#and now i hidey hide away | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

itsmealaiah · 4 months

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Hiii I'm a huge fan of ur works ❤️❤️❤️

I was wondering could u make a 2023 to 2024 tom and bill x reader the used to all be best friends but when tom got married hidei klum tells tom to cut reader off because she's jealous of her now so he did making reader go mia and hide from social media now in 2024 they rekindle and if u can could it be smut ♥️♥️♥️♥️

Once again I'm a huge fan

aww ❤️

Missing some action

tags/ warnings: author being a forgetful bitch and not putting bill in here, cheating/ adultery, multiple rounds of smut, getting caught in the act

Not proofread at all!

MDNI ⚠️ don't like don't read or leave hate

Disclaimer: nothing against heidi yall

pairing: tom x fem

may and will not be used in any other capacity besides this blog, do not translate, copy and paste, or claim as your own. we've had many issues with this in the past three months.

It had been four long years since the last time I had seen Tom Kaulitz. He used to be my best friend, the one person who understood me like no other. But then he married Heidi Klum, and everything changed. She grew jealous of our friendship, of the time we spent together, of the closeness we shared. So, she demanded that Tom choose between her and me. Of course, he chose her. I wasn't surprised, but it still hurt. A lot.

She made it clear that she didn't want me in their lives anymore, and Tom seemed to agree. I was heartbroken, but I had no choice but to leave them alone. I went off grid, deleted all my social media accounts, and tried to move on with my life. I focused on my career, my friends, and family. Time passed, and the pain eased a little, but it never truly went away.

Four years later, I received an invitation to Tom and Heidi's anniversary party. I didn't want to go, but my mom insisted. "You need to face your past and move on, sweetheart," she said, handing me the crumpled piece of paper with the address on it. As I got dressed for the event, I couldn't help but feel a mixture of anticipation and dread. What if Tom didn't even want to see me after all this time?

When I arrived at the party, I immediately felt out of place. The atmosphere was so different from the ones we used to share. The guests were all dressed to the nines, sipping expensive champagne, and laughing too loudly. I searched the crowd for Tom, hoping to avoid him for as long as possible. But then, I heard a familiar voice calling my name.

It was him. Tom looked different somehow, more grown up and self-assured. He was still as handsome as ever, with those piercing brown eyes that used to make my heart race. He was standing there with Heidi at his side, her arm looped through his, a smug smile playing on her lips. They both looked so happy together.

I hesitated for a moment, my heart thudding in my chest. Should I go over and say hello? Or should I just turn around and walk away? Before I could make a decision, Tom broke away from Heidi and walked towards me. His steps were slow and deliberate, and I couldn't help but feel a pang of nostalgia as I remembered the countless times we used to run into each other's arms and hug.

When he finally reached me, he took my hands in his and smiled warmly. "It's good to see you, y/n. I've missed you." His voice was soft and sincere, and it sent a shiver down my spine. "I'm sorry for the way things ended between us. I never meant for it to happen that way." He looked at me with those eyes, and it was like he was seeing right through me.

"It's okay, Tom. I understand." I forced a smile, trying to hide the ache in my heart. "It's good to see you too." I glanced around, feeling the need to break the awkward silence. "Heidi is looking lovely tonight."

He chuckled softly. "She is, isn't she? Well, come on. Let me introduce you to some people." He took my hand and led me through the crowd. As we walked, I couldn't help but notice how his touch sent tingles up my spine, how his presence still made my heart skip a beat.

"So, what have you been up to?" he asked, his voice low and intimate. "How's work? How's your family?" I told him about my latest project, my parents, my sister. He listened attentively, nodding along, occasionally asking questions. It felt so natural, like we were picking up right where we left off.

"I've been meaning to ask you," I said, hesitating for a moment. "How are things with you and Heidi?"

He smiled, but there was a sadness in his eyes. "We're doing well, I suppose. But things aren't always as perfect as they seem." He looked away, lost in thought. "I can't help but wonder sometimes what might have been, you know?"

I nodded, my heart aching for him. I knew exactly what he meant. But then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Heidi glaring at us from across the room. Her expression was a mixture of anger and jealousy, and it made me feel guilty all over again.

"Well," I said, trying to change the subject. "I should probably find my mom and thank her for bringing me here. It was nice seeing you, Tom." I reached up and kissed his cheek, feeling his skin warm beneath my lips.

He took my hand in his and gave it a squeeze. "Thank you for coming, y/n. I'm glad we could talk. Maybe we could do this again, when Heidi's not around." His voice was barely a whisper, but I could tell he meant it.

As I made my way through the crowd, I couldn't help but think about our conversation. Despite being married to Heidi, there was still a spark between us. A part of me wondered if we could ever find our way back to each other. But then again, Heidi was his wife, and they seemed happy enough together.

A few weeks passed, and I received an unexpected invitation from Tom. He wanted me to come over while Heidi was away on business. I hesitated for a moment, wondering if it was a good idea. After all, we had both moved on with our lives. But something about his words, the way he'd looked at me that night at the party, made me feel like I couldn't say no.

When the day finally arrived, I found myself nervously pacing in front of my mirror, trying to decide what to wear. I wanted to look nice, but not too nice. After all, I didn't want Tom to get the wrong idea. I eventually settled on a casual blouse and a pair of comfortable jeans. I didn't want to seem desperate or overeager, but I also didn't want to appear indifferent. It was a delicate balancing act.

As I drove to his house, my stomach was in knots. What would we talk about? Would we end up arguing about Heidi? Or would we be able to find some common ground, some semblance of the connection we'd once shared? I didn't know the answers to these questions, but I felt compelled to find out.

When I arrived at Tom's house, I found him sitting on the patio, a glass of wine in hand. He looked up as I approached, and the smile that spread across his face warmed me to my core. He stood, taking my hand in his, and pulled me into a gentle embrace. The touch of his skin against mine sent shivers down my spine, and for a moment, it felt like no time had passed at all.

"You look beautiful," he whispered into my ear. "Just like you did that night at the party." He let go of me, stepping back to take in my appearance.

"Well, thank you," I replied, feeling my cheeks flush. "You don't look so bad yourself." I gestured toward the chair opposite him. "Can I sit?"

He nodded, motioning for me to sit down. "Please, make yourself comfortable." As he sat back down across from me, I couldn't help but notice the slight awkwardness between us. We both seemed to be searching for something to say, something to break the silence.

"So," I began, trying to find my footing. "How have you been? How's the band?"

He smiled, shrugging nonchalantly. "Oh, you know, same old, same old. Heidi's been busy with her show, so I've been taking care of things at home. It's actually been kind of nice, having some time to myself. We've been doing alright, you know?" His eyes met mine, and there was a question in them. A question that I couldn't quite answer.

The silence that fell between us was thick, almost palpable. I could feel my cheeks flush as I wondered what he was thinking. Had I read too much into his words at the party? Was he truly happy with Heidi, or was there still a part of him that longed for something more? I wanted to believe the latter, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I was just fooling myself.

As if sensing my discomfort, Tom reached out, taking my hand in his. His skin was warm against mine, sending shivers up my spine. "I'm glad you came over tonight," he said softly. "It's been… difficult, you know? Being so close to you, but not being able to…" His voice trailed off, his gaze searching mine for some sign of understanding.

I wanted to reassure him, to tell him that I felt the same way. That the connection we'd shared wasn't something that could be so easily forgotten. But instead, I found myself leaning in closer, pressing my lips against his. The kiss was slow, gentle at first, but as it deepened, so did the passion between us. His hand moved up my thigh, and I gasped against his mouth.

The sound seemed to fuel his desire, and he pulled me closer, his other hand tangled in my hair. I could feel the heat of his body pressed against mine, and it sent a shiver through me. The air around us seemed to crackle with anticipation, and I knew we were both thinking the same thing. We needed this. We needed each other.

With a growl, he lifted me up onto his arms. I gasped as I felt his lips brush against my neck, and then lower, sucking gently on the skin there. His touch sent shivers down my spine, and my heart raced in my chest. As if it were a reflex, my hands found their way under his shirt, tracing the hard planes of his stomach before moving higher, to cup his firm chest. He moaned into the kiss, pressing me harder against him.

He carried me toward the bedroom, kicking the bedroom door open with his foot. I giggled, feeling giddy with desire as he threw me onto the bed. My heart hammered in my chest as he stripped off his shirt, revealing his toned, muscular chest. He crawled on top of me, his weight pressing me into the mattress. His lips found mine again, and he kissed me hungrily, his tongue thrusting deep into my mouth.

His hands moved lower, tugging at my clothes, desperate to feel my skin against his. In a frenzy of need, he ripped my blouse open, sending buttons flying across the room. I arched my back, offering him easier access, as he pulled my bra free, releasing my breasts from their confines. He groaned, his hot breath fanning across my nipples, and then lowered his head, taking one of them into his mouth. I cried out, my hips bucking off the bed as he sucked and teased.

My own hands wandered over his body, exploring the defined muscles of his back and shoulders. I reached down between us, tugging at his belt, unfastening his pants. His erection sprang free, and I reached out, wrapping my hand around it, feeling the heat and the strength in my palm. He groaned again, arching his back into my touch.

"God, you're so fucking beautiful," he breathed against my skin. "I've missed this." He rolled onto his side, pressing his body against mine. His lips found my earlobe, and he nipped at it gently before moving lower, kissing his way down my neck and across my collarbone. I gasped, feeling his hot breath on my skin, as he pushed two fingers into me, slowly and deliberately. I cried out, my hips arching off the bed in response to the intrusion.

He smiled against my skin, his fingers moving deeper, curling inside me. His other hand found its way up, cupping my breast, his thumb rubbing roughly over my nipple. I mewled, feeling the delicious ache building inside me. I wanted more, and I knew he could give it to me. I reached down between us, wrapping my hand around his erection, stroking him in time with his movements inside me. His breath hitched, his fingers thrusting deeper, faster.

The bed creaked beneath us as he rolled us over, me now on top. His eyes met mine, and for a moment, there was a flicker of uncertainty there. But then it was gone, replaced by a fierce determination that only served to fuel my own desire. His hands moved to my hips, and he urged me down onto him, his erection pressing against my entrance.

I groaned, the sensation sending a wave of pleasure through me. I lowered myself further, feeling the head of his cock nudge against my opening. With a growl, he thrust upward, piercing me with his length. I cried out, my hips rocking in a frenzy off the bed as he filled me completely. His hands moved to my shoulders, holding me in place as he began to move, his body sliding against mine in a rhythm that was both familiar and exhilarating.

He kissed me roughly, his tongue thrusting deep into my mouth, as if he couldn't get close enough. His hips rose and fell, each thrust driving him deeper inside me. I arched my back, meeting his movements with equal fervor, my nails digging into his shoulders. The sound of our breaths and skin slapping together filled the room, drowning out everything else.

His pace quickened, and I felt myself on the edge of orgasm. I tightened my grip on him, urging him on, begging for more. With a growl, he pulled out of me and rolled me onto my stomach. I felt his hot breath on my neck as he spanked my ass, once, twice. The stinging sensation only served to heighten my arousal, and I moaned loudly.

His fingers pressed against me, slipping easily inside. He thrust them deep, curling them in a way that sent waves of pleasure through me. "That's it," he groaned, his voice rough with desire. "Give it all to me." His other hand moved to my breast, tweaking my nipple roughly as he continued to pump his fingers inside me.

I arched my back, moaning in ecstasy as I felt him fill me, felt the strength and heat of his body against mine. I reached down between us, taking his erection in my hand, stroking it in time with his movements inside me. He growled, thrusting harder, deeper, as if he couldn't get close enough.

His fingers moved to my clit, circling it expertly, and I cried out, my hips bucking wildly against his touch. The sensation was overwhelming, exquisite, and I felt myself on the brink of orgasm. He smiled against my neck, his lips moving to my ear. "That's it, baby. Let it go."

With a final thrust, he buried himself inside me, his body trembling as he came, his hot seed spilling into me. I felt my own orgasm crash over me, waves of pleasure washing through my body as I cried out his name. Our sweat-slicked bodies moved together in perfect rhythm, each breath, each moan, echoing in the room.

Finally, he collapsed on top of me, his weight pressing me into the mattress. I could feel his heart racing against my back, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. I wrapped my legs around him, holding him close, savoring the feel of his skin against mine.

"God, y/n," he murmured into my hair. "I didn't think you'd be so… so responsive." His hips rocked slowly against mine, and I felt him grow harder inside me. It was as if he hadn't just filled me to the brim with his seed, as if he were still hungry for more.

His hands moved up my sides, cupping my breasts. He rolled my nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, sending a shiver through my entire body. I arched my back, pressing myself deeper into his touch. "Please," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "Don't stop."

He smiled against my skin and began to move faster, harder. His breath came in ragged gasps, and I could feel his muscles tense beneath my fingers. I wrapped my legs around his waist, feeling the strength and power of his body as he drove into me. He was relentless, driving me higher and higher with each thrust.

My head tilted back, and I let out a moan of pure pleasure as he found my sweet spot. His name fell from my lips in a plea, a demand. He answered with a growl, his hips slamming against mine in a frenzy. I felt my own orgasm building, growing more intense with each passing second.

With one final thrust, he buried himself deep inside me, his body shuddering as he came. My orgasm crashed over me in a wave of bliss, and I cried out his name, my body arching off the bed as my pleasure consumed me.

He collapsed on top of me, his weight pressing me into the mattress, his breath coming in ragged gasps. For a moment, we lay entwined, his heart racing against my back, our sweat-slicked skin sticking together. It was as if time had stopped, as if the world outside this room didn't exist.

He rolled to his side, propping himself up on one elbow to look down at me. His eyes roamed over my flushed face and heated skin, and I felt a shiver run down my spine. "Well," he said with a grin, "I guess I'm not the only one who needed this."

I reached up, tracing a finger along his jawline. "No, I don't think you are," I replied, my voice still breathless from our passion. "But I don't regret it. Not for a second."

He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to my lips. "Good," he whispered. "Because I think… I think we might need to do this again." His hand moved down between my legs, and I gasped as his fingers found their way back to my swollen, sensitive flesh.

His fingers moved over me in a familiar rhythm, and I arched my back, pressing myself against his touch. The pleasure coursing through my body was almost overwhelming, and I could feel my orgasm building once more. "Oh, God, yes," I moaned, my hips moving in time with his hand.

Tom watched me intently, his eyes dark with desire. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. He leaned in, capturing my lips with his, his tongue tracing their shape. I could feel the strength of him pressed against me, his heart racing wildly beneath my fingertips. Heat spread through my body like a wildfire, and with each thrust, he drove deeper inside me, claiming me in a way that felt both possessive and tender.

"what the actual fuck" I looked up, my eyes barely opening.

Heidi

#tokio hotel #tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel x you #tom kaulitz #tom kaulitz imagines #tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz fluff #tom kaulitz angst #tom kaulitz smut #tom kaulitz x y/n #tom kaulitz x you

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thedo0zyslider · 9 months

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Scott, who is currnetly crammed into a small dirt hole, stares back at the green, cat like eyes blinking back at him in the almost utter darkness. The eyes of the one and only Tango. The one of the Tek variety.

Martyn had told him to hide, for just a little bit, and he hadn’t expected to wind up in the exact same hidey hole that the other last green on the sever had chosen.

It's an awkward thing, when Scott realizes he's crashed his neighbors hiding space. It also leads to a lot of staring into each other's eyes, because there is nowhere else to look. The hole is dark, only being illumated by a single torch light, and it is so small that he can barely see the walls past Tango's form.

Eventually though, after they've been staring long enough to memroize what each other's eyes look like in great detail. Tango lets out a gentle chuckle. "This is soooo bad if someone finds us!" His words are quiet, and his breath just falls short of Scott’s face.

"Yeah, yeah it would be." Scott agrees, a small smile escaping him. He cannot help but notice how close they are, how their bodies are flushed against each other. He can't help but notice how Tango practically has an arm around his lower torso, because bending it any other way would be uncomfortable. Scott notices how he's basically straddling the blaze as well, because a one by two hole will never be big enough for one person, let alone two.

"Soo....whatddya wanna do?" Tango jokes, his tail flicking against Scott's legs. He smiles in return, running a teasing hand over the other's chest.

"What ever you wanna do~" He purrs, leaning downwards. Tango smiles up at him, their foreheads bumping, until the blaze tits his head to the side a bit more, and a shiver of what feels like anticipation runs through Scott's body.

Their lips brush, just barely, before both them pull back. Well, it feels like both of them, but it's mainly Scott who does so. He's not very sure on going through with this is all after he thinks about it, even if he really really wanted to in the moment.

Based on what little he knew or Team T.I.E.S' members and their pasts, he had to wonder if Tango was with one of them. In a way that was more than friendship. He had to wonder if this would be cheating on anybody, because most of their servermates had formed some pretty steady relationships by this point. (Scott knew he was fine, because what him and Martyn were wasn't like that, but it also wasn't just a friendship either. And Martyn had said it was fine if explored other options, and he had agreed in return.)

Tango gives him a curious glance, one that's maybe a little concerned as well, and Scott voices his concerns.

"You're not gonna be...betraying anyone with this are you?" He asked, one of his hands having come down to cup Tango's cheek.

"No," Tango breathed, their faces barely two inches apart now. "Are you..?"

Scott shook his head no, but before he could finally lean in, there was the distinct sound of Grian’s voice above them. Because of course they would he interrupted right during the best moment, of course.

Both men froze in an instant, yet at the same time not moving away from each other, and stayed deathly silent as footsteps sounded above them. It takes a few minutes of Grian yelling at someone a bit further away, who seems to be either Joel or Jimmy, before their avian friend is gone and the world above them is silent once again.

Scott can barely believe it. They were less than ten blocks under the surface, and half of the people chasing them couldn't even think to dig out so much as a shallow hole. What were the odds of that.

"I don't think they're gonna find us for a while....." Tango murmured against his lips a moment later, warm breath ghosting over Scott’s face; his husky voice feeling rather loud in the newfound silence. And that's the moment be decides to hell with it, and promptly connects their lips.

Kissing Tango is warm and lovely and something like Scott’s never done before. It's less hotter and flamey than it looks like it would be in all honesty. At least in one way for now, because there are hands tugging at his hair and they are edging him on a great deal.

He bites Tango's lip when they go back in for seconds, and the blaze whines at that. Scott kisses him harder after that, and the only thing keeping him from destroying the blonde's neck was the fact that Tango had beaten him too it.

Sharp teeth graze over his neck as soon as they disconnect for a second time, teasingly running over his gills. Scott hums in pleasure when Tango finally bites down, and moves to grab ahold of the back of the blazeborn's head and wrap his fingers in soft blonde hair. Scott cranes his neck back after a moment, letting Tango have more access to bite and bruise his skin.

Not long after that there is the sound of blocks breaking, and the two of them fail to notice until there is more light flooding the hole than torchlight could ever provide. Tango looks up, cat like pupils expanding again, and softly moves away from where he was biting Scott’s neck. Much to the latters disappointment.

Thankfully, it is only Martyn, who blinks at them while he's processing what he just walked in on. As his ally does this, Scott scarmbles off Tango, already missing the other's warmth, and practically stumbles out of the entrance Martyn had made.

"We're you two making out down there!?" Martyn exclaims, a tease and laugh on tge edge of his tone. He's pushed out into the sunlight by Tango, who is blushing like Scott had never seen him before. He sees how much of a mess the blaze truly is once they aren't shoved in a whole and has proper lighting, and he's sure he looks worse. Considering what exactly they'd been doing when Martyn found the two of them.

"Did you want in or something?" Scott asks, and giggles when the comment ends in both the blonde's blushing. That's where Martyn decides to call it a day, and that it's time for Tango to go home. No more making out today, not for the two of them anyways.

But before he leaves Tango presses a fleeting kiss to Scott’s red and puffy lips, and murmurs a promise to visit him later. Scott murmurs back that he'll be waiting, and prepares himself to endure all his teammates teases on the way back home.

#ron.writing #trafficshipping #emberfrost #snowbugs #gotten obsessed with them recently haha

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robinette-green · 2 months

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Late Night Day Dreams Chapter 13:

Parts and Service

You’re the new kid in Parts and Service and your coworkers thought it would be funny to send you to the daycare without telling you about Moon’s playful tendencies

_/|\_\|/_/|\_

From deep inside one of the massive plastic play structures in the daycare, I was slowly coming to realize that the guys down in Parts and Service had decided to haze the new kid.

Me.

They’d tasked me with something seemingly very simple. Go to the daycare and bring back the daycare attendant for routine maintenance.

I’d agreed.

When I’d been giving the tour on my first day it hadn’t included the daycare and I figured this would be a great opportunity to finally get to see this part of the Plex.

No one told me that the daycare attendant doesn’t like going to Parts and Service.

No one told me that the power cycles on the hour, turning the lights off in the daycare.

No one told me that this was going to be DANGEROUS!

“Come out, come out wherever you are.” A raspy voice giggled, much closer than I would have liked.

Slowly, I army crawled through the next plastic tube, trying to stay as quiet as possible, trying to keep my breathing under control as fear clutched at my insides, trying to squeeze myself through a play structure built for children.

“Hidey hide, hide away.” The voice giggled again, a red glow illuminating the far end of the tube.

“Where are you, friend?”

I froze, eyes fixed on the red reflecting off the plastic. He was toying with me. He'd probably found me ages ago.

Tears sprung to my eyes, body shaking as I panicked, still trying to stay as silent as possible, attempting to slide backward out of the tube.

Why did it have to be the dark?

Why did it have to be clowns?

When I took this job, I thought I was going to be working with robotics in well-lit spaces, repairing animatronics with advanced AI. Not hiding from metal clown death traps trying to kill me in the dark!

“Peek a boo.” Came the sing-song voice and I watched in horror as the blue clown animatronic slowly lowered his face to the tube and started to crawl in towards me, contorting like a spider.

“No! No, no, no, no, no!!” I scrambled to slide back out of the tube, trying to get away as Moon shot forward, fingers outstretched, his eyes red eyes the only light, his fixed grin rushing towards me.

I only just managed to pull free from the tube, scraping my back against the hard plastic and slamming my shoulders and elbows against the metal bars as flung myself backward, Moon’s fingers missed me by inches.

Chest heaving with panicked gasps, I tried to scramble up to the next level. Moon was still coming, sliding easily from the tube and scuttling like a deranged crab, chest up but head turned all the way around.

“Found you!” He giggled.

“Gonna catch you!”

What would happen if he did catch me? Would he drag me away somewhere? Would he crush me? Rip me apart?

The tears were falling now, blurring my vision as I frantically made for a slide, ignoring every bruise and scrape I gained along the way.

Suddenly my leg was pulled out from under me and I slammed down, just managing to catch myself so my face didn’t bash into the plastic below me.

Looking back over my shoulder in horror, I found Moon’s red eyes looming closer, his fingers wrapped around my ankle.

“Caught you! I win!” Moon cackled, face plate spinning in mirth, then he leaned closer, the red from his eyes illuminating my face.

“Your turn.”

What?

Was he… playing?

Moon’s head ticked to the side and he leaned ever closer to me, his eyes studying my face.

“Tears?” He asked suddenly and I quickly whipped at my eyes, body still trembling.

Moon was off me like a shot, skittering backward, curling into himself, hands covering his face

Then he was gone, skittering through a tube and vanishing into the dark depths of the play structure.

Alone, I took a minute to collect myself.

Playing. He’d been playing. Moon thought this was a game and we’d been having fun.

Sweet in a way if not still massively terrifying having a robotic clown chase you in the dark.

Slowly I started to make my way out of the play structure.

“M-Moon?” I called out, looking for any sign of him, keeping an eye out for a red glow.

Trying to squeeze through one of the openings in the pay structure, I felt my belt loop catch on something, but I couldn't reach back to free it and with how I was positioned, I couldn’t back up.

“Moon?” I tried again, still not seeing any sign of him.

“Moon? I-I’m stuck. C-can you come help me? I don’t know if I can get free on my own.” I called out.

Nothing.

I tried wiggling this way and that but there was no getting free.

“Moon?? I’m- I’m not scared anymore! I didn’t realize we were playing! Please? I really need your help.”

“Lier.”

I flinched violently, Moon’s voice coming from much closer than I had expected.

“W-w-what?” I asked, voice shaking.

“I-I am stuck though.” It wasn’t a lie. There was no getting free without help.

“You’re still scared.”

I tried to see where the voice was coming from, peering around, trying to see the red glow of Moon’s eyes.

“W-well maybe a little. B-but it’s not your fault.”

Swallowing thickly, I closed my eyes to the dark. I should tell him. It would help the situation, wouldn’t it?

“Don’t laugh.”

Silence. Had he left me? Well, whatever. I’d just say it.

“I-I’m scared of the dark… and of clowns,” I mumbled.

“B-BUT! None of that is y-your fault!” I added quickly, trying to explain.

Though with how Moon had initiated play, anyone would have been scared out of their minds.

My belt loop was suddenly released and I fell forward with a small ‘oof!’

“We’re modeled after jesters, not clowns,” Moon said, arms wrapping around me as I squeaked and trembled.

I was lifted and, in moments, Moon had removed me safely from the play structure.

“W-well in the dark, you looked like a clown!” I defended myself and Moon laughed slightly, setting me down.

“Sorry for scaring you.”

I turned and looked up at the large robot crouching over me. He still looked super scary, but… maybe not as scary? I still didn’t want him crawling at me out of the dark ever again… though I had a feeling that he was going to in my near future.

“It’s… it’s okay. Just… maybe next time, ask to play a game instead of lunging at me out of the dark?”

“No promises.” Moon giggled, but I had a feeling he would be more careful in the future… at least with me.

“Right, well, I still have to bring you down to parts and service for a check-“

Moon was gone, his wire lifting him up into the dark of the daycare.

“No.”

“Moon!”

In the end, I brought my tools up to the daycare and did their checkup there.

We’ve been tentative friends ever since.

#glitter rock #fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf moon #fnaf sun #dca fandom #fnaf sun and moon #sun and moon x reader #dca fanfic #glitter rock writing

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follows-the-bees · 6 months

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A scene that I think captures the whole feel and thesis of this show (and specifically season two) is when Archie and Jim first kiss.

We start with Jim and Archie in the hidey hole protecting Izzy. Frenchie, now in the first mate role, tells them to "start with his leg, see where it goes" to save Izzy from the infected gunshot wound, leaving to get the first-aid kit.

Archie and Jim do just that and proceed to sit down in front of a passed-out Izzy, tissues in nostrils to keep the stench away. Pointedly, Jim is still holding onto Izzy's leg and is inspecting it. We get comedy thrown in during and right after the amputation. Joking about which leg to amputate, stating that "oh, he's a gusher," and Jim casually inspecting the leg.

And that is followed immediately by a sweet speech. Jim tells about the good times of the ship, their time with the old crew and specifically Olu. They call Izzy "a dick, but he's their dick" claiming him as part of the crew, the community, and reinforcing that at the heart of it, all of these characters technically aren't "good people," they are pirates, survivors, they've done a lot of morally ambiguous things, but that doesn't mean that they are past saving, past loving, past living.

This part of the scene shows us the community that the crew has for each other, how they are hiding Izzy and trying to keep him alive. It also shows the violence of this way of life. Violence in the past season has always been there but more in a cartoony way — people recover from being gut-stabbed fairly quickly and mysteriously or to the clearly defined bad guys. This season is no longer the fantasy (Note the gusto!) of being a pirate, but the reality of it (Our characters can get fundamentally hurt.)

((And Izzy living from this wound still semi fits the cartoony part of S1 because in reality he would have died from it, but in the show he lives from the wound and recovers fairly quickly, but we don't shy away from the mental and physical trauma of it like S1 would have done.))

As the scene continues, Archie leans in to kiss Jim and when asked why, replies that she likes Jim's optimism. We see here how Archie is used to the real-life violence of pirate life. But Jim, who was raised to be a killer as to seek revenge, has changed into a softer person. One who will try to save the life of the person who was once not enemy but enemy-adjacent. Someone who now tells Fang stories, one who remembers and implements the ways of their old captain to find healing and community in this dark situation.

This moment between Jim and Archie is as sweet and romantic as it can get for two people covered in blood, holding an amputated leg, and noses stuffed with tissue.

The kiss abruptly ends when Frenchie returns with Blackbeard. The moment turns ominous as Blackbeard laughs at them and tells them to leave.

But even in this small scene, comedy still shines through. From Frenchie's lie about not knowing this place existed to Blackbeard's "take the fuckin' leg."

And the scene ends (or where I am ending it for this analysis) with Jim bravely telling Blackbeard that Izzy was his friend.

This whole sequence shows the softness and heart of the show and of these characters in the middle of dark and violent circumstances,

Jim is turned away from the violence and toward the community/romance/comedy while still holding onto the other side the reality/violence, while on the floor with Archie. They then take that evidence of violence turned community/heart with them, balancing all the tones.

This two minute scene truly encapsulates all the elements of the show: humor, romance, community, all forms of love, and the grit of injury and piracy. And I find it fascinating that such a short scene can do all that and why I think it's a perfect example of the themes of the show.

#ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd s2 #ofmd season 2 #ofmd edward teach #blackbeard #jim jimenez #archie ofmd #ofmd archie #ofmd frenchie #frenchie #ofmd meta #meta analysis #red flags #episode 2x2 #thesis #theme #our flag means death filmmaking analysis #i love that this scene encompasses the entire ahow in like two minutes

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tinyliltina · 9 months

Text

Drum

It wasn't an earthquake. Yes, the ground did tremble, and yes, it was very jarring. But it wasn’t an earthquake. Tina pushed herself out of her hidey-hole, a hand rubbing at her eye with a yawn. Sure enough, a few feet away, was a massive set of fingers drumming against the ground. Each impact made the borrower tremble, her whiskers twitching to alert her something was moving. She raised a brow at the blond-headed human peering down at her.

“What?” the brunette asked sharply. She leaned against the doorframe of her hiding hole.

There was a flicker of indignance in the massive, green eyes peering down at her. Ethan snorted. “You’re awfully cheery today,” the human grumbled.

Tina scoffed, “I’m tired. I don’t…I’m not in the mood, E.” She pressed the heels of her palms to her eyes, already regretting getting out of bed. Her head throbbed with the promise of a headache. “Just-...not today. Please.”

The drumming stopped. Tina lowered her hands. She opened her eyes to a much softer, much closer face, so close she noticed her reflection in Ethan’s gaze. She looked tired and disheveled. Her hair was a disarray of brown, a tangled mess that complimented the bags beneath her eyes. Drawn face, slouched shoulders. She looked, and felt, defeated.

“What’s wrong?”

She blinked at the question, ears flicking as she came back to attention. Instead of her reflection, she focused on Ethan’s face. His brows were furrowed, now, eyes locked on hers. Any other borrower in her position would be mortified given her proximity to a human. A human with magic, no less, one that had an appetite for borrowers, and games of chase. All Tina saw was her pushy roommate who’d taken her in.

“I don’t…” she groaned and rubbed at her forehead. “I’m not sick, not hungry, not thirsty, I just don’t…feel great. I feel…stuck, like I can’t get myself going, and my head won’t stop hurting, and everything feels so loud and so much, and-”

“Woah woah, easy,” Ethan cut her off. Before she could respond, his hand came forward. It swept her off her feet, into the air, and up against the human’s face. Ethan’s nose brushed her middle, slowing the fluttering of her chest and tightening of her middle. “Breathe, squeaker, you’re gonna pass out.”

Tina let out her breath. Slowly. She leaned into the tip of Ethan’s nose. It was warm…he was warm. And soft. Tina sighed as some of her tension eased. She brought her hands up, gripping his nose and holding him as close as she could. His breaths were loud, but slow and even. Her breaths began to match his. Slower, deeper, more relaxed, until she could open her eyes.

“Okay, I’m…I think I’m good,” she murmured. Tiny hands slid down to her lap as Ethan pulled away. She glanced aside. “Thanks…”

“Eh, it's fine,” Ethan shrugged, lifting and lowering Tina with the motion. “I know I’m pretty much the best roommate, you don’t have to tell me.” He cracked a lopsided grin, and Tina rolled her eyes…though there was some merit to that.

“Alright, alright,” Tina chuckled, “let’s reign in that ego.” She situated herself in Ethan’s palm, his skin gently bowing beneath her. Tina felt his fingers flex at her back, her tail dangling between two of them.

“Oh c’mon,” the human brought Tina closer to his chest. “I don’t have that much of an ego…”

“Your ego is as big as you are…” She shifted, leaning against his shirt, sinking into the warmth he provided.

“Hey,” Ethan’s finger moved, gently prodding her in the middle, “You’re the tiny one here, I’m perfectly normal sized.”

Tina swatted at him, of course doing no good against the digit that was about her size. He was right, by human standards, she was tiny. Still, that didn’t mean Tina was going to give in that easily. “Who’s to say you’re not giant-sized for a borrower, hm?” she nudged his finger right back. “And, who’s to say humans are the normal ones? You guys are so big and loud…not very good at hiding, you’re messy, you kinda have a weird smell…”

Another prod, “That last one sounds like a personal attack,” Ethan snorted.

Tina grinned and settled back in his hands. She loved these moments. These silly, gentle moments. It made the size difference feel…smaller. Less intense. As though she wasn’t sitting in the palm of a creature that could hurt or kill her without a thought. She stretched and snuggled into her living chair.

“Oh sure, make fun of me then get comfy when I call you out,” Ethan’s grin was almost audible. His hand shifted around her, bringing her to his chest again. This time, it tilted so she plopped onto his chest, stretched out atop him, not unlike settling into a comfortable bed. Truth be told he was warm enough to be one.

Her head settled onto his shirt, and she settled herself in a cozy position. Her tail draped at her back, arms to her chest. Once she fell still, Ethan’s hand reappeared, resting atop her like a giant blanket. Tina curled up beneath it and purred quietly, though her tiny rumbles were nothing compared to the massive thrumming of Ethan’s heart; her purrs were nowhere near loud enough to drown out the slow, even breaths of the human. The living ambiance eased the borrower's eyes closed before she’d realized it. Soon, she was asleep.

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pancakefanfics · 4 months

Text

CotL fanfic idea

Based off my spouse getting Narinder in their current game and him being a coward. Long outline.

Fic starts immediately after Narinder is defeated. Maybe in a dream-like space as he thinks about what has transpired, all the things he thought would come of the Prophecy finally being fulfilled, and how everything that was so close to his reach just slipped through his fingers

Thinking about the lamb, and what he knows of their journey. How powerful they’ve gotten. And how effortlessly they seemed to strike down not only him, but Aym and Baal too. Now he’s completely stripped of his powers, and at the mercy of his former disciple. And that thought is…terrifying.

Coward trait gained.

He comes out of this dream-like state being treated for wounds sustained during the fight and absolutely terrified of everything around him. The other followers, the Lamb. He’s weak and powerless now.

He inevitably starts hiding around the grounds. Other followers (especially the jerks and the hot-tempered ones) see him as an easy target, and he’s picked on a lot.

Lamb doesn’t notice at first. They’ve got their own shit to do, between babies being nurtured, quests, and sermons. But maybe a few days in they notice Narinder scurrying off after a sermon and decide to follow him. A little hidey-hole he made for himself in a bush, away from everyone.

And of course Narinder is scared shitless when he realizes the Lamb followed him. Tries to run away, but the Lamb catches him, confused. “I’m sorry please don’t hurt me I wasn’t doing anything in here just sitting please just let me go and I’ll go do something productive-“

And the Lamb is just so confused because Narinder was so strong and ruthless and now he’s practically crying because they found him hiding. “Narinder please calm down I’m not going to hurt you you’re safe here”

Lamb starting to reassure Narinder every day, and does not treat followers that try to abuse him kindly. “You are all my children and you shouldn’t be so mean to one another. I want you to love each other and to make those new to our little community feel at home.” They say as a tentacle wraps tighter around one of the offender’s throats.

Everyone starts acting kinder. Narinder feeling more and more accepted by the community around him. Forming somewhat of a friendship with the Lamb as he regains his old personality.

But also Narinder being confused as fuck about some of the shit in the community. Because I’m definitely just keeping some game mechanics in just because.

“Lamb why do you have an egg.” “Oh Gerbre and Thorjul just made it!” “…that is a cow and a dog. Neither of those animals lay eggs or should be able to breed with one another.” “Oh really? Huh. Didn’t know that.” “This isn’t how biology works how tf-“ “its because I wanted them to have a baby to make the cult grow! It was my divine grace that blessed their mating to create a beautiful egg.” Narinder stops questioning, just avoids going to the mating tent. Partially because he’s just not interested in anyone there.

Followers proposing to the Lamb and them declining. The more they spend time with Narinder the more they find themselves falling for him, especially as he gets more of his personality back. Is pretty sure they’ll have more luck winning him over if they’re not married to another follower.

So slow burn, enemies to lovers, maybe a little cracky with some OOC things. And of course it’s NariLamb. No thoughts for how they’d get together or anything. Probably be fluffy, no fight scenes really. I just think they’re cute.

#narilamb #cult of the lamb #fanfiction #fanfiction outline #cotl lamb #cotl narinder #cotl #cotl fanfic #fanfic outline

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pillowspace · 10 months

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hello, person who followed for fandoms not your current one here! i would love to know more about that character you draw a lot (sun or moon?? not sure on the name), what are they from, etc? as much or as little as you would like to explain. i am intrigued, ive seen them around a lot for the past, idk, year or two? they seem interesting. (I will unfortunately never read/watch/play whatever media they’re from, even if it’s very good, it’s my fatal flaw sorry)

Everyone stand back. I'm putting on a business suit. I'm taking out the briefcase. I'm slicking back my hair. I've never been asked this before, hold on

They are Sun and Moon! :) Two characters, if you want to see them that way (you don't necessarily have to.) They are in the same body, so to refer to them both as a whole entity, people tend to just say "the Daycare Attendant" or the DCA.

They are from Five Nights at Freddy's: Security Breach. Security Breach drastically differs from the other FNAF games, so while I've personally always been into the franchise, a lot of people are drawn in specifically to this game alone. It's... more open, you walk around, the characters have a lot of personality, and you're a child with missions, etc. It makes it incomparable essentially.

There is a section in the game where the child you play as (Gregory) needs to enter the Superstar Daycare. You go down the slide, you land in the ballpit, aaaand-! A sun-themed jester animatronic notices you. Sun. He's energetic, he's a solid mix of anxiety and joy. He is no threat to the player and cannot harm you, only wanting to have fun and urging you to follow the rules.

The switch in AI is light-activated. When you cause the lights to go out, Sun's rays retract, the hat comes out, and Moon now appears. He is the threat, and will chase the player. His voice is very raspy, he's the menacing laughter type, he urges you to "hidey-hide away" and sleep, as he is specifically the Naptime Attendant.

So. Ahem. I will now ask you, if you're familiar with the Sans Undertale treatment. The DCA fandom is the result of people getting very passionate about this one silly guy, or silly guys. A Security Breach subfandom. You don't have to be apart of the "DCA fandom" to love them though. It's more a matter of how someone participates, I suppose. This isn't to take away from the love the rest of the game has, but to explain that this specific side exists

You don't have to watch this, but you can take a glance if you'd like! People love them, like them, or just think they're way too creepy

youtube

There's other things, like Moon's sections, details that video above skips past (I chose a video where the person speeds through it), and the whole Eclipse thing, but I'll leave it to the essentials. This is what I've been super into <3

#ask #SORRY FOR HOW LONG THIS IS LMAO i'm going to go deep into it when this is my first time being asked that

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dreamyautumns · 4 months

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So um... I feel like hiding in the pocket of Idia's hoodie would be extremely comfortable so....

Maybe Prefect got shrunk in a lab accident and rather than dealing with the chaos they just decide to hide with our favorite blue fire haired gamer?

(Please?)

Yes, I can do Idia! Requested by Anon! Giant!Idia and Tiny!Reader :D

“You know, you can’t stay hidden inside there forever.”

You were snuggled within the hood of Idia’s jacket, the warmth from his hair relaxing you as you try to forget your situation. You had been shrunk by a potion that had gone haywire, and all of this was during a joint lesson as well.

So, when no one was looking, you ducked into the folds of Idia’s jacket to keep yourself safe. At least, until the effects wore off. Idia didn’t seem to particularly care you were in there. He was pretty startled at first, but he eventually settled with the decision to keep you with him.

“I know I can’t stay here forever,” you answered, “I just need to stay out of sight so Riddle doesn’t come get me.”

Idia stops in his tracks, followed by the pressing of a keypad. A door slid open before the two of you as he entered. You presumed you were in his room now. It was pretty dark.

“Riddle-shi doesn’t like me either, y’know,” Idia grumbles, the flames on his head slowly dimming a bit. “Y-you can’t stay here in my hidey hole long! I want you out tonight!”

“That’s a little harsh for your kouhai, don’tcha think?” you asked.

“I-I need to be o-on co-op soon w-with my online buddy! W-we’re defeating the demon king in this game we’ve been playing! N-not like a normie like you would even understand…”

You tilt your head as you pop out of Idia’s jacket hoodie. You climb out onto his shoulder and look over to see him getting comfortable on his chair.

“I like video games!”

Idia pauses. “Y-you do?”

You nod. You wanted to try and understand him better by talking to him. “One of my favorite genres is JRPG’s…”

The blue-haired boy stops and brings his legs close. “I-It is?”

You nod, then slide down his arm and onto the table. You then stand before him, unsure of how to continue the conversation.

“I also enjoy platformers too! What are your favorite genres?”

Idia’s hair tips gently flicker to a light pink, perhaps to show that he is embarrassed. “I-I… really don’t mind, TBH… anything is cool with me…”

You smile lightly. “We could make the most of this situation by getting to know one each other better.”

Idia starts to stammer. “H-huh? You w-wanna have a n-normie conversation w-with me…? But I h-hate talking a l-lot!” He draws his knees closer to him and leans further into his chair. “A-and you’re so tiny, t-too… it’s just l-like Little Nightmares…”

You tilt your head. “Is that an indie game?”

Idia nods. “H-horror game… you remind me of the p-protagonist…”

“Do you wanna hold me?”

Idia looks taken aback. “H-hold you? W-when you’re so f-fragile and easy t-to squash?! T-too big of a responsibility… c-can I “nope” outta this?”

You sigh and decide to back off to give him some space. You sit down on his desk and gently turn away from him to allow him time to calm his nerves.

As soon as you turn away, a shadow covers your body. You have no time to whirl around before a heavy object pats your head. You look up and realize it is Idia’s finger, and he seems to want to rub your head. You decide against turning around to not worry him.

Idia seems to mumble under his breath as a gentle pink light comes from behind. “They’re kinda cute…”

You decide to turn around. As soon as you do, Idia’s hair reverts to burning bright blue as he shies away and turns on his monitor.

“Y’know, Shroud, we’re friends… so you can talk to me if you ever want to, ok?” you remind him. Idia looks down at you and blinks his shining yellow eyes.

“R-really…?”

You nod. “Mhm! It’s a promise!”

Idia cracks a tiny grin and tilts his head. “O-once this whole shrinking f-fiasco is over… m-maybe I can write you or something…”

You nod in agreement. “Ok! Deal.”

#twisted wonderland g/t #twisted wonderland #idia shroud #g/t writing #g/t

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scribbling-dragon · 1 year

Text

until i wrap myself inside your arms, i cannot rest

summary:

Some of the dirt shifts, the sound of something metal sinking into the dirt. It breaks through the veil of silence he had draped over himself, the sound rooting him back in reality. It drags him back so harshly that he’s left disorientated and dizzy.

The sound comes again, and more of the soil caves inwards.

(ao3 link)

(2,270 words)

He’d managed to slip away from Joel five minutes into their small chase, ducking behind a bush and watching the other rush past, eyes gleaming red and still hunting, following the path Scott had abandoned as soon as he could.

He can feel his heart racing in his chest still, beating hard and fast, almost enough to make him light-headed. His racing heart refuses to slow, even with the walls on each side of him, enclosing him safely inside the bunker he’d dug for himself, as soon as he was sure he wasn't being followed. He doesn't know what’s happening, his comm silenced as soon as it became clear that the hunt wasn't over when he managed to slip away- any tiny sound, some other person dying, would be all it took to give him away.

He hasn't been able to bring himself to check it again, certain that the moment he takes his eyes off the closed entrance, even just to glance away, will be the moment someone bursts through and sticks a sword through his chest.

His chest tightens at the thought, the scarred remains of his death at Martyn’s hands aching with the reminder. He curls a little tighter on himself, shivering as the cold rock continues to leech heat from him. He didn't have much to begin with, but now his hands are losing feeling, fingers turning more and more numb the longer he sits here, watching the entrance, waiting for when someone begins to dig through the hastily packed dirt, suspicious of how fresh it probably looks from outside.

The ceiling trembles above him and he stiffens, tucking his limbs a little closer to himself, curling up smaller as though that would hide his presence if someone were to find his hidey hole. He hates this- hates the feeling of cowering in a corner, but he hadn't been able to think of any other solution. He can't take on the entire server, not when he doesn't know where his ally is- doesn't know where Martyn is, doesn't even know how he is.

Some dirt loosens from the ceiling, pattering quietly onto the ground in front of him. It spills in a small pile. He swallows, heart beginning to race even faster, heart thumping uncomfortably loud in his ears- he wouldn't be able to hear voices even if he strained his ears, wouldn't be able to hear anything, nothing at all, over the thumping, thrumming of blood in his ears.

He grips his sword, wraps a hand around the hilt, but doesn't pull it from where it rests. If he drags it, the sound will alert the person outside. The grinding of the sword against stone would be loud enough for many people to hear. Except for Scott, because Scott can't hear anything, nothing, over the roaring of blood in his ears. Nothing over the rushing of air in his lungs- not enough, not enough, never enough. He feels as though he’s drowning, but even that’s impossible now. He can't drown anymore, can't drown at all, not even if he tried.

But he still feels like he’s drowning on land, air rushing in and out of his lungs uselessly. He abandons the grip on his sword, clenching his hand into a fist in an effort to stop its shaking. He clamps his hand over his mouth next. His breathing is too loud, echoing in his ears. Echoing around the hidey hole, bouncing off the walls and practically screaming out his location to whoever’s prowling around outside.

He clamps his hand harder over his mouth, hoping that the person outside moves past, moves away. He doesn't want to be seen like this. Doesn't want to be seen huddled in a corner and panicking over the slightest of sounds, unable to even lift a weapon to defend himself- he should be fighting, should be lunging for his attacker first, striking first and striking hard. Hitting hard enough that they don't get the opportunity to strike back.

He doesn't. He sits and shakes, watching the entrance with poorly controlled breaths and the sound of blood rushing in his ears.

The sound comes again, and more of the soil caves inwards.

It’s enough motivation to pull himself back together, surging to his feet and grabbing his sword from the ground. It scrapes along the rock with a loud sound, like a whetstone against a blade, sharpening it for battle. He grips the hilt of it until his knuckles turn white, raising it in front of him.

More soil shifts, more soil is removed. He can hear it thumping onto the ground as it is tossed aside, shovelled away from his hastily blocked entrance and exit- he should have made a second exit, should have dug further into the earth and escaped underground.

He waits, holds his breath, counts. Listens.

The shovel sinks into the soil again. Soil cascades inwards, spilling over the roughly hewn floor. Scott doesn't stop to stare at it, doesn't wait to see if it falls in a pattern, doesn't wait to see how it gathers.

He lunges through the entrance it creates, shoving at his assailant with his full body weight behind it, sending them both toppling to the ground. His assailant grunts at the impact, stilling beneath him as Scott presses his sword to their throat, leaning close enough so they can see his face when he kills them.

It’s dark, darker than he thought it would be. Even in the darkness, his eyes adjust, the shadows form shapes that are more familiar to him- skeletal trees grasping at the sky and shrubbery clinging to the thin soil.

Martyn’s eyes flash in the light too, catching a small glimpse of moonlight before it fades away again. Scott lurches backwards with a gasp, dropping his sword as he scrambles backwards and away.

Martyn’s on his feet a moment later, leaning over him, worry painting his features as he grips Scott’s shoulders. He shudders at the contact, head dropping as he exhales completely, breath gusting out of him in one go, until he’s light-headed, everything spinning around them.

He slumps, going boneless. If Martyn chooses, in this moment, to kill him, to take advantage of this weakness, Scott doesn't think he’ll be able to hold it against him- he’d rather it was Martyn. Would always rather it was Martyn than anyone else. For his time to be given to someone he trusts.

Martyn clears his throat, still gripping his shoulders. The sound is awkward, enough to make Scott look up at Martyn. “Did you want to go back inside?” Martyn asks. They stare at each other for a long moment. “Alright, let’s go inside.”

Martyn pulls him to his feet, hands cupped beneath his elbows. His legs don't seem willing to support his weight anymore and he stumbles, tripping over nothing but air and grass, stumbling into Martyn. And Martyn is warm. Far warmer than he is right now, heat practically exudes from the man- he’s like a furnace.

And Scott doesn't think he can be blamed for sinking into that warmth, for clinging closer to it. His fingers are numb, but he curls his hands into Martyn’s shirt anyway, leaning against him and soaking up the warmth that Martyn gives him.

“I thought you were dead.” He says, not thinking of his words before he speaks.

Martyn laughs, small and quiet. “I thought you were dead too, that it just hadn't shown up, for whatever reason.”

“Takes more than the whole server to kill me,” he jokes. His legs feel a little more cooperative than they were a few moments earlier. “Haven't you heard? I'm practically unkillable.”

“It’d take some serious dedication to kill you,” Martyn agrees. He steps backwards, carefully lifting his feet over the pile of dirt, pulling Scott along with him. The cave beyond is much smaller with two people occupying it, and the light of his singular torch, flickering miserably in one corner, looks wan and watery. It looks a little pathetic, and Scott can't help but be a bit embarrassed by the obvious desperation here.

Martyn shivers, pulling his shirt a little tighter around himself. Not that it does much in covering him up further. The buttons stop about halfway up the shirt- really, it’s not at all practical in staying warm. Or for anything at all, far too many floating edges to get caught.

Martyn starts to draw back, begins to pull away from him. Scott catches his shirt, clenches it tight in his hands, pulls Martyn closer. “Where are you going?” He asks, tilting his head to the side.

“Nowhere far,” Martyn says. He doesn't relax his grip on Martyn’s shirt, continuing to watch him.

“I thought you’d died,” he says, gaze dropping away from Martyn’s eyes for a moment, before darting back upwards. “I thought that I was being hunted, that every shadow was out to get me, that everyone was hiding, waiting for me to emerge.”

“But I was the one that found you.” Martyn breathes, leaning closer. He can feel the warmth of Martyn’s skin through his shirt- it really is too thin for there to be any benefit to wearing it. It’s completely see-through when wet and partly see-through the rest of the time. “That’s a good thing, isn't it?”

“Not if you're attempting to leave as soon as you can.”

“I wasn't going to leave,” Martyn’s hands drop to rest at his waist, the weight of his hands barely registering over the warmth seeping into his skin, brushing over his scales. He has to remember not to move his tail, still unused to the extra appendage. No point in giving himself away so easily, not when Martyn still watches him with some amusement, as though he can tell how much Scott wants to sway into him and his warmth.

“Then what were you going to do?” The entrance is still open, the dirt still spilling over the floor. He doesn't care anymore, the worries of someone stumbling across them dwindling to a whisper in the back of his mind. He can hardly think of anything other than Martyn and his warmth and his presence in the room as they stand, pressed close together.

“I was going to get a sleeping bag.” Martyn pulls back from him a little, though he doesn't go far. A warm hand presses against the side of Scott’s head and he tilts into it, leaning into Martyn. A thumb brushes beneath his eye, almost painfully gentle over his scales. “You look tired.”

Scott pulls back with a snort. “You really know how to make a man feel special.”

“I- Scott,” Martyn groans, dropping his hand. His face still feels warm, feels as though the path Martyn’s thumb traced over his cheek left flames in its wake. “I meant that you should sleep, not that-”

Martyn cuts himself off with another groan, leaning his forehead against Scott’s shoulder as he continues to laugh. The laughs are small and hiccuping, causing his shoulders to jump as he struggles to compose himself again, leaning against Martyn as much as Martyn leans against him.

“I wouldn't mind sleeping,” he manages, after several long moments of thinking he’s fine, that he’s composed himself to continue their conversation, only to start giggling again. “I am a little tired. Just what running for your life does to you, I guess.”

“C’mon,” Martyn tugs him over to the corner opposite the torch, letting go of him only briefly to pull the sleeping bag from his bag. It’s only big enough for one person. “I’ll keep watch,” Martyn explains, when Scott looks at him.

“And when do you get to sleep?”

“I can sleep whenever I want.” Martyn says. “I'm not the one being hunted.”

“They’ll know we’re together,” Scott says. “If you side with me, they’ll kill you too. Just because they haven't yet, doesn't mean they won't.”

“I can dream,” Martyn sits beside him as he wriggles his way into the sleeping bag. “Maybe we’ll both go to sleep, and when we wake up, there’s nothing there and everyone will be calm again.”

“Not happy?”

“Nah,” Martyn laughs. “That’s a bit too unrealistic, even for a dream.”

“Well, I can dream.” He says, parroting Martyn back to himself. Martyn hums in response, a fingers already tangling in Scott’s hair, brushing through it in repetitive, soothing motions. It’s enough to push him to the edge of sleep, nudging him closer and closer to the yawning abyss.

A thought trickles into his mind, just as he’s about to fall asleep completely. “Martyn?” He asks. Martyn hums, hand pausing the repetitive motions as he listens. “How did you find me?”

“I listened,” he can hear the smile in Martyn’s voice.

“But I didn't make a sound.” He says. He knows he didn't, even if he hadn't been able to hear anything over the rushing of blood in his ears- he’s quiet all the time, footsteps cushioned so he can find those making noise, descend on those that are sneaking about in places they shouldn't be. Joel still complains about it, sometimes.

“Sometimes you just need to know what to listen for.” Martyn says. He doesn't say anything for a while, but Scott doesn't feel on the precipice of falling asleep anymore. “Go to sleep, Scott.”

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zedleaked · 7 months

Text

now I hide away forever in my little hidey hole, never to return.

#not art

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writeshite · 1 year

Note

So I was wondering if you are up for it if you could write a agents. For morpheus x reader. Where the reader died of a sickness and morpheus is all upset. The corinthian was best freinds whith reader and when he died the corinthian blamed morpheus.

When the corinthian trys and gets rose on his side he tells her that morpheus killed his lover. And when rose confronts him in the dreaming morpheus explained what happend and he kinda just brakes down . ( you can make up the end )

Anyway if you feel uncomfortable writing this then that is ok .

Bye ! ( btw male reader pls )

Hit Close To Home

Summary:

“Are you going to tell Lord Morpheus?” The blood on his chin was dry now, his gaze downcast as you glanced between him and the corpse. You sigh, coming down to his height, and you wipe away at the blood; you say nothing, instead gathering him in your arms, and the others glare enviously at him - your favored little horror, they often called him. Lord Morpheus says nothing when you return, but Corinthian isn’t allowed to return to Earth.

Pairings:

Morpheus x Male Reader

Tags:

Forest Spirit Reader | Dead Reader | Angst | This Author regrets Nothing 🙂

Words: 1556

Author's Note:

Someone woke up and chose angst, damn, not that I'm complaining, I love putting you all through emotional torture.

“Oh, hello.”

The Dreaming was vast and monotone, with your personal terrace the only break between the sand and dreams; the Corinthian remembers stumbling across it the first time - even among his fellow nightmares, he was considered a monster. His memories of the Dreaming were less than pleasant, but you were perhaps the only shining light among them.

“You must be the new nightmare, then.”

“Go away,” he hissed; he wiped his eyes furiously, wincing as they bit at his hands. His form is tiny - unstable, at best - like that of the waking children he’s heard the other nightmares speak of. He’d run off from them, form flicking about like a shadow, and hidden in the first room he could find. Lord Morpheus would no doubt be looking for him, the dreams and nightmares of the Dreaming heeded to their master, and as the newest, he would need to catch up to his fellow manifestations.

He didn’t turn to glance at whoever had spoken to him, instead drawing himself further away, “You can’t hide in there forever, little nightmare.”

“I said go away!” he hissed again, face contorting as he turned to the other person. It always worked with everyone else; they’d run off at the sight of him, but not you. You huffed; you didn’t scream, instead shrugging and leaving him to his hidey-hole.

You’d let him stay there for hours, undisturbed as he minded his own until boredom overtook, and he peeked out to glance at you. You certainly weren’t under Morpheus’ domain - not with that smile - your clothing looked like it was crafted from the branches and leaves of the Waking.

“Who are you?” he asks.

You chuckle, “Well, that depends. Will you be joining me here, or do you plan to converse from your hideout?”

Your terrace had been a private abode, untouched by sand; it was filled to the brim with plants, paint, and various other trinkets from the Waking World. You’d been one of the few to forgo Morpheus’ orders, treating him and any manifestation like your own, and the Corinthian had spent many a day in your company. On the rare occasions, you’d allow him and a few others to tag along to Earth - the forest you inhabited required little upkeep, but you went for the humans. Strange creatures, really. He never understood why you cared for them; personally, he preferred them with a side of sauce.

“Are you going to tell Lord Morpheus?” The blood on his chin was dry now, his gaze downcast as you glanced between him and the corpse.

You sigh, coming down to his height, and you wipe away at the blood; you say nothing, instead gathering him in your arms, and the others glare enviously at him - your favored little horror, they often called him. Lord Morpheus says nothing when you return, but Corinthian isn’t allowed to return to Earth.

He doesn’t tell Rose all of this, far too personal to share; he says what he can bear, “He was my friend, and Morpheus killed him.”

Morpheus had always been weak to your requests; treating the nightmares like children hadn’t been something he’d ever done. They’d been more so his creations, his associates at best, but you’d gathered them around you, and they’d willingly flocked, nurturing them with care. The Corinthian had been perhaps the most attached to you, digging the sands of the Dreaming for any wayward thoughts that would make wonderous decors for your terrace.

“You coddle him,” Morpheus spoke lowly; he overlooks the balcony over your shoulder; the nightmares trudge along without disturbance, the little nightmare you’d befriended shifted through the sands below, having promised to find you something worthwhile.

“I coddle them all,” you remind him.

“He is a nightmare, not a child,” he reminds you.

“Yes, yes, dear,” you jest, patting his cheek fondly. The little nightmare turns up towards you, holding something up proudly, you gesture him towards you, and he runs into the castle joyfully. He goes to protest, but you silence him with a peck, “I know, I know, but it won’t do much harm.”

Now thinking of the nightmare, he barely glimpsed the wisp that clung to you so desperately. He’d hate to think of the devastation that would befall you if you saw them now, “Don’t turn him away when I’m gone,” Morpheus had withdrawn, remaining by your side far long after your passing, leaving the Corinthian to his own murderous grieving process. The nightmare had made his way through the remnants of your Earthly forest, then to Rose - Rose, who stared at him with contempt and uncertainty.

“Why?” she asks.

Morpheus almost laughs; he’s not sure what she’s asking - why did he sit by and watch you wither? Why didn’t he plunge humanity into waste to save you? Why didn’t he petition your fellow spirits for aid? - the answer was simple. He couldn’t.

“Morpheus….please, let’s not spend my last days arguing.”

Nature spirits were perhaps the least fortunate of divine beings, lives heavily intertwined with their domains; your forest had been the target of some human development - each tree torn down saw a lapse in your health. It had started small, a slight cough of petals, before escalating to weak muscles and bedridden days. Your fellow spirits had died quicker; living in the Dreaming slowed the damage, but it wasn’t enough. Your arms had grown stiff, skin twisting to resemble branches, leaves had begun to sprout from you, accompanied by flowers, and your blood had turned dark like tar. The branches had come from your back as well, and tearing into the sheets, each movement you made had been painful, staining the bed with your obsidian blood.

“Your brother’s river is dry.” Morpheus had found the man’s husk of a body by the banks, drier than a desert; it had crumbled at the touch of the wind, and the Gods had fallen into panic at the death rate, but no solution had been found. He’d grown frustrated at their excuses, ‘we’re trying’ - were they? He’s brought back to the moment by a touch to his cheek; your thumb swipes at a stray tear; your face was more bark than flesh now, a slight wince in your expression as you reach out to him.

He moved closer to you, head against yours, and the tears didn’t stop, “I’m sorry —I don’t —I,” you shushed him as he wept, fingers loosely interlaced with his.

“I didn't kill him,” Morpheus corrects, “you did. Your kind tore down the forests, polluted the air, and ran rivers dry until he and his brethren were all but gone.”

“What?” Confusion laces her voice. Morpheus turns away, the dreaming shifting with his thoughts, and the sand rises to a height, morphing to form you. Not sickly, but the way you had been before. “He’s….” Breathtaking. Handsome. No words could come close to describing how Morpheus felt about you.

“He was kind,” Morpheus begins, more sand shifts as more imitations rise, “the nightmares adored him, the Corinthian more so than the rest.” Most residents of the Dreaming wouldn’t even think to defy him, much less stick their tongue childishly, but the Corinthian had picked many of your habits. The craving for human flesh had come from neither of you - the nightmare had loved the soft taste of eyes and often asked for them, much to both your displeasures.

“They’re hurting him; why won’t you kill them?!”

No amount of words could convey the fragile peace among the endless - if one of them killed, the others would follow suit - that’s not even to say what the other celestial beings would do. But that hadn’t been enough for the Corinthian.

“What good is your power if you do nothing useful?!”

Morpheus shook his head, a watery laugh in his throat, “What would you have me do?” he asked, “put humanity down like a dog?”

“YES!” The Corinthian replied - he’d come to spend every hour by your bedside and pestering Morpheus to act.

But you’d made him promise, “You’re going to be angry, and you’re going to be sad, but please, Morpheus,” you pleaded, “don’t seek vengeance, not in my name.”

“But—”

“Please,” you’d leaned forward, snapping some of the bark along your spine. Morpheus nodded somberly, guiding you back to the pillows.

When you’d passed, your body had fully turned to flora, the bed now intertwined into the tree you’d become; he’d left the room as is, allowing the dreams and nightmares to mourn. The Corinthian had screamed, cried, and then blamed - blamed humanity, blamed the gods, the endless - he blamed everyone, but Morpheus bore the brunt of it all. The Dreaming’s collapse had turned what was left of you to dust, Lucienne’s bark snippet being the last piece of you he had. The bark sat in an inner pocket of his coat, threaded with your favorite color of thread.

“I’m sorry,” Rose spoke. Morpheus half scoffed; the sand imitation of you stood on its own, grainy hand in his; he felt close to crying again. When the sand fell again, he said nothing more; the little Corinthian stood far off, mouths frowning at him - unlike the peaceful fall of your imitation, his snapped at the heat of his emotion into glass. “Are you going to kill him?”

Morpheus doesn’t answer.

End Note:

Sorry about changing the relationship between the Corinthian and Reader; I felt like the request worked a little better if Reader treated him and the other nightmares and dreams like his kids. Stay Hydrated.

#morpheus x male reader #dream x male reader #the sandmand imagine #morpheus x reader #dream x reader #shiterequests

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ohbo-ohno · 9 months

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/ohbo-ohno/729211936036765696/httpswwwtumblrcomohbo-ohno729206658953347072

Johnny scares you out of hiding, only for you to stumble right into Simon :((( they were 95% certain you’re blind, but now they know 100%, and Johnny is just absolutely gleeful about it, begging Simon to keep you bc wouldn’t he love having such a pretty little thing entirely dependent on them??

🌚 (I could go all night with this)

you should go all night with this. sorry for the slow response btw im watching rpdr again

original ask for this

you're sooo scared, and made even more scared by the fact that you can't see anything, can only hear what they choose to let you.

maybe there's another little entrance to your spot, one simon positions him at. johnny gets his hands rammed into your hidey hole, is able to just brush his fingers against you and get you screaming and scrambling away. you sort of fumble along the walls of your hiding spot, end up falling out into the open air unintentionally.

you can't even get your feet beneath you to try and run before a pair of hands scoop you up under your armpits. you scream again, legs kicking desperately and trying to throw your weight backwards.

there's a laugh in front of you, a little shake to your hanging form. it makes you want to curl up into a tiny ball, makes you feel vulnerable in ways you never have before.

you hear the other man trot up behind you. "got her?" he calls out.

"hmm," your captor hums in affirmation. "ran right into my arms."

"sweet thing," the scottish one laughs, and you feel a hand run over your head. it makes you flinch, has you ducking your head low with a shiver. "look at you, even prettier out here where we can see you. dirty thing, though."

"you can give her a bath when we get home."

you finally get the nerve to speak, giving a little kick forward. "no, let-lemme go-"

there's a click of a tongue from in front of you, another shake to your body. your mouth slams shut with a click, your legs falling still. "quiet, bunny. you're fine."

"be nice, si. poor little thing's heart probably can't take much more."

"she'll have to learn how, if you want to keep her for yourself."

your head jerks over your shoulder for a moment, unseeing eyes scanning nothing. "keep- what? no, no, please i don't... please, i-"

"hush," the scottish one says, stepping right behind you so his front is pressed to your back. "can't start panickin' so early, bun, you won't survive the walk home."

you're hauled closer to the other man's body. you try to leverage your feet on his body, kick at his stomach and try to get him to drop him, no matter how useless the fight feels.

he rumbles low in his chest - almost a growl against you - and pulls you tight to him despite the kicking. another hand worms between your bodies, brushes your feet away like nothing and leaves you hanging limp again.

"let's head back," the one holding you speaks. "she'll probably go into shock soon, don't want to be out here for that."

"no, please, i dont want-"

"shh. you're comin' home with us. we caught you, we're keeping you. nothing you can do about it now." the one holding you says again. his straightforwardness saps the energy from you, leaves you keening a low sound and letting your body become dead weight.

"there we go," the scottish one murmurs, another hand petting over your head. "good little bunny."

#🌚 anon #asks and answers #serial killer ghoap x blind reader

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solrika · 6 months

Text

The first part of Bahryn in the Bogan-possessed-Zeb AU. (It's tagged "bogan-marked Kallus" for organizational purposes. yes I know it makes no sense. leave me alone. :p)

Zeb can taste the Imperial’s fear, a cool syrupy slide down his throat, and it eggs him on, makes him unwise. Letting the Bogan uncurl from where it’s been hiding in the back of his head isn’t necessary when dealing with one injured human. Not when the change rippling through his body hurts so much, and costs him a few precious seconds.

The quicksilver flash of calculation hiding under Kallus’ fear flares, and while Zeb snarls through the pain of his ribs cracking open to reveal his second mouth, the agent scrabbles for his bo-rifle.

Should’ve known better, Zeb can’t help thinking, as Kallus braces himself against the recoil and fires. You never corner a wounded animal.

The bolt hurts, almost as much as the shift does, but the Bogan just laughs and knits him back together. Kallus’ fear is back, the scent so thick Zeb can’t even smell the smoke of the damaged pod behind them.

Running his tongue over his teeth, Zeb grins. The kind thing would be to make the kill quick, but he’s got no love for Imperials, and even less for the self-proclaimed Butcher of Lasan. And there’s no Kanan to placate, or kids to watch for. So he takes one slow step after another, letting the Bogan absorb every rifle bolt, watching Kallus drag himself back one frantic movement after another.

“Just drawing it out, mate,” Zeb drawls, switching his tail. “I’ll get you eventually.”

Gritting his teeth, Kallus fires another bolt. “And what,” he pants, hair flopping forwards out of that perfect slicked-back coif, “do you plan on doing with me?”

Zeb has to pause a moment to grunt in pain, curl around the healing flesh, but nothing is going to stop him now. He’s got his prey right where he wants him. “Oh,” he says airily, “haven’t decided. But right now I’m thinking about crushing your head like an overripe meiloroon. It’d be so…” He shows his fangs. “Easy.”

Kallus’ back hits the wall, and he uses it to hitch himself upright, begin hauling himself sideways and away. He’s usually a fast runner, clever enough to squeeze himself through spaces Zeb can’t fit his shoulders, but his leg is wounded and there are no close hidey holes in this vast cavern. This time, this time, there’s nowhere to escape, and the imagined victory tastes sweet.

“What even are you?” Kallus gasps out. “I should have killed you! You should be dead!”

“Like the rest of the lasats, right?” Zeb growls. “No. You’re not getting away that way, agent.”

Kallus, surprisingly, growls right back. “Even if you kill me, the Empire will still win. Every day, we recruit more informers. Every day, we persuade rebel sympathizers to reconsider their allegiances.” He twists the bo-rifle into its staff configuration, and the Bogan laughs in the back of Zeb’s head. There’s no way Kallus is wielding a souled bo-rifle, and without kyber, it’s just as toothless as the weapon’s rifle.

“Every day, more beings get fed up with you lot,” Zeb retorts.

Kallus snarls, a poor imitation of a lasat’s threat, and the fear is still floating in the air between them. “I’m getting fed up with you.” A sliver of bravado, despite all that terror—Zeb could almost admire that kind of courage–and he braces himself against the wall, raising his weapon. “Just get it over with, and face me.”

“Feisty,” Zeb chuckles, and strikes–

–the bo-rifle’s crackling energy burns, just as brightly as the Purifying Flame, and the Bogan howls.

Zeb stares dumbly at his smoking fur. Kallus’ bo-rifle is souled.

It’s alive.

Which means–

“Where did you get this?” he roars, and this time ducks under Kallus’ strike, grabs the bo-rifle’s stock and holds tight. The human strains against his grip, but Zeb just tightens his fingers through the crackling anger of a kyber crystal who wants him to let go– “Where?”

“Lasan,” Kallus chokes out, “it’s a trophy, I told you–”

Lie, whispers the Bogan, and Zeb gives him a shake, uncaring when it makes the agent whimper in pain. “No. Tell me the truth.”

Kallus’ eyes dart over his face, that quicksilver calculation rising, and finally he says, “The Lasat guardsman I faced… He fought well, died with honor. He gave me the rifle before…”

Lie, hisses the Bogan again, and Zeb echoes it.

“Fine,” spits Kallus, “fine, you want to know how I got this? My first unit, on Onderon–one of you killed those boys, one by one, picking off the wounded like it was sport. He savaged me, but left me alive, and I made him regret it.” The smile curving his lips is vicious. “I got the attention of the ISB because I hunted him down and dragged that bastard to the nearest Guard outpost. And I demanded satisfaction.”

“You dueled,” Zeb says, slowly. He can see the shape of it: a young, angry Kallus unable to simply accept prison as adequate recompense for his squad’s death. And the Guard offering a ritual duel, intended to help Kallus spend his violence and make a clean break, but– “And you won.”

“They said I fought honorably.” Kallus tips his chin up, pride running through his voice even now. “And it was mine.”

“But you still attacked Lasan,” Zeb says, returning to the sticking point, “We showed you we were more than that one lasat, and you still–”

“It wasn’t supposed to be a massacre!” Kallus bursts out, and Zeb could feel the Bogan between them, pushing and pulling at the agent’s thoughts like a kit trying to get a snail out of its shell. “It was going to be an example, and the T-7s weren’t supposed to– and honor doesn’t keep you alive–”

Kallus clamps his mouth shut, horror kindling in his eyes. It’s a miracle his heart hasn’t given out yet. “What in the seven hells are you doing to me?”

“I deserve the truth,” the Bogan says with Zeb’s mouth. It burns just as much as the kyber still straining against Zeb’s grip. “I deserve to know what you did to my children.” And then, surging forwards, it crowds into Kallus’ mind.

The moment it lets Zeb go in favor of the agent, he staggers a bit, finally letting go of the furious bo-rifle. I’m going to need burn cream for my hand, he thinks absently, and then has to catch Kallus as the agent’s eyes roll up in his head.

He’s an easy armful, only weighing about as much as Kanan. Maybe a little lighter without the benefit of Zeb’s cooking, all lean muscle and pointy elbows under that uniform. Zeb stares down at him, pokes at the Bogan. Are you going to be done anytime soon?

No reply. Typical.

Most of Zeb still wants to crush Kallus, but the Bogan will be cross if he does it before it’s finished. And a little part of him–

That kyber loves the agent, in a way only a freely-given souled weapon can. Just as Zeb’s bo-rifle resonates with his soul, so does Kallus’, and that means once, this was an honorable man.

Maybe Zeb is curious, too.

#star wars #star wars rebels #star wars fanfics #bogan-marked kallus

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yandereocs · 9 months

Text

Break-in: Yandere Andras x reader

Someone is breaking into your house.

Every day you wake up to freshly made breakfast. The house is tidy, not a single spec of dust anywhere. And there's always some sort of note. Today was no different.

"Good morning, my love. There's snacks in the pantry and fresh groceries in the fridge. I hope you have a wonderful day."

You never eat the food and you always toss out the note.

You don't even know how your stalker is getting in. No broken windows, the door is intact, the lock hasn't been tampered with...no secret entrances, either.

But he keeps getting in.

And not just while you sleep. If you leave the house for work, or class, or just to hang out with friends, you always come back to the same sight.

Whatever mess you had left behind was gone. Dishes washed, laundry done and folded, and one of your favorite meals on the table. Always hot like it was just made.

Calling the police does jackshit. Technically speaking, you haven't been physically harmed and there hasn't been a single threat made to you. So there's nothing they can do aside from offering to have a patrol car outside for the night.

The next morning, the officer is found dead in his car. You didn't see the body, but you were notified of what had happened and given a note found at the scene of the crime. And of course, it has that sickeningly familiar handwriting.

"Please don't get others involved, darling. I don't mean any harm."

You don't know what to do. You get more locks, stronger ones for the door. You get security cameras, you get motion detectors, ANYTHING to stop this creep from getting inside.

But nothing works. As always, the locks are untouched. The cameras record nothing aside from you and occasional static. Piece of junk.

Motion detectors don't do anything, either.

You're paranoid. You can't sleep. There's someone getting in your house and you don't know how. You even started to think that maybe he was just living in your walls like all those freak internet stories. But why wouldn't the cameras pick anything up?

Even as you're awake, you don't know how he's getting in. You stay in the kitchen since that's where most of the activity is. But the second you leave the room, you come back to something. A cup of tea or coffee, a small meal, or even just a note.

"Go to sleep, dear. Humans can't withstand sleep deprivation."

If moving was an option, you would have done it in a heartbeat.

He's watching you. Right now. He's in your house this very moment. He has to be! How else could he have left that note in a matter of minutes?

You tear your house apart, trying to find any hiding spot or secret hidey-hole or...anything! But there's nothing. The place is empty. You're the only one inside.

You're losing your mind. Your little stalker can tell, you know he can, because he leaves flowers and food from your favorite restaurant the next day. And a note. Of course.

"Hello, my love. I apologize for causing so much distress, it's not my intention. I simply want to take care of you. Please, enjoy this meal and get some rest. I assure you, I did nothing to tamper with it."

You're exhausted. You can't take this anymore. Maybe he'll leave you alone if you stop fighting him. So you eat the food and you go to sleep, your body feeling heavy and sluggish. You fall asleep almost immediately.

And when you wake, you immediately felt eyes on you.

You pretend to be asleep, keeping your eyes shut and trying to keep your breathing slow and steady, trying not to give away the utter terror you're feeling. He's in your house. In your room. Watching you sleep.

His presence is suffocating. Like the air is dark and heavy. His stare feels so uncomfortable, like he's able to pierce your soul. You don't want to open your eyes. Don't want to look at him. ACKNOWLEDGE him.

You feel sick. Your heart is pounding rapidly and you honestly feel like you might have a heart attack. Is this it? Are you going to die? Or is this sick freak going to kidnap you? You don't know. Don't know, don't know.

"I know you're awake. That's okay, love. You can keep your eyes closed."

Your blood ran cold.

You didn't even hear him move. Just a minute ago he was in the corner of your room, and now he's leaning over you and whispering in your ear.

You don't know what to do. You're too scared to even think, your body frozen as you keep your eyes shut. He knows you're awake. How does he know? Is he bluffing? Trying to get your eyes to open?

"I normally wouldn't do this, but I just couldn't help myself."

His voice is smooth and hypnotizing. If you weren't utterly terrified, you probably would've been compelled to open your eyes.

"Seeing you in such an unstable emotional state was...not enjoyable for me. I hate to be the cause of such negative emotions. So, I wanted to reassure you in person."

A sudden heat burns into your forehead and you flinched. The heat is suddenly removed.

"Ah, my apologies. I forgot that my body heat is much higher than humans...don't fret, I'm simply giving you a kiss."

The heat returns to your forehead and you tremble. His lips are soft and feel gentle despite the unnatural warmth. Even so, the kiss just makes you feel sick.

"I love you very much, my dear. I will never bring you any harm. So, please, allow me to take care of you."

And then he's gone. You slowly open your eyes and there's nothing. No one in your room. The suffocating presence is gone. It's just you, all alone.

You hoped that this was the end. That maybe he would stop now that he understands just how much it was freaking you out.

But the next morning, it was the same thing.

A perfectly cooked meal sitting on your table, nice and hot, with a note in front of it.

"It was a pleasure to finally feel your skin against my lips. I hope to have a proper talk with you soon."

A proper talk is the last thing you want from this freak. Your eyes glanced down to the bottom of the note.

"Love, Andras."

#Andras #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere ocs #yandere boy #yandere imagines

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