#Shaking. Shambling. Crawling.. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

animeyanderelover · 1 year

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Request: Hello! I really liked your Happy Death Day posts and I've wanted more of them so I have two request with that concept. 1) Happy Death Day with dazai, ranpo, fyodor, atsushi, akutagawa, chuyaa (and if you have read the manga) teruko, saigiku, tetchou, sigma. if you haven't read the manga then you can write for the first 6 mentioned with gin, kenji, yosano, and kunikida instead.

I did Dazai and Chuuya already in another post with this concept so I took a few other characters you suggested in here to still give you 10 characters. Also, don’t worry, the fourth season has by now aired so everyone knows those characters now. Those are longer than my usual Happy Death Day Hc's which is because I watched the newest season whilst writing those Hc's and felt inspired.

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessive relationship, obsession, stalking, clinginess, paranoia, delusion, manipulation, violence, abduction, isolation, sadism, death, suicidal thoughts

Happy Death Day

Nakajima Atsushi

🐅Messages that are left unread despite the hours just ticking by are the reason for Atsushi to dash to your place, sweaty hands holding the phone close to his chest as he can't help but glance at the screen every few seconds. You've never left him ignored like this for more than an hour, and that only if it's an emergency since you know how terribly anxious and paranoid your boyfriend is. When he stands in front of your apartment, his anxiety suddenly spikes and causes a sharp pain in his abdomen as he realizes something. The door is open. He drops his phone as his vision zooms in on the door left open, anything else blurring out as he hears his own ragged breath and his heartbeat threatening to break his rips from the intensity it starts to hit his chest. The door is nearly ripped out of it's hinges as Atsushi storms to your place, voice cracking and shaking as he shouts your name. When a rotten, metallic scent suddenly invades his nostrils, everything stops for a short moment, even his heart as only dread and horror seems to exist inside of him for a moment.

🐅The door to the kitchen is behind him and from the breeze caressing his back he knows that the door is wide open. The source of the scent is right behind him but Atsushi is paralyzed, can only stand there frozen as shudders and trembles run through his whole body. A part of him fears to see what's behind him, fears to face the ugly truth. Seconds feel like eternities as he just stands there, his chest tightening and stinging as Atsushi starts hyperventilate. Yet no matter how rapidly he suddenly gasps for air, he feels like he's suffocating as tears start dwelling up inside his eyes and soon after cascade down his cheeks. When he finally gains the last bit of desperate courage he can, he slowly turns around, even if his body is refusing out of sheer terror to see. The door is wide open and in the middle of the kitchen, surrounded from a puddle of blood, lies his darling, a knife still embedded in their stomach. This sight is the final stab for him. He goes down on his knees, stomach twisting and revolting as he gags everything up he's consumed today.

🐅After the painful process of gagging and choking on his own vomit, Atsushi lets out a scream, one more reminiscent of a wounded animal than an actual human. His chest hurts, his heart hurts, every breath hurts as the tremor worsens. Something inside of him erupts as his blood starts boiling, his vision darkening in front of his own eyes as something just takes over. Something that wants to hurt, to kill, to take revenge for destroying the only good thing in his life. Atsushi doesn't remember much after, he only recalls waking up from the weird state of not being here next to your corpse, the whole room and furniture in shambles. A fresh set of tears rolls out as he crawls closer to you, not caring how he stains his clothes and skin in your cold blood as he just puts his head against your chest and clings onto your dead body in utter distraught and helplessness like a newborn and cries and cries for hours on end. You can't leave him like this! He can't do this without you! Eventually one thought takes over his mind more than anything. He just wants to die now that you've left him.

🐅You all but leap out of your sheets when you're woken up by a painful kick in your side and a gruesome cry that blows away all of the sleepiness you might have left although you doubt it with the nightmare you just had. You turn shocked to the other side of the bed as you see Atsushi falling down from the bed, entangled in his sheet as he kicks and cries as if he's just seen something far more horrifying than you have in your dreams. He's completely out of it and disorientated, nails clawing into the blanket surrounding him and tearing it apart before it's suddenly removed from him and he feels something warm embracing him, a sweet voice calling out to him. He recognizes that voice, that scent from everywhere and feels his heart shattering once again as he starts crying and sobbing terrified, nearly crushes you in his arms and pressing you close to his own body as if you'll disappear if he lets even a bit loose. You sit with him in this position for hours on the cold ground until the first sunshine announces that morning has come.

🐅Atsushi isn't the same anymore on this day as he flinches at the slightest of sounds, barely manages to call the day off in the Agency and stays glued to your side at all times. He's constantly on the verge of another meltdown, enters a small frenzy every time you suggest for him to leave you alone for a moment or two as he all but grabs you harshly and pulls you back to his side, breath erratic. You only attempt once to ask him what in the world has him acting like a maniac but it only results in a mental breakdown. As the day continues though, you yourself start to think that you're slowly going insane as you note how everything that happens, you have already witnessed before. This can't be real is what you tell yourself but how many coincidences can there be? You don't tell Atsushi at all but start returning his clinginess as you grow terrified. You try to cling to the hope that this is all a mere big, scary coincidence yet you nearly jump out of your skin when you hear the bell ring and start to visibly shaken as you recall what happens if you open the door.

🐅As the ringing grows more persistent and even Atsushi notices that you're trembling an asks you horrified what's wrong, you can't hold it in anymore. You start crying as you tell him the dream you had. If you open the door, you'll be murdered. The ring of the doorbell has by now changed into someone hitting the door from outside and shouting if anyone is home. His whole body is trembling from rage. An animalistic look in his eyes as you notice how his body is partially beginning to transform as he all but growls at you to lock yourself up in your bedroom although you hear his voice cracking at the end. You do as he says and lock yourself up, cower on the ground as you cover your ears. You can't blend out the feral growls and screams, the crashing sounds and the one agonizing, short and shrill scream of someone that you feel in your bones before they're forever silenced. You just about manage to unlock the door with your shaking hands when Atsushi calls your name before the male crashes you into his arms. This time stained in the blood of another and not yours. But Atsushi doesn't care. He doesn't care one bit.

Akutagawa Ryunosuke

⬛️Akutagawa goes through extreme denial when it comes to his darling as he despises them. He despises them for their weakness, for their silly antics and most of all for the emotions they stir up inside of him. Emotions that make his chest feel all fuzzy. Emotions that make him weak. Despite all of that, the man finds himself more than just once stalking you even if this is admittedly a bit more risky. He's not exactly unknown and would be in troubles if he were to run into one of the Agency members but ultimately Ryunosuke just doesn't care. He has no problem growing violent, even in the brightest daylight in the city. On this day it's not really different as you go on about your day and he trails behind you, always keeping a distance between you two just enough to not lose you from his sight. He's quite familiar with your daily life now, a result of his frequent stalking yet he'd rather not admit that out loud. He knows that you're on your way to the train station to catch the train that will drive you to your workplace. He won't follow you into the train.

⬛️He stays long enough and watches the train departing from the station before he silently leaves. A scowl edged onto his face as always as images of you flash before his eyes and no matter how much he tries to push you away, it just doesn't work. It annoys him so much. Until he suddenly hears the explosion, the shock wave causing him to stumble forward as the ground shakes. People start screaming and running, push past him to get away. Only he remains frozen in his place, an emotion that makes him feel like a small and weak child all over again engulfing him tightly, refusing to let go. The explosion came from the rail your train departed from. That realization strikes through his entire being and suddenly he's turning back and pushes everyone violently away who gets in his way. He inhales a lot of smoke as he races to the burning train he can clearly see as it exploded merely moments after departing. Rashomon is tearing the wagon open where you were sat and protects him from the flames burning inside as he starts searching for you, noticing with dread that all the passengers are already dead.

⬛️He knows that you're dead when he finds your burnt corpse as he realizes that you sat close to the bomb when it went off. It was an instant death for you. He's surprisingly silent at first, just staring down at your corpse before his eyes go to what's left from the bomb. He recalls that Mori mentioned something about a terrorist group using bombs. So you died because of the existence of some little group? That's when the rage suddenly errupts out of him as his ability goes crazy, trashes around and destroying everything and everyone in it's way. Your body remains unharmed though. He leaves before the police finds him, needs a lot of effort to tear his gaze away from you. There's an ache in his chest, not only from all the smoke he just breathed in. This is a pain that will probably never go away. He calls Higuchi as soon as he's out again, asking her with a voice shaking with wrath that he wants her to find out where the headquarter of the group is. He wants to give them a painful and cruel death and after he's slaughtered all of them, he just wants to be alone.

⬛️Akutagawa is probably already someone who doesn't have the healthiest sleep schedule. Upon waking up, he nearly activates Rashomon by pure accident as the lust for blood and death has him still in it's grasp. He's unnerved by the dream he just had when he realizes that he's in his room although he doesn't want to admit that to himself since it was just exactly that. A dream. Strangely enough he still feels the burning pain from all the smoke in his lungs alongside with the pulsing pain in his heart. Akutagawa does his best to brush it all off though. Everyone in the Port Mafia who meets him on that day kind of senses that he's in a bad mood though and for that avoids talking to him as good as possible. Something inside of him is highly squirmish and the unease only grows thicker when he hears and even witnesses things that he knows from his dream. He hates the way his heart jumps up and down in slight paranoia and fear for you as he starts doubting himself. It isn't until he overhears a few men talking about the terror group that his surface cracks.

⬛️They're scared out of their mind when he approaches them and demands them to tell him what they were just conversing about. One of them manages to stumble out that there are suspicions that they might attack today again and set a bomb off somewhere in the city. Akutagawa is calling Higuchi before he even realizes it himself, orders her and Black Lizard to find out if the rumors are true and he wants to be immediately informed if they find anything out. Higuchi is smart enough to hear that Akutagawa is not in the mood to hear any objections or questions so she just accepts his orders. Ryunosuke himself is hurrying over to you after he finished the call, something feels off about this whole day and time tells him that you're right about now heading to the train station. He rushes after you and does his best to not act out of place. You yourself seem a bit strange as he catches you looking around more than just once, steps slow and hesitant. This continues even shortly before you enter the wagon as he images for a moment that your hands are shaking. In that moment his phone starts to ring.

⬛️You can't get this dream out of your head as you stand in front of the train, anxious about the uncanny similarities between your dream and this day. You even contemplate whether or not you'll just skip work and tell your boss that you're sick. Just as you hesitantly step into the wagon, someone suddenly grabs you by your hand and yanks you back, causing the train to leave without you. You crush into someone's chest and are about to scream before the person suddenly starts dragging you away, the voice of a man hissing at you to run. You squirm around, cry out when his grip becomes bruising before an explosion shoots shock waves through the air and everyone around you breaks out in panic. You're suddenly silent, turn your head back and are able to catch a glance of the burning train that you were just about to enter. You almost died just now...just like in your dream. You're numb, allow yourself to be led away from the station by Akutagawa as you're in too much shock. It's only after you've somewhat recovered that you finally mutter out that you nearly died just like in your dream. Something that makes Akutagawa stop.

Edogawa Ranpo

👓Yosano and him are currently on their way to a crime scene because obviously he, the greatest detective of all time, has to be there. What would the police do without him after all? He’s complaining to the female doctor a bit about the fact that just this morning he asked you for some special pastry that is currently sold in a few bakeries in Yokohama and you told him that you don’t have any time today. You’re currently working on an important project and on top of that the bakery which apparently sells the pastry he craves is too far away from your workplace. Ranpo really wanted those sweets, already whined about it to you and now he’s doing the same to Yosano. Luckily she deals patiently with his complains. The crime scene is unmistakable as Ranpo sees even from the distance the cars of the police, the barriers and all the ambulances. One of the police officers notices them and initially mistakes them for citizens, tells them that they can’t enter the zone. Something Ranpo laughs about as he proclaims to the young officer who he is and that everything will be solved now.

👓According to what the officer tells them, two groups of people just started shootings at each other, resulting in a lot of innocent citizens to be caught in the warfare. A few were killed, a lot more hurt. They seem suspicious as they don’t trust Ranpo, but he forgives them since he knows that it’s their first day. He invites them to watch him though so they remember him the next time. All he needs is to put on his glasses to instantly deduce that the culprits were two gangs, both fighting to raise up and he’s even able to find out their hideouts, leaving the officer flabbergasted. He’s belittling them for underestimating him until Minoura, a familiar face in the police , walks over. Ranpo is greeting him, advices him to work harder since he solved the case once again, yet stops when he notices the serious expression on the man’s face. He asks confused what’s with the grim face but his eyes widen when the older man suddenly asks him if the detective knows someone named (l/n) (y/n). Why does he ask this? Minoura gives him a look of pity and sympathy which has Ranpo’s heart dropping.

👓(l/n) (y/n) bled out due to a shot through the stomach minutes before Yosano and him arrived at the scene. Minoura asked him because your phone had a wallpaper of him and you. That’s all he’s able to take in before his surroundings seemingly vanish around him. You’re dead? He just talked to you a few hours ago. Why were you here? Your workplace is somewhere else. He doesn’t want to accept it but the fruitless rejection is shattered when he’s gently led to the ambulance and sees your corpse, the blood staining your clothes. Green eyes can’t tear themselves away from you as he feels paralyzed until his eyes wander to your belongings resting next to you and he lets out a strangled noise. The horrible truth dawns on him when he sees the bag containing the pastries he asked for this morning. You died because of his request and he didn’t even predict it. Something shatters in his heart and mind as he turns around and stumbles away, requests to be alone. He walks around aimlessly until the sun sets and he collapses and the tears finally start to fall. It’s his fault, isn’t it?

👓You’re not woken up by your horrendous nightmare, much to your own surprise, but by the ringing of your phone. It rings and rings without giving you a break and you’re slightly confused who would call you in the middle of the night. Imagine your shock when you see the name of your boyfriend on the display which finally leads you to press the green button and accept the call. He doesn’t say anything, instead you just hear troubled breathing from the other side of the line and ask instantly if everything’s alright with him. You think that you hear something akin to choking back a sob when Ranpo hears your voice but you aren’t sure. In the end you don’t find out the reason why he called you in the middle of the night as he reverts after a while back to his carefree behavior although you suspect that he also had a nightmare which is a bit strange. You two hang up after a while but you find yourself lying awake for the rest of the night thanks to your dream. It’s shortly before you leave for work that Ranpo calls you again, tells you with urgency unlikely for him to heed safely to work.

👓Even without using his Super Deduction the way the day shapes to be just screams suspicious. Accident after accident which he predicts without the use of his outstanding intelligence. Simply because he’s witnessed it all before and finds himself growing tense. If he can go with anything from the dream, you shouldn’t go to the bakery where the shooting happens if he just doesn’t ask you for the pastry so he didn’t do it this morning. He also warns the Agency about the upcoming conflict about to happen in the district. He’s serious as he’s confident that this dream was more than a dream. The police is informed and for a while he dares to think that everything might be alright. Until he receives a from you. You overheard from some of your colleagues today that there’s a bakery selling some special pastry and thought that he might be happy if you were to buy him some. He nearly drops his phone out of horror. No. Why are you still there? He’s panicking, tells you with a raised voice to leave from there. You’re confused with his unusual reaction until your eyes land on a group of people.

👓Silence on the line, then footsteps of you running and the sound of guns being fired are the last things Ranpo hears before the call is ended. On the way to the crime scene, he’s on edge, constantly urges Yosano to drive faster as the image of your dead body is summoned in his memories. Why were you still there? Is it just fate for you to die on this day? He’s jumping out of the car and runs straight to Minoura, whose talking with a newbie in the police. He asks straight away for you, heart unbeknownst to everyone else trembling with fear. The older officer’s face shows recognition when he hears your name but no sign of grief or pity as he points over to one of the ambulances and tells Ranpo that you’ve awaited him. Your arm was graced by a bullet, otherwise you were lucky. You’re taken by surprise when the first thing that Ranpo does is crashing into you as soon as he sees you, head pressed against your shoulder as he mutters that he’s sorry over and over again. You’ve rarely seen him so vulnerable. He doesn’t seem to want to stray from your side for the rest of the day at all.

Yosano Akiko

🦋She’s heading down the rainy streets on that rainy evening, worried sick as she fails to yet call you again. Your voicemail has been the only thing that has been answering her calls for the last hour. An hour where you were supposed to reach the house yet you didn’t. You told her that you’d be a bit late because of the weather but this has been too long now to not alarm her. She knew she should have driven to your workplace to pick you up but you insisted on going alone since this weather isn’t ideal to drive in. As she heads down the roads, the wind occasionally blowing the cold rain in her face, she notices blue lights blinking in the close distance. The police. A keep out zone has been made and as she steps closer, she sees what has happened. A car has crashed into the sidewalk, it’s front is crashed. There’s something she notices with horror as she walks even closer. There’s blood staining the ground and the front of the car which leads her to the conclusion that a person must have been crushed in between the building and the car. This accident happened on the way you usually take to walk back home.

🦋A dreadful hunch fills her as she taps one of the officers on the shoulder and asks him what happened here. He luckily replies to her, tells her that due to the bad weather a car lost control and crashed into the sideway, hitting a civilian who wasn’t able to dodge in time. The driver was mildly hurt but still driven to the hospital. The other person on the other hand was pretty much crushed between the car and the now damaged building and was in need of immediate treatment due to their severe injuries. Her fingers clench tighter around her umbrella as she thanks the officer and starts walking with fast steps to the hospital. She is by now almost convinced that the person in the accident is you as everything adds up too perfectly. She’s seen the blood and can very well imagine that your injuries might be too fatal for you to push through. But her ability…her ability can save you. She starts running soon after, abandoning the umbrella as she prays that she makes it in time. She’s drenched in rain and disheveled when she arrives in the hospital and asks the people at the front where you are.

🦋When she tells them her relationship with you, they tell her that you were immediately delivered in a surgery room as your wounds required instant treatment. It’s probably still ongoing. She’s storming to the room, suppressing any tears all the time. She’s scared. When she arrives though, she sees that the doctor and a few of the assistants are standing outside, a solemn and grim look on their faces. As a doctor herself, she knows this look all too well. They tell her initially to leave when they see her until she asks what happened to you. The doctor tells her as carefully and gently as your wounds were too severe and you passed away whilst in surgery. She doesn’t want to believe it, pushes past all of them at first to get into the room. Despite being a doctor though, despite having been a medic during war, she is horrified when she sees your body. No heartbeat, no brain activity and the warmth that is fading away from your body as she holds your hand for the last time. She caries herself out with her head held high until she sits down in the hospital and starts crying as her grief takes over.

🦋Yosano awakes with the dawn of a new morning, sweating with the lingering feeling of terror still present in her chest as her eyes wander around and take in her surroundings. You’re already awake too and turn around with a concerned look as you ask her what’s wrong when you notice her condition. She’s panting, sweat glistening on her skin and her eyes stare at you in shock as if she doesn’t believe that you’re real for a few seconds. In the next moment she’s sitting up too and shuffles closer to you, grabbing your face and inspecting you as if looking for something. You give her half-concerned, half-flabbergasted look. Eventually the woman stops though, lets out a sigh and replies that it’s nothing besides a nightmare. You raise an eyebrow when you hear that but don’t dig deeper. The morning is at first quite normal as both of you take a shower since both of you are sweaty, dress up for work and enjoy your breakfast together. Both of you don’t want to worry the other with your nightmares, unaware that the other one dreamed exactly the same.

🦋It’s after all a nightmare and nothing more, right? Well, that turns out rather hard to believe as both of you head to your workplaces. Accidents, stories, the work you two have to do today, it all appears to be terrifyingly familiar. The entire day shapes up to be eerie thanks to all those “coincidences” and it puts you on edge and starts affecting Yosano even more. She’s not as oblivious and stubborn to ignore the red flags she notices throughout the day in the Agency. Images of your dead body, still lingering freshly in her mind, return and embed themselves inside her memory. She’s with her thoughts not as present as normally, as soon as no one wants something from her she spaces out. She checks the weather for this evening only to find no warning of a storm. But the storm took you by surprise too in her dream. When the end of your shift ticks closer, the sky darkens as thunder is heard throughout Yokohama and the clouds pour out everything they have to offer. That’s when she calls you and insists that she’ll pick you up. You tell her driving in this rain would be insane.

🦋Yosano in the end walks to your workplace as it’s about 20 minutes from your place with her umbrella and another one for you since you didn’t account for such heavy rain. The walk home is tense as something doesn’t feel right for both of you. She holds your hand tightly and you grab onto her with equal pressure as your stomach starts flipping with the nervous anxiety. A few minutes into your way home it happens. A loud squeal, followed by a signal-horn. Both of you see a car losing it’s track on the slippery street as it slithers into the sidewalk. You’re paralyzed in shock as memories flash through your mind and you recall the gruesome pain you felt when you were crushed. If it wouldn’t have been for Yosano who pushes you away so that both you tumble to the ground, it would have become yet again reality. You hit your head on the ground, start to feel slightly dizzy yet the shock keeps you conscious as you start hyperventilating a bit. Yosano inspects the bump on your head, feels relieved when she knows it’s nothing serious and afterwards just embraces you tightly.

Miyazawa Kenji

🌱It’s shaping up to be just another peaceful day for Kenji although his darling is currently hanging out with their friend somewhere else. He kind of wanted to tag along but it was fairly easy for you to persuade him into letting you head out alone. So he’s ended up walking around the city with Atsushi and Kyouka, buying some random things on the way. Mainly lots of food since Kyouka is insatiable as often. Everything is fine. Then Kenji’s phone suddenly starts to ring and Atsushi has to help him to accept the call as technology and phones are still fairly new for the boy who spent over a decade of his life in the countryside. He’s happy though when he sees your name on the display. Only that it isn’t your voice on the phone. He recognizes the voice of your friend crying on the other line, trying to form a coherent sentence yet completely failing to do so. Now, Kenji is certainly a bit more clueless but he isn’t dumb either. Something happened with you, didn’t it? There’s some time he spends calming down your friend, staying true to his optimistic side and telling them that all will be fine.

🌱They finally manage to explain everything to him after pulling their shit together. You two were caught by some sort of gang on your way and got threatened to follow along. You defended yourself though, freed yourself and your friend and both of you ran afterwards. You got caught though and the last thing you managed to do is throw your phone your friend’s way, already unlocked and screamed at them to run and call your boyfriend. The last thing they witnessed was you clawing and fighting with everything you had. He’s heard of this vicious gang in the Agency before, he’s heard how they treat their victims. Before Kyouka and Atsushi can ask him what’s suddenly with the strained look on his face, Kenji is already gone, pushing through the crowd, the phone still pressed against his ear. Your location isn’t too far away, hopefully he’ll make it in time. The boy reaches the place soon without any backup, maybe that’s why a few of them approach him so carefree, laughing at him when he asks them about you and pointing to an empty building behind them.

🌱He charges straight through the door, leaving all the guys from the gang beaten. He finds you unconscious in one of the rooms, a gun against your head as the leader is shaking in fear since they’ve seen what Kenji has done. He shouts that he’ll shoot you if he gets any closer and Kenji stays still for a moment, lifts his hands and tells them that he won’t do anything if they let you go. For a brief second they seem to consider until the worst happens. You regain consciousness, notice Kenji and the gun against your head and panic. Everything is over in a few seconds. You start frantically moving and defending yourself, Kenji steps closer to stop you, the leader gets terrified. One accidental pull of the trigger and in the next moment you collapse on the ground. All they can do is stare at what they did in horror before they look at Kenji. He stares at you for a few seconds with dull eyes before those empty eyes turn to stare at them. When Atsushi and Kyouka find him, he’s hugging you tightly, bawling and crying. He’s stained with blood, a deformed blob of flesh and bones the only thing left.

🌱The first thing the day has prepared for you when you wake up is the feeling of nearly being crushed. Seriously, it feels like someone’s going to break your lungs and it’s only when you turn around that you notice that it’s your boyfriend. He’s clinging onto you, arms wrapped around your torso, forehead pressed against your back as you hear his uneven breathing and the whimpering, the tears staining the material of your shirt. He realizes that you’re awake when he senses your movement as you turn around, stumbles out something from not having intended to wake you up from your sleep as he starts wiping away his tears. You’re worried, question him if he’s had a nightmare which he confirms. You admit to him that you also had a nightmare but don’t want to talk about it which he accepts after some prodding where he realized that you were serious. You two just spend the night hugging each other and comforting each other and you manage to doze off again until you have to stay up and start your day. Kenji seems to have recovered his optimism though.

🌱What you notice is that he’s clingier though as he follows you around as you do your morning routine. He follows you into the kitchen, into the bedroom and even waits in front of the toilet for you. You can’t help but wonder if this is a result of the nightmare that he’s had which in return makes you wonder what exactly he dreamed of. So you decide to ask him whilst both of you are eating breakfast together. You notice from the corner of your eyes how he halts his movement, a distant look in his eyes before he shakes that expression off. There’s still a faint look of pain in his eyes when he is candid about what he dreamed, unable to lie to you. Deep down he just wants your reassurance that it was merely a dream after all too. Instead you look at him with a expression filled with horror as you drop your chopsticks. Initially he believes your reaction to be because of the brutality of his dream but his demeanor changes when you press out with a shaking voice that you’ve had the exact same dream as he did. Both of you just stare at each other, reflecting the horror of each other.

🌱Your friend is plainly confused when they see Kenji following you since this was planned as a day only between you two. You convince them that it’ll be fine though, hiding the gruesome truth behind why he came along. It was already a small challenge to get here in the first place. Kenji wanted you to not meet your friend at first. In the end he only allowed it under the condition that he’d accompany you. Honestly, that puts you at ease though because if this really is an omen, then at least you have Kenji and his ability to protect you. Then it happens. The gang really comes, surrounds you and tells you three to just follow along without causing a scene. Only that with Kenji in the scene things are vastly different than in your dream. All he gives them is his normal smile before all of them start flying as he beats them up. When he sees one particular person, one you recognize too, the look in his eyes changes. You stop him before he can do something though, hiss at him that your friend is still here. Don’t worry, dear s/o, from now on he’ll always be with you to protect you.

Akutagawa Gin

⚫️Her darling has yet to find out about Gin's true identity since she never told them about her place in the Port Mafia. Yet the assassin can't bring herself to tell you about the crimes she already committed and her position in the Mafia. Everything is working so well for you two after all, you adore her and she loves you in her own slightly obsessed ways too. This is bound to fail, she can't keep this hidden from you her entire life yet she wishes that she could. Fate has different plans for you two though. It all boils down one day when you're out with her on a date and she gets flustered and shy with all the love you give her. There's someone following you two though, Gin has noticed since a while this guy that is tailing behind you two and it puts her on edge. She's in public right now, you're with her, if that person decides to attack then her whole cover will be blown. She tries to lose them, drags you suddenly somewhere through the crowd in hopes that she'll be able to shake them off without making you suspicious. She can deal with this but not as long as you're with her.

⚫️For a while everything appears to be fine as she can't see the person anymore when she turns around although she keeps her surroundings in check. Only when the sun sets and you two have settled down on a bench in a nearly empty park take things a drastic turn. Just as you two are about to depart they appear again and pull out a gun with shaking hands. You freeze in shock, Gin tenses up as the weapon is pointed right at her. They'll make her pay for what she did to their partner. That's when Gin realizes the situation. They know who she is and want to avenge someone she killed. You don't know what's going on, step slowly forward with raised hands and tell them to put away their gun since they got the wrong person. Gin flinches only slightly when she hears your words as shame and guilt washes over her. You don't know anything about her. They only hiss at you to stay away and that this woman there is an assassin of the Port Mafia who killed their spouse in cold blood. Gin slowly steps back, starts pulling out a knife from her handbag.

⚫️The setting sun shines on the metal though and in the next moment the person freaks out, screams at her to put the knife away. Fucking murderer, they will kill her and if it's the last thing they'll do! Multiple shots are fired all at once as fear and rage clouds their mind. All shots hit. Only that she isn't the one who got hit. You jumped in front of her and shielded her, unaware of her unnatural reflexes. Silence where only the ringing of the shots are heard as Gin perceives in slow motion how you fall with your face first to the ground, hears how they drop their gun in shock as they shot someone innocent. Then she lets out a short shriek of your name as she falls down next to you, begs you to stay conscious whilst she tries to stop the bleeding from the multiple wounds, staining her white dress and skin in your warm blood. It's for naught though and she can only look how the life fades away from you. They try to stammer out apologies as Gin clenches the knife in her hand but don't even get to finish their sentence as their throat is slit in the next moment.

⚫️The dream you have is anything but pleasant as it wakes you up in the earliest morning hours. You just lay in bed, panting and sweating as you try to relax again and ease your troubled breathing from the shock of dying in your dream. You find yourself, not really to your surprise, unable to fall asleep again and so you just decide to take a shower and prepare some things for your day. There's mild unease settling in when you notice the date of this day and remember that you have your date with Gin today. Normally that would fill you with excitement and giddiness but today you can't help but be a bit creeped out thanks to the unnerving dream you just had. Your phone starts ringing after a while which surprises you a bit. Who would call you at this hour? Strangely enough you're even more shocked when you see Gin's name on your display but accept her call immediately. Gin herself doesn't seem to know why she exactly called you, or rather doesn't want you to tell. She just wants to hear your voice, that's all. Very suspicious indeed.

⚫️You two still meet for your date although Gin certainly doesn't tell you about the weapons she's hidden in her dress and handbag when she sees you, eyes already trailing round to seek out that one person who killed you in her dream. Both of you act weird though. You notice here and there how she constantly glances behind her back and how her eyes constantly analyze the people around her whilst you space out and can't enjoy this all as much as you normally would. Gin notices your strange behavior just as much and is the first one to ask you about it. You give her a conflicted look as you don't want to concern her too much but find yourself unable to reject her worried eyes. You're frighteningly honest, too honest, to Gin as you admit everything to her. You want to tell her immediately after that she doesn't have to worry about that stupid dream, but stop when you notice that horrified and paranoid expression on her face. When you ask her what's wrong, she suddenly grabs you with unexpected strength and starts dialing a number in, asking to be picked up.

⚫️She doesn't tell you anything when you ask her, just insists for you to wait and trust her for just a bit longer. It all starts dawning on you when you see the car and the people inside of it. All of them have weapons and address her in a respectful tone as she tells them to take you away and protect you whilst she has some business to take care of. Your dream...no, it can't be. When you shout at her whilst pushed into the car if she really is an assassin in the Mafia, she stops for a short while and glances at you. A look that shatters you as your whole belief crashes down onto you. You're silently terrified the whole ride, when you're led into what you can only assume to be a hideout for the Mafia and when you're locked away in a room where you collapse on the ground and start silently hyperventilating as everything is too much for you in that moment. Gin returns after a while and all you do is glance shortly at her in her true attire before you look somewhere else. Gin doesn't know what she can say to you either right now. She just wanted you to be safe, that's all. Things probably won't go back to normal again.

Fyodor Dostoevsky

🍎You're not even aware of this man yet but Fyodor already knows everything about you. His little, sweet sin. His crime that he has to punish for tempting him into committing. It's a delightful task for the man though as his very existence is what causes you loss after loss, agony after agony. It isn't going to be any different for you today as you drive to work after another night where you cried yourself to sleep. Unaware that this will be your last day where you have the luxury of a job. Unaware that this is your last day in life. Ironically even the man with connections everywhere doesn't know about the tragedy that happens whilst he decides to busy himself with other things. Fyodor is informed an hour later about the accident. A truck suddenly swayed on the road, causing a massive road accident. Your car crashed into another one and tipped over. Your injuries were too severe, you succumbed to your wounds before the ambulance arrived. Fyodor doesn't show a visible reaction but spends a few minutes just staring at the message and mulling the words over.

🍎He's able to gain access to the footage of that specific street and watches in silence the accident unfolding again in front of his eyes. In a cruel way it's fascinating. In one moment you're driving safe and sound to your workplace, in the next your car topples over on the road. All previous work he has done is dropped as he starts focusing on your case, finds out where your corpse is kept and enables himself to see you one last time. It's strange, this clenching emptiness in his chest when he sees your dead body for the first and last time. Your skin even colder than his when he caresses your face with tenderness unlikely for a demon like him. He leans down to press a kiss against your forehead, inspects your bruised face. You don't look like you found peace and salvation in your death. There are no tears that he sheds for his darling but he leaves the building with his eyes stuck to the ground, deep in thoughts as he becomes aware of that hollow feeling he has in his chest, a dull pain as soon as he thinks about his darling. Won't they leave him in peace even in death?

🍎The driver of the truck has to be punished. They've committed a crime and Fyodor wants to bring them the judgement they deserve. They stole something precious from him. His darling was his cherished angel. An angel stained with sins but an angel nevertheless. The poor person gets abducted within the same day, shaking and trembling as they have no idea what's going on. They beg Fyodor to let them go since they're innocent yet shut up when they notice the glimmer in Fyodor's eyes, reflecting hell's fire itself. He asks them if they know what terrible thing he did for Fyodor to even deem them as worthy to not just kill them off like that. They can probably already think what he means but insist that they didn't intend to cause such a major traffic accident and kill and hurt so many people. Those are empty words and apologies at best in Fyodor's ears. The dead can't return after all which is why their sin can never be forgiven. A single touch of his hands is all it takes to end their life immediately but Fyodor finds no salvation in their death.

🍎He's never been a great sleeper, especially since he has anemia and suffers from a weaker health. There's no tantrum he throws, there is no tears he sheds. What he does is checking on his darling after recalling all the events of this rather detailed dream. You're alive but that doesn't quench this strange feeling. His intellect makes him one of the most terrifying criminals for a reason and he doesn't just brush this dream off as merely this. It was too detailed even for someone like him and considering that awakes a fascination and curiosity inside of him. He starts waiting for events in the world to happen which he is already aware of and in the next few hours he arrives at a truly interesting conclusion. That this wasn't a dream. No, it's the truth of what will happen and what might have already happened before. He's not even doubting this as he's too confident in his own intelligence and skills for such a thing. The question right now would be if you now just as much as he does. You were the main character in this tragedy after all.

🍎You think that God just hates you at this point. Your whole life has been a catastrophe since the last few weeks and now you even dreamed about your own death. It truly can't be any worse than this anymore. That's what you think at least. On your way to the bakery to buy something to eat as your own fridge is nearly empty due to the low payment you've received those last few weeks, you are not aware of the man who strokes serenely behind you, eyes observing you. You look tired and stressed out, have lost a bit of weight thanks to everything he put you through. There's no one in the bakery when you enter at first but you don't really care. Only when the door opens again and announces another customer do you spare a short glance at the man who just entered. You ignore him even as he stands right next to you, looking over the pastries and bread in the counter. It isn't until he suddenly asks you the question how your night was that you turn around with a slightly bewildered look. That's none of his concern after all.

🍎He returns a calm smile, one that slightly unsettles you though. You turn your eyes to the cashier as you wonder if they could help ou only to find them suddenly leaving which confuses you even more. You don't look all too well. Life must have been hard on you, isn't he right? You get all defensive when he starts talking like that to you although feat also starts striking you more and more as the sinister glimmer in his eyes freaks you out. He's curious, how does one feel when dreaming about their own death? Your face falls, eyes widen and your breath hitches when this question leaves his lips. A telltale sign and you only notice that he was waiting for this when you see the previously calm and arrogant smile taking on a more sinister form. Poor thing, he'll save you from your death and this life. You want to run, you want to scream but before you can do anything, something sharp penetrates your skin. A small needle injects something into your veins. You notice with blurring vision the cashier and his voice promising you that he'll save you from your own life.

Jouno Saigiku

♦️You've stopped believing in anyone since a long time ago. Your trust in the government of this country has been broken ever since they've started keeping you in a special building, all because Jouno asked them for a favor. Said favor being you. The Hunting Dog asked the government to essentially trap you for him and all they did was listen. You're not treated bad after all, Saigiku just loves you and doesn't want to endanger you, it's a small sacrifice for the safety of this country. That's all you've received from everyone in here as all of them don't value you more than one of the Hunting Dogs. Speaking of the man, he's currently out on a mission and you're alone as often. You don't have many visitors as nearly everyone is too afraid of Jouno since his somewhat possessive tendencies are known to everyone and as if lying would work on him. You're sitting on the edge of the bed, deep in thoughts until your food is delivered by someone you haven't seen so far. A new face. Not as if that would mean anything for you. You won't be allowed to see anyone besides Jouno.

♦️You dig in the food listlessly and start to chew, noting a slightly weird taste to it as well as the one who delivered the food to give you a conflicted look. You tilt your head curiously and they seemingly flinch at that gesture, chewing their bottom lip before turning around. Their head hangs low and just before they leave, you swear you hear them muttering an apology, that it's nothing personal and that they'll be soon gone too. What was that about? You're not particularly hungry and dislike the aftertaste of the meal so you leave it and just go back to your bed, grab a book that you recently got. After a while something weird happens though. A numbness spreading from your fingertips, your tongue and your lips to the rest of your body, accompanied by an ache in stomach and head. This doesn't feel normal so you run to the door, or at least attempt to do but you stagger as you find to your horror the numbness spreading fastly. You're barely able to knock on the door and cry out for help before you fall over, completely paralyzed and unable to breathe.

♦️Jouno returns a few hours later and the first thing he wants to do is checking on his little darling to see if they behaved well. Only that he's stopped by one of the guards working here who is terrified, heart beating fast and muscles tense and trembling who stumbles out that Jouno can't see you. The way Jouno smiles at him and tells him to explain what has happend during his absence probably makes them feel like they could wet themselves. When they tell the blind man finally that you were poisoned and suffocated alive due to a total body motor paralysis, all emotions leave his face. The guard isn't able to react in time when one of his hands wrap tightly around their throat and squeeze tightly as his fierce temper bursts out for a short while. It's only because Fukuchi and Teruko stop him that the guard is set free although Jouno tells him in an arctic tone to leave where he won't notice him. He sits the rest of the day in the room where you were confined silently. He took you because of his own possessive nature, sure. But he meant it when he said that he'd protect you.

♦️It's at first unusual, after thinking about it, not so unusual that Jouno suddenly wants to see you in the middle of the night. You just wish that it wouldn't be now, not after the horrific dream you just had where you suffocated whilst you were fully conscious due to some poison in your food. You're really losing your mind in here, aren't you? What surprises you is that there's no teasing, no greeting, no sadistic remark when he enters. In the dim light you notice his face, void of the normal nonchalant expression on his face spiking your anxiety. You did nothing wrong as far as you can remember, why is he looking at you like that?! The sudden increase in fear is noted by Saigiku who shots your worries down by telling you that he isn't here to hurt you or punish you. You only ease slightly though as you don't trust the male as far as you can throw him. Your eyes are glued to him as he sits down on the bed next to you. He's looking at you, you feel that even if you know that he's blind. You don't say anything and he doesn't either for a while.

♦️The motion of him suddenly petting your head in something you dare to name gentle affection startles you. He rarely is that gentle with you after all, you have every right to be disturbed and flabbergasted by this sudden affectionate gesture. You actually dare to ask him what's wrong but as most of the time, you don't receive an answer from him. Instead he replies to your question with his own question and asks you why your heartbeat and your breathing pattern was already so frantic before he even entered. You flinch but aren't exactly surprised to hear that. His heightened senses are a living hell since you can't keep anything a secret from him. You don't want to tell him about your nightmare, in the worst case he'll use it to torment you again and right now you wouldn't be able to handle that. When you feel his fingers running harsher through your scull though and asking you again the question, you realize that you don't have a choice. As always. You keep it vague though, only tell him that you had a rather disturbing nightmare. The reaction you receive is unexpected.

♦️It's all pressed out of you within minutes and all he has to do is basically retelling what he has dreamed about and the reaction of your heart and your body tells him everything he needs to know. He leaves as fast as he has come although you have by now realized that something is going on but are as always never informed. The only thing you witness later on that day, hours after Saigiku has gone on a mission, is a small commotion outside your door which quickly dies down though and leaves you wondering what has happened. When Jouno returns, whatever small tension he might have had throughout the day leaves when he's informed by a guard that they captured the intruder. They are terrified when Jouno enters the room they're kept in, already informed about the background and their motives. Revenge on him by poisoning his innocent lover? That's exactly why such vile people as them should just die. Why not have a taste of the food just so they know what you went through? He leaves you in the dark about the truth, just dotes on you slightly more in return.

Suehiro Tetchou

🌸Recently there has been some tension in the city thanks to a rather heated conflict between the Port Mafia and a foreign gang who tries to interfere with their business and affairs, numerous fights have already been ended with the cost of the lives of citizens. It worries you but it makes your partner even more anxious. Tetchou is protective, very much so, and you know that already. You've promised him to inform him as soon as something happens. He hopes that it won't come this far yet hope is rarely something you should put your trust into as he receives one day a message from you. No context is given besides the name of a place but there is no need for any context as he can already think why you mailed him. He immediately tries to call you but you don't pick up which results in him suffering a short heart attack. There are no orders for him currently so he storms out to the location you sent him. Teruko and Jouno end up tagging along. Both of them are bored as it is and when they hear Tetchou's hasty explanation, they take the chance to catch some terrorists.

🌸They arrive just in time to see a car leaving the abandoned place and as soon as they see them, they start firing. What other confirmation do they need? Plum Blossoms in Snow is instantly used by Tetchou and that without any worries as Jouno confirms to him that his darling isn't inside the car. He grabs the first guy closest to him when he storms over to the now split car and asks them in a serious tone what happend with you. A frightened realization dawns on the face of the guy when they become suddenly aware that the insanely strong man in front of them is in fact your lover. Their lack of an answer does nothing to soothe Tetchou's worries though as his grip by now threatens to snap some bones. They let out a cry before they point to the river, stuttering out that you walked in onto them disposing of some bodies from the Port Mafia and had to be silenced too. The statement implies everything Tetchou needs to hear to feel his heart stopping for a moment in his chest. He steps back in shock before he storms to the shore of the river.

🌸True to what they told him, he sees a few dead bodies floating in the water as soon as he runs into the river although none of them interest him as he frantically searches for you. The final sight that truly breaks him in the end is when he finally finds you, the water around you stained in red. He's shaking, slightly hyperventilating when he pulls you out of the water and notices with horror that you were shot through your lungs yet are still clinging to life for some miracle. Your pulse is faint and is getting weaker and weaker though as you choke out blood. Your eyes flatter open weakly when you hear a familiar voice calling shakily for you. When he realizes that you're conscious, he promises you that he'll get you to a hospital immediately. All you can do is lift your hand weakly which he quickly grasps, give him a weak smile and whisper something that destroys his very core. "You came. I knew that you'd come." You die seconds later in his arms, taking half of his heart with you. He should have done more. Then you'd still be alive but instead he failed you.

🌸It's truly not a pretty way to wake up as you nearly tumble out of your bed out of shock when you wake up from one of the worst nightmares you had in years, maybe even the worst of all. You attempt to be rational though as you take deep breaths to calm your racing heart down. You've spend a lot of time investigating all the fights, have read reports of all the victims and how many of them died. It wouldn't be unlikely for all of that pressure and lingering terror in your heart to result in a dream like that. There's nothing for you to fear though. You work for the government, you often work together with the Hunting Dogs, your partner is one of them and you yourself aren't completely defenseless. You chant those few lines again and again in your head until you've regained your composure enough but then it's already too late to go back to sleep. Instead you just shower, dress up, eat, brush your teeth and go through a few files of the most recent attacks again. Your phone is on silent mode so all the messages and calls from Tetchou go unnoticed.

🌸Only when you drive to your workplace do you see him. He's standing right in front of the building and as soon as he sees you, he rushes to you. You're very confused to why he's here but can't ask him this question when he nearly crushes you in a tight embrace. He seems desperate judging from the way he squeezes you so you decide to return the hug for now. You stand there for a few minutes like this and slowly you start to feel embarrassed from the looks the people who pass by give you. You try to convince him to let go now which he eventually does, reluctantly. When you ask him what that was for, he replies that you didn't answer to his calls and messages. That's when you check your phone for messages and calls are quite stunned from the sheer amount he spammed you with. Has something happened? That question triggers something in him as you notice his whole body tensing up and a sorrowful look flashing inside his eyes. You assure him that you'll listen and as the honest soul he is with you, Tetchou tells you about the dream he had.

🌸Instead of comfort from you, you stumble back in horror after he's finished talking. You show him your back, start rambling to yourself that this can't be true, that this is some really twisted coincidence and nothing more. The fright and fear you radiate puts Tetchou at even more unease and he notices how you've started to shake when he rests both of his hands on your shoulder and questions you what's wrong all of a sudden. The look you give him when you turn around is pure paranoia as memories of your terrible death flash in front of your inner eye and you reply in a voice merely above a whisper that you've dreamed the exact same thing. The paranoia in your eyes appears in his eyes all at once as his grip around you tightens. Both of you aren't stupid. This can't be brushed off as a mere coincidence. You find yourself being dragged away by Tetchou despite your protests as he insists that this time he will protect you. Your personal freedom might be limited, you might lose your workplace but despite all of that he's convinced he's doing what's right. Can't you see that?!

Sigma

☁️Sigma isn't terrible. He's kind, he's caring, tends to your wishes and worries with the best of his abilities. Yet you're stuck in the Sky Casino most of your days in a special suite, cameras are nearly everywhere in your room and guards are constantly looking out for you. All because you're not just a lover for Sigma. You're his identity. You're his home, his family, you're the purpose he always wanted for life. Because of you he became someone and he is precisely because of that so terrified and paranoid to lose you and let you go. Your emotions about the man in question are conflicted as you don't hate him, you might even love him in a way yet you also can't forgive him from cutting you off from the world down there. You often lament silently about your situation and try to pinpoint how you feel about Sigma. That day isn't really any different as you walk around the hallways, for once not accompanied by guards which took a bit of begging Sigma for it. You bump on your stroll through the hallway into someone unknown though.

☁️ You notice how they carry a bag around with them, some of the content falling out of it which they frankly collect again. Aren't those coins used in his casino? They don't even notice you when you step carefully closer, not until they look up and you're standing nearly next to them. They're clearly startled, press the bag closer to them and shuffle away from you. That's when you realize what's going on. They're a customer who gambled too much and ended up in major debt and stole those coins to gamble more, where they got them from is above your knowledge though. You pity them a bit, decide to just leave them since they'll be caught anyways. They seem to just continue down the hall too. Only that in that exact moment Sigma and his men appear. The composed look on Sigma's face is replaced with fear when he sees you though, tells you to get quickly away from that person. Unfortunately it's already too late, your arm is suddenly twisted behind your back and a knife pressed against your throat as they start threatening to hurt you.

☁️They're desperate and so is Sigma right now which is why he tells his staff to not shoot. He steps hastily closer as he tries his very best to stay calm, promises his customer that he will forget all about their debt as long as they let you go. They stare at him for a nerve-wracking amount of time before they slowly let you go and Sigma quickly ushers you to come to him. That moment is short-lived though as from the other side another guard appears, gun pointed straight at the thief. Everything happens too fast for Sigma to control then. The customer turning around and attempting to grab you, Sigma hiding you behind his back, the new guard shooting the customer, them trying to stab Sigma and you shielding him which results in the knife being plunged right into your throat. You collapse straight into Sigma's arms, twitching and choking on your own blood whilst Sigma starts shouting for help, his composure shattering as he tries to stop the bleeding, starts crying and begging for you to stay with him. Your body soon goes limb in his arms though and all at once his sense of self is shattered. Without you he's a nobody.

☁️Sigma only exposes his more insecure and vulnerable side to you and rarely to anyone else yet even you're caught off guard when he slams the door to your room open and storms to your side. Before you can even begin to ask him what's wrong, he almost throws himself at you, arms wrapped tightly around you and face buried in your shoulder. You take notice of the way his whole body is trembling and the wetness staining your clothes from his tears. So you swallow all possible questions you could ask him down and just wrap your arms carefully around him too, returning his hug. Neither one of you says much for the next hour as he at one point just lays down in bed with you and stays with you, trying to gain some semblance of sanity again. Even when you attempt to ask him about what happened after he has seemingly calmed down a bit, although he's still cuddled right next to you, he refuses to speak of it. He avoids the topic at all costs and eventually you give it up. He stays until the morning with you before he leaves you, very much to his displeasure.

☁️Throughout the day he constantly checks on you though, tightens the security around your room and insists for you to stay today in your room. This goes very much against your wishes and annoys you as you don't understand why he's acting like this. You've seen his insecure and more irrational phases before but this is something even worse and the most annoying thing is that he doesn't want to worry you and for that doesn't tell you anything. It's so frustrating. To your luck the guards keeping watch in front of your room are almost friends to you by now so you manage to negotiate with them that they will let you out of your room but will accompany you. It isn't ideal but you take what you're offered. You need some short change just to fully get rid of that gruesome nightmare of yours. What you tried to forget though comes back to haunt you when you see the same person staying in front of you, shaking when they notice the two guards. The guards pull out their guns when they notice the bag filled with coins, tell you to go back to your room.

☁️When you storm back to your room, you see Sigma who also rushes towards you. He's already beginning to scold you with a mixture of mild anger and paranoia until he hears you. All you do is stutter out that you have to stay in your room, that the person with the stolen coins from your dream is there, that you don't want to die before you leave him standing there and slam the door behind you shut. You weren't specific but Sigma understood everything you just told him. In the next moment he's calling for more guards, tells them to arrest the customer but to not kill them. Not yet. Honestly, he could have let it slide if it would have only been a dream of his but you had the same dream, you were the one sacrificing yourself for him and dying. They took you away from him, murdered you. Now he can't ignore this anymore. If they're so desperate for the coins, he'll give it to them. Only that Sigma will show them the special function for those coins too. You never hear of that person again, notice though how Sigma grows far more overbearing than he used to be.

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softly-potter · 3 months

Text

Cancer

Summary: Waking up in what he knows is a dream, Jaune spends the day with a family that could've been his had Beacon never fallen.

Inspired by 'Cancer' cover by Twenty-One Pilots

Pairing: Jaune x Pyrrha

Word Count: 4,327

Warning: none

Pancakes.

The first thing Jaune smells when he awakens is pancakes.

Sitting up, he runs his hand over his face, fingers spreading over the coarse hair of his beard. Or where his beard should have been. Pausing, Jaune flexes his hands over his face, surprised at the smooth skin and lack of facial hair.

Bolting from his bed, Jaune takes in the unfamiliar room. Sunlight streams in through an open window, spanning over a bed with crumpled sheets. A full-length mirror is nailed to a wall, a lived-in couch settled next to it with a fluffy area carpet on the floor in front of it. The wood floor is sticky with summer heat beneath his bare feet, and when he spies Crocea Mors, he grabs it by the hilt, awaiting any danger that must be coming for him in this bedroom that is not his.

And then he hears it.

Singing. A soft, exhale of breath from somewhere outside the bedroom door. Gripping Crocea Mors hilt, Jaune presses against the wall, holding the sword in front of his face as he calms his breathing. The sun glints off the metal of his weapon, and he glances at it momentarily before his mouth falls open in shock.

Crocea Mors was broken. Or it had been, the last time he held it. Now it was shiny and sharp and whole again, within his grasp.

Jaune feels his hands shake, exhaling for a moment as he tries to gather his bearings.

“I’m dreaming,” Jaune whispers, nodding to himself. “That's it, I'm dreaming.” he slowly lowers his weapon, gazes at his surroundings. Treading slowly, he pauses in front of the mirror, eyes going wide and Crocea Mors drops to his feet with a loud thud.

He’s young. Younger. His rugged face is replaced with a smooth expanse of skin, his eyes brighter, lips not so cracked. His hair is short, cropped, and when he touches his forehead his skin is slick with nervous sweat.

Jaune looks exactly like he did before he fell into the Ever After.

He huffs, letting out a short, humorous laugh. Whatever type of dream he was in, it was being extremely cruel.

“Jaune, are you awake?”

Somehow, the dream got crueler.

Jaune feels his heart beating irregularly as he slowly turns, eyes on the floor because he knows who he’ll see the moment he looks up. A pair of pale legs encased in fuzzy dark red socks greets him, and he swallows thickly, his hands trembling by his side.

“You’re awake! Good, I was about to come get you.”

Jaune can’t breath, can’t think, and he tries to exhale out through his nose, shutting his eyes in weak denial.

It’s quiet for a beat, and then he registers the sound of fabric sliding over the wood floor tentatively.

“Jaune? Are you okay?”

Keeping his eyes closed, Jaune shakes his head defiantly. He hasn't dreamed of her in so long. Some days he was able to completely block her out; so why now? And why like this?

He tries to swallow as the sound of fabric sliding echoes again, and he can almost feel how she's coming closer, and can hear her light intake of breath.

Vivid dreams of Pyrrha always left him in shambles.

A warm hand touches his bare chest and he flinches, takes a step back. “Don’t,” He hisses, still keeping his eyes closed. “Don’t.”

After several beats, he hears the fabric and feels two hands, warm and soft, on his neck, fingers pressed lightly. “It’s me. It’s just me.”

He reels back, the hands still on him and his back bumps the mirror. His eyes fly open, trying to steady himself, and when his gaze meets hers he thinks he could fall to his knees.

Pyrrha smiles at him in worry, her red brows pulled together as she scans his face. “Bad dream?” she whispers, her fingers gently rubbing his neck, moving to his shoulders before crawling up his neck and lightly cupping his face.

“I-” he tries, but words fail him as her thumb brushes over his lower jaw. In all the times he had dreamed of her before, he rarely got to touch her. Most times, they just spoke. He would apologize over and over again, and she would simply tell him she forgave him. He was never able to feel her warmth and alive against him, and he can think of a million things he could tell her but now his mind is quiet, just breathing her in.

Jaune contemplates informing Pyrrha that this is, in fact, a dream. But she smiles again, her green eyes light and easy, and he decides to play along.

“Yeah,” he says with a shaky exhale. “I just… I'm fine. Good morning. Sorry, afternoon? What time is it?”

Pyrrha laughs, the sound so sweet it makes him ache, and she shakes her head. “It’s nearly ten, but that's okay. I figured you could use the extra rest since you were up with the twins all night.”

Jaune nods quickly, scratches the back of his head. “Right… the twins.”

Pyrrha looks at him quizzically and before he can blink, presses a quick kiss to the tip of his nose. Dropping her hands from his neck, she turns. “Come! They’ve been waiting for you to wake up for breakfast.”

Jaune blinks, frozen in shock before he remembers himself and lifts from the wall, taking two steps forward and grabbing her hard around the waist. Pyrrha lets out a small sound of surprise that dissolves into a giggle, and he sags against her. Digging his face into her hair, Jaune breathes her in, registers the thumping of her heart with her chest and the feel of her hands on his wrists.

“Must've been some dream huh?” she chuckles, turns her head to try to look at him but he holds her still, because if she moves she’ll see the tears in his eyes.

“Sorry, I just, I missed you.” Jaune mumbles into her hair, squeezes his eyes closed. Pyrrha hums, twisting in his grip and wrapping her arms around his neck. He holds her close, nuzzles his nose into her neck and sighs.

“I’m right here, silly.”

Jaune nods, fingers expanding over her hip and shoulder as he hugged her. Pyrrha lets him, rubs his back quietly as if she understood a bit of his sadness.

“Moooom!” comes a high pitched voice. Jaune lifts his head, eyes going wide and Pyrrha sighs in exasperation. She grabs his hand, tugs him along with her and he lets her.

“They’re… impatient this morning.” She laughs, and drops his hand as they make their way down wooden stairs. He reaches forward, snatching her hand in his again and she smiles, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

Settled at a dark mahogany table sits two identical children, a girl with curly blonde hair and a boy with bright green eyes. It makes Jaune nearly double over in agony.

“Daddy, you're up!” the little girl shrieks. She drops from her seat, bare legs sprinting until she wraps her arms around Jaune’s leg. Pyrrha rolls her eyes in amusement, grabbing a stack of warm pancakes and placing them on the center of the table.

“Jen, let daddy wake up hmm? You kept him so busy last night!” Pyrrha says, and Jen, his daughter, releases his leg with a happy grin, raising her arms up. Jaune blinks, looks between his golden haired child and Pyrrha, before he spies the glinting ring on her left hand.

“We got married.” Jaune says softly. Jen seems confused, stretching higher on her tiptoes before she pulls at his sweatpants.

Pyrrha pauses, nods slowly. “I think daddy’s a little confused?” she says, her tone questioning. Jen pulls at his sweatpants again, harder this time. The little boy stands up on his chair, leaning across the table and gripping a pancake within his fingers. Pyrrha swoops forward, picking the child up by his hips and getting him back on his bottom. “Manners, Nike, just ask and mommy can grab it for you.”

“Daddy, up.” Jen says, her small fist clenching the fabric of his clothing. Slowly, Jaune bends and lifts her up, his forearm holding her to him. Jen grins happily, and he notices she’s missing a tooth.

She’s small and soft against him, her curly hair like a wild halo around her face, and she careens in his arms, aiming for the table.

“W-wow there,” Jaune says with a nervous chuckle. “Hold on, I'll get it for you.”

Sitting down at the table, Jaune places Jen on his knee to support her weight, and picks up a fork, pressing it into a pancake and onto an empty plate. Pyrrha sits beside him, leaning forward to cut Nike’s pancake into smaller, more edible bite sizes as the little boy huffs impatiently. Tearing off a piece with his fork, he holds it up to Jen’s face with uncertainty.

Jen lunges, bites the pancake clean off the forks end and chews happily. Jaune laughs, the feeling unfamiliar as it bubbles out of his mouth. Leaning into her palm, Pyrrha watches Nike fork his own piece, struggling momentarily before it makes it to his mouth and he gives his mother a triumphant look.

“I love you guys.” Jaune blurts. Nike and Jen look unphased, continuing their attention on the pancakes but Pyrrha tilts her face towards him, her expression a mixture of worry and wonder. Reaching for him, she puts a hand on his knee, pats gently. Jaune coughs, cuts another pancake piece.

“We love you too,” Pyrrha says softly, and she looks between Jen and Nike. “Don't we?” Jen claps happily, biting the pancake offered to her, and Nike doesn't seem to have registered the conversation at all.

As they continue to eat, Jen wiggles her way from Jaune’s lap, haphazardly strutting around the table with flecks of pancake sticking to her rosy cheeks. The food is fluffy and sweet on his tongue, and Jaune tentatively ruffles Nike’s hair as he chews. The boy grins, food in his teeth and both Pyrrha and Jaune let out bellies full of laughter.

Running the plates under cool water, Jaune helps Pyrrha clear the table as the twins run through their home, their tiny footsteps pounding. He racks the dishes but finds it nearly impossible to tear his eyes from Pyrrha, her red hair loose and swishing as she moves. Spying his eyes, she smirks.

“Jaune, did you hit your head or something?” she asks and from her tone, he knows she's joking. “You’ve been acting like you’ve never experienced this before.”

“Whaddya mean?” Jaune says, tries to shrug his shoulders casually.

Pyrrha puts the last dish away, leans against the lip of the sink. “I guess us. Or the kids. You’re looking at it all like… it’s a dream come true.”

Jaune swallows hard. “It is.” he whispers, wishing she could know how deeply he meant that. Placing the wet rag in the sink, he drapes his arm around her shoulder, drags her against him and she moves with ease, places her head against him lovingly.

“I’m the luckiest guy alive.” he says, brushing his nose against the corner of her head. Pyrrha hums in agreement, pats his chest.

“Moooom, Nike won’t share!” Jen cries, knocking herself against their legs. Jaune chuckles as Pyrrha leans down, lifting the girl into her arms.

“That so?” she says, looking into the living room where Nike sits, his round face the picture of mock innocence, and it makes Jaune laugh harder.

After discussing hostage negotiations over the stolen toy, Jaune spends the day in awe of his family. He watches the twins play, helps them draw with stubs of colors. He drinks in Pyrrha’s movements, observing her actions as the day progresses. She’s seamless in everything she does, and he can’t help but be impressed. By the time night time arrives and books have been read, Jaune volunteers to put them to bed himself, slipping into the role of doting dad easily.

“Goodnight Jen,” Jaune says softly, leaning to press a kiss to the girl's forehead. She’s already half way to sleep, her large eyes fluttering closed. Moving to the other bed, he brushes his hand over Nike’s curls. The boy smiles sleepily, turns onto his side, blonde hair stuck to his forehead.

Straightening, Jaune finds Pyrrha watching him from the doorway. She’d changed into loose pajama shorts, her arms covered in an oversized top that hung on an angle so that her left shoulder was exposed, her collarbone sloping and begging to be kissed. Jaune swallows hard.

Closing the door of the twins bedroom behind them, they’re casted into a dim light and can barely make out her features.

“They seemed to go down easily.” Pyrrha whispers into the darkness. Jaune nods, and he doesn’t know if Pyrrha can see his actions in the dark but he doesn't care because he’s already reaching for her, pulling her to him. She inhales softly, her hands on his chest before snaking up and around his neck. Their foreheads touch and Jaune wants to kiss her, his hands on her waist, fingers pressing hard.

But he’d only kissed her once. And it had been a long, long time ago.

“Jaune?” Pyrrha whispers, bringing him back to the present. He swallows as she pulls back, her features barely lit as she tilts her head. When he says nothing, she continues. “I’m not sure what's going on with you but I'm right here. You can talk to me.”

Jaune shakes his head, begins pushing her backwards, toward their room.

“I don’t wanna talk,” He whispers. Pyrrha makes a whimper sound from the back of her throat, and she's warm in his hands as they bumpily make their way into their room. Jaune kicks the door closed behind them, his heart hammering as Pyrrha’s hands make it into his hair, tugging gently.

Pulling, her mouth is centimeters away from his and he ducks, her lips landing on his cheek as he drops his head, his hands tugging at the waistband of her shorts. If she notices his movements were purposeful, she doesn't say, lets her head drop back as Jaune presses his mouth to her neck experimentally.

Pyrrha sighs as he kisses her skin, the back of her legs hitting the mattress and she falls forward. He moves from her grasp and drops to his knees in front of her, tugging at her shorts and she lifts her hips to help him.

Jaune swallows hard when he takes in her cream colored panties, the flat expanse of her stomach, her ribs slightly visible as she breathes quickly. Hesitating, his eyes flick from the fabric to her face, and she smiles reassuringly. With a breath, he traces a finger along the seam of the underwear, and her skin is like molten against him.

Sitting up, Pyrrha tugs off her oversized top and Jaune feels himself instantly harden at her completely naked chest.

Mesmerized, he tries to remember the little he knows about sex. He wasn’t entirely unknowing on the subject, Jessica has been more than helpful in the limited time they’d spent together. Jaune racks his brain on places to kiss, to touch and caress but he’s thoroughly overwhelmed at the sight of Pyrrha’s mostly naked body under his grasp.

As if sensing his discomfort, Pyrrha smiles again, her expression soft at the edges, and she shimmies forward, unabashed in her nakedness.

“Stand up,” she whispers. He obliges immediately, and she stands with him, skirting her fingers on the hem of his waist. Looking at him through her lashes, she tugs them down in one motion and his skin becomes alight. Jaune steps out of them, and she grabs his hands, their fingers laced as they both stand in their underwear. The moonlight cuts through the window shades, dashing over her skin and casting her in a blueish light as she cocks her head, trying to read him.

“I’m sorry, Pyrrha.” Jaune whispers, his throat suddenly tight. She shakes her head slowly, squeezes his hands.

“For what?” she replies, tries to smile when she realizes his eyes are wet. “Oh honey, what's wrong?”

“I feel like I'm fading,” he whispers, looking away from her intense gaze. “Like, I can't… live. I never was good at living on my own. And after you, I just…” he doesn’t finish, barely able to keep up the pretenses of the dream but Pyrrha doesn’t question. He wonders how much of this she understands, if she grasps what he’s saying.

Bending her knees, she lowers herself a bit to catch his eyes, reaching a hand to his face. “Is that why you won’t kiss me?”

Jaune shrugs pathetically, touches the hand that is on his face. “The hardest part of all this is leaving you. I can’t kiss you.”

Another smile pulls at her face and she straightens her stance. Her hand moves from his face to his chin, gripping it tightly and making Jaune look at her.

“Then let me kiss you.”

He begins to protest but is silenced as her lips press on top of his. His hand drops, hanging by his sides and his eyes flutter shut, reveling in the softness of her. When Pyrrha pulls back, her green eyes are shimmering with concern and question, and he reaches for her quickly, pulling her back to him and kissing her hard.

Pyrrha makes a noise of surprise, her mouth smooth and tasting of cinnamon. Her arms are around his neck and he picks her up, legs slipping around his waist. He adores the weight of her, the softness of her against him, and he settles himself on the edge of the bed, running his hands up her naked back.

Somewhere between kisses and fingers pressing into flesh, pulling off underwear, Jaune pushes Pyrrha to her stomach, her head turning so she can look at him over her shoulder. His fingers dip between her legs and he groans, her heat sucking in his digit like a vice. She hums, pushing her lower half against his hand and the slope of her back arches. Jaune bites the corner of his mouth as he pumps himself once, twice before he aligns with her, and as he sinks in, his forehead drops against the back of her shoulder.

She makes a soft, hushed sound, half her face pressed into the pillow and Jaune pauses, allowing himself a bereavement before he moves. As he begins a slow pace, his chest heaves with heavy want, hand skirting over Pyrrha’s neck, her shoulders, her back. His hand grips the plush of her backside, squeezing.

Dipping his head, he licks a stripe up her neck and watches her fingers curl into the comforter. Pyrrha lets out a moan, her mouth falling open and it sends fiery energy straight to his core, making him pause so he didn’t finish what they had just started.

Jaune hadn’t wanted to kiss her, but now the thought of doing anything else seems insane.

Sitting back on his haunches, Jaune pulls out slowly, sighing as he does so, and Pyrrha gives him a confused look over her shoulder. He grins, gripping her hips and in a fell swoop, flips her to her back. She lets out a gasp, a giggle following suit as he crawls up her naked frame, kissing any expanse of skin that he can.

“Sorry,” he mutters, his tongue dragging against hers as he slips his length up her slit in a slow, teasing manner. “Just wanted to be able to look at ya.” She nods, cups his face and sighs against his mouth as he slides himself inside her.

Jaune feels her ankles lock loosely behind his back as he moves, keeping himself slightly elevated above her. With her hair loose and fanned beneath her head, green eyes dizzy with stimulation and lips wet, Pyrrha looks like something of a fairy tale beneath him.

She groans, her eyes squeezing shut and her mouth agape in a small ‘o’, her breasts bouncing lazily with each thrust.

Dropping his head he kisses her again, trying to ignore the tight ball lodged within his throat. Pyrrha nips his lower lips, her hips canting upwards to meet him and when she comes, her cunt squeezes him so hard he nearly combusts.

Continuing his pace, Jaune helps her ride out the wave, watching in quiet amazement. Chest heaving, Pyrrha smiles, her eyes crinkling at the corner.

“F-fuck.” she says shakily and Jaune grins, his own pleasure growing but he doesn't want it to end. He wishes he could be buried in her forever.

Bringing his hand up, he cups the bottom of her jaw, thumb pressed to her chin, and kisses her lightly, licks into her mouth, swearing to commit the taste of her to memory.

“Jaune…” Pyrrha says softly, and when she brushes her thumb beneath his eye he realizes the tears that have formed on his face. He keeps moving, ignores the sorrow that threatens to split him in half, and she leans up, kissing him hard.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Pyrrha whispers, swallowing his lust and despair. “I love you. I’ll always love you.”

Jaune lets out a choked groan, his eyes tight as he empties himself within her. He breathes heavily, crowding her space, pressing himself into her and she lets him, running her hands through his hair absentmindedly.

They lay quietly for a moment, and eventually Jaune sits up slowly, muttering as he pulls out. Pyrrha lets out a soft exhale, rubs her forehead with her finger tips. Laying on his back, Jaune stares up at the ceiling, waiting for his heart to slow and wipes away the remnants of his tears.

He stands, grabbing their clothes and after redressing, pulls Pyrrha’s top over her head, pushes her shorts up her legs. She watches him curiously, her neck turned slightly, and when he crawls back into bed, she puts her head against his chest, her arm over his waist.

“We should get some sleep.” she whispers quietly, and Jaune shakes his head in hesitant refusal.

“I-I can’t sleep,” he replies, his hand tracing up and down her arm and he swallows. “It’ll be over if I do, won’t it.”

To his surprise and chagrin, Pyrrha nods. “Yes.”

“I don't want it to be over,” he whispers, hating how his voice shakes. “I want to stay here with you, with them. I want this life. I want-”

“Life seldom cares what we want,” Pyrrha interrupts softly. She sits up, leaning on her elbow and looks at him. “You can’t stay in your dreams forever, sweetheart.”

Jaune blinks, his vision swimming. “Why not?”

Pyrrha smiles at him sadly, turning her head to look out the window. The moonlight drips over them like silver slices of silk, casting shadows along their limbs.

“Ruby will be here soon,” Pyrrha says, her gaze away from him. Jaune freezes, his hand stiff on her arm. He hadn’t heard that name in a long time. “You won’t be alone for much longer. But you have to stay strong,” Pyrrha says, now turning to look at him. “For me, okay?”

Jaune shakes his head in miserable defiance. “I can’t do this without you.”

“Yes you can,” Pyrrha says, her voice thick with determination. “And you will. Because I believe in you.” Settling into his side, she lays her head on his chest once more. “I always have.”

Jaune bites his cheek hard enough to taste copper.

As Pyrrha slips into sleep, Jaune fights it with tooth and nail. He strains his eyes, blinking sleep away, and takes in their bedroom, tries to commit the details to memory. He listens to Pyrrha sleep, the slow inhale and exhale of breath, the warmth of her skin against his, the feel of her hair draping over his shoulder. Tipping his chin he kisses her forehead, rubs his hand up her arm, and when sleep does finally claim him, he swears he inhales her cinnamon scent once more.

For once, he’s early.

Jaune is never late, his perfectly manicured schedule runs smoothly like always, but he never awakens early.

Jolting up in bed, he gasps, his heart hammering hard, threatening to explode from his chest. With shaky hands he presses his palm to his sternum, rubs a few times before he rakes a hand down his face. When he feels the coarse hair of his beard, he nearly chokes.

He is back, and he is alone.

Slowly, he stands from his bed, takes in his room, and exhales. As he shuffles to the window, he looks out at the lilac sky of the Ever After, and rubs sleep from his eyes. It’s when he pulls his hand from his face that he spots it. A star, a shining sparkle, growing larger by the second, zooming across the early morning sky. He wonders if it could be a shooting star, quickly dismissing the idea when he remembers it’s morning.

“Ruby will be here soon.”

Jaune’s eyes grow wide and he yanks the window pane open, stretching out to watch the sparkle as it zips across the sky in low descent. He cranes his neck to watch until it’s out of view, and he slams the window shut, clumsily dressing in record speed.

“Pyrrha was right,” he whispers to himself as he tugs on his boots. “She must’ve been right.”

As he runs from his shack, he absently wonders if the Paper Pleaser’s would notice his absence. He slips his rusted helmet over his head, inhaling through his nose and looking up at the sky. The purple hues have shifted to a creamy orange, with red splashing through the edges. As he moves, he watches the colors of his wife's hair shift to the colors of his childrens, and as the colors dissipate to a blue sky, he smiles.

#ao3 crosspost #ruby rose rwby #rwby jaune #jaune arc #jaune x pyrrha #ever after

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toasterhasabucket · 2 months

Text

Topic: MALEVOLENT PODCAST (PART 20)

TW : this whole thing is about !death and suicide! and very very much just me complaining and crying about the POEM TO HIS PARENTS

Starting off strong, Arthur's parents killed themselves when he was young. He wrote a poem about it, about his parents, about his grief and wanting it back, wanting comfort and boy, oh boy! I am SOBBING. I couldn't find a written copy of his poem so I just kept replaying it and writing it down in my notes app

This is the poem ( if I misspelled anything, don't tell me, just ignore it please)

"I don't recall how we met

as I was far too young

I knew you not as you are now

because to me you were the sun

and always present warmth and glow

a light that's always there

to wipe the teas from out my eyes

to brush my matted hair

and I would lie if not to say our relationship was pure.

I am young

a cause of grief of this I am quite sure

despite all this id be remiss to say there was no love

a calmness and a careful word

a nudge not a shove

there were nights I recall

I needed you the most

I'd crawl from bed and walk to you

and you would hold me close

between the love of both of you

to ail my sleeping strife

I never felt so safe

yet so cold

in all my life.

I too recall a time I was trying to impress

a goofy boy named Arthur dressed in his mother's best

was only dad who laughed with me

as mother you withdrew but

when he joined in dressing up

you cried in laughter too

and there was the time we all did find ourselves stuck in the rain

mother had her gown near soaked

and dad was much the same

and though we were miserable

mother found us a spot of dry

which we all ate a pretend meal

jelly and sea pie.

and now you're gone

and I can't explain the loss that lingers here

the size of a young boys parents

he wishes could be near

and there are nights

where he needs you

and he still crawls out of bed

and walks toward your bedroom door

before recalling you're dead.

and I want someone to tell that boy

to swallow all the hate

that nothing he could have said

would have changed his parents fate

and I want that someone to be you

as I write this

but alas

this pain will linger with me still

I pray this too shall pass."

Oh my God. That's emotional and so important to him I wonder if the people in the YouTube comments had anything to say about it?

NO THEY DIDN'T

One person said "glad we got to learn more about johns backstory" WHAT ABOUT HIS SOUL CRUSHING POEM

Sorry forgot some of your parents didn't kill themselves, my mistake, so so so sorry that you're crooked and evil and didn't sob your eyes out when he recited his poem. (I am completely normal and chill)

Another person said something like "Arthur, the boy who lived" and yk this could mean many things, maybe because he's survived many life threatening situations and actually escaped death, maybe it's because of the ending of the episode. OR it's because his parents are dead and if that's why

I am going to roll myself into a hole and throw UP.

There's nothing terribly wrong with the joke I'm just dramatic and a crybaby

I need to stop complaining so NOW I'm going to take in this poem like it should have been.

Let's point out my "highlights"

"because to me you were the sun" when you're young and have good parents you like them most the time, he was young when they died, he looked up to them still and saw them in such a bright and amazing way

"and now you're gone and I can't explain the loss that lingers here the size of a young boys parents he wishes could be near and there are nights where he needs you and he still crawls out of bed and walks toward your bedroom door before recalling you're dead"

This whole part has me in FUCKING SHAMBLES, IM SHAKING AND SOBBING, IM GOING TO BE THINKING ABOUT THIS ON MY DEATH BED.

"and I want someone to tell that boy to swallow all the hate. that nothing he could have said would have changed his parents fate"

God Arthur you just like to kick me right in the stomach don't you, this almost brought me to my knees I'm not even going, I almost went onto the floor. Put this into perspective, you're a kid who is around your parents ALL the time then one day they kill themselves, even as a kid survivors guilt is a thing, most the time survivors guilt is seen in like horror movies and shit but dude, when I found out my mom committed I thought smth like I wish I could have done something, it should have been me, even though I was ten I felt accountable for what happened because it feels like all the love you gave was never enough because in the end they left by choice. That will LINGER that will STAIN and it is forever, not matter how faint it seems at times it'll never really go away. So I know like first hand, a child who's parents killed themselves or even just have dead parents, all have thought at one time "why not me."

"nothing he could have said would have changed his parents fate"

I'll never get over this line, EVER.

Not only do I relate I FEEL this, this whole poem was like a slap in the face, hit after hit, I felt seen but in a way I didn't want to be. I felt like I was exposed and I don't think I've ever read anything that's made me feel so read to.

See this is the part where I explain that I am not complaining about people not caring about his poem and this very important part to him, it's more of me really complaining that I care and relate to much so it's overwhelming

I am not here to be like "you don't care about this like I do? Die" and if I sound like that I was joking or having a moment because I'm going off the rails with a crazy train (I love that song)

And obviously of course it's sad and everything but not everyone can relate and think about it from the way I do and I get that

Not everyone has experienced something like this and I'm glad!

But I guess since I related I was just so shocked and a little confused on why I didn't see anyone talk about it

Sure the poem isn't metaphorically fancy and is more blunt then most but it's gets the point across and I like that. I like that a lot

Anyways I'm going to draw Arthur angst, love you guys bye!

#arthur malevolent #john malevolent #malevolent podcast #malevolent #malevolent angst #tw: suidice #tw: sui mention

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maemaymayo · 6 months

Text

So this is something I dreamt about before Nanamis’ last episode (I’m still in shambles). So I’m just building off of this dream I had. This is also my first time posting a small fic! So any helpful advice would be appreciated :)

Contents: Nanamixfem!reader

——

“NANAMI!” You scream at the top of your lungs, your voice echoing off the underground subway walls. Your voice is hoarse from screaming his name for who knows how long. Sweat is lining your forehead; face red from all the running around you’ve been doing. You stop to bend over placing your hands on your knees trying to catch a breath.

You can’t stop now, you have to keep going! Knowing whats going to happen to him, to your friend’s, the kid’s.

You’re strong and you can stop the patch-faced cursed spirit or even volcano head.

Only if you make it in time. That small voice in your head says.

You’ve known what was going to happen. Yet you did nothing. Told no one. The voice whispers in your head, tearing you down mentally.

Shut up! SHUT UP! This is ridiculous, you can’t keep standing here listening to the voice in your head. Picking your head up you start running again.

“NANAMI! NANAMI!” Yelling again hoping for a real person and not a cursed spirit or transfigured human.

You turn corners, run up and down stairs and still nothing.

Oh god… what if I’m too late? No! You shake your head. I can’t think about that right now, I have to find him and we can beat that volcano cursed spirit together.

We won’t be caught by surprise.

As you’re running a left turn is coming up and some small steps. You jump them and slide on the floor almost slipping, catching yourself with your hands (clumsy bitch) you thought to yourself.

When you look up from the ground you see a person standing a few feet away. Reacting you go to your fighting stance, ready incase it’s a curse user.

Then your vision adjusts.

Standing there down the hall is the man you’ve been looking for.

“Kento…” your voice is low and raspy.

“KENTO!” You run towards the man you love.

His face is surprised at first, but then relaxes knowing you’re okay. He knows how strong you are and that you could win against any opponent you face. Yet that doesn’t stop him from worrying about you.

You run to him. Eyes blurry from the tears in them. You run into him with an oomph. Your arms wrap around his torso and hold onto him with all your strength. Your face buried in his chest, tears wetting his blue button down.

“What happened? Are you okay y/n?” Nanami asks placing his right hand on your cheek so tenderly, his tie wrapped around his hand brushes your shoulder.

You pick your head up looking into his brown eyes.

He examines your face, you look fine. Maybe a little worn out from the fighting and running you’ve been doing, but why were you so concerned about finding him? Why were you crying?

“Kento, thank goodness I found you. This place is crawling with transfigured humans and curses. I couldn’t find any students. Where exactly have you been? Did you see anyone?” You ask in one breath it feels like.

“Well first take a breather, you wouldn’t be any help here if you passed out now. Secondly I just came from helping out Kugisaki and Akari, they were attacked by a curse user. The same one that killed the rest of the managers, and assistants on the street.” He sighs

So much death has happened already and so much more is to come. We can stop this, we have too. Too many innocent lives have and will be lost if I don’t try.

“Let’s keep searching and maybe we’ll meet up with some allies.” You say knowing what’s going to happen, who you’ll meet.

You look at his pink lips and tiptoe up to give him a kiss. You wrap your arms around his neck. You can still smell his expensive cologne mixed with sweat, and dear god is it intoxicating.

Nanami is caught off guard by your boldness, but he moves his right arm to your waist deepening the kiss. You both are usually formal around each other and keep the affection private, but you seem very worried about him. A little kissing in an empty subway corridor wouldn’t kill the man. Plus he loves kissing your soft pouty lips.

He teases you with his tongue and you moan softly into his mouth.

He pulls away from your kiss with a small pop. You notice his ears are tinted pink and you definitely know your face is flushed.

“As much as I would like to continue this we have a job to do my love.” Nanami says with a small smile on his face.

You chuckle softly.

“Yes of course we do.” God you love those small smiles he gives you. It won’t be the last time you see it, I swear. You silently vow to yourself.

“Let’s go.” You both continue down the hallway, side by side.

—

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk nanami #jjk x you #nanami kento #nanami x reader #my fic #please be nice #please be kind #dream #i love nanami kento #maybe too much

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avvail-whumps · 6 months

Note

hey, I know you just ended the series, but could you show us a little of Leo's Father reaction to Leo running away with Roy?

btw, anon shouldn't have jumped into conclusions like that, you left pretty clear in the cw about the stockholm syndrome theme in the series, and I believe most people understood that the ending is not a good one. Anyway, loved the series! can't wait for more of your ideas

When Sebastian woke up in the morning, there was a nagging feeling in his gut that told him something was very wrong.

He was never usually up this early, for one, but he found himself crawling out of bed and heading straight for his son’s room. It had been a while since anyone else had been living in the house aside from him, so maybe it was that familiar quietness that had worried him.

His knuckles rapped against the door. “Leo?”

There was silence. Sebastian shifted, and he found himself swallowing thickly. He knocked again, louder this time.

“Son, is it okay if I come in?”

Only three seconds passed before he was pushing the door open, and his panicked eyes were met with an empty bed. He immediately dissolved into hysterics. He ran his hands desperately through his hair and darted for his room, grabbing his phone.

He was shaking, he realised, because all of Leo’s stuff was gone and his son was missing again.

“No, no, no,” he muttered under his breath, pacing his room as his trembling fingers attempted to unlock his phone. “Please, God, not again.”

Sebastian paced the whole house, shouting Leo’s name, but he was only met with cold silence. Because his son had been missing for a year - a year of not knowing if he was alive or dead. A year of wallowing in grief and regret and sickening remorse.

Sharpe picked up the phone within four rings. “Sebastian, everything—”

“He’s gone,” Sebastian sobbed, hardly able to breathe. His son was missing again, his son who he’d just got back. “He’s gone.”

There was a curt pause. “Okay, Sebastian. Calm down; are you talking about Leo?”

The violinist hunched against the doorframe, wiping his forearm against his sleeve with a choked gasp. He just barely heard Sharpe’s voice from the phone.

“Listen. You’re going to have to take a deep breath. You’re going to have a panic attack.”

Sebastian stumbled back into Leo’s room, his mind in shambles. The empty bed just made his heart tear into pieces, and his breath clogged in his lungs again.

“He’s not here,” Sebastian wheezed, scrambling to steady himself against the wall. He was going lightheaded. “Please, I can’t do this again. I can’t do this...”

“Stay calm,” Sharpe snapped. “Have you tried calling him?”

His head cleared for just a moment. Call - that was a good idea. He hung up the call instantly, and his shaking fingers somehow managed to find Leo’s new contact, dialling it. The rings pierced through his head, making him dizzy. But after a few seconds, he picked up.

His son’s voice echoed down the phone.

“Dad?”

Dad. Thank the Gods, he was okay. He’d picked up his phone.

“Son,” Sebastian choked, gripping the phone until his knuckles went white. “Oh my god. Are you okay?”

There was a confused pause. “Yeah, I’m fine. You sound...are you alright?”

Sebastian ran a hand through his disheveled hair, trying to calm his rapid breathing, desperately trying to get the air back into his lungs. His shuddering silence had seemed to prompt his son to speak once again.

“Dad...?”

“Yes, son,” he choked, gripping his tight chest. “Where are you? I thought something had happened. I thought I lost you again.”

Leo softly sucked in a breath. “Did you not read my note?”

“Note?” Sebastian wheezed.

“Yeah. I left a—” He cut himself off, suddenly sounding gripped by guilt. “God, I’m so sorry. I know I should have told you.”

The sound of his son’s voice, the one he’d tormented himself over with voicemails and videos on his phone, was speaking to him. It was soothing that initial gut wrenching panic that had hit him. He sat on the edge of his bed, holding the phone close.

“I’m staying with Roy for a while,” Leo explained gently, and Sebastian swallowed.

“Roy?” He repeated. “Is that the man who helped you?”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Was there something wrong here?” He desperately asked, tears stinging his eyes. “Did I do something wrong again?”

“What? Dad, no.” Leo’s voice sounded just as strained, melting with hurt. “Please don’t think like that. I’m an adult, you know. I’m allowed to live where I want, right?”

Sebastian stared absentmindly at the bed. “I thought you were missing. I-I thought...what if those men who hurt you had come back? I was scared, son. I can’t lose you. I don’t want it to go back to how it was.”

There was a defeaning silence, before Leo’s voice went small. “Have you been drinking?”

“What?” Sebastian choked. “Son, I’ve just...of course I haven’t.”

His son didn’t respond, so he softly wiped his nose, blinking away the blurriness in his vision. He tried to compose himself, clearing the thickness out of his voice before he spoke again.

“Will you call?”

Leo breathed out. “Everyday.”

He nodded. “Good. Good.”

“You’ll call too?”

“Of course I will,” he whispered.

“I’ll visit,” Leo promised, and Sebastian knew he was telling the truth. “Roy will drive me. We can have dinner together. We can play together. You can teach me something new, okay? I’d really like that.”

Sebastian enthusiastically nodded his head. His son couldn’t see how much he was crying, but he didn’t want him to. His heart ached at how much time had been lost between them. Even though Sebastian wanted his son to stay longer, there was nothing he could do.

“Of course,” he breathed. “Something difficult. Something I know you’ll love.”

Leo choked up. “I love you so much, dad.”

Sebastian smiled to himself. “I love you too, son.”

#ask #guns for hire special #guns for hire request #guns for hire #whump #whump writing #whump series #whump fic #whump drabble #whumpblr #whumpee #mentioned whumper #leo and roy #writing #my writing #avvail whumps #“is that the man who helped you”#sir your son is getting dicked down by the guy who kidnapped him

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sensei-venus · 4 months

Note

You know that cactus toy that I think got viral on tiktok? And how people like to put it in front of their babies and see their reactions? It's supposed to be cute or whatever but some babies actually do not like it at all and some parents think it's cute 😒

That idea but with Jacob and Reader and their baby daughter. But their daughter doesn't think it's funny. She under up crying over it. And instead of thinking it's cute Jacob gets mad and puts it away while Reader is nearly in tears because their daughter is crying.

When she busts out screaming and crying everyone is in shock.

Jacob had been the one to buy the toy off Amazon after seeing videos of it on tik tok. His daughter loved sounds and music so he thought she would love it. She of course is bouncing bubbly baby who had just started to crawl on her own.

When it finally comes in he opens it up and sticks some batteries in it. He gets Reader to go get the little girl after she is done with an afternoon nap. Bringing her into the living they let her down on the floor. With a little help, she sits up on her own and keeps looking around. Playing with her little hands and trying to roll back onto the floor so she can crawl away. To excited about exploring the living room to care about what her mama and daddy were doing.

Reader sits down behind her to help keep her in place, holding her tiny body up. Jacob kneels down in front of her and puts the toy on the floor in front of her.

At first she doesn't seem to take much interest in it. She's more excited to be with her mama and have her daddy’s attention. But then Jacob starts messing with the toy trying gi get her attention. She blinks at it before reaching out and grabbing at it. Gargling while reaching for it causes the toy cactus to be set off. With a high-pitched whirl, the cactus goes off and copies her sound.

It's like a chain reaction.

The toy goes off, the baby girl screams and starts crying, Reader is borderline crying and Jacob is shaking the thing to get the batteries to fall out.

The little girl is in absolute shambles.

It ends up in the trash real quick after that and Jacob apologizes to both Reader and his baby girl.

#cobra kai #cobra kai blog #cobra kai ask blog #celebs #hot celebs #celebrities #jacob bertrand x chubby reader #jacob bertrand x reader #jacob bertrand #chubby reader

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queerfics · 2 months

Text

too sweet (slightly nsfw drabble) - yara greyjoy x f! reader

Summary: a lyric-inspired drabble about being Yara's crewmate and lover <3

Word Counting: 952

Warnings: slight nsfw

You know you're bright as the morning,

On mornings like this one, Yara loves being on land.

If you had been on a boat and not in her chambers, Yara would've woken hours before this, planning and preparing and delegating for the day to come. She would've missed the warmth of the sunshine wrapping your embraced bodies even closer, and she wouldn't have been able to crawl back into your arms.

Although the sea is her home, she is always happy to retire within your presence, relieving herself of her duties for just a morning or so.

As soft as the rain,

You're Ironborn, just as Yara is, yet she wishes you weren't.

Your recklessness kills her inside just as much as it turns her on. The way you dive head first into danger leaves her heart and her core throbbing, face growing hot for mixed reasons.

You've always been competent in battle, and you've taken down just as many (if not more) men than her. You've always followed closely behind her, watching her back and being the difference between her seeing the sun or not many more times than she could count.

Yara tries not to let herself get too comfortable with your capability, as every time she does, you return to her in shambles, coughing up your own blood with the remains of another person on your hands and sword. Every time, she shakes you, screams at you, curses you and herself, and she's reminded of the anchor she's dropped in you and how vulnerable it makes her.

Despite this, despite the way she slaps you and yells and acts as if she herself is dying, you always laugh up at her through pained winces. You let her carry you back to safety, let her stitch you up yourself and frighten away anyone with actual training, let her soothe her storm through you.

Pretty as a vine,

You stomp around the Black Wind like you were born to take on the water. You look just as roughed up, just as dirty and just as unkempt as any other crewmate on board, but Yara can't help but find the way you wear it particularly easy on the eye.

To any man, the dirty beneath your fingernails is disgusting, but Yara saw the way you lifted barrels over your shoulder like they were nothing. Your hair is unwashed now, but Yara knows what you look like when it's just the two of you naked in a sparkling lake. Your hands are rough, but Yara has seen you scale entire masts without any support, and gods does that stir something within her.

As sweet as a grape.

Yara's never been a huge fan of wine. She'd much rather prefer a bitter or hearty drink, but your dripping cunt is an exception.

It's a delicacy she'd greedily swallow, taking every drop you'd give her until your thighs are shaking around her head and you're clawing at her back and begging for relief.

If you can sit in a barrel, maybe I'll wait until that day.

And gods below, if you could just wait long enough for her to claim that throne, long enough for her to make things right and make things possible, Yara would marry you in a heartbeat, forsake every other lover in the entire world for you if you would take her as your own.

Not as any salt wife, either, but as a rock wife, binding herself to you for the rest of her days.

She'd hammer some iron into a ring for you herself and wear a matching one around her neck. She'd carve your name into the hilt of her sword, carry a lock of your hair inside her armor, have you braid her hair before a reaving only for her to return with the updo still in place.

If you could wait, she would carry you with her until the rest of her days.

I take my whiskey neat,

You've never complained to her about the way she eyes other women when she's drunk. It's never been in your nature to say anything, but she can always feel your cold stare. If it weren't for the booze, it would eat her alive, the way she can feel your territorial nature radiating from across entire buildings and ships, so she drowns herself in liquor and cider until she's free from the burden of attachment, until she's too fucked out of it to remember her own name. All the while, you never say a word.

You sip your ale, watching her from across the room with narrowed eyes, letting her flirt and fondle and fuck to her heart's desire. And at the end of the night, when Yara's had her fill, when she's washed out the suffocation of having feelings, you guide her back to her quarter's and wait for sobriety to revive her of empathy.

My coffee black and my bed at three,

It's almost routine at this point, the way you slide next to her on the deck and hand her a cup of something invigorating. Your watches are always immediately after hers, yet you have always sat with her throughout her entire shift, and you never complain when she retires early before a long day.

Yara always accepts the cup gratefully, sipping on it and sighing. She would pinch the bridge of her nose and you would wrap your arm around her, letting her head fall to your shoulder. At this time of night, all of the men are asleep, and in between your exhausted banter, the waves and gentle rocking of the boat lure you two into your peaceful rhythm.

You're too sweet for me.

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noose-lion · 8 months

Text

Wip Wednesday Swapped Skk Au

The four of them spend the rest of the night at the Agency, Atsushi falls asleep on one of the ‘lobby’ couches, but the rest of them stay awake trying to pinpoint a search radius for their tiger hunt. Chuuya's downing energy drinks fast enough to send a thirteen-year-old into cardiac arrest (attempting and failing to think of anything but his new discovery), Yosano’s noticed his consumption rate and she has been giving him looks. Kunikida keeps nodding off, but they leave him alone. He isn't guzzling coffee and energy drinks like the two of them, caffeine only ever makes his anxious compulsions worse. Chuuya really thinks the poor man would benefit from a pot brownie or two. When the blonde eventually falls asleep they leave him be, he jerks awake a restless hour later. The slow work night continues. Chuuya lifts his anti-blue light reading glasses and drags a hand down his face, the leather of his glove pulling on his skin in a near soothing way. God, this has been a long ass work 'day'. He goes back to his computer. Once more going through the traffic camera feeds in the area the tiger was last spotted. Clicking through the different videos he gets an idea, his earlier possible realization unable to slip from his mind. He looks up at Yosano. She's distracted, tapping away at her laptop keys. He shoots a glance at Kunikida, still barely awake. Chuuya chews at the corner of his mouth in thought, fingers drumming rhythmically against the top of his desk. Ugh. Fuck it. He pulls his overly secure burner phone from a hidden pocket in his vest, powering it on and putting in the seventeen digit pass code. The little machine starts vibrating in his hand, notifications coming in so quickly that the phone buzzes without stopping for a good thirty seconds. Shit. Dreading the shit show he's about to find in his inbox, he clicks into his messages. Every informant with this number has spammed him with images. Goddamnit. He's pretty much already guessed what he's gonna see when he clicks on the first contact. A snapshot of familiar brown hair and single visible glittering maroon eye pulls something in his chest. He's back. His outward appearance remains calm, but internally he's punching walls. He's alive. He starts flipping through all the slightly blurry pictures of a figure dressed in black. Just to make sure. There's no clear photos, all obviously taken from security cameras and the like, but it is him. Every picture is time stamped within the same two hour period, and that fact alone lets Chuuya know that the subject purposefully is letting the photos be taken (or else there wouldn't be any). That and the way the bastard poses in every single one. Chuuya snorts, lip curling up on one side. God he's so fucking dumb. "What's so funny?" The detective looks up at Yosano calmly, nothing but simple curiosity on his face. "Ah nothing, just remembered something stupid Kunikida did last week after our bar crawl." Yosano looks mildly unconvinced, but Chuuya isn't worried. His burner is hidden behind the laptop and desk, and he can tell that the woman is already losing interest. The doctor squints, then shrugs, getting up to tiredly shamble her way to the coffee pot. Chuuya shakes his head with a chuckle, saving a few of the photos to a secure file and deleting the rest. He powers off the cell, and slips it back in his vest. He groans as he leans over the back of his chair and stretches till he hears a crack. He lets his neck hang behind him, staring out the window upside down.

#swapped skk au #ada chuuya #port mafia executive dazai #bsd #my stuff #screaming into the void #and the void screams back #bungou stray dogs #bungou gay dogs #soukoku #bsd dazai #dazai osamu #bsd chuuya #chuuya nakahara #chuuya x dazai #bsd fic #bsd au #bsd writer #jester's scripture

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anonomi · 5 months

Note

sv_cheats 1

buddha

noclip

*goes into enemy spawn*

It is another beautiful round of pl_badwater and you are one unforunate Sniper.

You are standing among the shoulders of your teammates who bounce on their heels and chatter on and on about things you don't really care about. What's the point in asking about the weather? It never changes.

But you are bound by your duty, or by some otherworldly force that despises you as much as you despise it, to stand here in this spot right next to your Medic, who just won't stop jumping. Before you can turn and tell him that the squeaking of his boots and subsequent rattling of his backpack is more irritating than getting blown up, you see a dash of red in the corner of your eye. Something worth noting, considering you are firmly on BLU.

When you look, you almost wish you hadn't: sliding out of the walls like a mosquito materializing in your sight is, evidently, the RED Spy. He breaks space-time continum, crawling past the physical walls of spawn without so much as a grunt of exterion, all to plop himself down in the middle of your spawn. Only he doesn't drop.

He only hovers. Standing in the air. You eye him as does the rest of your team. You think he might be eyeing you back, but who knows what the hell goes on behind those vacant eyes of his. Not you, that's for sure.

The Voice in the ceiling sounds off and the gates open. You brace yourself.

Instantaneously the room erupts with a mixture of gunfire, explosions, and a lot of angry shouts. The RED Spy is nothing more than a cloud of hot ash and dark smoke. That is, until he surges to life.

You do the sensible thing and get the hell out of the way as he starts stabbing everybody. You run to the wall, as he is very occupied with shredding Heavy and Medic apart. This far, you can comfortably watch as your team dies over and over again at the hands of this, whatever this is.

"He always does this," Spy, who's drifted to your side, mutters. He looks at the proceedings with detached disdain. "But not without reason. What did you do?"

You roll your eyes at Spy, leaning over to dodge a stray arm from hitting you. Looks like Engineer's if the glove is anything to go by.

"What do you mean, what did I do? I was just standing here," you defend yourself. He thinks that just because you can instantly kill the RED Spy it's always your fault whenever he decides to mess with your team. As if he can't do the same. Damn spies.

"Really? Because I can remember three, no, five distinct times last round where I watched him get his head blown off. In a row."

You wince. Okay maybe he has a point there, but "It's my job."

Spy kicks at Engineer's arm. "We're supposed to be on Normal mode, not Expert. Hold yourself back or he's going to turn all of us into medics again or worse."

Spy shudders as he relives the day that the team has agreed to pretend never happened. "Take us to that blasted Smissmas map."

You don't think that map is so bad, lots of good sightlines, but the RED Spy's presence steals your attention before you can retort. You turn and there he is in all his blood-soaked, shambling glory. You can barely tell where the red of his suit ends and where the blood begins. Not that it matters to distinguish, since he's stalking towards you, vacant eyes watching you with predatory focus.

Spy swears. "See you around." And there he goes, running away under his cloak. The bastard. You are barely given enough time to curse him out before the RED Spy is on you.

After a few minutes or an hour, the time is lost in-between dying over and over, you finally wake up and stay alive longer than a few seconds. You blink and look around the spawn room. There is a lot of blood, but no spy.

"Is it over?" you ask. You falter. To your horror, instead of your rough and gravelly voice to greet your ears, it's a hideous velvety tone with an accent you can't shake. You look down and the floor is too close, but more importantly, you are wearing gloves. Calfskin gloves.

You are a spy. You look around to see the rest of your team has similarly metamorphized into spies. You can barely tell them apart, a horrid mix of fancy clothes and masks.

You fall to your elegant knees, holding your head in your hands. Of all the nine classes why, why? You look up at the ceiling but it isn't the Voice who answers you: before your eyes He descends from the ceiling once again, but this time he isn't a spy.

You look into the RED Pyro's vacant eyes as he readies his flamethrower. Not for the first time you wonder what you did to deserve this. Like always, there is no answer, only sizzling fire and white hot pain.

(later, when you are firmly back in your body and the seemingly endless cycle of the war rotates once more, you ignore Spy's advice and target his counterpart over and over. it's only fair.)

#the moral of the story is to never play sniper #tf2 #tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #tf2 fanfiction #tf2 meta #tf2 offline practice #tf2 training mode #offline au #this is very cracky ngl hahah i am just in a happy mood #sorry if you wanted it to be more 'horrifying'! i think i might write an alternate version that is more serious.. sometime #i've just been doing it for so long sometimes i need to take it lighthearted hahah #training mode au #ty for the ask!#nomi writes #nomi answers #anon

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wammypilled · 6 months

Note

Dark everything. GIVE ME ALL OF IT!! >:)))

Ask and you shall receive (eventually, sorry for the belated reply)

Some fd up mello hcs below...

As a result of his grandfather's violent attempts at subduing his unruly nature, little Mello was extremely defiant towards authority and quick to turn to verbal and physical aggression. As he gets older, his moods remain just as volatile but he learns to (mostly) manage his anger, a feat often accomplished by sublimating it into delightfully vicious fantasies.

Has always been utterly fascinated by torture, loving nothing more than to learn all about its history, different types and techniques. He never really planned to use that knowledge on anyone (although it's probably come in handy at some point in his mafia era, let's be real), the only times he's enjoyed tormenting someone (outside of a bdsm session) have been when he's subjected Matt to horror literature exposure therapy back in Wammy's.

Has daddy issues. In the way he blames his mother unaliving herself on his father disappearing on her. He still holds onto vengeful intents towards him, wonders if that'd finally cut whatever tie he might still have with such a dishonorable individual, or if then he'd simply be the only one left to blame.

As part of his inferiority complex, deep down he really believes he's wicked, hated by God, with no hopes to succeed in anything good or be saved. Upon seeing them for them first time, he can't help but think that the burns are the manifestation of his curse, his own undeniable mark of Cain.

Very manipulative, we know, but the thing is he doesn't do it on purpose. He just can't stand to even risk being controlled, coming out on top is a priority in relationships, too, so his default approach is to read people like books, dangle anything they want in front of them and get them to do his bidding. Does he like them? Does he hate them? Doesn't matter: once done with them he'll leave them in shambles anyway! (If they're lucky)

Speaking of which... Mello's a genius, not an assassin. His original plan for that one mafia boss was never to take him out himself, but rather to groom the guy's malcontent son to do the dirty work. Which the young man did. Only to come back home in a confusional state twenty minutes later to Mello decapitating daddy's corpse– thus becoming his first kill. Shortly followed by mommy. Then Mello finished the job, put his backpack in the freezer and took a bath in the jacuzzi to make himself presentable again before leaving.

After the events of November 11/12, he can't shake a sense of impending doom, death closing in on him, thanks to an intoxicating mix of being reminded of his failures every time he got a glimpse of himself, having an entire gang on his conscience (on top of all the other deaths and suffering he'd caused) a touch of ptsd and the crawling desperation to be victorious for once and therefore know some kind of redemption. So when he gets the call he's quite ready to step in, you know?

#hope these make the slightest bit of sense lol #theyre like matryoshka hcs idk.. i try to write them in an orderly way and always end up with a bullet list of one clusterfck after another #mello death note #mihael keehl #death note headcanons #m #dn #a&a

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wolveria · 1 year

Text

The Raven’s Hymn - Ch 15

Pairing: SCP-049 x Reader

Series Warnings (18+ only): Eventual smut, dubcon, slow burn, violence, horror, death, monsters, human experiments, dark with a happy ending

Chapter Summary: “Forgive me for not jumping at the chance to take more lives, Site Director."

AO3

Something touched your shoulder.

You curled up tighter, wanting to shake off the warm pressure and go back to sleep. Your head ached and your body was stiff and heavy with exhaustion. Burying your head further into the pillow, you let out a low noise of complaint, hoping the offender would go away.

“You must awaken, my assistant.”

That metallic, raspy voice sent your heart slamming in your chest. You flinched from the touch even as the hand on your shoulder quickly retracted, and you cried out, “Don’t touch me!”

Images of a shambling, milky-eyed corpse loomed in your mind, and all you could think was that you were going to be next.

But 049 didn’t move to touch you again, its voice and gaze unfairly soft. What right did it have to look at you like that? Especially after what it had done to Daniel?

“My apologies,” 049 said in a low rasp. “I did not wish to do so, but your Site Director insisted if you do not awaken and leave this chamber, you will be punished. I believed that was an appropriate reason to temporarily bend our accord.”

Right. The promise it had made not to touch you without permission. Frankly, you were surprised it still cared about such things, that it still held a concept about decency when it had… it had…

“It’s fine,” you said, unable to meet its eye. Everything else about the room seemed unchanged, no guards had come to take you away just yet, at least. Aside from the light touch on your shoulder, you doubted 049 had done anything else to you.

You were still catching your breath and getting your wild heart under control when you stood from the bed. The masked SCP moved back a respectful distance, though you kept its silhouette in your peripheral vision as you returned to the middle containment room.

You came to a dead halt. Daniel was still there, crawling on the floor now, still moving, still searching, for what only he knew.

“You may touch the corpse, Reid,” came the cursed voice from the speakers. “That is, if you’re done napping.”

You were too drained to glare at the observation window and approached the crawling corpse, pity rather than fear twisting in your chest. The thing that was once Daniel paused at your shoe in front of its face, and it unsteadily craned its head to look up at you.

Did he recognize you? Remember you? It was hard to tell through the pale, slack-jawed nature of his face.

Swallowing thickly, you crouched in front of him, still maintaining eye contact, wondering if something of Daniel remained inside.

You hoped not.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. You reached out to touch his cheek, and you could have sworn there was relief in his eyes just before you made contact. As soon as your fingertips grazed his jaw, he went limp and collapsed to the concrete floor.

You stayed like that for a moment, fighting down the horror and the tears. By the time you got to your feet, your face was schooled into a blank expression. They had taken enough from you; you wouldn’t let them have your grief over Daniel.

As the mist drifted down from the ceiling, you kept your back to 049, unable and unwilling to look at it, even when the guards came to take you back to your cell.

When they deposited you inside, you curled up on the bed under the thin blanket and covered your head in your hands, trying to block it all out, and never making a sound even as you screamed and screamed in the darkness of your own mind.

***

When the guards came for you next, it felt like there was nothing left inside you. You were a hollow shell, empty and devoid of all emotion. Maybe you’d finally cracked, and there would be nothing left of interest for the Site Director to study. If that was the case, and he had no further use for you, you couldn’t imagine living very long. You weren’t sure you cared, either.

Expecting to be dragged through another slew of random SCP tests, you found yourself back in Heavy Containment, being pushed into an empty containment room featuring the familiar lab counter, stink, autopsy table, and one-way glass.

There was no trace of blood or reanimation fluids. The metal surfaces were sparkling clean, ready for the next round of tests. If only you could be polished down so easily, the tarnishes and rust wiped away.

The inner containment doors parted and the infamous SCP itself entered adorning its chains and collars. There was nothing amiss except its tone, which was subdued more than usual as its eyes carefully traveled up your body.

“Good morning, assistant. How are you faring?”

How could it even ask that question? Why would it ask that question? Your hand tightened into a fist at your side. Perhaps, you weren’t as empty as you thought.

“Just fine,” you said, voice cracking from disuse. The SCP had that same look of skepticism as before when you had lied about how well you were doing.

“Are we to cure more patients today?”

It took a cautious step forward, and then another. It seemed to be testing you, seeing if you would bolt or freeze in fright. You did neither, simply stared back.

“I don’t know. They don’t tell me anything.”

It paused, tilting its head.

“Are you well, Doctor?”

A small jolt went up your spine. That same loaded question had been asked to Dr. Hamm, just before 049 had killed him and reanimated his corpse.

“Why?” you asked against your better judgement. “Do you sense the Pestilence in me?”

It narrowed its eyes at the question.

“This is no jesting matter. The Pestilence will be the doom of humankind if we do not find a tenable cure.”

You met its heated gaze with your own tired one, unable to gather the energy to start up the old argument again.

“No.” Its voice went softer as it lost some of the hunch in its shoulders. “You are free of the Pestilence… in such a way I have never witnessed before.”

On another day you might have asked what that meant, but today, you were too worn thin to hear 049’s Pestilence spiel.

It remained silent for a moment, before quietly stating, “I have upset you.”

One thing 049 was good at was catching you off guard with its fleeting glimpses of self-awareness. Once in a great while, it would break out of its obsessive loop and appear to acknowledge what it was doing. And just like that, you were drawn in, curiosity pulling you back when fear had driven you away.

“Why would you upset me?”

“My behavior during the last round of experiments. You were… disturbed.”

“You were disturbing, if I’m being honest.”

You spoke carefully, waiting for an outburst or show of anger, but there wasn’t one. Only the SCP standing there, staring at you in a peculiar way.

“I… well, yes, I can see how my actions could cause such a reaction. I had not thought of that.”

It seemed to ponder your words, its attention drifting in thought before focusing on your face again.

“You were equally disturbed by Daniel after I cured him,” it added after a moment.

How strange. Had your reactions bothered 049? It certainly was curious and wanted to understand your behavior, and that felt important. Maybe not a breakthrough, but it was certainly heading in a new direction.

The lethargy and apathy that had previously had you in its grip since yesterday slipped away so subtly you barely noticed, replaced by cautious optimism.

“I’m not the only one who’s had a similar reaction to your patients,” you said. “Human beings don’t generally like it when their dead stand up and start walking.”

“Perhaps,” it conceded with a small bow of its head. “But I had thought… I had hoped you would be different.”

“Why?”

“Your mind is opened in ways your fellow doctors are not,” it said, the words followed by a sigh of breath. “I find it quite… refreshing. It can be so tiresome to meet other men of science and believe they are likeminded, only to find they close themselves off to knowledge they are unwilling to understand.”

You had meant the question to mean why would 049 think you were different; not why did it want you to be different. But the admission was interesting, as if it was… lonely. There were certain SCPs that could experience loneliness, of course, but 049 wasn’t supposed to be one of them. The closest it had gotten was frustration at the Foundation’s lack of understanding the Pestilence, and regret when it had killed Dr. Hamm. As far as you knew, that was the extent of its feelings towards companionship of any kind.

To think 049 wanted something like a peer, or a confidant…

“Maybe,” you finally said, “but you’ve admitted it yourself that your cure is imperfect. After your… procedure is complete, your patients aren’t the same as they were before.”

“But they are free of the disease!” it interjected with a sharp raise of its head. “What has more bearing than that? True, they are changed, but such changes are necessary to eradicate the corrupting influence from their spirits! Sacrifices must be made to—”

“Would you be pleased if I received this cure?”

“…Pardon?”

“If I became like Daniel, would you be satisfied?” you pursued. “Would I still be useful as an assistant?”

The SCP huffed, narrowing its eyes into an irritated stare.

“You have no need of a cure. Such an operation would be unnecessary. It would be a flagrant disregard in the face of the good deeds of science and medicine.”

That wasn’t the point, but before you could argue it further, 049 turned away, its shoulders stiff and hunched.

“We shall discuss this no further. You are not sick. You do not need to be altered. You—”

049 choked off its own words with an abrupt growl. You remained quiet, watching the SCP as it battled some inner frustration you couldn’t see. And then it spoke, so softly you almost didn’t catch it.

“I am pleased with you as you are. You are a wonderful assistant, even if I sometimes fall short of expectations. There is nothing about you I would change.”

Surprise struck you like a lightning bolt, warmth spreading from the strike instead of thunder.

You were still trying to find the words to say when the doors opened and several guards entered, guns at the ready. You flinched at the sudden intrusion, the unnecessary show of power, and 049 stepped closer, acting as a barrier between you and the armed men.

Your confusion grew when one of them carried a metal chair in his hands, setting it on the ground a few feet away before retreating behind the line of his armed squad. Another two guards approached the chair, one carrying power tools while the other had empty hands, and together they bolted the chair down into the concrete before also retreating.

“What’s going on?” you asked, peeking out from behind 049’s stature and addressing the glass rather than the security force.

“SCP-049, sit in the chair,” Leahy’s voice crackled from the intercom, both ignoring your question and answering it. It seemed there would be more tests today, and that was only a marginal relief over being faced with a firing squad.

The SCP didn’t interject this time, though it did send you a parting glance as it moved to obey the instructions. As soon as it sat, lavender mist drifted from the ceiling and 049 went slack, struggling to remain upright and not topple over.

The guards quickly approached the sedate SCP, bringing out thin chains and restraining it to the chair, avoiding its limp hands even though their ballistic gear would protect them from 049’s lethal touch.

Once that was done, instead of retreating, two of the guards remained close to the SCP, using handheld aerosol sprays to keep a permanent cloud of lavender mist around 049’s head. The mist from the ceiling came to a stop, and the containment door opened a second time, drawing your attention. The Site Director himself entered the chamber, the permanent half-smirk on his lips seeming to deepened as he spotted you.

What was he doing here?

“We’ll be conducting two separate tests on the effects of SCP-049’s cure combined with your touch,” Leahy said to your unspoken question. “Phase One will be conducted on D-Class personnel. I expect your full cooperation, Reid.”

You bristled, fear of this man curdling into a simmering rage burning in your rib cage.

“Forgive me for not jumping at the chance to take more lives, Site Director,” you said stiffly.

His brows rose above his rimmed glasses. Amused, perhaps, that you still had the spine to speak to him this way, especially when nobody else dared.

“Everything we’re doing here is for the greater good, a fact you seem to have forgotten very quickly. But very well,” he said, giving a dramatic sigh. “These tests should not result in any lives lost, and in fact, should save them. All D-Class provided today already have various illnesses and maladies that will eventually result in their deaths. Phase Two of the test will involve low level employees that have volunteered for this experiment, as they too are severely ill with conditions that cannot be treated conventionally.”

He slowly paced as he spoke, pausing toward the end to cast a sneer toward the SCP.

“I’m sure the good doctor will confirm that they’re simply filled with Pestilence.”

049 said nothing, still slumped forward and kept sedated by the guard’s aerosol sprays.

“Not feeling chatty, apparently,” Leahy mused. “Either way, if the latest tests are any indicator, these subjects should be cured of all illnesses. You’ll be a veritable hero, Reid. You should be proud.”

“…What? What are you talking about?”

Curing illnesses? Leahy didn’t think the Pestilence was real, sharing the same opinion as the rest of the Foundation. So what could he possibly mean?

“Oh, I suppose you don’t know,” he said in mock surprise. “All of the goats from the initial test were given toxins to induce rapid-growth cancer. They were, in essence, dying.”

He resumed his slow pacing, uncaring of the fists tightening at your side.

“After our team dissected the third animal, the one touched by SCP-049 while you were in physical contact with the SCP, it was found to be absent of all cancer cells.”

You blinked, your hands loosening at your sides. What?

“The first D-Class from yesterday’s test was exposed to a deadly virus—noncommunicable—beforehand, and he too was found to be free of active virus when an autopsy was performed.”

Daniel, his terror uneasy to forget, had already been marked for death before he’d stepped into 049’s cell. Had he even known? It was doubtful; the Foundation tended not to share procedure with their test subjects, a fact you were learning well.

“And the other two D-Class?” you quietly asked.

“The first was infected with a deadly bacterium, which was absent after SCP-049’s touch was supplemented with your own,” Leahy said, smug at your curiosity. “The third D-Class was unchanged as his ailments were due to physical trauma. There was no component of disease, which seems to be the sole target of your collective ‘cure.’ Whether introduced externally like a foreign pathogen, or caused internally such as cancer, any form of illness is eradicated by your combined touch.”

You stared past the Site Director, trying to take in what he was telling you with little success. Not only were you able to survive 049’s touch, and let others survive it as well, you were able to help cure others just as you’d been cured?

“At least, so far,” Leahy added. “However, constant physical contact is required, and a lapse of contact from you will results in the instant death of the subject. An objective waste. So, you will be secured to SCP-049 for the remainder of the test.”

He began to turn away, then paused.

“Oh,” he said, as if he’d forgotten a small, unimportant fact, “and skin-to-skin contact is required.”

Your reeling mind was slow to understand exactly what that meant, and your belated cry of “wait!” was ignored by the guards as they snatched you by the shoulders.

Denied the dignity of undressing yourself, two of the guards held your arms while a third unzipped your jumpsuit and pulled it down off your shoulders. The other guards only let go enough for your suit to be stripped off entirely.

You shivered at the brutal treatment and exposure and tried to pull your arms inward, but they wouldn’t let you, already dragging you to the SCP. Your standard-issue white undershirt and underwear offered little protection from the chill left behind by cold air and watchful eyes, but you did your best to stay silent as you were manhandled toward your destination.

Your composure didn’t last long. The guards forced you down, right onto 049’s lap.

Next Chapter

#scp 049 #scp 049 x reader #scp fanfiction #scp foundation #the raven's hymn #wolveria writes

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overwatch-does-stuff · 11 months

Text

Bad Memories

Summary: The first time Bastion saw the armor, they ran. The second time, they froze. And present at both was a man with more compassion than common sense.

(Author's note: this fic was written before the story announcement trailer showed that Reinhardt was not, in fact, okay with Omnics, so that's the reason he's fairly out of character here.)

---

The first time Bastion saw the armor, they ran.

The day had otherwise been peaceful. Happy, even. Two new friends had arrived, friends of Torbjorn’s, which of course made them both Bastion’s friends by default. There was the tall, enormous man named Reinhardt, with a loud voice and a big smile. Then there was his smaller companion, a woman named Brigitte, with long red hair and a smaller but still muscular build. Torbjorn seemed equally fond of both.

After the introductions, Brigitte and Winston had brought something in from the outside. Something big and covered in a tarp. Brigitte had smiled and pulled the tarp down. Silver glinted off metallic angles, twinkling, catching Bastion’s attention. They couldn’t look away.

The crested helmet and bulky frame crawled from their optic and into the deep recesses of their memory bank. It reached in and pulled forth shambling strings of a memory that might not have been their own, pulling, pulling, until the fire licked the edges of their vision and warnings spilled throughout their most primal systems.

Crusader.

It was suicide to turn one’s back on a Crusader. Bastion’s systems told them that. Their legs did not want to move and their torso did not want to turn, but a last-ditch override took care of that. Diverting power from threat analysis to hydraulics was also a horrible idea, but they did so anyway.

Active processing began to null as more power transferred, their speed picking up. The door ahead did not open so they tore it down with their momentum.

They were bathed in sunlight and their optic adjusted to the outside. They barreled past further buildings in the complex before thinking to take shelter. Too many open angles, too many lines of sight. They turned, sliding across the ground as they readjusted their trajectory, to an alley between buildings.

The alleyway ended in a solid wall which housed a decrepit dumpster, which they noticed too late. Bastion crashed into it and it crinkled like a leaf underfoot in the fall. The impact rattled loose the protocol they had been trying their hardest to avoid.

The transformation sent old damage warnings shooting up their frame as they configured into sentry mode. Their barrel swung around to the entrance of the alley.

The Crusader was coming, it had to be coming, but Bastion couldn’t tell whether the thundering they heard came from its footfalls or from their own shaking as they spun their barrel up.

No threats registered. No threats registered. As long as it stayed that way, then they wouldn’t do something that they knew they would regret.

Footsteps from the other end of the alley.

“Bastion, luv. Bastion! Where did you go? No need to be scared. It’s all okay.”

A blink of blue. Target registered. Bastion fired.

The vibration of their firing pins hitting the ends of cartridges, one by one by one, was a well-oiled symphony. It felt familiar. Bastion hated how it almost felt good. It was their purpose, after all- raining metal hell upon whatever was down range.

The chorus stopped. Their clip had run out.

Nothing followed but silence.

The urge to reload was mounting the longer they stayed configured, but a quick justification- the target is gone, must go find -let them transform back to recon mode.

But they did not investigate. That urge was far more easily quelled. Instead, they turned to face the wall. With no visuals to distract, they focused on turning off their combat protocols. They dug in their memory banks and brought up images of the forest. Sunlight filtering through trees. Butterflies sunning themselves on rocks by a stream.

With a click, their targeting overlay disappeared. The commands keeping their body rigid disappeared, and they sagged forward, letting their gun arm sink towards the ground and putting their hand against the wall to steady themselves. They stayed there until their cooling fans spun on, venting the heat from the strain from their systems.

A small background notification appeared and they let it through without thinking. Target confirmed eliminated?

Bastion jolted and turned their head down the alley. Immediate visual scans did not turn up a body.

“B-bastion, luv?” called a meek voice from the other end of the alley.

A head poked around the corner, just revealing a set of eyes, before jerking back again. Then it crept out once more.

Bastion didn’t know what to do.

“Lena, get away from the thing! Now!”

Bastion recognized Torbjorn’s voice. It scared them to hear the man so angry and afraid.

The peeking person disappeared. There was more conversation in quieter tones that Bastion could not pick up on, so they came forwards. They at least tried to muffle their footsteps.

Bastion peered out of the alleyway. Torbjorn and- their processor finally cleared enough to recall -Tracer huddled against the front of the building. Her chronal accelerator glowed only a faint, dusty blue.

The blink of blue. She was. . . unscathed.

Bastion let out a whine of relief. This caused the both of them to turn. Torbjorn flinched and his mouth opened, curses pouring out. Bastion ran back into the alley. They thought up pictures of the forest again, as a precaution. Just in case. Just in case.

There was a pitter patter of footsteps. Torbjorn had followed.

“Damned Omnic! You were supposed to be peaceful! You weren’t supposed to have any battle protocols!” He shook his fist in the air.

Every declaration bit into them worse than a bullet ever could.

“You could have killed her!”

Bastion turned off their audio sensors. They watched as Torbjorn circled around them, his eyes wide with anger, his mouth opening and closing in sharp rhythms that caused him to spit.

He stopped mid-syllable, before giving a glare. Then he pointed a finger right into Bastion’s chest and yelled. The vibration traveled through their plating and they flinched away at the unexpected sensation. Torbjorn’s fury only grew. Soon he was pounding a fist against their leg.

They knew they deserved this. He had every right to be angry. They had lost control.

Bastion slowly turned their audio sensors back on to ease into the man’s voice again. At a certain point they realized that they were whining out loud. They silenced themselves.

“So you’ve finally decided to listen again, hmm?” Torbjorn said.

Bastion made a sad, downturned noise. A noise of regret. There had been no place for regret in a vocabulary made for war, so they had invented the noise in the forest. They had given it to the animals many times. It was the first time they had given it to a human.

“So sorry, aren’t you?” Torbjorn’s tone was mocking.

Bastion nodded.

“Like I’d believe that. You’re one of mine. I should have known you were programmed like the rest.”

Bastion shook their head.

“Come on. No more frolicking around for you. You’re going into my workshop and staying there.”

Bastion knew they deserved it but they didn’t want to go.

“I said, come on, you lump of lugnuts!”

Torbjorn was behind them now, and kicking at their back legs.

“Did you turn off your audio sensors again? Damn tin can-!”

“My friend, stop.”

Bastion whirled their torso around. A new person had come around the corner. It was the tall man, Reinhardt, only he was not smiling now.

“Reinhardt! What are you doing here? You need to get out of here. It might kill you if it gets the chance!” Torbjorn shouted.

“Says the one who’s kicking the Bastion.” Reinhardt replied.

This caused Torbjorn to pause. “Touche.”

Whereas Torbjorn was all hard lines and tension, Reinhardt was calm. He was muscled and large, trained for combat, Bastion’s targeting system added unhelpfully, but he didn’t register as a threat. His movements were slow and thoughtful and the only defined lines on his face weren’t from a harsh expression- they were wrinkles, wrinkles from smiles and laughter past, gently juxtaposed with the scar that went down his eye.

Reinhardt walked towards them. Bastion stepped around to meet him.

“Hello, friend.” Reinhardt spoke to them. His tone was as gentle as wind ruffling the grass.

“Wait, are you talking to it?” Torbjorn said.

“I’m sorry to have scared you.” He continued.

Bastion at first thought the apology was meant for Torbjorn, but the man’s steady gaze into their optic told otherwise. Bastion could only cock their head in response.

“The armor holds many bad memories for you, doesn’t it?”

Crusader. Bastion chirped as the word appeared again in their processor. They nodded.

“Reinhardt, it wasn’t scared. Don’t be silly. Given its origins, it’s programmed to engage combat protocols when it sees your armor.” Torbjorn huffed.

“Then why did it run?” Reinhardt asked.

Torbjorn opened his mouth to retort but no words came out. He shut it again and frowned, before kicking the ground.

The hostile motion caused a flutter of activity in Bastion’s threat analysis systems. They began to glance around and realized they were cornered.

“Easy, my Omnic friend! You are not trapped.” Reinhardt took one step aside.

Bastion took a small step. Torbjorn conceded his space as well and went beside the wall. Bastion walked forward, exiting the shade and dark of the alley and entering into the bright sunlight once again.

It was late afternoon, they noticed. The wind whistled across the rooftops, carrying the songs of birds from the sea below. Details they hadn’t noticed before.

“Better?” Reinhardt asked from behind.

The pavement lined with metal had some cracks, from which dandelions grew. The walls of the buildings were soft gray with accents of blue and orange. There was a peculiar pattern in the wall right ahead, many holes upon holes-

The realization was instantaneous. Bastion sunk down with a long, dull whine.

“You are ashamed.”

The statement was not framed as a question. It was a statement of fact, to which Bastion did not know how to respond. They were somewhat certain that regret and shame were similar, but where one ended and the other began was a mystery.

“The war left its impact on us all.” Reinhardt continued. “It took me some time before I could look an Omnic in the optic. Forgiveness comes slow. It can take even longer for the fear to fade.”

The statement, though softly spoken, was unsettling. Bastion looked at Reinhardt’s height again, this time taking an exact measurement. They recalled Torbjorn’s use of a certain possessive in regards to the armor. The armor. Its height. The measurement.

His armor.

“Crusader?” Bastion sputtered in Omnicode, their first comprehensible code in a while.

Reinhardt gave a sad nod. “You used that phrase when you saw my armor. I take it you figured out who I am?”

It didn’t make sense. It didn’t make sense. The man before them was kind and gentle. He couldn’t be, it couldn’t be.

“Does it make you afraid?”

Bastion looked him up and down. They tried to run a threat analysis, but it fizzled out when they saw his face where a steel helmet should be. They started the program again, and again, and again, but there was no conclusion.

Eventually, they shook their head.

“That is good to hear.” Reinhardt placed a hand upon their shoulder pad and grasped it firmly. “It means we have a place to start.”

Bastion tensed. They did not move.

“That is alright as well. I understand you may not be ready to be too friendly yet.” He dropped his hand.

“Are you done coddling it?” Torbjorn asked.

Bastion turned their head around and realized Torbjorn was behind them. Likely, he had been back there for some time.

“Maybe. Are you done scolding it?” Reinhardt replied.

Torbjorn gave a huff. “Yes.”

“Very well. I shall give it back to you.”

Torbjorn came in front of Bastion. “You’re following me. Back to my workshop. Clear?”

Bastion gave a glance to Reinhardt, before nodding.

Without another word, Torbjorn marched in the direction of a nearby building. Bastion hesitated, before urging their legs to move.

“Wait, my patient Omnic friend!”

Bastion turned their torso around to look.

“Take good care of Torbjorn for me. Make sure he doesn’t stay up all night working on you!” Reinhardt laughed, before growing serious again. “And when you are ready to try and overcome your fear, I am here.”

Bastion paused. Reinhardt wore a close-lipped smile. There was something in his eyes. Something knowing. Bastion nodded.

“Come on, rustbucket!” Torbjorn called.

Bastion turned back around again and jogged to catch up. Torbjorn opened a big steel door and they followed through. The door shut behind them, sealing the sunlight away. There was only the dim light of fluorescent bulbs overhead. Torbjorn began to navigate down the many halls.

“. . . I suppose he thinks he’s getting closure.” He mumbled as they both traveled.

Bastion gave an inquisitive chirp.

“Nothing. Forget it.”

But Bastion did not forget.

---

The second time they saw the armor, they froze.

It was a few weeks after the first time. Bastion had gained their peaceful reputation back, for the most part. Tracer was quick to forgive (“Poor thing, just startled, that’s all”) and the armor had been hustled away to some deep recess of the Watchpoint, out of sight and out of processor.

So Bastion did not have any incidents and was allowed to leave Torbjorn’s workshop.

They did notice, however, that people kept an eye on them. There were more people now. Torbjorn didn’t know all of them. New members, he called them. The only thing they all had in common was that they all looked at Bastion whenever they entered a room.

Humans told a lot of emotions through their eyes. Bastion was programmed to read eyes for hostile signs, so they knew a thing or two about what the eyes said. They knew that some eyes were kind and some eyes were angry, but everything else was more difficult to discern.

The constant gaze of the eyes, demanding to be read, was exhausting. They did not spend much time among the others during what was considered their ‘down time’. Instead, they set about exploring the complex they now called home base.

That was when they had found the auxiliary workshop. That was when they had found the suspicious-looking tarp, with its telltale peaks and valleys, laid across a platform.

Bastion turned the lights on. The room was bathed in lights brighter than those out in the halls. Light beams reflected off of the plastic-coated tarp, accentuating the mass that laid beneath.

They were not stupid. They knew that shape. Their threat analysis systems ticked on in the background, heightening their senses. The buzzing of the light bulbs above was the only sound, and the tarp, like any normal tarp, lay unmoving.

Bastion walked forward. They grabbed the edge of it.

They pulled.

Their systems screamed in perfect harmony as the glint of an orange visor appeared. Threat analysis, targeting overlay, engagement protocols. A thousand different strategic choices bombarded them from every direction- stay, fight, transform, run -and in an instant their processor had selected for them the best course of action. This action, of course, was to fill the room with lead.

They did not want to do that. They remembered the consequences.

Their systems scrambled to find an alternative. Target within melee range. Door is four meters away.

Bastion dismissed those thoughts and every thought that followed with the same reasoning. Consequences.

And they stayed very, very still.

Moments passed like great big clouds rolling across the sky on a sunny afternoon. Their targeting reticule, an angry red symbol brimming in omnicode threats, remained trained on the helmet of the armor. There was no movement. There was no other sound besides the buzzing of the bulbs.

The buzzing became louder. Louder. Their audio sensors maxed their limits. Missing a single sound could mean death.

But there was nothing more than the vibrations that traveled through the floor as the building shifted on its foundation. Nothing more than the faint whistle of air circulation units. Nothing.

Their targeting reticule faded from red, to orange, to a dull yellow, but it did not disappear. It was still a threat. . . but not an active one.

Bastion realized their cooling fans had spun on, providing some relief from the tension in their frame. With a deep intake of air, they continued pulling off the tarp.

They disposed of the tarp to the side. The Crusader lay bare before them on the platform. They poked at its side, and their targeting reticule flashed back to red, causing them to flinch backwards, but the armor did not move, so they approached it again. They prodded it again, more firmly. Nothing.

They picked up one of its limbs. It did not resist, and as far as they could tell, it contained no power or life. They let it drop out of their hand and back onto the platform. The sound boomed in their audio sensors before they recalibrated back to normal levels.

They traveled around to the helmet. They tapped the orange visor with their finger. They grabbed the crest that extended from its forehead and pulled. Without much tension, the helmet popped from its mounting.

Their targeting reticule disappeared. Target eliminated. Bastion could only chirp in confusion.

They looked down to the helmet, then back to the rest of the body. There was no obvious connection port as far as they could tell. They picked the helmet up off the ground and examined it. No results either.

They pressed the empty opening of the helmet back against the empty hole in the armor, but this did not cause the two to join. They pushed harder, then let go, but it fell to the floor again. They tried twisting it, turning it, tilting it, all to no avail. When gravity reunited the helmet with the floor once more, Bastion beeped and kicked the thing with their foot.

It bounced along the concrete floor before rattling to a stop. Bastion beeped at it again for good measure.

“Having fun?”

Bastion flinched and turned to look. In the doorway stood. . . Reinhardt.

They walked over to the helmet and picked it up again, bleating out apologetic noises as they did so. They glanced over to Reinhardt and the power of the man’s gaze pinned them to their spot.

“I. . . understand if that’s how you feel about me.” He said, his voice like a winter wind.

Bastion jerked and shook their head. “Negative, negative,” they told in Omnicode.

They walked back towards the armor. With every step, they looked back to Reinhardt. His expression did not change.

Bastion pressed the helmet back onto the hole, then let go. The helmet fell down again. Bastion then gestured at it with their hand and made the same beep they had at the helmet before.

Reinhardt’s features unfroze. The corners of his eyes crinkled as his lips formed a smile. He let out a laugh that rang from floor to ceiling, punctuated by thuds as he slapped his hand against his thigh.

Bastion found that they were imitating a giggle as well.

“Ha! That helmet never stayed on right.” Reinhardt pointed as he strode into the room.

He was filled with such vigor and speed and volume that Bastion took a step back. Reinhardt paid no mind, grabbing the helmet out of their hand. He held it out, the crest pointing towards his chest and the open end presented to Bastion.

“See, right here?” He pointed to the rim of the inside. “There’s a little lever you must push.”

If Bastion focused their optic, they could see a tiny mechanism flipping back and forth as Reinhardt pressed on it. They nodded.

Reinhardt tossed the helmet in his grip before aligning it with the rest of the armor. With both hands, he shifted it until the two finally joined. When he let go, the helmet stayed in place.

“A finicky thing, that helmet is!” Reinhardt gestured.

Bastion nodded. They looked at the complete armor, then to Reinhardt, then back again.

Their targeting overlays sputtered on and off again, never on the man, but on the armor. With the head back on, it was a full suit again, and therefore dangerous, but other observations clearly contradicted that conclusion. With one final notification, the overlay turned off, and stayed off. Bastion could relax again.

When they looked to Reinhardt again, he had taken a step back and his expression no longer bore such joy. Bastion took a step towards him and gave an inquisitive chirp.

“Your optic.”

Their optic. What about it? They reached their hand up and trailed their fingers across the glass of their optic. They couldn’t detect any changes. They repeated their chirp.

“You do not know?”

Bastion brought their hand back to their side, then imitated a shrug.

Reinhardt laughed, but it was a different laugh than before. Something much shorter and more abrupt, but it eased the tension in his shoulders. Then he brought a hand to his chin.

“Bastion, did you know that your optic has a habit of turning red?”

Bastion knew a bit about what they looked like, based on what they saw of their reflection in ponds and streams and what they could see when looking down. They knew that their optic was about the same blue hue as the sky.

Then again, Reinhardt hadn’t said ‘just red’. He had said it ‘turned’.

Either way, to answer the question, Bastion shook their head.

“It tends to do so whenever you are, shall we say, distressed?” Reinhardt continued.

The targeting overlay. It had to be the targeting overlay. With the way it changed their vision and how sometimes there was a distinct clicking noise when it turned on and off. Bastion nodded, and imitated a noise they had seen Torbjorn do whenever he made a realization.

“Ah, you are aware!” Reinhardt nodded along.

Bastion searched their vocabulary for a string of codes they could use to tell him exactly what they meant, but all they could pull together was “Danger-warning-moving-sensor.”

Reinhardt’s eyebrows furrowed. Bastion repeated the phrase and tapped their head.

“Apologies, but I only know a few phrases of yours.” He said.

Bastion gave a warm tone with no meaning and nodded. Reassurance, hopefully.

He seemed to get the intent. “Thank you.”

They stood in silence for a few beats, before Reinhardt stooped down to pick up the tarp from the ground. He talked as he did so.

“Brigitte always covered my armor in this tarp when we transported it in the van. I, at first, objected. Who would not want to see such a shining beacon of justice?”

He shook the tarp with one motion, and specks of dust went flying into the air.

“But as we traveled, she proved to be correct. Some of the places we traveled were not so hospitable. They did not want our help. It hurt, seeing my own countrymen reject me.”

He reached over to lay the tarp back down across the armor, but stopped.

“I realize now that I- my face, the armor, my legacy -only reminded them of the hardships of the past. When they saw me, they only saw the war. I cannot blame them for that.”

With great care, he spread the tarp across the great frame. The silvery metal disappeared from the light. Reinhardt put a hand on where the armor’s shoulder pauldron was.

Bastion brought up their own hand. They closed it into a fist, then opened it again. They then looked to their other arm. The arm that caused people to scream and run whenever it even twitched.

They remembered the barrel on their back that everyone else could see but they could only notice if they turned their head around. They remembered how others would flinch at the sound of their footfalls.They remembered just how tall they were compared to most humans, and that alone was enough to make them shrink away.

Yet, they certainly weren’t laying under a tarp in Torbjorn’s workshop.

Bastion grabbed the edge of the tarp and gave a tug. Reinhardt let go, startled.

“Are you sure?”

“Affirmative,” they coded with a nod.

Reinhardt joined in unveiling the armor. This time, there was no target overlay. No threat analysis, no combat protocols. The metal was empty, and there was no fear.

#overwatch bastion #the last bastion #e-54 #bastion overwatch #reinhardt #reinhardt wilhelm #overwatch #overwatch fanfiction

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blorbologist · 7 months

Note

Trick- (you know me I love your fluff too so I might send you another one… teehehehee)

Cassandra and glass :)

When she wakes, Cassandra looks for glass.

At dawn she will slip from her bed and creep past mothbitten rugs and creatively growing floorboads where blood becomes molds to the standing mirror beside her vanity. There is never anything to be vain about in what she sees. But she sees, and it’s enough.

She will vault from the blanket-crypt of nightmares (a mass grave, a tomb) and stumble. Shamble. Crawl, so like the undead, to find the perfect limp sun of her mother’s little looking-glass. Unfolded its silver lid to see just enough of her shaking sneer. Snap shut, hide it away.

She will, on the darkest eves where she creeps back to her room, blood a lace to her throat, stop by the window. Under guise of looking for her city below. Her city, nothing more than high gravestones, candles waiting to burn for funerals that have or haven’t come tonight. And hope for a claw of moonlight to cut her figure in the windowpane.

Cassandra never wants to look. Sees an orphan, sees a firstborn-neverborn daughter, sees her mother, sees her (mother?), staring back. A ghost already.

But she’s there - her reflection, she’s still there - and it’s enough.

🎃Trick or Treat! Send me an ask and you'll get a trick (angst) or treat (fluff) ficlet in return! 🎃

#critical role #campaign 1 #tlovm #cassandra de rolo #cr fanfic #tmw every day you fear becoming a vampire <3 or being turned into an undead puppet <3 #Maggie's trick or treats

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ninzied · 2 years

Text

marked me like a bloodstain

alistair goes for a walk after torturing reid in the cottage, and this time, gavin goes after him. rated m. inspired by @ziegenkind094‘s art.

Alistair walks with no real destination in mind.

He thinks only of distancing himself from the Cottage, putting worlds between him and everything in it. Reid, looking smug, even as he slumped in his chair with half his fingers mangled. Gavin, his hands on Alistair’s face, his hair, not daring to touch him beyond the reach of the curse.

The way Alistair had opened his throat to him, let him take a blade to his neck, made himself utterly vulnerable to someone who’s expressed an intent to kill him more than once.

The unwelcome revelation that Alistair wants him, he wants him.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

The knowledge of it is a live, pulsing thing in his skin, and a part of him wants to outrun it, to shake himself free. But Alistair does not run; like any living thing, it can be dealt with. Like any living thing, it can be killed.

If he knew how to do that without meeting a similar fate himself too.

Alistair stalks on, barreling through underbrush and swiping outstretched branches aside, only tripping once or twice. The air is crisp but not as sharp as he would’ve liked, not as cutting. He jams a hand into his pocket, rummaging for a weather spell—class two, nothing major—before casting it into the air around him, feeling his breath finally loosen when the wind starts kicking up. It whips at him across his face, bringing up tears until his eyes are burning with them.

He wonders if this small act of cruelty counts, if the Reaper’s Embrace will sink its hold deeper, but it is only a fleeting thought.

If the curse took all his self-sabotage into account, he would have been long dead by now.

He walks for some time more, welcoming the wind’s assault as it drives out everything else from his mind. The sky is a relatively clear one, its stars glowing a faint sickly pink; there’s room for more bloodshed, and the night is still young.

Alistair lets the thought cheer him, however empty a promise it is. Still, the Reaper curse hasn’t completely consumed him; maybe if he takes things slower, shows more consideration to his cruelty instead of always lashing out, maybe the spread of the curse will be slower too.

Monsters like him are not in the habit of indulging in something as futile as hope, but hey.

Monsters can dream a little, too.

He doesn’t realize where he’s going until the path becomes all-too-familiar: the downward slope of the woods, the barren clearing of the trees, the craggy rock face leading up to the mountain’s interior. He reaches for another spell, clearing out the larger rubble that’s obscured the entrance before he crawls his way inside.

He takes in his surroundings: the Cave—or what’s left of it—dusted over with cobwebs, dank and far dimmer than the Cottage had been. The four-poster bed he’d shared with Isobel is more or less in shambles now, whole corners collapsed where the ceiling had caved in. There’s a faint metallic smell of blood that seems to have settled into every available crevice. Even the walls look like they’ve been bleeding.

A true villain’s lair, indeed.

“Hey.”

continue on ao3.

#all of us villains #all of our demise #alistair lowe #gavin grieve #aouv ff #castlelair

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soursherbat · 7 months

Text

Sensation; Chapter 6

Haunted

To start from the beginning Click Here ; Previous chapter Click Here

A Springtrap x OC fanfic

Word Count; 2,332

[content warning for depictions of violence, non-graphic]

Springtrap laid in our bed, pinned under my sleeping body for at least an hour now. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t exhausted. What if he had another nightmare?

The thought kept his mind racing, making him fight off sleep a little longer. It was so hard, my bed was much more comfortable than the disgusting floor of that abandoned pizzeria, not to mention the pleasant warmth of my body cuddled against his.

It was making him uncomfortable. I looked so fragile- so soft, pliable under his rough grip...

Springtrap realizes that he’s holding my shoulders tightly, immediately letting go and dropping his hands to his sides. How long had he been doing that?

Thank god that didn’t wake him, he thought. I don’t know how I’d explain myself.

He’d say he’s a killer. A monster. That’s how he could explain it.

He huffs, closing his eyes. He was fighting a war of attrition, and slowly beginning to lose. Even with his thoughts racing at a million miles a minute, he felt sleep start to take him once again.

Springtrap opened his eyes, in that familiar room once again.

He realizes how terrible it smells in here.

He hadn’t thought about that smell until he stepped into my home, greeted by the pleasant smell of cinnamon scented candles.

He can hear the sounds of a party on the other side of the wall.

A door opens. A door that hadn’t been there before. There’s a silhouette of a person, their shadow cast over his crumpled body.

The light behind them was blinding.

His breathing is labored, he didn’t need to breathe- but his chest feels like it’s collapsing, like he was drowning in his own blood again.

Something about this person’s outline was familiar. It was bringing out forgotten urges- his hands clenched into fists, he slowly rose to his feet.

He can’t stop himself.

He shambles toward the figure, the only feature he can distinguish is a warm smile, seemingly directed at him.

He recognizes it. His hands shake.

He lurches forward suddenly, a sick sense of satisfaction washing over him as his gloved hands wrapped around the shadow’s throat- he hated how much he enjoyed the sounds of his victim getting the life choked from them.

He’d longed to hear it again, just one last time.

No, that’s horrible. He couldn’t want that.

He squeezes harder.

He needed it.

The lights in the room flicker on. His hands lose their grip, his entire body freezing.

He trembled. He knew who he’d been strangling now.

Hawk?

His eyes snap open.

The choking doesn’t stop.

Springtrap looks down, realizing where his hands are. I had been sitting over him, likely having woken up before him.

His hands were wound tight around my throat, squeezing with a specific intent.

He releases me, his eyes wide with panic. His body is trembling, shaking his head slowly as he looks down at his hands. He instinctively sits up, trying to put his hands on me.

“Hawk! Oh my god! I’m so- I’m so sorry!”

Springtrap’s voice is so loud in my ears. My throat aches so badly, I was lucky he didn’t crush my esophagus. I cough and sputter, hands on my bruised neck.

I’d crawled away from him the moment he’d let go of my neck, tears spilling down my face as I stared at him, disbelieving.

I knew it had been because of a dream. That didn’t change the fact that he’d nearly killed me.

I choke a little, feeling sick to my stomach. I can’t reply to him, waves of a memory hit my mind like a tsunami, one I had hoped I could forget.

A knife glinting in the dark. Dangerously close to my neck- too weak to fight back, only managing to slip away by the skin of my teeth.

I shiver. The feeling of snow stinging my bare feet lingering in the back of my mind.

The screaming. The sirens.

He’s still trying to apologize to me. He’s only getting louder. I cover my eyes, shaking my head and pointing at my bedroom door.

“Get. Out.”

“H-Ha-... Hawk?”

“Get out of here! Just- go to the living room...!”

I can’t face him, holding my arms and curling into myself. I feel bad for yelling at him- I’m sure he genuinely didn’t mean for that to happen, but that was little comfort to me right now.

Springtrap is shocked into silence. I’d only been kind and understanding with him up to this point, and he’d clearly pushed me too far.

He nods slowly, silently walking out of the bedroom. I shut the door behind him, breathing heavily as I begin to break down.

I hadn’t felt like that in so long. Seeing my life flash before my eyes, the genuine threat of losing my life forced into my face, and I had no way to stop it.

I shudder.

I could’ve been killed if he didn’t wake up in time.

Hot tears fall down my cheeks, it stings a bit- not as badly as my neck. I can’t help but cough again, he didn’t do serious damage, but it still feels like I’m being choked.

I flop over against the covers, wiping my face futilely. More tears flooded out, I can’t stop the sobs that force themselves from my throat.

Why did that even happen? I knew he’d had a nightmare earlier- but... most people don’t just strangle somebody with murderous intent in their sleep.

Well... Springtrap wasn’t most people. Perhaps I shouldn't be so hard on him.

I don’t know what to do. He didn’t try to finish me off when he woke up- he seemed... genuinely apologetic. I feel bad for snapping at him, but given the circumstances I’d hoped I could be forgiven.

I’d slept better on his chest than I had in several months by myself, but what if this happened again?

What if he didn’t stop next time?

These thoughts were eating away at me. What if I had been wrong about him?

No. There’s no way... those soft eyes, the gentle way he spoke to me...

And that moment in the kitchen, when he’d startled me. Whatever he was before, he seemed to be trying to become better now.

A heartless killer wouldn’t look at me the way he did when he realized what he was doing- sheer terror plainly displayed on his face.

I wouldn’t be surprised if we had the same expression during that moment.

I didn’t want to make excuses for him, I’m sure he could explain everything when I talk to him.

I just... need a minute. I still feel my hands trembling, my neck was definitely going to be bruised for a few days.

What’s worse is that if he didn’t nearly choke the life out of me, I... feel as though I would’ve enjoyed it. It feels weird to even think about- but, is it really?

I wish I wasn’t so conflicted. I had to talk to him about this... I hoped this wouldn’t become a nightly occurrence.

Springtrap was sitting on the couch, staring down at his hands. He was still trembling, he couldn’t believe what he’d done.

His nightmare was haunting him still, knowing that those feelings weren’t true to how he really felt now-

His feelings were different from his actions.

He had almost strangled me to death.

Springtrap knew now that he needed to come clean, his conscience weighing on him heavily. He didn’t want to be the person he was before the incident. Regardless, it was impacting his life now, and he’d decided that I had a right to know about it.

The thought of confessing was horrifying. I hadn’t judged him at first, but what about now?

He knew I was being cagey about physical contact, and though he didn’t want to pry, he could tell I didn’t exactly have the easiest go at life either.

Springtrap sat there, twitching and trembling, unable to pry his unblinking eyes from the bedroom door.

His ears perked up, he heard a noise. He listened closer.

It was nothing. He was just imagining it, anxiously waiting for me to open that door. He hoped I’d have some sense and tell him to get out.

Springtrap’s breathing became labored, closing his eyes as he thought about what to do.

Should I try to comfort him? He asked himself, glaring down at his shaking hands. No. I’d just make things worse. He’s probably terrified of me...

Should he leave? His eyes narrowed, sighing heavily.

He couldn’t force himself to do that. If I’d decided to kick him out- he supposed that was for the best... but, he couldn’t make himself leave now.

Springtrap looks up as the bedroom door clicks open, staying silent as I approach him. I’d regained my composure for the most part, sitting a small ways away from him.

I felt bad about it. Self sacrificing as always- but I needed to force a boundary.

“What just happened, Springtrap?”

My question cuts through the silence that’d fallen over the house. Springtrap can’t bring himself to look at me, ashamed of what had happened.

“I... I had another nightmare. I’m so sorry for what happened- I... I would never do that to you if... well...”

He sighs, trailing off. That obviously wasn’t all he had to say. He knew he had just choked me, but it was something he’d never even think of doing while he was awake and in control of himself.

He knew that was no excuse. He had no doubts about that.

“I need to confess something to you, Hawk. I apologize I didn’t tell you before...”

“I’m listening.”

He pauses, unsure of himself. I can see how conflicted he is and... well. He looks terrified of me, unable to make eye contact.

“Hawk... before I became... well, like this,” He motions toward his body, finally looking me in the eye. “I was a terrible person. A monster, a murderer.”

Springtrap sees the shock in my eyes when he tells me this. It... fades quicker than he would have expected.

It concerned him a little.

“And what about now? What do you want to be now, William?”

Springtrap looks away from me again. Did I just not care? He was worried about that. Was I just accepting him without a second thought? He had no idea what was going on in my mind.

He meets my gaze, that earnest look on his face again as he speaks up once more.

“I... don’t want to be that person anymore, Hawk. I want to be better.”

I nod, acknowledging him. I look down at my hands, my throat tight as I consider what I should do.

If this happens again, I might not be as lucky. I need to be more careful when waking him up- I did try to gently shake him awake when he’d grabbed me. He was making noises and his hands had been twitching intensely, I thought I’d be doing him a favor by waking him from a nightmare...

I couldn’t shake the feeling that initial confession wasn’t the only thing he was holding back.

“What happened in your nightmares?”

Springtrap visibly tenses. He clearly doesn’t want to tell me.

“I... was back in that room. Both times, you were there with me. The... the first time, I had a knife- and... I’m sure you know what happened.”

He feels terrible just saying it out loud. It was like an intrusive thought morphed into a full-fledged dream, it felt so real.

“The second time... I didn’t know it was you. Or... I don’t think I did.” He sighs, holding his face. “I was strangling you. It... it felt so real. I suppose I know why. I’m... still very sorry.”

He finally manages to work up the courage to look at my neck, seeing how red it was already...

“I don’t want this to happen again. I... needed to tell you. You deserved to know.”

I stay silent for a bit, nodding quietly. I look down at my hands, thinking about how to handle this.

“I... forgive you. I don’t believe your nightmares define who you are.”

I knew how it felt to be judged for such things. I was plagued with nightmares as well, terrible things happening in them that I’d never consider doing while conscious.

“I know you didn’t mean to do it. But...”

Springtrap tenses, not knowing what to expect out of my mouth next. He couldn’t tell what I was feeling from the expression on my face.

“As bad as it would make me feel- if something like this happens again, I don’t think we’ll be sharing the bed...”

“You’d... still let me sleep in your bed?”

I smile at him. I wasn’t unsure anymore- he was trying. He was trying his hardest, and doing remarkably well given the circumstances. I just hoped that this wouldn’t happen again...

“Yeah. It’s our bed.”

Springtrap’s head was spinning. He couldn’t believe I had forgiven him, and that I would even consider letting him sleep near me.

He felt an immense weight lift off of his shoulders, many of his anxieties quelled by our talk. He was so relieved that I was willing to hear him out, and... well, didn’t judge him outright.

It obviously wasn’t the best judgment call. He was aware that I likely knew that too, but if I thought he was worthy of a second chance, then he wouldn’t deny it.

He wanted to try. He... had something to care about again.

It was comforting. Yesterday, the thought had scared him immensely. But now?

He looks at me, seeing that warm smile on my face again. He feels immense guilt over what happened, but I’d already forgiven him. It didn’t stop the feeling, but at least I was alright...

He wouldn’t let it happen again. He was going to be better this time.

Next Chapter ->

#g.txt #my fics #fnaf fanfic #fnaf au #fnaf springtrap #fnaf fandom #springtrap x oc #springtrap x self insert #springtrap fic #springtrap x hawk #springtrap #named this one after a laura les song that just. fits his vibe but they rlly are haunted in this one #i think im only gonna have a couple more chapters but im not sure #im not sure where i should call it honestly??#probably when theyre used to each other... itd be cute to write them being genuinely cuddly

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