#sfw fic

[idontplaytrack]

Band-aids, candy or me

Janis ‘Imi’ike x trans reader(FTM)

Warnings: fluff, some coarse language, mentions of needles/injections

In which, a forgetful reader fails to take their necessary shots if it weren’t for Janis. So Janis had to think of a way to motivate you

I hope I did your request justice, please correct me if I’d used any wrong terminologies. I have never written anything like this before and did the most research I could to educate myself prior to this but I am still learning.

You’d been dating Janis for several months. Ten to be exact. But you two have been friends for years— since you two were in middle school. She’s been with you through it all and has been incredibly supportive of your journey. Janis has stuck with you through thick and thin, and when you were with her, you felt you had no worries in the world. She’s always been there for you even through her worst days where Regina George had been making fun of her together with the whole school. Yeah, things were terrible, but you two knew that you’d always have each others backs. Your family was fortunately supportive, but nothing compares to what you felt with Janis. That was a whole other level of love.

You and Janis naturally got from the best friends stage to dating so naturally that you two didn’t even realise it until she confessed. Damian was and has always been yours and Janis’ biggest supporter. And you two loved him for that. The process was daunting at first because it was so new to you- you had to learn a lot about it and make sure everything was done right and safely. You knew it was the right thing for you, and Janis was undoubtedly there by your side every step of the way. Right now, the worst part of it all was the shots you had to give yourself.

You’ve always been forgetful and Janis always had to remind you repeatedly just so you wouldn’t forget to take them. After awhile, she got a little, creative.

“How about every time you get the shot, I’ll give you a kiss?” She grins playfully, tiptoeing to meet your lips.

You chuckled at her cuteness— something others never got to see. It was great, like your own little secret.

“Mm, no.” You played along, grabbing the bottle and a needle, preparing those and yourself for the shot.

“Oh, no? What do you want then?” She chuckles, helping you with them before you even started.

You bit back a grin, watching her carefully so that the dosage was correct. You never doubted her anyway, but even you yourself had to be extra careful. “How about a little sweet treat afterwards and a kiss?” You suggested jokingly.

“Sure!” Her face lit up, “So, what? Candy, chocolate? Ice cream?”

“Really? I’ll think about it.” You laughed. She helped you with the injection and disposed the sharp object before returning to your side, handing you a bandaid.

“You know I don’t necessarily need one, right?” You took it from between her fingers and put it over the spot anyway.

“I know. But it’s a fun pattern- I thought maybe it could make you look forward to it a little more- I get that getting shots makes you a little nervous.”

“Thanks, baby.” You smiled. She does the same, then pressing a kiss to your cheek. You asked for one on the lips and she delightedly gave it to you.

Janis kept to her word and always gave you a kiss, bandaid and a sweet treat after your weekly shots. It’s taken an important thing and given it some form of…intimacy. She could easily just helped you with the shot itself and called it a day, but no- she decided to make it a thing. She’s always been go big or go home, which you loved.

“Thanks, babe.”

“Don’t even mention it, my love.” She grabs your hand, pressing a kiss on them before letting go and continuing to eat her ice cream.

“Aw, you got ice cream on my hands.” You sulked playfully.

“Sorry.” She gives you a sheepish grin, sticking the spoon back into the dessert.

“But seriously- thank you for everything you’ve done for me. I really am so grateful for you, Jan.”

“I love you.” She answered earnestly, “That’s why. So much.”

“I love you too, baby.” You told her, giving her a tearful smile.

“Don’t cry, babe. Why are you crying?” Her voice was soft as she handed you a napkin for your forming tears.

“Oh, these are happy tears.” You assured, taking the napkin, “You make me feel so safe and happy and loved, Janis. You always have. Always.”

[skerbbie]

💚💗Firsts & Seconds💗💚

Chapter: 33 Summary: Lost, found… what's in a name?

(Art by @aoi-kanna !!! Thank you so much!! 🥰)

[yanderestarangel]

Would you write the lin kuei trio turning into neko? And the reader would be responsible for taking care of the three of them until they returned to their natural form

HEADCANONS MK1 | NEKO!TRIO LIN KUEI

A/N: Random fun fact - my boyfriend's kitten is called "Tomas" because my boyfriend knows I like Smoke from MK, so he let me put it.

TW: sfw, cute, fluff, the Lin Kuei trio can turn into kittens too!

✧ headcanons from neko bi han ✧

Oh no... The Lin Kuei trio have become cute nekos!

You really didn't know how to deal with the three ninjas now as nekos, mainly because Bi Han was going to tease poor Tomas even more, his little ears were gray, Bi Han's were black, just like Kuai Liang's and each one would take on a different personality. combinatorial with his current neko form.

Bi Han is like an elegant and skittish black cat, he can transform into a smaller kitten too, but he is still extremely grumpy and likes to knock things over on purpose when he takes on a black kitten form ── he is the type who sees a mug at the end of the table and deliberately knocks it over just to see your reaction, soon transforming back into a humanoid neko and saying that he "didn't realize what he did."

He's really the one who gives the most work out of the entire trio, especially when he realizes that you're paying more attention to his brothers than to him. He will also coo on your lap and scratch and bite you if you don't pet his tail ── regardless of whether he is like neko or totally kitten, he needs your affection and to be spoiled by you.

Tomas is a more fearful and quiet neko, like a Siamese cat ── with white fur and small gray spots. He was scared by the transformation but quickly got used to it, mainly because he kept biting his own fluffy tail. (He will whine and complain when you forbid him from biting him, his big blue eyes will bore into you while he would just go somewhere alone. )

The ninja will also try to play with his older brother when they are both in shape. kitten, but Bi Han will hit him and kick him out of his side (like in those videos of kittens fighting and pawing each other) he will come back meowing and crying at you, saying that his brother was mean to him.

(Bi Han will just turn his face away and go back to pretending nothing happened while he waited for you to pet his head.)

Regardless of whether he is as neko or not, the slavic ninja is extremely sensitive, enjoying playing and having your attention ── He's really not as worried about changing shape and becoming fully human again like his brothers, he has you taking care of him and a warm bed, hot milk and love.

He will stay on top of you while you sleep (please don't complain to him, he knows he is heavy but he will just want you to massage his gray ears while he purrs happily and yawns showing his fangs. He will also turn into a kitten sometimes to go for a walk around and also for you to carry him in your arms.)

Kuai Liang is the calmest of all, he doesn't ask for affection and doesn't want to be taken care of ── but he also won't complain if you pet him. When he turns into a kitten, he will be the orange kitten type, running around and being equally silly.

He is also responsible for taking care of Tomas, sometimes you will see the two of them walking together like kittens, playing with some balls of wool that you left loose, while Bi Han will fight with Liang for being so inelegant (later you will seeing the grandmaster also playing with balls of wool with his brothers is a rare scene where the three are together).

Kuai will also spend most of the time sleeping, you can feel his arms and claws on you during the night while he sleeps again ── if he accidentally hurts you he will apologize and lower his little ears while hiding his face in the sheets.

You'll also have to share a bed with the three of them, so be prepared to stay up all night listening to the three cat men's loud roars.

You will be responsible for taking them out for a walk and stopping Tomas from running away at the first opportunity he sees something that catches his attention. So every time you ask them to transform back into kittens to make it easier for you to take them from one place to another.

You'll see them watching cartoons while you take care of the Lin Kuei appointments in Bi Han's place (he'll just purr and say he can't write down the papers because he's too tired, and he'll still be on your lap while you write everything down, listening to him tell you to do it faster and pay attention to him and his brothers.)

Overall you'll have to be very patient, but it's worth it after seeing the three of them sleeping peacefully with their ears flopping happily.

𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒔 𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒗𝒆𝒅 ©𝒚𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍. 𝒅𝒐 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆.

♡⁠˖ 》 my ao3 profile

♡⁠˖ 》 my janitor a.i pfp

♡⁠˖ 》 my character a.i pfp

[nicksbestie]

hi as of like yesterday yr requests are still open so i hope this isn’t a bother ! but anyway i was hoping to see some caregiver!reader + agere!johnnie ? preferably gnc reader but fem would also be okay ( whatever prior relationship you want :] ) don’t have many ideas for plot aside from maybe johnnie has had a bad day/is really stressed out so he kinda starts isolating himself, which reader respects but is also really worried about him :( so after a while reader uses maybe like a spare key to go into johnnie’s room and at first it just seems like he’s just upset but as reader starts trying to get johnnie to open up and trying to comfort him, he regresses which makes him more upset/panicky. whether reader has prior knowledge of regression is up to you but in general they’re just really sweet and supportive trying to calm johnnie down <3 maybe they eat dinner/reader feeds johnnie, and watch a movie/cartoon while cuddling ? ( little spoon johnnie ofc ) anyways feel free to add or take away anything i just want johnnie to be taken care of and as an agere i am totally projecting lol

Secrets - Johnnie Guilbert

Summary : Johnnie's biggest secret is exposed without him being ready, but it goes better than he thinks it will.

Pairing : Johnnie Guilbert/Reader (romantic)

Warnings : descriptions of mental health issues, depression, and isolation

Word Count : 1541

A/N : This is an age regression fic, which is purely safe for work and innocent. Any hate/disrespect towards me, my work, or readers, will not be tolerated.

Everyone has secrets. Some of them are terrible ones, skeletons in your closet, ones that would ruin many people’s lives should they escape out into the public. Others are small and simple, things they just like to keep to themselves, and wouldn’t hurt anyone if other people knew, they just don’t want them to be everyone’s business. Some people keep secrets to protect themselves because they would be embarrassed about it if anyone found out. Everyone keeps secrets, and sometimes they’re revealed at the wrong time. Johnnie had secrets, and he was in no way prepared for his biggest one to be exposed to anyone, especially not you, but sometimes life goes in ways that we just can’t predict. 

Johnnie had been struggling a lot lately. That wasn’t a secret, and although you knew about it, you didn’t pressure him very much. He wasn’t the type to open up when he was overly pushed about whatever was wrong, and you wanted him to feel safe and comfortable coming to you when he was ready, and not before that. But that didn’t mean that you weren’t concerned, because you most definitely were. This bad spell for him was bordering on being one of his worst ones ever, and you were about to step in, because you couldn’t stand to see him hurting on his own any longer, even if that was what he told you he wanted. 

Johnnie had begun to isolate himself for almost every hour of the day, only exiting his room to eat and use the bathroom. He didn’t talk much to you out loud, texting instead, as it took much less energy out of him to take that route. He didn’t like to talk about it, despite knowing that he most definitely needed to. You hated how he could be so self destructive, but you knew that you did the exact same thing when you felt the way that he did. So, you respected his space and always let him have it when he asked for it. However, it normally didn’t last this long, thus feeling the massive worry that encased your mind. 

After a couple more hours, you continued to let your worry grow, but you decided to do something about it. You hated the fact that you were about to ignore the boundaries that Johnnie had put into place, but you were seriously concerned, and you hoped that he would be able to understand and forgive you should he be upset with your decision. You grabbed the spare key that unlocked all the doors in the house, kept in the kitchen just in case of emergencies, and gently knocked on his bedroom door. You weren’t going to just barge in, you wanted to give him the chance to open it himself. When he didn’t reply, you softly called out to him, telling him that you were going to open the door. He didn’t argue, so you did just that. 

Walking into his room, you noticed that the blinds were closed, the lights were off, and he was quietly laying in his bed, staring at the wall. You immediately laid down next to him, letting him curl up next to you. You noticed the stained tear tracks on his cheeks, your heart breaking for him as he simply laid there. You let the both of you cuddle in silence, not wanting this to be a heartbreaking moment for the both of you, so you didn’t break the silence for a while. You knew that you should probably talk about what was going on, but the moment was so peaceful that you didn’t want to say anything. You both laid there quietly for about half an hour, taking in the comfort of the other’s presence, before you said anything. 

“We should talk about this, baby. It’s getting worse this time.” 

You could feel him shake his head against your chest. 

“No. I don’t want to talk.” 

“Honey, it’s important-” 

“No!”

Woah. He very rarely snapped at you. He had almost never snapped at you, especially not when he was feeling like this. But, in all fairness, you had pushed him a little bit. You could feel the tears from his eyes soaking your shirt, and you decided to not speak any more for a little bit. You gently pulled his face up, wiping his tears away with the soft pads of your thumbs, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead, brushing his hair out a bit with your fingers. You noticed that his eyes were widened more, much more glassy, and you definitely were concerned about it, but you brushed it off to the tears causing it. 

You were more surprised when he pulled away from you, as he had never done that. You gently reached out to try and cuddle him again, but you noticed that he wouldn’t even look at you. He seemed to be panicking about something, and you couldn’t figure out what it was. You weren’t upset with him, but from the anxiety radiating off of his body, you could tell that he probably felt like you were. So, you immediately spoke up to try and help him recognize the fact that he was always safe and loved with you. 

“Love, what’s wrong? It’s all going to be okay.” 

You were now completely confused, as the second that you spoke, your boyfriend burst into tears. He seemed to be absolutely inconsolable, crying nearly at the top of his lungs and clutching the squishmallow on his bed tightly between his arms. You didn’t know what else to do besides just hug him, whispering comforting words as you told him that everything was going to work out, and that you were here for him. It wasn’t until he looked up at you with the same glassy-eyed look as earlier and spoke a few words when you realized what was going on. 

When a choked out “I sorry” left his lips, you put together the look in his eyes, and unexpected crying, and the clutched stuffie, and immediately realized what was happening. Your boyfriend had slipped right into his littlespace, a littlespace that you were completely unaware of, and was absolutely distraught. You had been a caregiver in a previous relationship, and you quickly controlled your shocked face, bringing him as close to you as possible and gently stroking through his hair. 

“It’s okay, baby. It’s okay. You’re safe, angel, nothing to be sorry for. I’ve got you, you’re going to be alright.” 

It took a lot of repetitive words and soft praises for Johnnie to relax, his crying eventually slowing when he realized that you weren’t upset with him, and that you were still there and still loving him despite his newfound headspace. He wrapped himself back around you, seeming to become a very quiet little. You were more than excited to get to know him in his headspace, so excited to get to love and spoil a little one, as it had been a long time. Less than an hour later, the two of you were still curled up next to each other, you simply hugging your little boy and whispering sweet nothings to him as he relaxed. You both enjoyed the quality time, and as it turns out, Johnnie is a very silent little, despite when he’s not upset. It wasn’t for another half an hour or so that you moved, and you probably wouldn’t have moved at all had it not been for Johnnie’s stomach growling. 

You held his hand as you walked to the kitchen, calling him the most adorable as he rubbed his eyes with a fist. You put some chicken nuggets in the oven for him, before you went to the bathroom and you helped him remove the makeup that he’d put on that morning. He hadn’t gone anywhere, but he put it on to cover the dark circles under his eyes. You were gentle but bubbly, and you noticed that your little loved to laugh, and giggled at every funny face you made at him. Dinner went quite smoothly, him eating all of it, which absolutely warmed your heart, as he hadn’t been eating much lately due to his depressive slump. 

Little Johnnie seemed to love food, and you were grateful for that, because you didn’t want dinner time to cause him to be upset again. After he had finished eating, you got him a popsicle from the freezer, wrapped it in a paper towel so his hands didn’t get cold, and tucked him in on the couch while you cleaned up the plate and put it into the dishwasher. He was wrapped up in a blanket, cuddled with his stuffie, and you sat down next to him as soon as you were done. You gently tapped through channels and shows as you waited for your little one to pick a cartoon he’d like to watch, finally settling on “Spongebob”, and he immediately wrapped himself back up in your arms. 

He’d been in a dark episode for a while, but now, it seemed like he was able to see the light at the end of it, and you couldn’t wait to be here to help him through it all.

~ taglist : @jake-and-johnnies-slut @elliem505 @gvf23 @ilydeaky @maryx2xx @oobleoob @aemrsy @jasperthefriendlyghostt @707xn

~ if you'd like to be added to my taglist, click here!

~ my inbox is open, come chat!

[junoswrlld]

boys don't cry (smau & some written)

⟣playlist to listen to while reading

⟣ pairing — Spiderman!Yeonjun x photographer!moa!reader

⟣ genre — idol au, spiderman au, secret identity, collage au

⟣ summary — you are an aspiring photographer who falls head over heels for a member of a famous boy band. Little do you know, this captivating superstar also leads a covert life as Spider-Man. As your romance blossoms, you are drawn into a world of fame, fan culture, and the thrilling revelation of a hidden identity.

⟣ featuring — txt, jiwoong(zb1), jisung(nct), minnie(g-idle), chuu(loona</3)

⟣ Updates — when i cann </3

⟣ warnings — angst(?)

⟣ start- 10/24/23 ⟣ end- nevaaa

⟣ disclaimers- This is all fictional, the way I write and portray idols in this is fake! (just imagine the people yn is friends with aren't in the K-pop groups they're normally in plz )

⟣ universe lore- pls read!!!

the Spiderman comics exist but not the movies.

spiderman is the only superhero so no Ironman, hulk, Captain America, etc.

Yeonjun has only been Spiderman since late 2021

Deadpool is also here but hes just a silly guy

no canon events (no dead parents)

there are villains but they're nowhere as crazy as for example misterio or that weird lizard guy

profiles darkest timeline goblins other & privates

episodes/chapters

✶ episode 1. stop complaining??

✶ episode 2. #cantdrive

✶ episode 3. thought we had something

✶ episode 4. i know everything

✶ episode 5. protecting the city(yn)

✶episode 6. u were too late </3

✶bonus episode. jumpscare

✶episode 7. 2 baddies 2 baddies

✶episode 8. comeback showcase

notee... the playlist for this is kinda like sad sometimes :0 but the smau isnt really angsty i promise!!!!! i just made the playlist before i made this so like idk the playlist is mainly based on spidey vibes

yayayayyabyshghag hope all my mootie cutie patooties love this xoxoxo kissesss

tag list!!! (always open) @run2seob @n034sy @roseyrays @jype2papi @beomies-world @captivq @bblyeonjun @yannew @reyarain @cookiehaos @bluxjun @mochijjunie @jesssssmaybankk @dubuii

[trigunwritings]

Bad Habits (and Dutiful Husbands)

Rating: General

Relationships: Fem!Reader/Wolfwood/Vash

Summary: Vash and Wolfwood have to take care of a job, but their thoughts are still with their wife.

Written by @blood--hunter

Note: Reader is referred to as wife and uses she/her. Various pet names are also used through the writing.

The lighter sparked to life with only one flick. Wolfwood sighs in relief, lifting the small dancing flame to his cigarette as if it were as delicate as a butterfly. Just as he’s about to cup his hand—mostly out of habit— around the end, there is the sound of a gunshot.

In the same breath that the bullet meets his cigarette, Nicholas lets out a sigh. He had known it was going to happen, but it was still an annoyance that made his teeth grind.

“Seriously?” He asks, flickering dark eyes to the man walking towards him. Vash was dressed in his usual red coat as always, blond hair waving gently in the desert wind. “You couldn’t even let me have one drag?”

Though his gun was nowhere to be seen, Vash was the only one stupid enough to literally shoot something out of Nicholas D. Wolfwood’s mouth and not expect any consequences or accidental injuries.

“You heard the little lady.” Vash said, taking the final few steps to stand before his husband. “No more smoking. It’s bad for your lungs!”

Nick gnashed his teeth again, leaning against the large, cross-shaped gun that was behind him. Vash was, unfortunately, right. Their wife had strict orders for him not to smoke anymore largely out of concern for his health. He hadn’t the heart to tell her that his newfound powers would keep anything like cancer at bay, instead acquiescing to her and Vash’s whims than try to make the argument.

“Whatever,” He spits, turning his eyes to the ruined, ramshackle house before him. Within was hidden the Glass Gang, known for burning down any town they went through and turning the sand itself to glass in their wake. They preferred fire as their weapon of choice, and there was a bounty on them that could cover the bills for months. “At least I didn’t show up late.”

“Aw, c’mon, I just got a little held up.”

Wolfwood didn’t comment—with Vash, the excuse was probably literal.

He hoists his gun onto his shoulder, letting it sit there as he sauntered to the front door.

“Hey,” the man said, banging loudly at the door that held on by barely one hinge, “Come on out!”

“Could be a little more polite.” Vash sighs, but he stands there regardless, hovering over Nick’s shoulder like a worried hen.

Ever since they’d gotten married he had started doing that. He did it to their wife too, hovering, fidgetting, worrying about their health and how they felt. It was Vash’s way of showing how he cared, so Nick allowed it, and sometimes—only sometimes—he even found it cute. Their wife had told him that he needed to accept some things, like people caring about him, when they got married. Her words rang in his ears in moments like these.

It’s because he loves you, Wolfwood. Let him.

“Ain’t commin’ out!” A voice finally rings from inside.

He sighs. Sometimes he wished he’d just picked a different profession. Maybe being the town preacher would have been better, but it never really stuck and—if he were an honest man—he preferred sticking to Vash’s side. Otherwise, their wife would have done it and he didn’t think he could bare being the one at home taking care of things while she and their husband was out earning money.

Vash pipes up before Wolfwood can think of anything to say. “We have donuts!”

“Really?”

Nick raises a brow, looking to his husband. Vash is subtly shaking his head no.

So, it was a lie, then.

The voice inside responds all the same, “Then I guess I will!”

Nick has enough forethought to leap away from he door, grabbing Vash by the edge of his sleeve and hauling ass. Just as they get clear the slab of wood is kicked open— a burst of flames taking up the space where they had just stood.

Vash whines from beside them as they hit the sand. He looks over his shoulder to see a tall man—taller than even Vash— standing in the doorway. The gang-member held a huge flame thrower in his hands, complete with a large tank attached to the back of it, probably filled with some sort of fuel.

“What? No donuts for me!” The man says, a wide, hungry grin on his face, “Or are they all burnt?” Nick rolls his eyes but Vash chuckles, even if it is a little awkward.

“So,” His husband speaks from beside him as they both stand, dusting themselves off. “No way we can convince you to just turn yourselves in?”

“‘Fraid not.”

“Well, that stinks.” Vash sighs, “And here I told my wife that I wouldn’t get into any trouble today.”

“Our wife,” Wolfwood corrects, expression straight and unwavering.

The gang-member’s face crumples in confusion and discuss. “Your wife? What kind of woman would marry you two assholes?”

Nicholas lifts the punisher, taking aim for the tank of fuel, but Vash stops him with a firm hand on the end of his gun.

“Now, now, no need to go insulting us.”

The man chuckles. Nicholas’ frown deepens. One more stupid word and he was going to be eating lead.

“Nah, I won’t insult you anymore. But I am gonna make your little lady at home eat your ashes!”

He lifts his flame thrower. Vash dodges out of the way, rolling to the man’s side while Wolfwood goes the other way both of them are flanking him but as they get into position gun fire erupts from the house. The rest of the gang was joining the party.

Fine by him.

Wolfwood strafes with the weight of his weapon on his shoulder, letting bullets strip through the house’s walls. He knew Vash didn’t want anyone killed, and he didn’t want to disappoint his husband, but it was better to lay down covering fire and risk maiming someone than get killed themselves. Their wife would never forgive them if the both of them didn’t come back in one piece.

Vash, for his part, acclimates quickly to the new scenario and moves to be behind the large man. Unwilling to fire at—what seems to be—their boss, or to get hit themselves, the gang-members stop firing, probably to attempt to repossession themselves.

Their leader growls deep in the back of his throat, trying to swing around to set Vash ablaze but Wolfwood’s husband is too fast, and manages to stay behind him as he swings from side to side.

“Get back here you little freak!”

“No thanks! I don’t wanna end up roasted!”

“Fight fair damnit!”

“Nope!”

As the two of them continue to bicker, Wolfwood makes his way into the house. There are five other gang members and all of them are scrawny, hungry men who aren’t very hard to take down now that their cover is gone and their boss is preoccupied. After tying them up with rope as one big group he emerges from the house again.

Vash has his hands raised, a simpering smile on his face as the boss points the nozzle of his flame-thrower at the other man.

“Got you now!”

Wolfwood sighs, rolling his eyes. “When are you going to stop playing with him?”

The boss smiles wide, eyeing him. “What? So you want me to roast your husband right in front of your eyes!”

“Wasn’t talking to you.”

The man’s face crumples in confusion, but it’s Vash who speaks next. “Oh, I was just gonna let him get this out of his system first.”

With a click the gang-member attempts to light his weapon. Then another click. And another.

Click. Click. Click.

It’s only now that he realizes the tank of fuel is long gone, Vash having gotten rid of it long before Wolfwood even went into the house.

“W-What?!”

“Sorry buddy, couldn’t let you go around setting people on fire!”

Before the man can say anything more, he’s on the ground and his hands are tied behind his back.

Another long breath leaves Nicholas and he grabs for his cigarettes without thinking. He barely has time to put it in his mouth before a gunshot rings out, knocking it away once again.

“God damnit blondie!”

“Hey! Wifey’s orders!”

[venbetta]

Night Light

Ven x Glam Freddy SFW Drabble (OC x Canon)

Beneath the cut

This tension was familiar to Ven, the way their blood froze at their heels as the heavy presence was upon them as they stood before their late master. His eyes probed her small frame, she remembered that horrible look he gave her when she spoiled the mission.

The clawed hand yanked her chin, and Ven gasped as her gaze was set on Ulysses, never having thought she would see him ever again. Not ever.

Despite their fear, Ven wriggled from his touch and recoiled, the demon stiffening from her defiance. The room shifted and flickered as Ven's legs pumped to escape from his deathly hold, Ulysses’ roaring for their return.

Not long after, his hard steps shook the ground beneath her as she ran through jello, slow and unwilling to move forward.

The corridor wobbled, and a door was barely in their grasp when a hand gagged them quiet.

A strained squeal uttered from her, kicking but met air. His piercing red glare tore through her, and just like his gaze, a dull searing pain gutted through her, Ven managed a horrible scream, clawing at his penetrated arm.

He struck her again, her torso bent and pulled, she could feel herself being split again, she expected to see gore but only for an inky substance to coat Ulysses’ forearm as he dug into her flesh. Flailing, Ven incoherently begged, even though there was no ounce of contrite in that demon's face…

Ven still had the robust to wail, only for the hall to close in on them. Or her own vision closing in, as she managed another shriek.

The air was dry in the room and Ven had become shrill, clambering upwards in a panic and grabbing for… something. She wasn't sure what. But a hard, yet warm pair of arms gathered her back and that baritone coaxed into her ears, melting away the cries.

“You are safe– you are fine...” He ushered, “I am here.”

Ven darted her eyes, seeking the demon that had her in the shadows of the space. I'm looking for those red dots that bored her. She fell to the foot of the bed, finding nothing but her and the mascot’s feet partially buried beneath the covers. The weight of the bed was heavy, that being due to having a large robot in the bed…

A rattling exhale leaves them, mimicking chills, but she was hardly cold. The room was dim, hardly lit by the moonlight leaking in through the shades, yet the artificial glow of Freddy's eyes created the effect of a night light. Something Ven never knew she needed again, believing them to be childish after having given them up for that reason… and most nights, she regretted getting rid of it.

“Everything is alright. Settle your breathing.” Freddy nudged into her temple, feeling her staggered breaths against his metal frame. The way her heart was racing, he would have believed she had run a marathon. Their body was still trembling.

“Breathe…”

Ven couldn't breathe, not properly, when her systems were overwhelmed with a terrible prickling sensation in her legs and a cramp seizing up her abdomen. Her eyes clamped shut, and she buried into Freddy's chest, trying to swallow any sound that left. Freddy felt her body flinch, and a wobble took over her throat. The imp shook as she unwounded in his arms.

“H…He kill– he killed me– he killed me a-again…” Ven gasped, in a horrible breathing state, “I was…he had me–”

Freddy wavered, “You are safe now. You are here.” Ven shook their head, but Freddy just held on.

He caught her instability, stroking her shoulders and lowering his palm to her navel. The pain was almost a phantom, Ven whirring from his touch, but Freddy didn't retract it. He kept it there. A soothing heat overtakes his palm, and he rests it there for her.

The room remained quiet with Ven weeping and gulping for air, Freddy's voice occasionally uttering solace. Eventually, Freddy rests Ven on top of his chest, letting them soak their tears against his metal exterior. His systems picked up her deescalating heart, and what was once a constantly thump became a legato beat. Sniffles were lessening, and ultimately, Ven became subdued…

“Do you want to talk about it?” Freddy asked gently, his voice vibrating his frame. Ven quietly shook their head, reduced to silence now. A sigh leaves him, resting his hand on her backside.

“I understand… When you wish to, I will be here to listen.”

Ven doesn't respond, only shifting to rest comfortably against him. Freddy noted the rise in her abdomen, unsure he wanted to mention this symptom; he recognized their cycle patterns, and it appeared that it was coming soon. Instead, he kept it to himself, not wanting to burden them with this right now. Their exhaustion was prevalent, and he just wanted them to rest.

“Let me know if this is comfortable, I do not mind moving if you aren't.”

After some shuffling and getting settled, Ven rested on their side, pressing their back to the bear's front. Freddy returned his hand to her navel, hoping to soothe the pain that haunted her. Before long, he heard deep, elongated breathing, and Ven was fast asleep.

All he could do was press into her tighter…

_________

[thee-horny-thicky]

Hi, I absolutely adore your work and was wondering if you could do another Gyutaro merman fic. NGL they are so addicting but in the fic could he be a siren and leads you in with his trance.

best regards and thank youuu!

Thank you so much! Merman Gyutaro was so fun to write, and his fine ass being a siren makes sense. So, I present Love Song, an SFW siren Gyutaro fic. Enjoy!

Love Song

When he first saw you, Gyutaro thought you’d make for easy prey. You were a newcomer to the small island smack dab in the middle of his hunting ground, unaware of the dangers that lurked in the dark depths. Unlike the locals, you didn’t know better, didn’t know that venturing on the beach at night was a death wish. If you did, you wouldn’t wander out of the old bungalow you’d purchased to stroll around the sandy shores, every night at midnight.

He watched you for days before making his move, deciding to learn your habits before luring you away. You were admittedly pretty, and that made him more determined to devour you.

Pretty girls always taste the best.

Yet, when he finally made his move, he encountered an issue he’d never had. His song did nothing. In fact, it did the exact opposite of what he wanted to do because instead of wandering into the water so he could get his webbed hands on you, you fearfully looked around. When you found no one, unable to see him from his hiding spot in the water, you ran back to your bungalow and didn’t come back for four entire days.

It left Gyutaro baffled. He knew his song wasn’t as strong as other sirens; the male songs were always weaker, but it was effective enough. He was able to hunt without the aid of his sister, and often secured food for them. But dammit, you shook his confidence.

So, when you came back, he tried again, wanting to remedy his mistake. The same result, but this time, you spoke.

“This is some horror movie shit,” you said under your breath while looking around, quickly getting to your feet when you saw no one around.

Your words were meant for your ears only, but his superior hearing allowed him to catch them. He would’ve laughed, had the comment not been a sign of your resistance to him.

As you began to walk away, he started to sing again. It was an echoey, haunting sound, an eerie version of the genre humans call opera. He never used words, instead mimicking a melody only he could hear. He’d brought many tears with his song, but you just walked faster.

“Okay, ghost, I’m leaving,” you yelled as he grew louder, breaking into a run and dashing to your house. “I won’t come back, promise!”

Dammit, that isn’t what he wants!

He went silent, trying to brainstorm before you retreated for goods. He decided to play into the delusion your mind had created.

“If you leave, I’ll kill you,” Gyutaro boomed in response, making you stop in your tracks.

“I’m losing my goddamn mind,” you whispered, looking all around in search of a figure that wasn’t there.

Well, he was there, just where you couldn’t see.

He grinned and held back a snicker. “No, you’re not, now come back.”

Slowly, you returned to your previous spot, trembling. It both amused and annoyed Gyutaro. Ghosts did exist, but he wasn’t one, nor did he appreciate a misty dead man being scarier and more realistic than his species.  Yet, he always enjoyed playing with his food, and you wouldn’t be an exception. No, he suspected that the challenge you presented would make your flesh the sweetest of them all.

“Why can’t I see you…am I dreaming?”

He huffed a breath. “You’re awake, human, and you can’t see me because I don’t want you to.”

“What do you want?” you asked, with a boldness you lacked moments ago.

To eat you.

“I just want to sing to you.” If it was the last thing he did, he’d make you succumb to his song. “May I?”

“Do I have a choice?”

He shook his head, though you couldn’t see. “No, not really.”

With that, he began to sing, changing his tune. Perhaps, his voice wasn’t the issue, and it was what he was singing that was the problem. Maybe all he needed to do was experiment, and you’d fall prey to him, just like countless helpless women before you.

This time, the tune he sang was lighter and less haunting in nature, often sung by elders to put the young at ease. He hoped it would have a similar effect on you.

It was obvious that the more soothing tune didn’t intimidate you as much, but you still looked ready to bolt at a moment’s notice. When he was done, you gave polite applause but showed no signs of being under his spell.

“Beautiful, Mr. Ghost,” you said as you clapped, your nerves bleeding through. “Can I go now?”

He tsked. “You make for an awful audience.”

And a very difficult creature to hunt.

“Sorry, but it’s time for me to feed my…plant. Venus flytraps need to eat once a week, you know.”

Your words were a blatant excuse, irritating him further. “Your plant?”

“Yeah…I named it Cow, and I’d be really sad if Cow died.”

Gyutaro was insulted that you thought him so ignorant. But he’ll play along.

“Fine, go feed ‘Cow.’ But I expect you to be back here tomorrow. Don’t think that you’re safe in that house, human.”

Your expression became fearful. Truth be told, he hadn’t dared to venture out of the water in ages, his abilities being much weaker and his inhuman appearance making him a target. He wouldn’t break his streak just for you, but that was information you didn’t need to know.

“Of course, Mr. Ghost.”

You scurried away before he could blast you for the nickname, leaving him to brainstorm ways to make his voice more enticing.

******

The next time you came, Gyutaro had formulated a plan. To lure you into the water, he’d need to sing a song designed to appeal to what you adored most. Therefore, he’d have to go to the mundane task of getting to know you. It was more effort than he usually put into hunting his prey. But you’d hurt his pride, and he was determined to redeem his faith in his abilities.

So, when you nervously shuffled onto the beach and plopped down into your usual spot, he demanded, “Tell me about yourself, human.”

You blinked. “W-what?”

“Are you deaf?” he barked, annoyance surging through him. “Tell me about yourself.”

Humans can be so simple at times.

“O-okay…what do you want to know?”

Gyutaro paused, then decided to go with something simple. “What’s your favorite color?”

Many songs existed with color being a core component of the lyrics. He didn’t usually sing any words, but if it’d get you in his grasp, he’d make an exception.

With furrowed brows, you tell him the shade you’re most fond of, and Gyutaro chooses a song that correlates. He sang with passion, hoping his extra effort would be worth it.

******

It wasn’t worth it, because after he was done, you gave your applause and then scurried to your house the moment he gave permission. He couldn’t help but gawk at your retreated form and punched the rock to relieve some of his frustration, creating an indent.

He’d get you eventually.

******

The next night, you returned, no less antsy than before.

“I’m back, Mr. Ghost,” you announced, tightening the shawl wrapped around your shoulder. “Actually…are you a ghost?”

Maybe you weren’t so dumb.

“I’m not a ghost, human,” he confirmed, contemplating showing himself.

“Oh…what are you?”

The corners of his lips quirked up. “Guess.”

“…A voice in my head?”

He heaved a breath. A fish swam by him, and he grabbed it and then tossed it at you. You screamed as the flopping fish landed in your lap, then quickly threw it back into the ocean.

“YOU’RE A FUCKING FISH?”

His jaw went slack. Perhaps his initial accession of your intelligence was accurate.

“No, you damn dumbass!” He swam into view, emerging from the rock that’d been shielding him from you. “Guess again.”

Your eyes went wide as you took in his grey skin dotted with black spots, the damp mass of green hair that cascaded down his shoulders, and his golden, glowing eyes. A blush crept onto your face as you eyed his toned stomach, your shameless appraisal making him cock a brow. When he splashed his green-black tail to regain your attention, you gasped.

“You’re a mermaid!” you exclaimed, before shaking your head. “Merman.”

“A siren,” he corrected.

A toothy grin spread across his face when your eyes returned to his chest, your pink tongue darting out to lick your perfectly shaped lips. Stupid prey you were, it was flattering that you couldn’t keep your eyes off him. He often heard he lacked the attractiveness his species was renowned for, but you made him feel like a beauty.

If only you could keep your mouth shut.

You blinked. “But…you’re a guy.”

“And?”

“Sirens are women.”

“Humans think sirens are only female,” Gyutaro corrected with a glare. “But they’re wrong because your species is dumb. Take you, for example.”

Your jaw dropped. “I’m not dumb!”

“You thought I was fish.”

Your cheeks became redder. “I mean, I wasn’t exactly wrong…you have a fishtail.”

“You know,” he began, swimming around lazily. “I heard before that you should never argue with stupid people, because to argue with a fool is to make him your equal.” He scanned you and smirked. “Or her, in your case.”

You glared at him, then stood up. His grin slipped away.

“Hey, come back here!”

“I did not come to be insulted!” you called as you stomped away.

Shit, this isn’t what he wanted!

He growled, then swallowed down his pride. “Dammit, okay, I apologize. Come back know.”

You stopped in your tracks, and thought it over for a second, before returning to the sandy indent you’d created.

“Good girl,” he crooned, holding back a cackle when your breath hitched. Someone’s got a kink. “Now, human, tell me something about yourself.”

“Uhm…I like plants,” you provided after a moment. “I’ve been gardening since a child, and I really do have a Venus flytrap named Cow, by the way.”

Huh, so you hadn’t been lying to him.

He racked his brain for plant-related songs. Few existed among his people, but humanity had many plant theme songs. He heard many drunk tourists sing about them. However, he didn’t know if it would have the same effect as a traditional siren song. Yet, you were resistant anyway, so what does it matter? His mind made up, he began to sing The Secret Life of Plants by Stevie Wonder, a song from the 1970s.

You were visibly awed as he sang, boosting his confidence and giving him hope. But when he belted out the last line, you just applauded with vigor, making him want to throttle you.

“That was-”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he snarled, tiring of his efforts being for naught.

“What?’ you squeaked, your eyes going wide. Then, you must’ve had a realization of sorts because your shocked expression transformed into a glare. “You’re trying to lure me in to drown me!”

He was truly confused about how to classify your intelligence. Perhaps, you were simply an idiot with moments of smartness. Or maybe, he shouldn’t overanalyze you, should it impact his brain cell count.

“Yes, I was,” he confirmed, seeing no reason to hide the truth. “It’s what sirens do.”

“You asshole!”

“Oh, shut up!” he snapped. “You’re alive, so stop throwing a fit.”

Unfortunately. He’d make your death a slow one, just for putting him through all this trouble.

“It’s the principal,” you shot back, then smirked at him. “And I guess you’re a defective siren since I’m still alive.”

You said the insult in a singsong voice, pissing him off to no end.

“You’re the defective one!” he snarled, wanting to come onto land and claw you to pieces. “Normal humans don’t resist my song.

You shrugged. “I’m not resisting, I’m just built different.”

You giggled at your words, a pleasant chime that lessened his anger.

“I just haven’t found the right song yet.”

“Yeah, good luck with that.” You stood but didn’t walk away. “And just so you know, I’m not dumb enough to come to a beach where a creature is actively trying to kill me.”

******

You were indeed dumb enough to come back to a beach where a creature is actively trying to kill you. Three days later, you were back for your midnight stroll, barefoot in a tight little dress. He was happier than he wanted to admit seeing you again. A part of him feared that you’d keep to your words and shun the beach for good. The idea wasn’t one he relished; he still had to prove himself to you, after all.

“I thought you weren’t coming back,” Gyutaro said when he spotted you again.

He gnawed on the fish he’d been snacking on, smirking when you cringed at the sound of his teeth biting through flesh.

“This is the best beach on the island, and I literally live right next to it,” you explained with a glare. “Besides, your raggedy songs don’t work on me anyway. Must be a vocal issue; you should get that checked out.”

Gyutaro’s humor quickly evaporated. A siren’s power was in their voice, and to insult their vocals was a grave affront.”

“My voice is just fine, thank you,” he hissed, throwing the half-eaten fish at you. Your scream relieved some of his anger. “You’re the weird one.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night…or day.” You cocked your head to the side, your brows furrowing. “When do sirens sleep?”

He sniffed. “Why should I tell you.”

“You’re literally trying to kill me. I’m at least owed an answer to a simple question.”

He couldn’t figure out if your bravery stemmed from genuine valor, the emptiness in your head, or cockiness from your apparent immunity. Maybe, it was a cocktail of the three. Either way, it was both amusing and irritating.

But he’d play nice for now. 

“Most sirens are nocturnal.”

“Like sharks!” you exclaimed.

Your excitement took him aback, as did the fact that you knew that piece of information. He couldn’t help but smile at you. Instead of flinching away at the show of his sharp teeth, you returned the grin.

He decided to ignore the fluttering of his heart, and just nod. “Yes.”

Silence befell you. A gust of wind passes, allowing him to pick up the scent of alcohol that clung to you. Your eyes were glazed, and your cheeks were pinkened, exposing that you weren’t sober. After some minutes, you grow dissatisfied with the quietness. And truth be told, it was starting to bother him, too.

“So, you going to try to hypnotize me again?”

You again cocked your head to the side, and he refused to admit how cute he thought you looked when you did that.

He had a reputation to maintain, after all. Those who knew of him were aware of his brutality, and he wasn’t going to let a gorgeous little human soften him.

“Naturally,” he said with a scoff. “I’m a siren. It’s what we do.”

“Okay,” you replied, plopping into the sand, uncaring that your striking black dress was getting covered in sand. “Go ahead.” 

His eyes went wide. Never had prey just offered themselves to him.

“What?”

He was positive this was a trick of some sort.

You rolled your eyes. “I said go ahead. Try.” You grinned at him. “Let’s see if you’re successful.”

A part of him admired your fearlessness, but another found it idiotic. If you were like this with everyone, another being could take you out before he could have you, and that’d be a real shame. But you weren’t with another being right now. You were with him, so he’d play your little game.

“Okay, human,” he hummed, tapping a claw against his chin as he thought of another question that might entrap you.

“I want to be a writer,” you revealed.

He let his hand drop. “What?”

“You always ask a question before you sing,” you explained. “So, I’m giving you an answer to one.”

“I haven’t asked anything.”

“Thanks to me. Now sing.”

Such a cheeky human. But he obliged, singing a ballet about a hopeful poet that set off on an ill-fated voyage. It was old, used by his people to hypnotize the sailors of old.

Gyutaro sensed that you were moved by the lyrics he belted out, and he couldn’t help but smile at the attention you’d given him. You were properly entranced, and he hoped that this would be the song that’d get you.

It wasn’t.

When he went silent, you just breathed out, “Wow,” and gave your typical applause. Then, you had the nerve to demand he sing another song as if your refusal to succumb wasn’t an insult to his very existence.

However, his hurt feelings didn’t stop him from singing to you until the sun began to rise, at which point you stumbled to your little bungalow.

******

Gyutaro was a realistic siren. He knew he wasn’t the most attractive out there, but he was aware his body had some appealing spots, i.e., his muscles. He knew his siren’s spell didn’t hold the most strength, but he knew what to sing for max efficiency. He knew his territory wasn’t the largest, but it kept him fed. And he knew that falling for a human wasn’t expressly forbidden, but it certainly wasn’t acceptable. 

Humans were supposed to be nothing more than prey, victims of the songs they sang. At best, they were to be used for temporary fun, but not to be made mates. Sure, it’d happened before, but the stories rarely had a happy ending.

But, even knowing this, he still found himself anticipating your visits. Not because he wanted to finally lure you to a watery grave, but because he enjoyed your company. Worse was the fact that he’d begun to fantasize about you.

The night when he’d sang to you until the sun rose had altered your relationship. You’d reveal bits about yourself to aid Gyutaro with his ambitions of conquering you, giving him a wealth of information with him. Now, you two were more akin to friends who’d make snarky comments, as opposed to hunter and prey. Even with him longing to render you spellbound, he could no longer just see you as a future meal.

As the game you two were playing continued, he found his goals changing. He still wanted to feast on your flesh when he had you in his grasp, but in an entirely different way, one that’d leave you alive and moaning. Instead of consulting you about the topic before choosing a song—there was no need to, he knew enough about you—he’d sing about love and lust, tales of grand love stories and erotic flings.

Some songs would be in the language of sirens, others in your human language. He wondered if you’d begun to feel differently about him, too, if you noticed the shift in the songs he’d sung to you. If you did, you gave no indication, but he noticed how the lyrics he sang held your attention. He was on the verge of a breakthrough; he was sure of it.

******

 Weeks passed with him singing of love and lust. He noticed you responded to songs that spoke of great, passionate love. Your eyes would become glazed over, your mouth agape. You still retained some wits—hence why you weren’t his yet—but he could feel your resistance lessening. It made sense. People often responded best to what they cared most for, and if the romance novels you’d occasionally bring with you were any indication, you were a romantic at heart.

He also hadn’t forgotten the way you’d first looked at him when you revealed yourself. Lowkey as you might’ve been about it, you were attracted to him.

“Do all sirens live alone?” you asked one day, out of the blue.

He shook his head. “Many live within a group.”

You tilted your head to the side, a signal of your curiosity that he found adorable. “How come you don’t?”

Once upon a time, he hadn’t been alone. His sister had been with him, but the beauty she was, she had many vying to mate with her. The siren she happened to choose was one he respected but lived far away from his territory.

“I used to, then my sister got mated, and now it’s just me.”

“Mated?” you repeated with furrowed brows. “Like…married?”

“I suppose that’s the easiest way for a human to comprehend it.”

“But it isn’t exactly the same?”

“No, it isn’t,” he confirmed. “Mating pairs don’t separate, due to the unbreakable bond that is forged between the two.”

An extremely simplified version of things, but he’ll explain it all to you in due time.

 Your eyes with wide wonder. “Woah…is it like a ritual or something? Or do you just see someone and know?”

He couldn’t help but chuckle. “No, we don’t have pre-destined soulmates. We chose who we spend our life with, based on who we’re most compatible with.”

“Like humans,” you stated, then nodded before he could respond. “Makes sense, since you’re, like, half fish, half human.”

He growled at that. “Sirens are our own beings, thank you.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night…or day,” you amended after a second of contemplation, before shaking your head. “Anyway, what’s the ceremony like? You said a bond is forged and they can’t separate, so a ceremony must be had, right?” 

You were getting smarter, and Gyutaro couldn’t help but feel pride. It was his relationship with you, after all, that aided in increasing your intelligence.

 “Correct. A spell, akin to human wedding vows, is said, then blood is consumed while the pair consummate the relationship. Some even eat the flesh of their lovers, but either works, as long as a part of the other’s body is consumed.”

Mates had always been a point of interest for Gyutaro. There was a time he’d feared he’d never found one, so he observed and learned the behaviors of every mated pair he’d run across to increase his chances of finding love. Now, he wondered if his closed mind had been the issue because he only considered others of his kind worthy of mating with him.

Then, he’d fallen for you and realized how wrong that notion had been.

You shuddered at his explanation, your expression turning queasy. “Uhm, ew…do you have a mate?”

He looked you over, then shook his head, a small smirk on his lips. “No, not yet.”

******

“Hey, Gyutaro,” you asked, lounging on the beach in a pair of shorts and a tank top, your latest romance novel in your grasp. “Do you still want to kill me?”

He was taken aback by your question. “W-what?”

You sat straighter and cast the book aside. “Like, you still try to hypnotize me. So, do you still want to make a meal of me?”

Yes, but not in the way you were thinking.

“I don’t want to kill you, no,” he admitted with a sigh, then looked away, slightly embarrassed by the confession.

A siren not wanting to kill a human is an anomaly. Homo sapiens were food, not friends.

“So…why sing to me?”

“To see if I can lure you in…it’s a pride thing.”

Your brows furrowed. “So, you’d just see if you can get me under your spell, then…release me?”

He shook his head. “Not exactly.”

“But you don’t want to kill me?” you asked, quite confused.

Another head shake. “Correct.”

“So…what do you want to do to me?”

A lot, much of it involving nudity, fingers, and tongues.

“That,” he began, smirking at your confusion. “Is for me to know and for you to find out.”

“Ominous,” you hummed, picking up the book again. “As long as I’m alive, I’m down for whatever.”

You had no idea what you were signing up for, poor human. He snickered before a thought occurred to him. His laughter died down, and he narrowed his eyes at you.

“You were letting me try to hypnotize you…thinking I was going to kill you eventually?”

You shrugged, then nodded. “Yeah. It’d be a cool way to die.”

“You damn dumbass!” he snapped, a pit forming in his stomach at the thought of you dying. How ironic. After spending so much time plotting your demise, it now pained him to think of a world without you in it. “Why would you do that?”

Another shrug, making him scowl at him. “Why not? It’s not like my death would affect anyone; I only have myself. Plus, death would allow my student loans to be canceled.”

Gyutaro’s heart ached at your words. He was aware that humans were social creatures, not programmed to be alone for too long. Not having anyone was dangerous for your species.

But, instead of lecturing you or prying for information you might not be willing to give, he simply said, “You’re wrong, you have me now.”  

You went silent for a moment, and he feared he may have said the wrong thing. Then, you beamed at him, and all his worries went away.

******

After finding out how little you cared about living, Gyutaro began to grow more desperate to claim you. Your recklessness didn’t stem from stupidity but was sourced from your lack of will to live. While it might allow you to have an easier time accepting him, it was a direct danger to your life. Thus, Gyutaro decided to stop fooling around and pull out the big guns. The next time you came to him, he didn’t waste time singing to you, nor did he have to contemplate. He determined that it was time to end the game you two had been playing and began officially courting you.

Well, kind of. He was skipping several steps and going straight to the mating song. It was the most intimate part of courting and was often the deciding factor.

So, when you settled into your family spot and stared at him expectantly, awaiting the sound of his voice, his heart pounded against his ribcage. If this didn’t hypnotize you, he didn’t know what well. It was selfish and underhanded for Gyutaro to use hypnosis instead of honesty, but he had a fear of rejection. It was the reason he’d been unable to accept your resistance to his song.

“I’m waiting,” you said.

Shit, he hadn’t said anything.

He nodded and took a breath and began singing the most important song of his life. As he sang, he noticed how your breath quickened, how your pupils dilated and eyes glossed over, the parting of your lips. You stood from the sand and began to wade into the water, finally traversing the depths to make your way to him.

 Gyutaro doesn’t think he ever grinned so broadly. At long last, you’d succumbed to his voice. Most importantly, you were now in his arms, and he had no intentions of letting you go anytime soon.

A/N: This turned out a lot fluffier than I thought it would, and I apologize for the lack of smut if you were looking forward to it! However, a second part detailing the mating ritual may be done, and that would definitely be spicy 🤭

[nee-biter]

I need more stuff about Miguel x Peter x MJ x Reader😭😭 (fills my need for a polyamorous relationship :') )

Poly relationship Headcanons | Miguel x Peter B x MJ x Reader

a/n: Me when I accidentally became a polyamorous relationship promoter/advocate 🫣 Thanks for the requestttt <33

SFW

MIGUEL IS IN LOVE WITH YOU

He always has been, ever since you first mumbled an 'I love you' while half-asleep and cradled in his arms that one morning. He woke you up just to tell you he loves you too.

Marrying you was only natural, since you complete him and he was the only one to understand you, too. When Miguel looks at your eyes, the only thing he wants is to get lost in them forever. You being his wife is something he'd always boast and mention in the PA system in Spider Society tbh (not because he was a lonely oldie before u 💔) but because he's happy you're with him in everything he does. Your presence as he works, as he hyperfixates about the multiverse, as he eats, as he sleeps, has made his life ultimately better.

MJ HAS A CRUSH ON YOU

She started having butterflies in her stomach for you at such an inconvenient time—before getting married (for a second time) with Peter B. You were there beside her, helping her breathe in and out when she doubted Peter B would even be at the end of the aisle.

She could've sworn that your eyes sparkled in that blue dress you wore as her maid of honor. She almost made the stupid move of kissing you as you were comforting her, but that must've been the wedding jitters, right? Right? (She realized she was wrong when she returned from her honeymoon and palpitated when she saw you in a dazzling outfit).

PETER B THINKS YOU'RE COOL

Not as cool as his wife (obviously), but he absolutely enjoys your company. When you visit his and MJ's house to babysit Mayday or to have a chat with his wife (or him, though not as often), your good vibes spread throughout the house. Peter considers you a reliable confidant.

When him and MJ were running out of ideas on how to feed Mayday vegetables, you came up with a solution to hide them under a heap of rice. When Peter was having trouble thinking of what to give MJ after an argument, you suggested he just apologized clearly and authentically, and everything would work out. Peter starts getting suspicious of you, though, and why you know so much about his wife.

How did you four decide you wanted to be in a relationship with each other?

Honestly, you have Peter to thank for that. He realized that his wife's feelings for you were getting stronger by the day and that your feelings for her were getting harder to ignore every double date night. He didn't think it was bad—on the contrary, he just wanted you two to confess, so you could talk negotiations.

At one point, Peter just asked outright, "Do you guys have a thing for each other?" And you two laughed like crazy while him and Miguel were like ??😫??

The answer was yes.

For Miguel and you, it didn't affect your relationship in its entirety. But he was a bit pouty. "Am I not enough for you? Is there something I'm lacking?" was his mantra at the start of it, but you had to reassure him that this wasn't true. You're always open and transparent with him, which made him trust your judgement. Also, you give him more kisses to stop him from sulking a lot 🫶

For Miguel and Peter, it made them a bit awkward at first, before Miguel realized that no other spider-person checks up on him or dotes on him as much as Peter B does. Peter B always left small offerings for Miguel when he worked late at night in the 2099 lab. "I brought you a blanket me and Mayday crocheted. Don't forget to rest, big guy! Sleep on the floor if you have to. Better than not sleeping at all." Miguel keeps all the notes Peter leaves him.

For MJ and Peter, it was more of a 'how-to-explain-this-to-Mayday-thing,' Especially, if Mayday was at that stage where she would be able to tell what kissing, what romance, and the like could look like. Neither of them were that worried though. "I mean, honey, Mayday sees a lot of insane stuff in Spider Society all the time~!!" Peter B would argue.

For MJ and Miguel, it brought them a bit closer, considering they had more in common now. MJ hoped that it wouldn't be so weird for Miguel, but every now and then, she says something like this: "So, your wife tastes good— I mean, your wife's cooking tastes good! Her pork carnitas are amazing. Yes, that's what I meant. Sorry." "Be honest, that's not what you meant."

For you and Peter, it definitely opened up more bonding opportunities. Despite you four dating, you and him always think of each other as besties; which is why you both peer pressure your two lovely, more reserved spouses to stuff like kayaking, boat rides, halloween trick-or-treating. "Hey, do you think MJ and Miguel would be cool with going to an adult playground for brunch?" "IDK, Will there be brunch?"

For you and MJ, it was basically extending your already-intimate friendship to even more intimacies. She cuddles!! A lot!! And you kiss her on the forehead, just as many times as she needs it!! Your relationship with her was an understanding one; she always initiates touch with you. "Baby, stay here for longer, please." "MJ, you're so cute, but Peter's like... right there"

RANDOM STUFF

In terms of cooking skills: You > Miguel = MJ > Peter B

MJ would bake for you! Cookies and bread for you to take home so you can munch on them when you and Miguel would watch movies and cuddle at the sofa at night.

Peter B would invite you and Miguel to picnics or beach outings with him and MJ!! He would always bring Mayday to play frisbee with him and Miguel, if ever it was a 👁family-safe👁 occasion

Miguel would ask MJ for help when it comes to surprising you for your birthdays. He understands that you're BIG on birthdays, so he needs all the help he can gets to make sure the day is extra-special for you!!! He'll dress up as a bunny just to make you smile 😞

SUPER MARIO PARTY and Peter B always chooses Bowser Jr.!!!! Miguel likes Donkey Kong "just because" and MJ picks Yoshi because he's silly-looking.

The first one in Spider Society to find out that the four of you were dating was Gwen. Because she was about to drop off the hair-dryer that she borrowed at your doorstep, only to see that Miguel and Peter kissed as he and MJ were leaving your house.

Gwen tried keeping the secret, buuuuuut she told Miles, who told Pav, who told Hobie, who told Margo, who told Noir, and at some point, Lyla just had to inform Miguel that the secret was out 🤓

In terms of who gives the best back massages: Miguel > Peter B = MJ > You

For everyone's sake, do not give a back rub.

The four of you love each other 🫶 and it's so evident in the way all four of you stay supportive in everything you guys do and in the way that you're all tender with each other's presence

Thank you for reading ✨ I'll upload an nsfw version if it's in demand (feel free to request)!!

[fnafwritings]

Could you write Sun or Moon comforting the reader while theyre having a panic attack? 🥺

You’re not quite sure how you even ended up in the daycare in all honesty.

It’s not as if you had anywhere particular in mind, so you could have ended up almost anywhere and would have been just as confused—but the daycare seemed… better. Quieter. It shut down a few hours before the rest of the facility so that it could be cleaned and prepared for the next business day, so it meant that all of the kids had been picked up; no screaming, no noises, no blaring horns or overdriven guitars.

It was quiet.

You needed quiet.

Whatever had set off the episode was a complete mystery, but the Pizzaplex had absolutely no shortage of sights, sounds and smells that would have set you tumbling over the edge of ‘okay’ and thoroughly into ‘spiraling anxiety attack’

Your chest was on fire, your thoughts were flying—no comfort came from the knowledge that you only had an hour or so left on your shift, and the general noise from the crowds still within the building only made you feel like you were suffocating. Not enough space, not enough air-

Not enough.

Whether by choice or fate of your footsteps, you slip through one of the back doors of the daycare so you can hide yourself away and lean against the wall. The supply rooms kept most of the extra toys and supplies and smelled too strongly of disinfectant to be perfect, but it was better than most options; even the bathrooms had speakers constantly pouring music and advertisements for one of the hundred things that the company wanted people to spend money on.

But none of that mattered right now.

Right now it is quiet and dark. You hadn’t bothered to turn the light on when you came into the room, so only the thin sliver of light from the hallway lit it up enough for you to find a sufficiently empty corner of the room to lean against the wall and slide down until you were sitting on the cold linoleum.

Nobody would find you here—you are safe. You are safe. You are safe.

The words echoed in your head, a fragile mantra to quell the vicious storm of thoughts and emotions sending a rapid heartbeat through your ears.

“And just whooo might you be?”

The voice, soft and almost lyrical, nearly made your heart stop. Before you could even try to hurry out and claim you’d made a mistake in finding the bathroom, there was already a presence kneeling beside you. The only light came through the bottom of the door and the small window out into the main daycare area, so couldn’t make out very much of the figure.

An animatronic—that much was obvious right off the bat by their size alone. Even crouched the figure was several feet high, towering over you with a lithe figure and looming red eyes that seemed to pierce through you. It didn't take more than a few moments to recognize them as the Daycare Attendant, the animatronic tasked with looking after the kids dropped off in the aforementioned daycare. You'd only seen them a few times, but weren't very familiar.

They... looked a little different from normal. Instead of a beaming face resembling a cartoonish sun, their face was divided by a crescent-shaped moon. There were some other minor differences, but it is their eyes that make you squirm beneath the gaze.

“S-sorry,” Is all you can stammer at first, voice shaky and quiet between shallow breaths. “I’m not—I’m just taking a b-break.”

The figure is silent for a few seconds, which at first is incredibly unnerving, at least until you realize they're looking at your chest—more specifically the employee ID card hanging from the lanyard around your neck. A moment passes, and you assume they're scanning the employee number on the front.

Finally they move, shifting fluidly so that they’re sitting cross-legged next to you, but it's the sound of your name that catches your attention most.

"Aren't you rather far from your station, little star?"

The endearment is one you've often heard within the daycare, a soft way to refer to the kids. And while you'd like to correct the animatronic on the diminutive nickname, something stops you. It... feels kinda nice.

"I..." the sound stills within your throat. Heart is still racing. "I work by the Fazcade."

"We know," they respond, words neither cold nor particularly comforting. "But you're nnnot supposed to be here. Naughty naughty."

They raise and waggle a finger in front of you as if they were scolding a child. You're not sure whether to feel offended or not by the gesture, but it's probably just because they're programmed to care for kids; and technically you really aren't supposed to be the dark storage room for a section of the building you weren't even assigned to.

"I'm sorry," the apology is repeated, and for a moment you worry if the daycare attendant is going to kick you out. "I'm not going to mess with anything, I just n-need a few moments."

The animatronic is silent, watching with that eerie gaze until you start to squirm again and your heartbeat picks up in tandem.

"I-... Everything was starting to get t-too loud, too... s-small."

"Sssmall?" the attendant inquired. Their low tone of voice carried a gentle note of concern.

Your eyes flick to the floor in something akin to embarrassment. How would an animatronic understand what an anxiety attack is? How do you even begin to explain the layers of emotion involved or how it makes your skin absolutely crawl at the thought of going back to that crowded noisy arcade for another entire hour?

Some time passes before you find the words to answer with. They're half-ready on your tongue when you look back up, but the daycare attendant has disappeared from where they had been sitting not even a minute before.

You blink.

Before the question of your sanity can even emerge from the murky pool of your inner thoughts, they return with a few quick, fluid steps. With one motion they sit down and reach out a closed hand towards you, something enclosed against their fingers and palm.

Extending a hand in turn is almost instinctual.

A heavy, metallic shape falls into your palm, a bit larger than a deck of cards.

"Turn it on," they say, tone low and raspy, but oddly comforting.

Though you fumble a bit in the low lighting, it doesn't take long for you to find a little toggle on the side of the item and click it over.

Slowly, softly, a tune begins to fill the air from your palms. It is very simple and bright, though it takes a few seconds for you to recognize the music and the item itself quickly after that.

"A music box?"

They were sold at the main entrance gift shop, but you had seen kids walking around with them after getting picked up from the daycare. Did they give them out? Why are they giving you one? The answer to the former is elusive, but the second one actually is quickly put to rest--the daycare attendant tilts their head quizzically to the side for a moment before letting out a low noise that you assume is akin to a chuckle. Can animatronics chuckle?

"Sssometimes the world is very scary," they say, a gentle hiss in the 'S' that you have to wonder is a verbal quirk or not, "but it's okay to be scared. It's very brave, in fact."

Ah. Another programmed response--again, you're not entirely surprised, given the fact that they have to care for children, so undoubtedly they had encountered something like this before.

A hand, much larger than your own and metallic, settles on the top of your head in a motion that, while surprising at first, feels rather nice.

"Didn't mean to frighten you," the attendant says, gently messaging their fingers against your head while trying not to mess up your hair. "This is... what often works for some of our wards."

Our? You certainly weren't in charge of any kids. The verbal error is quickly filed under the thoughts from before and largely forgotten as they continue to speak.

"Just focus on the musssic," they instruct, "and breathe slower. Don't worry about counting--nothing else exists right now little star. It is just you, me, and your little gift."

Quick, shallow breaths are hard to stop. It's as if your body is on overdrive, pulling itself by the strings from a complete and total meltdown.

But your chest begins to slow. Little by little. It doesn't help the racing thoughts in your brain or the feeling of being too cramped, but... it does help. The attendant coos at you in a low tone almost rhythmic against the repeating tune; normally you'd hate how the music cycled over and over again, but the repeated notes act almost like an anchor in the moment. Familiar. Safe. It is so tiny in your hands.

"Gooood," they hum. "You're doing a good job right nnnow, little star. Can you slow down that breathing a little more?"

Something inside you wants to follow the gentle instructions, so your breathing starts getting deeper, more prolonged and deliberate. At first it feels suffocating, but slowly... eventually... your heartbeat begins to even out to a healthy resting rate. The attendant presses their hand down a little more firmly on your head; not enough to hurt, but enough to feel the pressure distinctly. To focus on.

"Safe."

The word seems to melt into the gentle tune still echoing in the dark, empty room.

"You are sssafe. Nothing is going to hurt you. Weee're... riiiight... heeere."

The words mimic the mantra you had been trying to focus on ironically just before they found you, and it continues for... you're not quite sure how long, actually.

Minutes? An hour? All you know is at some point your phone starts buzzing in your pocket with a text message, and that almost startles you back to reality--but not in a way that tosses you right back into your spiral of anxiety. No, when you lift your eyes up and finally find breath and voice, it's with a renewed sense of stability and assurance.

The daycare attendant simply meets your gaze, though the once red eyes seem less unnerving and more lulling, and you can only imagine that this version of the attendant is to help putting the kids down to nap during the day.

"...Thank you," you finally whisper, and they pull their hand back from your head. A quick glance at your phone reveals that while it hasn't been an entire hour, twenty minutes seemed long enough.

"You should return to your area, little star."

With a nod, you slowly get up onto your wobbly feet and try to take a step; somehow your ankle doesn't bend quite the way its supposed to in order to catch your weight, and you nearly tumble onto the floor.

Only nearly because the attendant catches you, hands carefully on your shoulders and applying just enough pressure to keep you from tripping over your own feet.

"Shit," the word fumbles awkwardly out of your mouth. "Th-thank you... sir?"

"An acceptable title of formality," they say, affirming at least one new fact about them. "But you may call me Moon."

The realization of the animatronic having a name is more surprising than the sudden shift from plural to singular pronouns. But why? All of the other animatronics in the Pizzaplex had names and personalities... why couldn't this one?

"I... Thank you then, Moon." It is a fitting name, at least. But did they give it to themselves? Or was it simply something assigned so that kids had something easier to say when talking to them?

After a few moments to make sure you wouldn't trip again, you follow the thin trail of light towards the door. Just about to turn the knob, Moon's voice stops you with the sound of your name.

Peering back, you can't see much of Moon's figure, but their eyes peek out of the darkness, and their voice carries with it such a genuine sense of warmth that it lingers for hours afterward.

"Make sure to return... if things ever feel too loud again."

[dcawritings]

You are the manager of the daycare (and Sun by extension). Some people think this means you don't care if he gets yelled at.

This assumption is wildly inaccurate, and you are not afraid to professionally threaten correct them.

You're in the middle of something important.

It's been clinging at your thoughts all day while you tried desperately to ignore it, but at some point it became impossible to deny the truth--technically, it had a higher priority than everything you decided to complete much earlier in the shift.

And unfortunately that leaves you stuck at your desk, staring down hard at the collection of intake forms and spreadsheets. You know it won't take more than half an hour, but that time would be some of the most horrible, boring, downright painful minutes of your life.

Could you push it off until tomorrow? Maybe Monday even?

No, you ultimately decide, the paperwork needed to be done. There was no point to pushing it back again--it still needed to be forwarded to the document filing team, then to human resources, and that would only end up making your job harder in the end since only then could you finalize everything.

By the time that you'd actually relegated yourself to sitting down and getting the work done, the day was nearly over with--parents were starting to come in and pick up their children.

Some were kids of employees that worked at the Pizzaplex itself; childcare cost was heavily discounted for workers of any department, so it was extremely convenient for many who simply didn't have any other options. They were also some of the sweetest kids you'd ever met, if only because they were very familiar with the daycare and its rules. Other children were simply dropped off because the guardians wanted some time to enjoy the facility themselves for a few hours or so. The process for checking a child out was the same regardless, and typically very painless after a parent knew to expect the process.

Normally you don't need to worry about assisting with child pickups. You had several employees that were expected to make sure the process was quick and smooth, though there was only two on the clock right now--a couple call-outs had left you with less people than you'd like on such a busy day, but the two working today were some of your best and longest-term employees. They handled plenty of crazier days, so you trusted them to keep things together when office work took precedence over smaller tasks that kept you visible and available even for the kids themselves.

So, one can imagine your utter surprise when the sound of disdained yelling suddenly echoes through the daycare. Not just a little yelling either; it's shrill, with enough intensity that it reaches all the way to your back office and that... that takes a lot. Enough that it immediately tugs at your instincts to investigate.

The words aren't clear enough to make out, so you push yourself away from the desk and leave the office, then out of the hallway into the main daycare area.

It doesn't take more than a breath of time to realize who is making all the noise--a parent. They're standing near the front of the daycare, but not where they're supposed to be.

The check-out desk was located in the small room overlooking the daycare's main play area, separated by plexiglass and rope netting. Not only was it supposed to be an easier way to get kids comfortable in being away from their parents (they literally arrive in the daycare by way of a slide into a ball pit), but it also served as a form of security--nobody could enter the daycare without proper credentials, and there was always someone posted up there to greet anyone coming to drop off or pick up their child.

But this one? Somehow, this one came through an employee-only entrance. That audacity alone would make your blood boil, but the fact that you recognized the woman only made it worse.

Her shrill screaming filled the room with venom while she clutched her son against her hip, as if trying to shield him from the poor daycare attendant animatronic who was, as best as he could, diffuse the situation.

It doesn't take long to get an idea of what she's going off about either--the woman is not particularly quiet about it.

"When I leave my son here, I expect that he will be safe!" she hisses, brushing her son's hair as if trying to soothe the child. "And what do I find when I come to pick him up? That he's been manhandled and tossed around like a toy--you're lucky he didn't break a bone!"

The young boy doesn't look injured, and if anything he seems more scared of his mother.

Travis, you recall his name--a rather quiet boy, didn't always like to play with other kids. His mother, Sarah, worked in one of the back offices as a programmer. Her hours were always odd, so his father tended to be the one to drop the boy off. Now you understand why.

The thing was, Travis really liked playing with Sun. Since he was shy, the daytime bot often took it upon himself to try and encourage the boy to take part in craftime or storytime--he'd recently been able to get him to play in the ball pit with the other kids his age.

"This kind of behavior is completely inexcusable," she finally seethes, a look of one-note rage in her eyes that seemed to burn the longer she looks at the animatronic. "I will make sure to put in a complaint about this--"

"I-I am sorry that you think your son was h-harmed, Miss Martin. I assure you that h-he was just playing with the other kids." Sun lifts his hands up in a passive way, trying desperately to keep her from screaming more. People were starting to stare at the unfolding scene, and it was quickly coming undone at the seams. "I am incapable of doing anything that w-would put any little superstars in danger!"

Sarah's eyes gleam with poison as she seems to catch her claws on a hook. "Oh, so you're saying you're defecting from your programing?"

"N-no! Not at all! My programming is clean as a whistle, I have it debugged at r-regular intervals!"

"I work in the programming department," she says, voice going quiet. "With the glamrock series code. Directly down the hall from the man who makes decisions about every machine in this facility. All it would take is for me to walk right down to his office and let him know that the daycare is turning into a severe liability for the company." You are already hurrying over, not missing the way Sunny's fists start to clench tight, tight enough for his joints to squeal under the pressure as he restrains himself. He's trying so hard to keep his professionalism under the abuse--and Sarah seems to know exactly what to say.

"Your model is old. Your code is old. It's a shoddy piece of work that should be scrapped and redone, I've been telling them that for months now. They'd be better of scrapping you so we can finally have room for another glamrock and-"

You waste no time in immediately stepping directly into the line of fire, forcing yourself into the space between Sun and Sarah who has, until that moment, been encroaching closer and closer into his personal space. Was she trying to set him off? To see how far he would take the abuse before saying something wrong?

Probably. You wouldn't put it past a cruel woman like her at this point.

"What seems to be the problem here?" you say, fake smile wide and tone forcibly friendly. "I sure heard you all the way from my office!"

"Oh no dear, don't worry, it's nothing you need to concern yourself about," the woman says, waving her hand at you as if expecting her words to be like an order. "Though you can be a dear and go fetch the manager?"

You don't move, but clench your jaw tight and force the words through your teeth, "I happen to be the manager of the daycare, so if there is an issue or complaint, then I need to know about it! So please," the fake smile drops and you stare at her hard. "What is the problem here?"

Sarah's expression twitches with annoyance, but she tries to immediately save face by gesturing to her son and acting as if she was the one getting yelled at.

"Well, I didn't want to make a big deal of it, but my son has been injured because of your animatronic!"

You glance over at Travis. The poor kid is no older than eight, and he's trying to stare down at his shoes, his face flushed red with embarrassment and shame.

"Hey, little buddy," you kneel down to be closer to eye-level with him. "Did something happen to get you hurt?"

He shakes his head before his mother can try to interject. When you try to ask him another question she finally puts a hand between his gaze and yours, breaking it and forcing you to look back at her.

"That thing is running on severely old, broken code," she says, tone low and voice slow, as if trying to communicate an unspoken threat. "It's only a matter of time before something happens. Before someone gets hurt. I don't understand why they haven't just decommissioned the abhorrent thing. Doesn't even look as cute as the glamrocks."

Oh. So she's chosen death?

No. Breathe. Slowly. Remember how things work. Remember to play it smart. She wants you to get angry, needs to get a response out of you just so she can use it to cry to upper management.

Be smart about this. Be smart and unyielding. It takes every ounce of restraint not to deck the woman in the nose right there--but you at least have an upper hand.

"Who is your direct manager?"

"Huh?"

You stare at her expectantly, letting the silence fill the room before finally clarifying and repeating yourself. "Who. Is. Your. Direct. Manager?"

"I-I don't know how that's relevant to the current problem we're trying to solve."

"Well," you finally say, pulling out your company-assigned mini pad and scrolling through the employee database. "I need to get into contact with them about your behavior. Obviously you've forgotten several very important policies and I want to make sure you're educated on them as need be."

"Wh-what policies?" Sarah demands. "I haven't broken anything--that thing is what we're talking about right now."

You shake your head, proud of the even tone to your voice even though you want nothing more than to scream and yell at her in kind.

"First, you enter the daycare using an unapproved door-"

"I am an employee for the company-!"

"-and even employees are not allowed to use that door. It is for daycare attendants and handlers only. It is an active security measure to ensure the safety of little superstars like your son, whom you obviously seem to care for the safety of, right?"

She is silent, sputtering, taken aback by your confidence or simple knowledge of how to play the system correctly.

"Second, I have you on record actively harassing a coworker. Not only are you specifically not using his preferred pronouns, you are also belittling and demeaning him and his ability to do his job correctly. A job which I will remind you is difficult and stressful and comes with a wide variety of nuance."

You take the opportunity to step forward. Not too far, just a little idle step. Enough to take control and apply pressure to the situation.

"I'm sorry that you can't seem to understand the subtlety of how kids tend to play around Travis' age, and I'm sorry that you don't seem to care about the fact that he has been making very good progress in getting to know the other kids--specifically because of Sun's hard work with him."

Another small, calculated step. Sarah retreats from how she's looming forward, and you can see the tension in her jaw.

"Harassing a coworker? I haven't said anything to-"

"Sun? You mean one of my employees? The very one I heard you screaming at?" You shrug, managing to seem coldly nonchalant with surprising ease--maybe it's the adrenaline coursing through your veins. Between the heat of your words, you feel one of Sun's hand gently grabbing the back of your shirt. Not tugging, just holding on. "I mean, if you like we can go into my office and I can pull the cameras--if I misunderstood something then surely we can go over the recording and find out where I'm not getting that right."

That's the final push. Sarah knows she can't win the argument or force you to back down from a legitimate, honest-to-god threat. Despite being in a different department, technically you are still above her; you already know her manager. Marcus was a pretty easy-going guy that had a lot of sympathy for the animatronics, so it wouldn't take much for him to write her up from your word alone.

"I... well, maybe I just misunderstood," the woman finally says, her smile cold and not reaching her eyes. "No need to make this a big deal or anything! I will make sure to use the right door next time, my mistake."

Your mouth moves faster than your brain can stop them--it's edging on the line of being appropriate for someone of your position, but you need to make sure this woman understands that you are willing to hold your ground.

"Please do, because if I hear of something like this happening again? I will ban you outright from the daycare facility."

Her eyes widen and she opens her mouth as if to say something, but she's already lost. You have the authority to decline service to anyone, and at least with this situation you were grateful to have that power.

Sarah hurries out of the room without another word. You feel bad for Travis--the kid really didn't deserve to be in the middle of all that--but he offers some assurance by turning around to try and wave before the two of them disappear beyond the door.

You barely get a chance to let out a held breath before a pair of hurried footsteps approach you.

"Is everything okay?" one of the attendants ask. She's normally so soft spoken, but you can hear the genuine concern leaking through the words. "I knew as soon as I saw Sarah things would be bad--she always tries to find something to yell about when she picks Travis up."

"Yeah," the other worker echoes, then turns to speak to Sun. "I am so sorry you ended up with her, Sunny. If I knew she had used the door down here I would have immediately left the intake room."

The two of them started to crowd around you and Sun a bit more than you liked. Jesus, how was Sun even doing?

"We're okay, it's fine just-" another sigh spills from your lips, exhaustion taking the space where adrenaline had kept you so still and composed. "You two go make sure the other kids are okay? That was a lot of screaming for them to hear."

With only a little more consoling they finally move away to check on the few kids still waiting to get picked up. It leaves you and Sun alone at least, a vague amount of privacy.

You turn around, not sure what to expect from the animatronic--but it's a surprise all the same to find him staring at you with wide, as if unbelieving eyes. There's a sense of tension hidden somewhere in his expression, but its overshadowed by something else. Something hard to read.

"... Are you okay, Sunny?" you finally ask in a soft, gentle voice. He looks down, peering at the multicolored carpet silently. All it takes is the soft touch of your hand gently touching the side of his faceplate to make him twitch, listening but still not looking at you. "Don't you worry about anything, okay? She's just a cruel nobody who likes making other people feel bad. I will make sure she's not allowed anywhere beyond the intake room and make a recommendation that Travis' dad be the only one who can pick him up."

He is still silent, but you're relieved to see his body loosen. All that tension, all that heartache and anger, almost all gone in an instant.

"Sunny...?"

After a moment, the animatronic finally tilts his face into your touch. Before you can ask or say anything else, however, he sweeps you into his arms in a tight hug. So tight in fact that he begins to spin you around in a circle, stopping only when he's done sputtering.

"You didn't have to do all that for little ol' me! Someone so busybusy like you shouldn't need to deal with parents at all--you're so silly, starlight!"

Despite the fact that his words try to sound casual, you saw every sign in the book that Sun had barely been taking the woman's verbal abuse. You can't imagine what would have happened if you hadn't shown up--would he have snapped? Would she have threatened something worse?

"Oh goodness please put me down Sunny-" you lean into his arms as the room slowly stops spinning around you. Then, when you collect yourself, you offer him a warm and genuine smile. "Sunshine, you are one of my employees, and nobody deserves to be talked down to like that at all. It's not fair for her to treat you like that-" you catch a look of worry somewhere in his eyes, and so you quickly add, "-and I will never let you be decommissioned. There isn't anything wrong with you, so don't let her empty threats put a rain cloud over you."

It's only in that moment that you realize how tightly his hands are grasping at your uniform.

"... you... promise?"

He's more scared of that then he ever lets on.

"I promise," you say with complete confidence. "Nobody will ever hurt you on my watch, Sun. You and Moon both. They'll have to go through my stubborn ass first--and I actually memorized most of the employee handbook anyway."

"Starlight!" he says, sounding shocked.

"Wh-what?"

"Language."

You chuckle, the sound rumbling through your chest as you bring a hand over your face. You'll have to touch base with Sun again once the other kids and employees have left for the night, but at least he's doing better.

And you're still sending a message to Marcus about her--she'll be lucky if she doesn't get a huge write-up for that outburst.

[pttwice]

GUYS!

i had the cutest thought about little!sana.

when sana regresses to a baby headspace she absolutely loves when the members wear jingly jewelry.

whenever they were in the green room after one of their performances, nayeon had a few metal bracelets on. she was just on her phone and sana was bored and playing with jihyo.

nayeon moved and sana heard her bracelets jingling. she moved her head so fast that jihyo thought she hurt herself.

but. as the sweet giggly baby she is, sana crawled over to nayeon and stared at nayeon’s wrist with the bracelets. nayeon didn’t understand what sana wanted at first until nayeon moved her arm again.

sana giggled and clapped her hands. her eyes lit up like she just won a million dollars and when nayeon realized what was making sana happy, she kept moving her arm so sana could hear the bracelets and play with them.

after a while of watching and listening to the bracelets, sana leaned in and started gently biting them and nayeon’s wrist :(

now whenever they have a concert performance or a live performance and sana regresses in a baby headspace, the members always make sure to wear or have bracelets with them that make noise :(( ❤️

[yanderestarangel]

I know most of your content is nsfw, but I would love to see one of Syzoth comfort, the way you write/narrate these small Stories are amazing and makes feel into it! I like to comfort Syzoth, take care of him, become his little sibling, be that family he lost

HEADKANONS MK1 | BIG BROTHER SYZOTH | SFW

A/N: This is ok dear, I like writing sfw content too, especially with syzoth, he gives me silly and friendly big brother vibes, thanks for the request <3

TW: Some angst, grief mentioned, mk1 canon story spoilers, sfw in general.

Syzoth lost his wife and children because of Shang and after everything he found himself alone, lost in the world. He liked to walk in some parks and see families, fathers and mothers, children playing, it was a sadness but a necessary and nostalgic sadness for him.

You were someone alone too, so it seems that fate brought you two together.

Syzoth saw you from afar, doing the same thing as him, just observing everything and having no one to call home. So he decided to go talk to you for a bit, starting to bring up the topic about the weather, smiling when he saw that you responded to him.

He began to loosen up more as he watched you with affection, he had really felt a family connection, as if he had always been part of your family, a lost older brother. He even joked about it, that he hadn't felt so good in a while, as if you were part of his family, something you took as a compliment.

He asked your name and walked you home because it was already late.

You soon feel sorry for Syzoth because of his life story, alone and without family, he was sweet to you so, you decided to invite him to dinner which made the man's green irises shine and he blushed, it had been a while since he had someone to talk to and have company for a meal.

Syzoth genuinely praised your food, smiling as he captured every nuance of the room, even touching some things curiously - apologizing soon after for being too invasive -

You talked all night, your company made his heart race and his desire to take care of you increased with every second. He would ask if you wanted to see him the next day and offer to help you with anything around the house.

Then, when you least realized it, Syzoth lived with you periodically.

He liked to take you places, accompanying you like a loving older brother would, telling you how proud he was of 'X' achievement, hugging you afterwards.

But he also liked Affection, especially on the nights he remembered the traumatic memories caused by Shang Tsung.

You were there, to hug him and give him a friendly shoulder or rather a brotherly shoulder.

Syzoth would allow himself to cry while lying on your lap, venting how difficult the grief was/is being for him, that you had become his family, and that he considered you a younger brother that he would always take care of and so he did.

Syzoth would sleep with you in each other's arms, afraid of you leaving his side - he snores and drools in his sleep, get used to that too - he hugs you like a teddy bear.

And if you complain he'll joke and flick your forehead, calling you "Little brat" and that he was your big brother.

Please call him "big brother", "brother", "dad" even "father" he likes to know that he has a familiar role in your life.

He also knows all your friends, worrying about calling you if you're taking too long.

"-Are you okay (Y/N)? What a scare, please don't leave me blind, give me news ok?" -Syzoth would speak worriedly while kissing you on the forehead and offering a hot meal - he learned to cook just to keep you well fed -

If you meet someone and have a child, that man will be 10 times more protective of you and your child. He will help you during your pregnancy, carrying you in his arms to appointments and if someone dares to touch you in a negative way, he will pull the guy's collar and say in a thick tone:

"-Don't ever mess with my little brother/sister again, you hear?"

He will always take care of you, regardless of what happens, even if you two fight one day, he will find a way to apologize, after all, Syzoth may not have your blood, but he is your brother.

Bonus: Syzoth taught your son/daughter to speak, with the child's first words being "Uncle Syzoth" which made him practically cry, while you and your partner laughed at his excitement.

Syzoth cried at your wedding more than you did, and made you promise not to forget him as a brother, and you did, your partner invited him to live in your house and he lives happily, always helping you in whatever way he can.

Syzoth gives you handcrafted bracelets, his favorites being made of black, blue and green stones, you both wear one matching each other's initials and he got a tattoo in your honor on his wrist

©YANDERESTARANGEL 2023

[nicksbestie]

could you pleeeaaaaase do a agere!reader x johnnie? any prompt!!1 💗

awww yes!!! i loved this req ty so much <3 i hope you love it!

Bug

word count :

warnings : vomit, descriptions of being sick

pairing : johnnie guilbert/reader (romantic)

<3

There is nothing worse than being sick, especially when you have no idea what’s causing the pain. Johnnie hated being sick, and he hated it when others were sick, both feeling bad for them and also not wanting to catch anything from them. He wore masks 24/7 and avoided contact as much as possible, having a slight fear of illness. But when his little one was sick, that was an entirely different story. He would drop everything to take care of you, no worries in his mind at all about catching it. He saw no issue pressing kisses to your forehead, hugging you, helping you change, making you food, sleeping in the same bed with you, anything at all. 

And that was just in his nature as a caregiver. When you were sick, suddenly, him getting it seemed preferable. Because a sick little is always miserable, and while Johnnie didn’t mind, he knew that you didn’t enjoy a single moment of it. And that let you both to tonight, 2:53 AM, and Johnnie was gently rubbing your back and holding your hair out of the way as you threw up. 

“Daddy? Daddy! Wakes, pease! No feew good!”

Johnnie had been sleeping comfortably, arms wrapped around you, when your stomach started tossing and turning. You’d whimpered a bit, adjusted closer to him and tried to ignore it, but it continued to get worse, and now you were shaking his shoulder, desperately trying to get him to wake up. You were starting to cry, not wanting to scream at him, because yelling at Daddy isn’t allowed, (he would’ve made an exception, but you didn’t know that.), but him not being awake was causing you to panic and cry harder. Eventually, Johnnie sleepily opened his eyes, slowly coming to the realization of what you were saying and what was wrong.

“Aww, angel, what’s wrong, sweetie?” 

You sniffled back a few tears, holding your stuffie so tight to your side as you tried to formulate a reply. 

“No know, tummy no feew good, jus-” 

You didn’t get to finish your sentence before the nausea that had been slowly building caused your stomach to lurch and within a few moments Johnnie’s side, your shirt, and the sheets were covered in vomit. Neither of you had a chance to react before it happened, and this of course just made you cry so much harder, being so upset that you’d made a mess all over Daddy. You didn’t even get time to sob out an apology before Johnnie spoke. 

“Oh, sweetheart, it’s okay. I’m sorry you don’t feel good, little one. Alright, angel, Daddy will go get the bath started, we’ll get you all clean, and I’ll change my clothes and the sheets.” 

Unable to form words through the tears, Johnnie stripped off his shirt, (that was luckily the only piece of his clothing affected), and moved to the bathroom, reminding you not to move. He warmed it up, knowing you were feeling awful and didn’t want to be cold on top of it. Gently resting his hand on your forehead when he got back, he was happy to see you didn’t have a fever. It was probably something small, just a stomach bug, or you ate something bad without realizing. He picked you up, not even caring about the throw up touching him, and carried you to the bathroom. He didn’t stop whispering to you, comforting words, hoping it would help ease your mind, at least a little bit. He gently set you on the edge of the tub, knowing there was enough room for you to not slip and fall, even without him holding you up. 

“Arms up, my love.” 

You were that little that refused to wear pants. You’d be cold, so you’d take a million blankets, but no pants. So Johnnie only had to help you get your sleep shirt off, laying it out on the counter, half in the sink to take to the laundry with the sheets. He softly pulled it off of your body, making sure none of the vomit transferred from the shirt to your skin. He then ran a soft, sensory approved, washcloth under some cool water and gently wiped off your face, soothing some of your pain, and then cleaning the residue off of your chin and around your mouth, leaving a small kiss on your forehead before helping you into the tub. 

He knew you were exhausted, and he could tell just how sick you felt because even with some impromptu bubbles and toys in the bath to raise your spirits, you didn’t touch anything and just sat there, leaning against the cool tub frame, trying to breathe and slow down your crying. Johnnie didn’t make you do anything, he just washed you off with the water, easily lifting you out once you were done, and wrapping you in a soft fluffy towel. He gently ran his hands up and down your sides, adjusting when he needed to dry off the rest of you. He didn’t let you get cold, dressing you quickly as soon as you were dry, hugging you afterwards and picking you up. 

Johnnie had thrown the sheets, and both of your shirts into the washing machine as soon as you had gotten out of the bath, and he handed you a blanket to wrap yourself in while he remade the bed with fresh sheets, making sure there were multiple stuffed animals near the pillows for you. 

But as soon as you two had gotten back in bed, you’d immediately felt nauseous again. Except, this one lasted longer than the first time, feeling nauseous but not throwing up for twenty minutes. Johnnie felt so bad for you, and you were crying again, sweating from the exertion against your body, and he was gently holding ice packs against your forehead and face. 

He held your hair back every time you went to throw up again, changing out the trash bag without a blink of an eye and replacing it quickly so you didn’t throw up on anything else. He spent almost all night helping you, and he didn’t yawn or get annoyed once. He knew you needed Daddy’s comfort, and he was there for you the entire time. He gave you some medicine every now and then, but you just kept throwing it back up until the final time. It was around 6:30 AM, and you took your third dose, and Johnnie crossed his fingers that it would stay down. And it did. 

There was no more throwing up, and you fell asleep curled in his arms shortly after. He was so happy when you finally fell asleep, and he soon passed out after you, keeping his arms protectively wrapped around you. Your sleep and eating schedule for the next day was an absolute mess, but he was so happy that you weren’t sick anymore that he didn’t care. 

He gently reassured you when you cried before each meal, terrified of eating something bad and getting sick again, and he did the same when you would drink anything. He had checked the expiration dates for everything after you’d gotten sick, throwing out anything that was even close to its end date. He’d replaced them with fresh items, reassuring you every time that you were going to be just fine. Luckily, sleeping wasn’t a struggle to get back on track, because your body was so exhausted that you would fall asleep almost anywhere for the next day, and you would stick close to Daddy when you did so. Being sick with a stomach bug was a horrible experience, but having Daddy there to help had made it a lot easier.

[erosmutt]

☆ thinkin' bout . . .

. . . literally just stephen being a scared little guy. it's storming out, the sky is growling, and he's scared out of his wits. so he kinda just hovers wherever he deems the middle of the room while you try your best to get him to sit.

"stephen, it's fine, come on," you pat the couch cushion next to you. "sit."

he whines and shakes his head. only because there was a window behind the couch. he had turned on every light in the house which pissed you off; he wasn't the one who had to pay the electricity bill.

you know better than to outwardly get upset with him. he'll start crying and saying you're being mean and he didn't know what he did wrong, make you feel like shit, so on and so forth.

so like the sweetheart you are, you stand up and go to the middle of the room with him, rubbing soothing circles into his back as he hugs you, his chin resting on the top of your head. "thank you." he murmurs. and you have to fight back an exasperated sigh. "no worries, babes. no worries."

[trigunwritings]

Because that’s what love is

Summary: Only one bed. But too many bullets.

Rating: Teen

Relationship: GN!Reader/Vash

Written by @blood--hunter

As with with everything in No Man’s Land the inn room is cramped and sweltering. Even with the slowly setting sun, the heat does little to abade. Not until the moons rise will it subside, and then the cold will come thundering in, causing whomever is left out in the desert to find a way to warm themselves in the caustic environment.

But not you. Not tonight.

Tonight you are safe in a little room on the edge of nowhere.

With Vash as a roommate.

Okay, maybe more than a roommate.

Whatever was going on between you two had lasted for several weeks at this point. There was a sort of—a sort of tension? Small touches of the shoulder. A gentelness to the eyes. A warmth to the cheeks that wasn’t caused by the sun.

It was so thick that the others had started to take notice over the past few days.

Roberto would roll his eyes whenever Vash said your name in that special way of his and Meryl tried to ignore in completely. She would stammer and turn her eyes away whenever the two of you got too close.

Wolfwood however ... Wolfwood was another matter.

He had been the one to set up the room accommodations. Everyone had gotten their own... Save for you and Vash.

The two of you were to share a single, tiny bed because of him.

When confronted, Wolfwood had simply hefted his gun higher on his back, cigarette coming dangerously close to falling from his lips as he smiled at you.

“What? You two are together, ain’t’chya?”

The silence that had fallen had been his answer.

“Well ... guess not.” And he had walked away as if he hadn’t blurted out what everyone had been thinking. Your face had been so warm that you thought it might explode—burst into flames even—but you had managed to scramble up the stairs with what was left of your dignity and stumble into the room.

And here you were. Deciding whether or not you should go out to the car and sleep in the back seat like you had been doing for the past several days.

No! You weren’t a child! You would face this like an adult!

You jump. There’s a knock at the door and Vash peeks his head in.

“Hey,” he says, though, with how well you know him, you can sense the tension in his voice, “Heard we were bunking together tonight!”

There’s a forced cheeriness to his voice and you find yourself swallowing at it.

So he’s just as nervous as you.

“Yeah!” Oh god, you sound just like him now, “I figured I could sleep on the floor and-”

“No way! I can sleep on the floor, it’s not a problem.” He waves his hand in front of his face, dropping his bag beside the door. Next, he takes off his red hoodie, hanging it on the little hook beside said door.

The bed itself was small, no way two people could lay on it super comfortably. But neither of you were going to give up easily.

“Here,” you say, “I’ll take a shower and then you can get set up on the bed and—”

“-No!”

“—Then it’ll be fair!”

Vash pouts visibly at you, but you’re already on your way through the door to the bathroom and closing it behind you before he can argue further.

Several minutes pass of you washing yourself, getting cleaned of all the sand and dirt that could pile onto you while on the desert. It takes ages of scrubbing but after a while you can see your natural skin color again and it satisfies you enough to get out of the tub.

Problem. Your stuff and Vash’s stuff were mixed together in his bag. The one by the door.

You could bang your head against a wall. You’d been so quick to get to the bathroom before Vash you hadn’t grabbed a different set of clothes.

Okay. Be an adult about this.

Wrapping the towel securely around yourself you peek your head out of the door.

“Hey Vash can—“

The words get stuck in your throat. Vash is half naked in the bedroom, his shirt gone. You can see where the metal of his arm meets the flesh of his body. There are scars littered across him. Some are so deep and vast they have to be covered with bit of metal. Some almost look like autopsy scars. Some are still raw bullet holes. Had he been taking damage this entire time?

Vash’s head snaps to you, eyes wide and glasses gone.

You both stare at each other for a long time. The silence echoing.

“Can you pass me some clothes?” You finally say, nodding towards the bag.

Vash doesn’t say a word, simply taking the one step towards the bag and digging out some clothes for you. One cannot afford pajamas in the desert, so it’s just another set of day clothes that are relatively clean. You’re grateful when cloth meets your hand and you dive back inside the bathroom, letting the door click shut.

Holy Shit.

You almost vocalize it but Vash could still very well be on the otherside of the door.

You slide down until your butt meets the floor, your elbows resting on your knees.

There should be a miriad of thoughts going through your head. Most of them focused on how absolutely mortifying that situation had been for the both of you.

But instead all you can think of is if Vash has been hiding the bullets from you. Had he been hurt this whole time? Some of those wounds had looked fresh.

Your thoughts swirl for a few minutes more before you become concious of the fact that you should be dressed and out by now. Vash probably thinks you’re hiding from him, that you’re disgusted by him. The thought makes you hop up from the floor and slap your clothes on so quickly you must look like a wreck as you fling open the bathroom door.

“DO YOU NEED A BATH?!”

You cringe. Vash stares at you, now dressed, from the floor. During your time in the bathroom he had made himself a little sleeping spot, several pillows and blankets piled beside the bed.

“Uh,” He scratches at the back of his neck, “Sure?”

Wait. No mention of what you had seen? Was he just going to—

“—Don’t just ignore it!” You squawk in the most undignified tone your voice had ever taken.

Vash chuckles, “Ignore what?” But you can see it in his eyes. There’s a deep sadness behind them that makes the blue just a tiny bit darker.

“...Vash...”

“I think it’s best we move on—”

“—How many?”

“What?”

“How many times have you been shot and not said anything? How many times did you sew yourself back together without anyone noticing?”

The small smile that is ever present on his lips, falls. “Please Vash, just tell me.”

“Too many to count.”

The words hit you like a bullet to the shoulder.

“Oh god—”

Vash holds up a hand, waving it slightly, “But it’s not like I died or anything, really it’s not a—”

“—It is too a big deal! Don’t say it isn’t!”

You should be worried that the others can hear you, your voice thundering through the walls like a clap of lightening, but you can’t, not in this moment. You can see, more than feel, the tears forming at the edge of your periphereal.

And then Vash is there too.

“Hey, c’mon, no need to be worried about a guy like me.”

You manage to speak passed the lump in you throat, “Don’t tell me what to do...” And there it is. You sound like a child stamping their foot instead of a worried friend—or whatever you two were.

Vash uses his thumb to press away the forming tears. “Lets get to bed.”

And that’s how you both find yourselves curled up on the floor together. Neither of you wishes to take the soft mattress from the other so it ends in a stalemate. There is not bumbling this time as you both lay down to sleep, not awkward pauses or stolen glances. The air is thick with something unsaid but neither of you is able to grasp it and bring it down to earth.

In the silence of the night, after your tears have dried but before the cloud of your argument has blown away, Vash turns to you in your sleep.

“I just didn’t want to worry you.”

He presses a piece of hair away from your face so he can see you better in the dim moonlight of the window.

But you would worry anyways, regardless of how much he hid from you.

Because that’s what love is.