’s hands were sharp, so they merely ignored each other. The squishy thing never alerted you to his presence, so Michael was fine to let it live. 

A few weeks of just watching you sleep and go about your day was not enough. He enjoyed watching you when you slept, going through your phone and listening in at work, but he wanted to know more. To be closer to you. That was normal with a target (that is what he had to call you in his mind). 

Obviously he was not attached to you. Just vaguely interested, right? That is what Michael told himself when a customer was cruel to you. Words you didn't need to hear spilled from the wretched stranger, and for the first time in a long while Michael was angry. What right did that thing have to criticize you? Michael resigned himself to not act, he was not a watcher but he would just observe, that is what he said as the cruel man walked right into one of michael's conveniently placed doors. Michael fed himself on that wretch’s fear, and spat him out when nothing was left but a broken mind. Michael still watched you cry that night, and that is when he decided he needed to properly meet you. 

Your attention would be divided at work, and he wanted it all. Your job would be inconvenient, so they planned. Your phone wasn’t fully charged on Saturday when you always went to the coffee shop, courtesy of Michael unplugging it. You liked the routine so you went anyway, bringing a book you swore you would read at some point. So you sat, drinking and listening to the boring music in the cafe. Michael could not be sated by watching, he needed to have your attention on him. So he entered the shop as Michael Shelley. They would blend in there, Blonde curls on a pretty demure boy wouldn't raise any alarms, but their real form would. He took a table next to you, acquired a drink from the counter he had no capacity nor will to consume, pulled out a phone charger, and waited. 

They just had to wait for attention as you fiddled and cursed your phone for being unplugged, so Michael offered his (it was from your home, but you would never know). You moved and plugged your phone in, feeling obligated to talk to the young man who offered to help you. You asked his name. Its nature pulled it to lie, to deceive and to tell you something that was not truth. But It didn’t. “Michael,” the man said. That is all it took for you to give him your name. They already knew it, but it felt like a promise to the Thing calling itself Michael. You gave him your name, what a silly mistake. You two talked for a bit, likely less than an hour, your book left to the side as you spoke, and you left to continue with your day. 

Later that day you called a friend, you told them of the pretty boy at the coffee shop. Michael’s unnatural smile grew even larger as he heard that. They thought you were pretty too. You cursed yourself for not getting his number. He laughed, having no number or phone. They felt seen when you spoke of them, not the type of invasive seen the wretched watching one gave, but noticed. But you called him pretty, that means you saw him. You were drawn to him as he was drawn to you. 

The Distortion knew it was likely the mother of spiders was pulling the strings here. How else would they be so drawn to you? But for all the discomfort the thought of being manipulated by the spider was worth it if it meant having you. It was meant to be, the Mother of Spiders did not make mistakes, and they did not sully you by marking your flesh, so they could forgive the intervention.

The distortion was almost content with the arrangement you had, even if only They knew of it. Watching you throughout the day, feeding on some fools when needed, and standing over your bed while you slept. It even became routine to meet at your coffee shop,where he talked in riddles and listened to your laugh, you never questioned why theirs gave you a headache. He got bolder, showing up to certain places he knew you would be at, the store down the street for groceries, outside a bus stop he knew you would pass, and even went to your work once. It was almost comical, how easy it was for him to insert himself into your life in small ways without you even noticing something odd. 

It went wrong when the corruption arrived at your job. A coworker with the writhing mass of rot on their mind. It would not allow the infestation to spread, you wouldn’t know till its too late. You were in danger. You were not in danger. You would be in danger. You wouldn’t be in danger with them. The crawling rot wouldn’t taint you. They could keep you somewhere where it wouldn’t infect you. You would stay with them. The plan would take time, no more than a few days but Michael was enraged at the thought of you being hurt by the squirming mass you saw as a coworker, so Michael got rid of them. It was easy enough, the corruption would lose a thing close to becoming an avatar and you would be safe while they plan. Even though the rot was taken care of, you were not touched by powers, and you would be susceptible to their whims. It made him sick to think that you would be harmed, you weren't strong enough on your own. So he planned to take you. 

It made sense to keep you in the halls, It existed in and as the halls, you belong with it, and you weren’t safe outside of them. Maybe… if you found the center of the place that does not exist you would join them. You would be safe as a part of them. The spiral protects its own. But for now, you will open a door and will not be where you were. You would lose your mind to the fractal madness of shifting stairs and doors, but you are safe from those who would corrupt you with their power. You were too good for them, no other power deserved your fear. 

If only you hadn’t been special that day, or called them pretty. Perhaps if you hadn’t lived alone then someone could have saved you, but there is nothing to save you now. If only the door was labeled “do not open”.

[hmm-self-indulgence]

Kiss it better (Illumi x reader)

Hisoka's strange friend (you) kiss his wounds better. Illumi doesnt know why you do it. Alternate title, Four times you kissed his wounds

CW - Reader’s mother is mentioned. Violence against Hisoka, you are friends with a crazy clown. Gore mentioned, blood, wound description, and slight gun violence. GN reader! You are called my dear by hisoka once. Also I have never heard of a timeline and I do not believe in canon, so everything is incorrect just an FYI.

Let me know if something is spelled wrong! Enjoy!

Illumi didn't understand why you did this. The two of you had met through Hisoka, and he found you just as confusing as the clown. While you were the least psychopathic and malicious of the trio, he still found you interesting. Your nen was strong, and you were obviously interesting enough for Hisoka to not murder you, your intregue did not stop there. For a hunter and someone who specializes in theft, you had odd habits. 

The first time Illumi noticed this strange habit of yours was after Gon broke his arm. While you already had your license, you had stopped by the final examination room and watched as Illumi and Hisoka left. This was not the first time you two had met, as Hisoka wanted the assassin to meet his “ old friend”. But after the exam you offered your aid for his broken arm. While he did not trust you, he assumed Hisoka wouldn't invite someone else to try and kill him, so he relented. You had sat him down on the ugly couch and held your hand over the broken bone, using your nen to maneuver the shards to its correct position before wrapping the arm in a splint. 

Hisoka seemed disinterested in the process, but had been bragging about this boy he had met during training and how badly he wanted to fight him. You nodded along as you used your nen to speed up the healing process slightly, and once you were done you bent down and brushed your lips on the top of the splint before returning his arm and standing up. You continued to listen to Hisoka as he spoke, answering when appropriate. 

Illumi had stayed silent during this encounter, and had looked at you in confusion after you pressed that kiss to his arm. He had assumed it had to do with your nen ability, but your aura had stayed the same and he felt no nen presence after the bone was set again. He chose not to comment on this behavior, but when he looked up he saw one of Hisoka’s menacing grins.

—----------

You managed to find him the next time he was injured. 

“Sit”

He tilted his head to the side to convey his confusion, but otherwise did not move until your hand pressed on his chest, gently pushing him to sit on the couch. 

You both knew he was allowing this to happen, as you were not physically strong enough to manhandle him around (honestly you doubt anyone could) but you appreciated that he was at least curious enough to let you do this. After making sure he was still sitting on the couch, you went to grab a medical kit before sitting close enough to him that your legs almost touched as you held his arm gingerly in your hands. 

After opening the kit, you worked to clean the wound and secured a bandage to it. Once it was done, you leaned just a bit further down to press a small kiss to the top of the bandage. After pulling away you released your hold on his arm and gave him a smile. 

“You have done that before, why?” Illumi asked. It was obvious he wasn't upset, if he was he would have stopped you at any time, he was just confused. You took a moment to think of an answer before responding. 

“It's something my mother used to do, she used to say it makes it hurt less” you said, as casual as ever. 

“It already did not hurt, and I doubt this helps the healing process.”

You pouted for a moment, but were not offended by his behavior and comments. The parenting style of the Zoldyck family was not a mystery to you, and obviously you were more concerned about the wound than he was. 

“I always do it, and I think it helps us both feel better”' you spoke, shrugging your shoulders and not mentioning the fact that he hasn't moved a muscle since you had sat down. There were moments of silence as you decompressed from the fight, adrenaline slowly leaving your body as you sat. Glancing at Illumi, you assumed he was watching you and thinking about your actions, but the line of questioning seemed to have stopped. He didn't immediately kill you, so you assumed he simply didn't care enough to stop you. 

“I’d hate for you to bleed out in an alleyway, so feel free to stop by if you need top notch medical care” you said, gently tapping the medical kit with a smile, obviously pleased with your joke. You were both aware that you were not a doctor, nor was your apartment a succificent hospital, but you did very well for what you had on hand. 

“I doubt that would happen, I am a proficient assassin” He paused as he thought for a moment, realizing that it would be proper to thank you for this, so he spoke again “Though the offer is appreciated”

You gave him a beaming smile and that turned into an over exaggerated sneer as you kept speaking  “Maybe I’m just inviting you so if you die at my apartment I can claim the bounty I assume is on your head.” you giggled at your own joke, still putting the rest of the medical supplies back in the case. Illumi blinked in confusion, but realized you were joking after analyzing your expression. 

“That would be an intelligent move, though I do not believe the authorities would believe you killed me” He said, causing you to laugh loudly at his attempt at a joke. His expression softened as he watched you laugh, and while you had never seen him smile, you assumed this was the closest he could get to smiling while looking natural. 

—-------------------------

When Hisoka called in a favor, Illumi expected to be doing a serious job. What he did not expect was for Hisoka to summon him with the expectations of pulling what was extensively a prank on you. Hisoka was aware that you were in York New, and that you had a job assassinating a target. While this was not normally the kind of job you would take, this out of character move was what excited the clown to mess with you. He had called in Illumi to help him kill your target before you were able to, just because he could. 

They had completed the job and as the corpse lay in the bloodstained hotel room, Illumi could sense your nen nearby. When the door was kicked open and a vase from the hallway was thrown at Hisoka’s head, Illumi hardly flinched. Hisoka batted the vase away with his hand, breaking it in the process and getting a small shard of it in his palm. 

“You are such an ass, Hisoka” You yelled as you entered, clearly annoyed with him. This caused Hisoka to laugh maniacally as you observed the room, eyes laying on your dead target. After noticing Illumi, you waved a greeting with a smile on your face at the dark haired assassin who reciprocated with a slight nod. Hisoka's laugh stopped abruptly as he realized his hand was bleeding. 

“Oh, I am so wounded” Hisoka dramatically cried out, acting like he was about to die as he threw himself at your arms, knowing you would at least hold him from hitting the floor. He threw the injured hand above his head in a fake fainting motion, and after a few moments of simply staring at him with an annoyed expression, you dropped him to the floor. He stayed in the same position with his hand above his head, and you crouched enough to pull the vase shard out, toss it on the floor, before resting your hands on your knees. 

“Still horrifically wounded, my dear. It's as if you aren't even trying to save me” Hisoka continued his dramatics. You rolled your eyes and went down just far enough to press a soft kiss to his hand before standing up and kicking him lightly in the ribs. Moving towards the target you noticed one of Illumi’s needles in the dead person, and as you pulled it out and handed it to the assassin he spoke. 

“I still do not understand why you do that” Illumi spoke. 

You shrugged, “Maybe I just think it makes us both feel better” you offered as a possible answer. 

—----

Illumi knew your apartment was close, and while he felt an urge to stop by he had no reason to, so he didn't. If you were working together, then you always offered a drink at your place or to patch him up again, but neither of those excuses were viable in this situation so he resigned not to go. It was only while he was finishing off his target that he realized if he was injured, he could stop by to get patched up. 

With this realization he slowed down intentionally and allowed the man's bullet to graze his calf, something he would normally never allow. After confirming that the target was dead and the money was transferred to his account, he made his way to your door. He found knocking tedious, but did so anyway because you would always give Hisoka an earful if he just broke in. It only took a minute, but he could sense you approaching the door and opening it. 

“Hello Illumi! Long time no see!” You beamed as you motioned for him to come in your apartment. It had only taken a moment for you to realize his leg was wounded. 

“Go sit, give me just a moment” 

The routine was pretty much the same, only you were sitting on your heels as you rolled his pant leg up so it wasnt in the way. After confirming the bullet was not in his leg, you applied pressure to stop the bleeding and continued with the process of patching him up. When the bandage was applied, you hesitated to kiss the wound, instead, you just let his leg go and expected him to move it out of your lap. 

When he did not move a muscle, you looked up and saw what you thought was his normal deadpan expression, but after a moment you realized he was waiting. So you gave him a small smile and bent just enough to kiss the wound as you always did. You held your lips for just another second than you normally did before letting go of his leg. He moved his leg away from your lap so you could stand back up while offering you a hand for balance. 

—--------

This job didn't need two people, especially if one of them was a Zoldyck, but he did not mind as long as he could be around you. The job was successful and done efficiently, but it was one of the few times he ever saw you injured. One of the target's bodyguards managed to slice your upper arm, practically by your shoulder before Illumi killed him, but that did not stop the wound. 

‘You are bleeding” he mentioned once he saw the scarlet drip down your arm.

“Yes it does seem that way” you said, flinching as you inspected the wound. “Has the client responded?” 

“Yes, the money is in our separate accounts” Illumi said. “Do you need medical assistance?” 

“No hospitals, My hotel isn't that far and I can patch myself up there” you spoke as you made your way towards the street, covering the wound just enough that no one sparing you a glance would be able to tell for now. You weren’t sure why he followed you, but he seemed lost in thought as you took the short walk back to the hotel lobby. 

As you entered, the receptionist at the front looked up with concern as she noticed the blood, and was about to talk when Illumi gave a soul piercing glare that shut her right up and allowed you both to get on the elevator to your room. It felt odd to have Illumi willingly hang around you, as you normally felt like you were coercing the man to simply be in your apartment. That's not to say you didn't enjoy the company, but it still felt strange. Your thoughts were racing as you entered the hotel room, 

He watched you with his usual dead expression as you grabbed the medical kit and sat down, peeling the blood soaked fabric away from your arm, obviously intending to do this yourself. He was silent as he moved closer, mimicking what you had done previously and sitting down next to you, just close enough for your knees to touch as he took the medical kit from you. You were stunned, clearly not expecting this as he carefully wiped the blood away with a clean cloth before applying antiseptic to the wound. It was deep enough to need stitches, and he placed a comforting hand on your lower arm as he worked to close the wound. 

You appreciated the welcome distraction of his hand from the sharp and uncomfortable feeling of the needle in your flesh. His grip seemed to tighten ever so slightly when you flinched, and after noticing your pain he quickly finished. Just to be safe, he wrapped the wound in gauze and secured it with gauze tape. He hesitated after wrapping the wound, seeming unsure of himself for a moment before leaning closer to your shoulder and gently brushing his lips over the gauze the same way you had done multiple times before to him before pulling away. When he made eye contact with you again he saw the blush covering your face at his actions, and you gave him a bright smile as you thanked him. 

He thinks he gets why you kissed his wounds now, he would do it all over again just to see that smile. 

[hmm-self-indulgence]

Heyo! Idk if your request are open atm but I wanted to request a TMA platonic fic + maybe crackfic about reader being an avatar (bonus points if they’re Lonely aligned) that just appears sometimes in the archives like some cryptid and acts like one (ex. Found in odd places, stands in front of doorways, found *doing* odd things in odd places) just to fuck around with staff, especially Elias (probably quaking at all the weird drawings of capybaras in magical girl outfits and can’t do anything about it). Preferably season 1-2 to make it more funny I hope you have a good day/night! P.S. I really liked your Nikola and Michael fanfics ^^

Done! Sorry for the wait, I am trying to work my way through requests! I realize its been a month since i last posted (oof I have no concept of time) but I have around 3 other requests I will endeavor to have out by the end of this week. I will likely fail but by putting this online for people to see I will feel. obligated to do it. Hopefully the fear of disappointment will outweigh the fear of posting!!

[hmm-self-indulgence]

Lonely Avatar!Reader x platonic Archive staff crackfic headcanons (requested)

Request : Heyo! Idk if your requests are open atm but I wanted to request a TMA platonic fic + maybe crackfic about reader being an avatar (bonus points if they’re Lonely aligned) that just appears sometimes in the archives like some cryptid and acts like one (ex. Found in odd places, stands in front of doorways, found *doing* odd things in odd places) just to fuck around with staff, especially Elias (probably quaking at all the weird drawings of capybaras in magical girl outfits and can’t do anything about it). Preferably season 1-2 to make it more funny I hope you have a good day/night! P.S. I really liked your Nikola and Michael fanfics ^^

TW: Reader is a lonely avatar, Elias gets messed with.

Sorry this took 89 years to post! Hope you enjoy! @johnnyjohnnyjo

No one has the permission to repost this on any website. I will not post these on other websites so if you see any of my writing on another site, let me know. Do not use my content or claim it as your own! I do not own these characters, they are made, owned and are the property of Johnathan Sims. I am in no way profiting off of this and this is made with full respect to Rusty Quill.

Martin may have brought a dog into the archive, but you showed up on your own acting like a weird ghost cat that appeared a bit before Sasha admitted to knowing Michael. You were known for doing odd things in the institute building and showing up in places you were not supposed to. Although Elias told the archive staff that you were banned from the property, you kept getting into the building and no one else cared about Elias’s orders. If security has not kept you out, then obviously Elias was all talk, right?

A list of crimes committed in the Artifact storage (list not complete, just the most noticeable incidents)

T posing on top of the cursed table, was told off by artifact storage workers and asked to leave.

The Fractal vase was missing, eventually found in the workplace kitchen. The Vase was positioned under the sink tap, and water had been pouring into it. It is unknown how long this went on. The vase was somehow empty when picked up, and was returned to artifact storage. When the security cameras were checked, it was found that Y/n had moved the vase.

The apple full of human teeth has appeared on Elias’s desk a total of 8 times and has never been checked out, considering it is a biohazard. While the cameras have never picked anything up regarding these incidents, Elias firmly believes you did it. No one else does, though. The apple has since been locked away tighter.

How the staff feels about you

Elias greatly dislikes you. While you might be interesting to Watch, your actions in the archives are disruptive and annoying at the best of times. He especially hates that he cannot See you enter the building, you just appear and disappear though the Lonely and he has no idea when you will appear. You are unpredictable, and Elias doesn't like that.

Tim thinks you are funny. You always have the oddest responses to his questions and you liven up the work day. Pranks are even more fun with you around, and he likes how sneaky you are. He always wonders how you get into places unseen, but with the Crime Talent of the archive staff he doesn't ask questions. Plus, you are a great listener, especially when he bitches about Elias.

Sasha is the only one who believes you are something supernatural. While she doesnt bring this up to anyone after a particularly insulting conversation that went along the lines of

Sasha: They teleport, obviously they are something supernatural.

Jon: It's not like you are even that perceptive. You just don't see them before they make themselves known.

Sasha: Ignoring how rude that was, I have seen them come out of nowhere. Try to refute that.

Jon: ? SuRe yOu DiD

But as long as you don't mess with her and her things, she has no problem with you hanging about the archives. She enjoys your conversation when you do speak, but is not bothered by the times she has seen you stare at the empty coffee pot for a grand total of 47 minutes without looking away or moving.

Martin is worried about you, to say the least. He thinks you are an enjoyable person, but he feels like you have an air of sadness around you that he just can't place. He wishes he could help, but doesn't know how to go about doing so. But what he can do is make tea and sit with you, something you both do often.

Jon has opinions on everyone, and he mostly just finds you odd. While he admittedly isn't that observant, and he genuinely thought you were an employee somewhere in the building for a long time before Tim told him. This confused him more, because he had no problem sending you to be helpful, and if you weren't an employee then why did you do it? He has sent you multiple times to do things like breaking into a building with Tim or getting somewhere to ask questions you should be able to. He is a bit annoyed, because ever since you showed up cursed memes have been added to his conspiracy board, and while everyone swears it isn't them, he does assume it is you, but he has not had any evidence to properly accuse you.

Bonus

The knock on the door interrupted Elias from organizing his office again. You see, there was an issue he noticed when he walked in that morning and realized all of his papers were out of order. While this could be seen as a janitor putting things back in the wrong place, he Knew better. It was you again. Honestly he wishes he could See where you were lurking today, just to know what crime you would commit against his holy archive next. He considered asking Peter to talk to the menace haunting the archives, but realized that asking two avatars of the embodiment of solitude and loneliness to meet would never go well.

“Mr. Bouchard? May I come in.” Rosie's voice drifted through the door, interrupting Elias from his pondering.

“Come in” he said, straightening up and dusting off his suit jacket as she entered.

“I have a file from the archives that was sent up, where do you want it?” She asked politely, knowing how stressed he was by the odd occurrences at the institute.

“The desk, please, I will look at it in a moment” He waited to move till she placed the folder down and left the room, closing the door behind her as quietly as she could. He tried Looking at the file from his location

When he checked the file, the first page was a statement from the Boneturners Tale, a statement he knew Jon had filed away and read a week ago. He was not afraid to see the next page, but he did not want to turn it, but the need to know and see cursed him, so he flipped it.

It was another goddamn capybara dressed like Sailor Jupiter.

[hmm-self-indulgence]

(Idk if this sounds weird to ask if it is I'm so sorry) are you okay with writing full on yanderes?

Yeah I’m cool with that. I will try to write anything asked as long as it does not violate any of my other rules!

[hmm-self-indulgence]

Michael Shelley x Gn!Reader

Read as a statement. Italics are Jon, and regular is You! Gender Neutral, congrats you are married, have graduated uni, and live in England. Statement given around mag 140. I’m going with the descriptions given on Fandom Wiki for Michael, and the classic interpretation of Helen (since she has no canon description).

Warnings! Intense language, traumatic experiences, major character loss, some almost sexual themes but no smut. Pretty much just PG-13 except for language and some monsterfucking elements. READER HAS SEMI BISEXUAL TENDENCIES (you get both distortions for the price of one!) Also, what's a timeline, never heard of her? So just general timeline fucking up for the sake of some fluff and angst. Mentions of religion and praying (kinda worshiping the spiral a la Manuela)! Drug mentions. Also, violence against Elias, but who cares! Some artistic liberties taken when it comes to a lot of things. I’ve never been to the UK so some stuff might be wrong. Technically unintentional spousal abuse, (gaslight gatekeep girlboss) plus technically kidnapping? Plus the reader is a bit mean to Jon. Also my friend proofread this and said it reminded her of twilight a bit so I hate that but I wanna post it anyway. I hate that I took unintentional inspiration from twilight but here we are anyway.

No one has the permission to repost this on any website. Do not use my content or claim it as your own! I do not own these characters, they are made, owned and are the property of Johnathan Sims. I am in no way profiting off of this and this is made with full respect to Rusty Quill.

Quick taglist @decora-peaches , @swordsandfools, sorry gang I'm a fool who needed the confidence to post this and its been quite a bit since I promised to post this.

Helen has decided to try to buy our friendship again, as she has brought me a statement. Where she got it from I have no idea, but I feel the need to record it. Anyway, Statement of (y/n) Shelley, regarding their life and experiences with their husband... Michael. Date written, unknown. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, The Archivist.

Statement begins.

I'd like to first say that I hate your Archive and everything you stand for. You took the man I love from me twice and I despise you all for it, but Helen asked for it and I cannot deny her anything. So here is my statement, and I hope you choke on it.

I met Michael Shelley in our first year in University. We were in a maths class together. We had finals coming up and a handful of our classmates wanted to meet up at the south library to practice together later in the day. The study session ran extremely late, and it was dark when I left the building. He must have seen my hesitance and offered to walk me back to my dorm, and I guess we hit it off.

We went out quite a lot, and he was so sweet and always listened to what I had to say. He was occasionally forgetful, but he never made me feel like I was

Michael always had this… obsession with the unnatural. He told me what happened to his friend when he was a child, and I believed him well enough. I didn't believe in ghosts or ghouls or any of that lot, but he did. Michael heard that the Magnus Institute was hiring, and before I knew it he had dropped out and started working there full time. I was surprised, but honestly I didn’t think much of it at the time because he was so happy to have that damn job.

My parents were... not thrilled with Michael. To them, he was too quiet and, as you know, working for the Magnus Institute isn't the most glorious or well paying job, and my parents were worried that he was crazy. To be honest, he wasn't all there when I was with him, he always seemed to be a world away. But that didn't matter to me. He was mine, and we loved each other.

He proposed at my graduation, and we got married a few months later. The wedding was a small thing, his parents didn't come and mine showed up begrudgingly, so it was mostly just a few friends and his two of his coworkers that showed up in the end. Michael was so damn happy to see Emma and Eric. Eric even brought his little boy with him. It was the happiest day of our lives, I don’t think I ever saw Michael smile as much as he had that day.

We had a small apartment right between our workplaces. It was a bit of a trip for both of us, but I don't think either of us minded. He went on a few trips for the institute, so when he told me he was going north with Gertrude I didn’t see anything the matter with it. I helped him pack some warm clothes, and we had dinner before he left. Nothing… Nothing seemed wrong at first. I was used to him not being able to talk when he was on his trips, but after 3 weeks of silence went by I was scared. I got the letter the next day. “The Magnus Institute regrets to inform you that Michael Shelley has passed away. Our deepest condolences, Elias Bouchard.”

I went to the institute to get answers, storming my way into Elias’s office. He didn't even have the kindness to look shocked or even the slightest bit remorseful. Didn’t say shit about it either, just that he was dead. I asked about his body, if there was anything that could be buried or just anything about what happened. He just… stared at me, just saying that Michael was dead and that the institute was sorry.

I don’t remember much about what happened next, but I remember feeling his weasley little neck in my hands as I tried to squeeze the answers out of him. Security pulled me away and when he caught his breath he told me he wouldn’t press charges, but that I had to leave and not come back. As I was escorted out of the building, I saw Gertrude and Emma staring at me with those blank eyes. I begged her to tell me anything about Michael, anything at all and that I knew she was with him on that trip. Nothing made her react at all, but I swear she flinched when I asked if she killed him. I don’t know how I got home that day.

I prayed that day. I prayed that the institute was wrong, that Michael was alive, that this was just a sick fucking joke. But it wasn't, and I had to bury an empty box alone a few days later. Work gave me a few weeks off that were spent practically catatonic in our bed. People came by, friends, my parents, but they couldn’t bring him back to me or fill the empty hole that was left in my life. It's strange, you never realize how dependent you are on a person until they suddenly leave, no warning. It’s like a crutch being kicked out from under a missing limb, but you never stop falling.

But you don’t deserve my grief, my sadness, you already know what you did. You don’t want to know about my Michael, you want to know about the Michael you created. For Helen I will indulge you. I first saw the yellow door about three months after he passed. I was grieving, and that makes us so much more foolish. I had been walking home after work and I was lost in my own head, taking turns and alleys I hadn't ever seen before. I think I was around Westminster when it happened. Some men had tried to grab my purse, and I ran.

I heard their footsteps following me as I ran through the small, dark alleys, my shoes smacked against the slippery cobblestone and I was so afraid. I was ahead of them by a bit, and I started banging on doors, begging for someone to help me, but no one answered. No lights were on in any of the homes and I felt my heart hammering in my throat threatening to escape. Then I saw it, fused into a cobblestone fence. A bright yellow door at the end of the alley, just barely opened so a sliver of light peaked through. I ran towards it, running through it before slamming the door behind me. I never heard anything from the other side of the door.

When the adrenaline died off I noticed the hallway. The walls were an obnoxious mix of beige and yellow. There were these mirrors in the hallway, kind of like the mirrors at carnivals that distort your body and make you look different. Everything hurt to look at, and the lights were so bright I was getting a migraine. The place made me feel like I was on a LSD trip. That wasn't even the strangest thing though. In my peripheral vision I kept seeing… something. It only appeared where I couldn't focus on it. I tried to go back to the door I came from, but It wouldn't budge, and I never got a clear view of what was there so I started walking. After a few minutes of the endless nauseating hallways I saw another door.

I don't know what I expected when I opened the door, maybe more weird hallways, but never in a million years did I expect it to be my own apartment on the other side. I was frozen in place, shocked and so, so afraid when I felt something grip my shoulder strongly, jerking me forward and into my bedroom before the yellow door slammed shut with a bang. And when I looked back there was no door.

I told myself I was hallucinating. That something was wrong and it was all just a bad dream. I spent the whole night convincing myself I was going mental. Lying to myself worked, and I was so close to believing it when I saw the bruise on my skin under where I was shoved. Some part of that night had to have been true, I had no fucking clue what really happened.

Looking back it was so stupid of me. So fucking stupid but I needed to know what the hell happened that night. I started looking for danger, going into darker areas later in the night. I walked around with fake jewelry that looked nice enough from far away to entice some lowlife thief. I got robbed twice, got a few scrapes and bruises but the door didn’t show up again. Kept telling myself it was grief, maybe some disorder or another that stemmed from that first night.

I don't know how it was different from that night, but maybe it knew they wouldn't have hurt me too bad, so the door left me to my own devices, or maybe I’m just insane..

I wasn't expecting a door when I saw it next. There had been a break-in near my work, and a police officer came by to ask us some questions. The officer was this real brute of a man, tall enough that he had to duck to get into the shop. I don’t remember his name, but I didn't like the look of him. Of course I answered the questions, but the officer just started getting closer and closer. I was scared and closed my eyes for just a second, and when I opened them the yellow door was to my right, where a window was supposed to be. I bolted straight into the door, I don't even know if the officer followed me. But the door opened and the nauseating hallway was there again.

When I heard the door latch I took a moment to breathe. The strange figure appeared in my peripherals again, always disappearing when I tried to focus on it. I called out to it, asking where I was and what was going on. Looking down the hallway I saw something tap the mirror, like it was poking it from inside. I moved closer until I saw the horrible hand gripping the inside of the mirror. They weren't hands, hands don't have that many bones, hands aren't that long or sharp but… there they were. I didn’t even realize I was standing in front of it until I felt that strange weight on my shoulder again. I turned around quickly but nothing was there, and turning around I almost screamed. My reflection was there, but it wasn't alone. Whatever was connected to those claws resting on my shoulders looked almost like Michael. I could feel the weight on my shoulders, but the thing with Michael’s face was only in the mirror.

Michael wasn't originally a tall man, but now he almost had to bend over to fit his entire frame in the mirror. Michael didn't have hands like that, Michael’s smile was never that large, and most importantly, Michael wasn't alive. But here stood the thing that was and wasn't my husband. But when he said hello I just broke down. I told him everything and begged him to stay by my side. He said he had left, but that which both is and isn't him has been here. He said he would stay, and I said that I loved him. I don’t think he loved me, not the… the new version of him. I don't even think he had any emotions left at the end. I think there was just enough Michael to remember me.

I knew he wasn't exactly like my Michael, but he was close enough to make me happy. I knew he was hurting people, the hallways weren’t silent, and I heard screaming occasionally. There were a lot of mirrors in his doors, and sometimes I saw faces in them, real normal faces. I wanted him back, even as he had become he was still my Michael.

His door was in our… my apartment some days. Oftentimes it wouldn't even open, but it was just a comforting presence. His door, his shenanigans, it all just became my new life. He wasn't Michael, but he was enough like him to make the grief go away. If I fooled myself enough it almost felt normal again, like when we were first married. He didn't speak much, he just came and went like a house cat. I would speak to him, or at least his door when I was particularly lonely.

There were times he acted like his old self. Some days he would go through the motions of making coffee, only to stare at it in distaste before he disappeared.

I would see him standing in our apartment, just staring at a wall or going through one of his old routines. Some nights I would wake up to see him staring at me from the foot of our bed. I even found some of his gold hair on his pillow again. We lived that way for around seven years. In that time, nothing really changed, we just inhabited the same area. It wasn't ideal, but it was better than living without him, so I didn't mind.

A few months before he disappeared, again, he came back with blood on his hands. I tried to ask what happened, but all he would say was that he “poked the eye”, and I assume that means it's your lot. He seemed so pleased with himself so I didn't ask any more questions. That's when things got bad again.

I didn't see him for a few weeks, and I was worried, not even his door was here. I was so afraid he was gone again, and I worried I was insane again. I prayed, not to God this time, no, I prayed to the hallways and the ever changing fractals. I prayed to the spiral Michael mentioned. I offered worship and my love in exchange for any part of my lover back. And this time someone answered.

There was a figure in my room again, but it wasn't Michael. It was a woman I came to know as Helen. She was around the same height as my new Michael, and her voice was just as disorienting and alluring as my husband. I had to mourn Michael twice, but Helen filled in the gaps he left very well. Helen didn't know much about me, only that she felt pulled towards me, but she was determined to learn.

Helen tried to be a person more than Michael did at the end. Michael would never stay long, but Helen would spend hours in our apartment, just sitting or watching me. I would see her doors throughout my day, always in the most impossible places. She told me once it was just to see me smile, can you believe that? Michael did the same thing, and I adore her for this kindness. She is such a kind presence, and I care for her.

It's strange, in another life I think I could love her the way I love Michael. But this is not the life we are in, and my heart belongs to Michael. You took him from me, and I will never forgive you for that, your eyes will be blind one day and you will be left with nothing, just like me.

Statement… ends. Helen, why did she give this to me. What does this mean? I asked Elias, and apparently some of this is verified. Michael did pass away at this time, and he was married to one Mx. (Y/N) Shelley. I have elected not to reach out to their family, as if this is true, then reaching out would only end poorly. I… I need to talk to Helen.

[hmm-self-indulgence]

Nikola Orsinov x Reader

Nikola’s pronouns are either she/her or they/them, also I use It once or twice so please don't be offended. The reader, if ever gendered, is only described as they/them. Kinda spoilers for season 1-3, I don’t bring up the unknownings result but I do mention the dance. Kinda Yandere but what else do you expect from a skin mannequin who murders people. Also im trying to mimic the style of Jonny’s writing in some bits so bear with me while I’m trying. Please let me know if there is something I forgot to tag. Honestly I might delete this bc while i worked on it for a long time in still not super confident in my writing so any and all feedback is appreciated.

TW: Nikola related shenanigans, skin stealing, depersonalization, reader has some self esteem issues, slight violence (not to reader), kinda Yandere content. Also, alliteration. In the end the reader gets murdered, but also not super surprised. Descriptions of slight gore.

No one has the permission to repost this on any website. I will not post these on other websites so if you see any of my writing on another site, let me know. Do not use my content or claim it as your own! I do not own these characters, they are made, owned and are the property of Johnathan Sims. I am in no way profiting off of this and this is made with full respect to Rusty Quill.

The two of you met rather strangely for a couple, not many can say they were hunted by their lover before they dated, but that only made you both closer. She wanted your skin once, but your shifting sense of self and sadness within your own skin spoke to her so she felt sympathetic. You weren’t saved, of course no one can be saved, but you were kept, held by shifting hands that hungered for your skin but left it on you.

You understand she has to change, but the name stays the same with your lover. Always Nikola, always yours, but never the same face for too long or it’s fingers itch to take yours. The voices say to take it, they would return it, give it back once they found a new one, they swear with desperate tones, but Nikola knows the truth. If they wore it it would become a slice of meat, and the flesh has no place near you, so they find another face to wear. It doesn't matter how brutal the removal is or how much it pains the victim, she does it for you.

She knew your sadness ran deeper than you let on, and the problem with skin is one that can be easily fixed in the circus. She offers you different faces but cares little when you refuse, more for her and the changing group of nameless things that follow her. Nikola has lived for over 200 years, and she isn't ready to lose you. Pieces of you had to be made unreal so Nikola could keep you, but she was careful to make sure You stayed You and not Them.

Traveling with the Circus of the Other is strange to say the least. The faceless followers will always leave you alone if they want to continue their existence, and there is a clear understanding that your fear is off the menu. That is not to say you are lonely, no no no. You are friends with them, you don’t know which one because their faces change ever so often and giving them their own names would make the faces useless, so they are all your friends. Friends made of a shifting group of pronouns and skin spread far too thin across what could be mistaken for bone but you are no fool, there has never been bone in them.

When it comes to their ‘performances,” screaming is just as common as laughter. Wooden and flesh bodies thrown in the air by Breeken and caught by Hope, and the occasional tightrope walker that hits the ground with a sickening crunch, leaving blood and body parts on the ground. Nikola hopes you will join in with the Circus, they would love to have you as a second ringmaster. If you refuse then violence is kept away from you, but you still see the bloodstains smeared in the tents and the fresh faces of the members.

You have your uses to their master, too. You don’t fear the Stranger, at least not anymore, but you are useful to inspire fear. In a sea of wrong faces, one that looks almost normal makes the others even more frightening. A taste of hope on their victims faces before they see that glint in your eyes that signals to them that you are just like the faceless ones, just as hungry.

Nikola thinks of you as she dances the world anew, and the performance was one of a lifetime. Every eye was on the unknowing and Nikola reveled the love she felt from the stranger. Your smile was the last thing she thought about in the world as it was.

[hmm-self-indulgence]

Loving Gamer Kenma headcanons

TSorry I'm shit at naming but this popped up in my head and I wanted to write about it. Reader is gender neutral, no real content warnings except my bad writing!!

Basically Kenma pays attention to what you say way more than you would think...

“I think it would be really cool to be a VA”

Kenma called you and asked if you could come to Bouncing Ball for the afternoon, and who are you to say no to Kenma??

You show up to the building and Kenma is waiting in the lobby. You hug, greet him and start to head to his office when he side tracks and leads you to a recording booth on one of the game developer floors.

Obviously you were confused when Kenma told you “We need someone to record a few lines”, you protested. You weren't a voice actor and you didn't know what you were doing, but Kenma believed in you. It really was just a few lines for an NPC in an RPG they were making, and when Kenma heard one of their VA’s couldn't record the lines today he offered an alternative: you, his wonderful SO.

Soon you were in a recording studio with a small script in front of you. Apparently, the game is called Echos and Fire and the character you are voicing is called Iris the Sky Merchant. Most of the lines were inconsequential to the plot but you had fun recording and Kenma seemed happy. They all came out usable and they were added to the game easily.

“Come along weary traveler, you must have stories to tell”

“A nasty job, but someone must do it”

“Goodbye, traveler, I hope you live well”

“Oh, have you some goods to trade?”

“I promise I’ll give you a fair price”

Bonus

When the game finally comes out, of course Kenma streams the full play-through and makes a point to meet Iris ASAP.

When he heads to the area of the game Iris is confined to, he spends an almost unnoticeable moment just staring at the character until he hears them speak.

When he hears your voice lines he smiled and had this lovesick look on his face that the chat blew up over. He tries not to make it obvious, but he tends to shop at Iris’s stall more often just so he can hear your character lines. (He has them memorized by the end of the first stream and his mods make sure no one says anything negative about Iris)

There are fan edits of (Y/N) as Iris and Kenma as the player character that become so popular that chat begs you to dress as them for Halloween. (Also when a DLC is mentioned Kenma brings up the fan hype about your character and tries to make Iris a more important character. Maybe Iris should have more lines, maybe they should be a quest giver, to and obviously they need to have the same VA????)

Basically Kenma is so proud of you

[hmm-self-indulgence]

Deacon St John : *facing any rippers, freaks, or marauders*

Deacon St John : damn, I guess I can’t himbo my way out of this

[hmm-self-indulgence]

Hi! I know you're working on a michael x reader already, but could I have a platonic/ambiguously platonic michael x reader if you feel up to it?

Yep! Sorry for taking so long but here it is!

[hmm-self-indulgence]

Platonic!Michael x Reader

Michael as the friend we all wanted. (Michael will use He/They/It pronouns). Reader is gender neutral. Also Im trying out a weird format and I am totally down for ANY feedback or more questions!

TW: Spiral shenanigans, TMA stuff in general. One could argue platonic yandere vibes and they would probably be right so keep that in mind. Mentions of getting stuck in the eternal hallways. This is as close to a healthy relationship as I can see possible with Michael. Also possible cursing.

No one has the permission to repost this on any website. I will not post these on other websites so if you see any of my writing on another site, let me know. Do not use my content or claim it as your own! I do not own these characters, they are made, owned and are the property of Johnathan Sims. I am in no way profiting off of this and this is made with full respect to Rusty Quill.

How You Met...

Suppose you wandered through a door by accident and he decided he wanted to keep you.

Maybe you were friends before he got turned into what he is now.

Maybe he was playing the long game and taunting you with doors, but you interested them enough that they decided you were no longer a meal.

Early interactions

He probably wouldn't try to initiate anything on his own, but just hang out around you until you feel the need to talk to him (Basically the same way he did with Sasha). He will try to look human to not scare you off at first and once you engage with him positively he just decides “this frail human is my friend now” and you can't get rid of him!

On a sad note, he is probably really lonely. Michael Shelley was a good person and he was sacrificed to stop the spiral by someone he trusted. His first friend went missing by the spirals hand and now he is stuck in the same form as what took him. While he is 50% Michael and 50% Spiral, it's still a lonely life and he does need a bit of people time, which is why he latched on to a positive relationship with you.

What is Hanging out like?

He will go out places with you, mostly because going out is a double win for him because not only does he get to scare people a bit, but he also gets attention! He might follow you to a cafe and watch you eat but he doesn't eat or drink anything (honestly you're not sure he can eat).

He also is a bit considerate and tries to make his form as humanoid as possible so that you don't get migraines while looking at him.

Michael is very cat-like in the sense that he acts as though he doesn't care, especially at first, but still hangs around you like a second shadow. He enjoys your company and will simply be in your home sometimes and will just sit or stand around.

He answers your questions in riddles most of the time, but overall is not a bad listener. He won't lie to you, and while it is not in his nature to tell the truth he will try to make his riddles easy so you can decipher what he wants to say. He cannot contradict his nature as the Distortion, but he is equally Michael as he is Spiral, so he will try.

Plus sides of Friendship

While he totally can be a menace he can also be a bit helpful though. Some days if you are running late one of your doors will conveniently lead into one of his halls, and open just outside your work or university. You have to worry about getting back home, but it's the thought that counts, right?

You never lose things for long because he doesn't want your fear or for you to think you are crazy. This does defy his nature but he did notice what happened with The Vase and he would prefer you not turn out like that. They were a meal, you are not.

He definitely tells you stories (we heard the Trauma dump with Jon) about his existence or about the people he’s traumatized lately.

Some of the negatives

Also like a stray cat, he has to be a bit of a menace. Sometimes when you go to leave your home in the mornings you are stumped to find there is no longer a front door. The door isn't missing, it just seems like it was never there in the first place, there is only a wall.

While annoying, his mischief can normally be solved by a disapproving comment or leaving the house another way. The door will return when you do. (Not saying you don’t have to climb out a window or miss work some days because you PHYSICALLY cannot leave your house)

Any door you open has a possibility of bringing you into the spiral as a prank by Michael. He lets you out in a few minutes but at this point you're not scared of him so the prank is more of a bother than anything else.

Also, you might have to explain to them that they can't cast eternal hallway on everyone that annoys you, but they are totally down to traumatize people that bug you. This can happen whether you ask them to or if you actively disprove of this.

Friendship Love Language! (looking at the 5 love languages)

I would definitely think they are a quality time and acts of service kind of friend.

He's not a bad friend, but would probably rather die again than verbally admit that he really cares about you. The best you might get is him calling you his “ally”. He would probably call you a friend if you were also an avatar of the spiral, but he doesn't require you to be a worshiper of the spiral to be his friend.

Honestly he does not express emotions often. So don’t expect him to verbally confirm he cares about you a little bit, but you can see it other ways.

They definitely protects you from the spooky bits that haunt your world. The Fears will not know about you (except the Beholding, but that can hardly be helped), and none of their avatars will get close enough to hurt the Spiral's squishy and mortal friend. You are effectively off limit for all Fear Shenanigans on pain of eternal hallways or worse.

Ferrying you around is an act of service that makes him feel useful, which is definitely something Michael Shelley would do for others.

Quality time also makes sense for him because he does literally defy all logic with his existence, and when he is not a door, hallway, or taunting others he is bothering you.

Random headcanons!

Honestly it’s probably hard to set boundaries with a physical embodiment of fear, but you have found a way. The best way to show your displeasure and get him to change some behavior is to ignore him. Don’t respond to their questions and pretend you cannot see any fractals. It will not take long for him to crack and while he won't directly apologize he will let the person go or at least be open to compromise.

Also a bit extra of a more personal headcanon but... Michael would be 10/10 if it came to your gender identity. Micheal canonically uses He/him, they/them, and it/its pronouns, and he would respect any identity you have or pronouns you use.

Overall Friendship Rating

Friendship rating, uhhh probably about 6/10. Not a bad friend but you might need to explain that casting eternal hallways is not a proper punishment for that one coworker that didn't show up. Also, doesn’t understand that playing the same prank on someone multiple times does make it less scary.