#i hope they die in a pool of blood by each other's hands | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

luveline · 2 months

Note

Can I request Eddie and R tending to each other’s wounds (given they both survive the demobats in the UD)?

ty <3 fem!reader, 1.4k

cw canon typical violence

“You’re sweating like crazy.”

“Eddie, that’s the sort of thing you don’t say to a girl,” you say, hands shaking hard as you ruffle through the duffle bag at your side. Your knees burn like they’re on fire, your arms raked with claw marks, but Eddie’s been minced. If you hadn’t climbed your way back to him with the makeshift flamethrower at his feet, Eddie would probably be dead. Scorched demobat is a gross smell.

“What are you so scared of? It’s like, running down your cheek,” he says.

“Shut up,” you say, glancing back, hoping Dustin will be right behind you. You hadn’t stopped to make sure he was alright. What if he’s hurt too? “Seriously, just don’t talk. You’re gonna bleed to death and die and your last words are gonna be about how sweaty I am.”

You peel back a soaked square of gauze from his waist and smash a clean one overtop to soak up the pooling blood. Eddie gasps in agony, writhing away from your touch, but to his credit, his voice is strong as he says, “Shit, true. I can make them better. How about, um… oh. You’re smoking. Like, seriously gorgeous. That better?”

Your eyes sting as you turn your face to your shoulder, cupping his cheek, his blood wet on your fingers and staining his skin red. “How would you know? It’s dark out.”

“I’ve seen your face in the light hundreds of times. I know what I’m talking about.”

He would’ve been turned to mulch without your rescuing. There are split cuts all over him, it’s awful, and you won’t be able to fix him yourself here, but you don’t have to. You just need to stop his bleeding and help him deal with the pain until Dustin makes it through. The two of you can drag him to safety.

Maybe the best way to do that is to let him tease you. “You really think I’m pretty?” you ask, pressing another piece of gauze over this second one, wincing when he lets out a pained gasp.

“Are you kidding?”

“I thought you liked, you know, the really pretty girls, like–”

“You are a really pretty girl, are you kidding? Don’t fish for compliments.”

You shake your head, laughing, half-terrified. The blood isn’t slowing. “Eddie, I have to press down harder, okay? I’m sorry.”

“Just do it,” he says. You dig the heel of your palm into his side. “Fuck!”

“You’re really not gonna like this next part,” you warn, pushing his legs flat to the floor.

You climb over his thighs and sit on his lap, hand twisted to cover his wound and the other peeling the paper covering off of another sterile square of gauze. Eddie swears like a sailor as you squeeze down, the majority of your upper weight being pressed to his open wounds. It would be an uncomfortable sensation without the cuts. You know it’s torture.

“Oh, god,” he says, “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“That’s a great reaction,” you say, lifting the edge of the leftmost gauze. The blood pools but doesn’t gush down his side. You sigh in relief. “Oh, thank god.”

“Maybe don’t say stuff like that sitting on my crotch.”

“Are you for real?” You meet his eyes, tears streaming down his cheeks. “You’re really thinking about your dick right now?”

“Of course not, I’m a gentleman, but you’re kind of on top of me and it’s been a really hard week.”

You burst out laughing. He gags in pain and turns away.

The cavalry arrives not long after that, though it feels like hours. Together, somehow, you drag Eddie back to the gate, and things get a little blurry after that.

—

You’ve never been so tired in your life as you are right now, but you’re so relieved that the world has taken on a golden quality, and Eddie looks golden too.

His hair is wet. You think Wayne might’ve washed it for him over the bath; it’s been greasy for a week while his stitches started to heal up, and he spent it in Steve’s bed. The only good thing about having absent parents apparently is being able to harbour a fugitive without being noticed, and anybody else who couldn’t go home without explaining their injuries.

“You okay?” Eddie asks.

“Mm.” You scrunch up into yourself on the couch, cradling your arm where it aches to your chest.

“You’ve been sleeping all day. Figured I’d make sure you weren’t in a coma.” You think about poor Max. He must see your wavering expression, sitting on the couch by your legs with an apologetic smile. “She’s doing even better today. Sinclair thinks she was squeezing his finger, so that’s something.”

“Can’t believe all that stuff really happened,” you mumble, the blanket pulled over your chin muffling your voice. It’s a wonder he can hear you.

“Feels fake, right? I keep forgetting about it when I wake up, and then I have to stand and feel my stomach try to split open and remember I was bat chow.” He nods to your arm. “Still hurting?”

It’s nothing compared to his. Your cuts didn’t need stitching, but the were deep still. You’ve only had the butterfly bandages taken off yesterday. The skin aches where the scar tissue is forming. “Sort of itchy,” you say.

“Yeah?” He pulls a little white tube from his pyjama pants hesitantly. “Maybe I can help?”

“What’s that?”

“Non disclosed ointment. Pretty sure it’s the good stuff from Mike’s girl’s government friends.”

They’re gonna clear Eddie’s name, apparently. So far they’ve done a whole lot of nothing while Hawkins falls apart around you. Well, besides the drugs. They’ve given out plenty of painkillers.

Eddie shuffles closer to you and takes your arm into his hand. “Her name is Eleven,” you say.

“I know.” He pushes your sleeve up over the bump of your elbow to expose the worst of your scarring.

You think he’s aware of what you did that day to save him. He’s been achingly nice to you since he woke up. Even when he couldn’t walk, he’d been shouting down the stairs from Steve’s room to check if you were alright on the couch. Usually met with a chorus of Shut the fuck ups, it had been sweet, if a little embarrassing to have to call back. I’m okay. Thanks!

“I’ve been meaning to tell you something,” he says.

You watch him uncap the ointment and squeeze a ball of it onto his finger. It’s semi-translucent, smelling of arnica with a bit of kick to it. He turns your wrist gently in one hand and begins to trace the lines of your scars one by one, as gentle as anyone’s ever touched you, his pinky finger suspended and shaky as he draws toward the crook of your elbow.

“Well, don’t leave me waiting,” you say eventually.

“Right, just. I’m trying to be braver. It’s not working in my favour yet.”

You laugh. “No, really?”

“But you saved my life. Everybody knows it. You and Henderson saved me, and I can’t make it up to you. This,” —he smooths ointment over the ridge of your cruellest scar— “is permanent. And scaring you like that, I mean. I shouldn’t have gone back in, and I should have kept running, it was selfish, trying to do a good thing and…” He holds your arm in his hands and meets your eyes. You don’t see a trace of the shrill, loud boy you’d spent the last two weeks with. “Getting you hurt.”

“I got hurt trying to save the world,” you say. “‘Cos, you know, not everything’s about you…”

His smile is slow as molasses and doubly sweet as he wraps his arm behind your shoulders. He’s careful, you’re both fragile right now, but he squeezes you and laughs warmly against your ear and he’s back to the Eddie you remember. “Everything is about me. It’s totally about me, babe, and you’re just jealous.”

He rubs your back.

“You know,” he adds, hand trialling lazily to the small of your back, where it stays, “I wouldn’t be here without you. So if you need anything, just let me know.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Yeah?” he asks, pulling back. He kisses your cheek as he does, his hands falling on top of yours. “Alright. You’re still smoking hot, you know that? The scars are sick. You’re cool now.”

Your fingers twitch against his palm. “Thanks, Eddie.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson scenario #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader

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jesterwriting · 6 months

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scenario: stuck in a timeloop and the only way to restart is to die

pairing: sanji x reader, law x reader, ace x reader (separate)

contents: hurt/comfort, angst, gore, im serious about the gore tw, graphic description of death, post traumatic symptoms, maybe a touch of survivors guilt, breakdowns, time loops, if youve seen rezero you know whats up

word count: 1.6k words

note: okay if theres one thing i love, its angst and hurt comfort, and if there’s one thing i do when i write it, i go crazy with it. my hands were genuinely shaking while i wrote this. hope you enjoy! [evil laughter]

playlist: eleanor by cake bake betty

No matter how many times you died, you couldn’t help but scream when you woke up again. You lost count how many times it happened, and it wasn’t like there was any point in keeping count besides depressing yourself with your numerous failures. This was your power; horrible and nowhere near worth the cost of losing your ability to swim. With every death, you would restart back at a random checkpoint, beginning anew, able to change the way the timeline went. All it took was to die, and lord above, did you die. Sometimes it was quick, other times it was an agony that would haunt you for many loops after.

Your power left you lonely. Friendships you made in one timeline, didn’t exist in others. You remembered when you were young and greeted a friend from a past loop with a hug. Of course, they didn’t know who you were. They no longer remembered the adventures you experienced or the trials you endured, only you held those memories now. They pushed you away with a look of distress, and you cried for hours after that, burdened with the knowledge that whatever friendship you had before, was gone forever now.

You isolated yourself after that.

It wasn’t until recently that you found yourself with a crew, though no one knew of your ability. You hated talking about it, hated reliving each death again and again. Every time you felt strong enough to speak about it, you always ended up dying and resetting everything back to the status quo. You were surrounded by friends, but so completely, and utterly alone. It was a worm in your gut, chewing on you from within and tearing you apart.

Now, here you were. Dying again.

Failing again.

Your eye spasmed in your skull, the other nothing more than jelly in your socket. The taste of iron pooled in your mouth as you hunched over, organs squirming like maggots from the wound on your abdomen. Sobs wracked your body. With shaking hands, you scooped your entrails into the crook of your arm in hopes that you could put them back inside of you. They were slimy and warm, and you were reminded of eels, or perhaps hagfish.

Everything hurt. You were so afraid, you couldn’t breathe. There was a loud bang and a heavy pressure on your chest. Or maybe, your inability to catch your breath stemmed from the bullet that had pierced through your ribcage and into your lungs. When did that happen? You didn’t know, you didn’t care, all you knew was that you didn’t want to die.

Of course, you didn’t get a say in the matter. Before you knew it, your muscles were going slack and your body was crumpling to the ground. Blood poured from between your lips as your tongue wagged numbly in your mouth. If you weren’t careful, you might bite it off. It had happened before, and you died drowning in your own blood rather than to the slow drain of your wounds. Maybe, if you were lucky, you could have been saved then.

Not now, though. Your guts were supposed to be inside you, not spewed and steaming on the ground.

And, just like that, it was over.

You awoke in bed and screamed. With gasping breaths, your hands frantically felt the intact skin of your belly, and your bulletless chest. Though you were safe, the ghost of your pain lingered like a knife against your back. Sobs tore from your throat as you curled in on yourself.

It had been a long time since a death this bad. So lost in your own misery — again, again, it happened again, why won’t it stop? — you didn’t hear the door open until it was too late.

“Black Leg” Sanji

Sanji was across the room, scooping you into his arms before you were able to blink. You gasped and squirmed slightly as he rubbed your back. A part of you was still there, bleeding out on the ground, and your heart wouldn’t stop hammering wildly in your chest, even as Sanji murmured sweet nothings into your ear. Phantom pain gripped you, and your stomach clenched when you remembered just how slimy your insides were as you tried to put them back where they belonged.

“I’m here, love, I’m here.”

That only made you cry more. Your breath hitched as you gripped the back of his dress shirt in your fist and buried your face into the crook of his neck. You were hyperventilating, afraid that the bullet in your chest followed you into this loop, threatening to drag you under again. You died in Sanji’s arms once before, and the terror on his face had etched itself into your brain forever. It couldn’t happen again, you would drag yourself away to die alone under a rock if you could help it.

Sanji’s hand shook as he stroked your hair. “What happened? Tell me what’s wrong.”

Finally, you caught your breath and wiped the tears from your face. With a watery smile, one you were sure was nowhere near as convincing as you wanted if Sanji’s worried expression was anything to go by.

“I had a nightmare,” You said.

If Sanji knew you were lying, he didn’t say anything. He only held you while you desperately pretended that you had stopped trembling.

Trafalgar Law

Law was the last person who you wanted to see like this. He carried too much already. You were sure that he would crumble if he knew the weight you had been carrying right under his nose. Frantic, you pawed at your face to remove the evidence of your breakdown as if he hadn’t heard you screaming moments before.

“Hey,” He said softly, crouching beside you to gently grab you by the shoulders. Law squeezed, and you took a shaky breath and remembered where you were. You weren’t dying alone in the middle of nowhere, you were on the Polar Tang, with Law, somewhere on the Grand Line.

You sniffled and cracked a small smile. “Hey.”

Unwanted visions of your previous death assaulted you from behind your eyes. A sharp gasp tore from your throat as your arms snaked around your middle to hold your organs inside. It still hurt, why did it still hurt? You were safe now, it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fucking fair.

Gently, Law pried your arms from your abdomen and pulled up your shirt to inspect it. “I don’t see any external injuries…”

You watched the possibility of an internal injury flit across his face. Before the word ‘room’ left his lips, you shook your head and choked on another sob.

“I had a dream I died,” You admitted the half truth with the sour taste of bile on your tongue.

Law’s brows knit and he let out a small, “Ah.”

Awkward, not yet used to the affection you bestowed upon him so readily, he wrapped his long arms around you with a small pat on your back. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“If I died, you need to know I would never blame you.” It came out of nowhere, but it was the only thing you could think to say. The truth was, you would blame yourself, you had a lot of experience doing that, though you thought better of saying that aloud.

Law didn’t say anything in response, his thumb rubbing gentle circles between your shoulder blades.

Portgas D. Ace

“What happened? Why are you crying?” Ace was talking before he even reached you, pulling you against his bare chest before you even had a chance to realize he was here. His scent filled your nose, filled your head, until you were hysterical and pulling him as close as possible.

“Was someone here? Did someone hurt you?” With his righteous anger, his body temperature rose as harmless flames licked your fingers. All you could do was cry, so captivated with the man in front of you, your death was all but forgotten.

“No, no, I’m okay.” You pulled back to study his face, your own stained with snot and tears. He practically glowed in the moonlight that streamed through your window. Even at night, Ace shone like the sun. Your clumsy hands found his freckles, sweeping across the bridge of his nose and down his cheeks to his lips. Flesh and bone, alive and whole. You sobbed harder, low keening whines ripping from your throat before you could stop them.

“Had- Had a dream you were gone.”

Ace pulled you tighter against him. “Oh, babe, I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.”

With your fingers tangled in his hair, Ace rocked you back and forth, hushing you softly while you wished to tear open your ribcage and keep him safe inside your body forever. The only way to get to him would be to rip you apart, and even then, you would come back again, stronger than ever. No one would be able to take him from you. You had died too many times to count, faced pain time and time again, there was no torture you wouldn’t endure if it meant you wouldn’t lose your sun.

How many loops had it been? How many times have you had to watch Ace die?

You’d save him this time, you would make sure of it.

#one piece x reader #black leg sanji x yn #sanji x reader #trafalgar law x reader #portgas ace x reader #portgas ace x y/n #trafalgar law x y/n #trafalgar law x you #black leg sanji x reader #portgas ace x you #.jesterwrites #had so much fun with this one

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mueritos · 2 months

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i hope we continue to see more protests within the US military. i see a lot of leftists and folks who are anti-military who have such an open disdain for the people who are in the military, yet neglect to considering the conditions this country makes to produce ideology, poverty, and the illusion of choice to make all kinds of people choose to enlist in the military. You ever see those videos of ROTC kids recording each other asking why they joined the military and everyone's like, "healthcare", "it helped me go to college", "I was bored" or "free ptsd lol". I hate to remind everyone but folks who are in the military are people, too, and they are the same victims and perpetrators of violence as the rest of you, we have all been shallowly conditioned to view each other as enemies just because one person is wearing army greens and the other is not.

some of the biggest anti-war advocates are those who engaged in war. Veterans who genuinely believed they were protecting the US against "terrorism" come back with blood on their hands, and they choose to realize that it was US imperialism that forced them to carry out violence, instead of doubling down and shielding themselves from the fact that they too are capable of atrocities... This is a class of people who are intentionally conditioned to be as poor and as ideologically aligned to US imperialism so that the military has a never-ending pool to send their youth to destroy other country's youth. The only people I have ever heard say "do not join the military" are those who ARE military.

This is in no way to ever excuse or explain away any of the atrocious war crimes and violence this industry and its people have committed against others. What I am saying is that we absolutely cannot cast aside the individuals who have been victimized within US imperialism, even if they are wearing army greens. I was speaking with my Palestinian classmate last week and another classmate--a member of the US air force-- walked up to me and struck up a conversation. My military classmate showed me her new bird, bid both of us goodbye, and left. My Palestinian classmate asked me if I was close with her, and I said we talked quite often, and she said, "I never met a person who's in the military. I still hate the military, but I never knew that they did, too. I didn't realize that they were also victims."

If my Palestinian classmate--one who is actively watching her own community die--can understand that it is not individuals who are the problem but it is in fact systems, US imperialism, white supremacy, capitalism...why can't we all? And she has EVERY reason to hate any individual military member. A lot of online activism just creates more barriers. if your optics look bad, complicated, or contradictory, you are cast aside. Everyone has got the be the perfect activist, you can never make a mistake or share a half-baked thought, you should always believe every word from a marginalized persons mouth (because being marginalized doesn't mean you're not entrenched in white supremacy too!) and you should never question what you see...Do you know what you sound like? The very imperialists who are convincing poor whites to vote against themselves. Perfectionism is white supremacy. Black & white thinking is white supremacy.

I'd rather have a military member who genuinely believed in the US imperialism machine but was disillusioned after being deployed as my comrade than some leftist who cherishes the performance of "being a good person". I don't want "good people" in our movements. I want humans who care. I want humans who make mistakes and who learn from them. I want humans who accept the messiness of a person. I want humans who hold others accountable and allow themselves to take responsibility for their actions. I want people who change for themselves and others.

fight systems, not individual people. we can change each other, but if we're too preoccupied looking like the World's Perfect Activists, we will only consume each other alive. Connect to your fellow humans, forever and always.

#muertotalks #a mind dump after seeing so much come out after the self immolation of the us air force member #i know hes not the first one to self immolate for palestine #and he might not be the last #i hate the military #i really fucking do #but i choose to see the people within them as victims within the overall system just like the rest of us #i will never go through what they did to make them choose to enlist #i never struggled with poverty homelessness healthcare or social acceptance #i wont shame them #shame is not productive #i want them to know there are civilians who support their protests #i want them to know that we their allies too #a note on my palestinian classmate #if youre arab or also a colonized person impacted by the us military feel free to hate every member of the military #i dont intend to police yall in how you choose to feel your anger #im angry with you #the point i mean to make is about understanding and compassion #someone who has every right to hate these people still chose to see them as the people they are #yes i even want the best for the “bad” people in the military too #i dont want these people to continue the ideology but we cant stop that without dismantling these systems #and we cant do that without creating spaces for healing and reform and growth #so many thoughts so many thoughts #none of this is easy #i fight daily against impulsively hating the world #everyday is a fight to choose compassion and understanding #but being a leftist and doing leftism is not fucking easy #if you genuinely think it is it isnt #and you may be missing the point of what leftism is #anyway

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veras1ne · 6 months

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✰࿐ ˊˎ- “BITE ME.”

Hi Doves!! This is my first fic from the Saw franchise!

I’m really excited for the months following as I’ll be posting more frequently and have a lot more lined up!! I hope you all enjoy this fic!

🫧Pairing: Adam Faulkner-Stanheight x Fem!Apprentice!Reader

: ̗̀➛ WARNINGS🦢: I am NOT responsible for the media you read and consume! Your warnings are the following: Kidnapping, Stalking, Taking pictures without consent, Sex, PIV, Blowjobs, Pervert Behavior by Adam and Reader.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Summary 🕊️: Adam believed his life would be over, but it turned out a certain apprentice had a different idea in mind. Now he has to follow a new set of rules

The scraping of metal tinged in your ear as you hauled the heavy contraption down the grimy hallway. You just nearly felt the vibrations through the tile flooring beneath your feet.

Adam’s eyes were droopy and his body frail and tired, yet his mind was widely awake. He couldn’t remember where he was last; he recalled picking at the skin of his shoulder that once was flushed with dried blood and the means for infection, courtesy of Dr. Lawrence Gordon’s gunshot that still rang in his ears weeks later. He hadn’t expected Lawrence to come back for him; in fact, he truly believed that he would die in that room, only surrounded by white tile and shit stains on the walls. His ankle was covered in blood and blistered skin. The friction of the chains caused his skin to burn and ache, leading his voice to scream and call out to anyone who was listening. His last wish was for someone to hear him, but he didn’t ever expect to truly be out of this nightmare. He wasn’t aware someone was coming for him, stalking him and preying on him.

But you did.

You pulled open the door to the room, and it screeched like nails on a chalkboard against the concrete wall. Adam’s blurry mind at the loud noise Other than his own desperate screaming and beckoning, he hadn’t heard any relevant sounds to aid him in his escape in days.

There was no sound to indicate another life. Lawrence had abandoned him; Jigsaw was nowhere to be seen, and all that was left was the burning ache of his wailing and the sound of the security cameras buzzing.But none of those things are registered in Adam’s mind now. His eyes were wide and fearful. The sight of an unknown face—someone who looked like them—was enough to make him startle and panic. His mouth was gagged, and his neck was embellished with a metal collar. On the inside of the collar were several rows of nails, and the tips of the needles were each plucked and perfectly arranged to suffocate him and create panic. Connected to his collar was a chain padlocked into the wall.

He was just barely being suffocated by the claustrophobic heat of the room and the relentless tugging of the chains that bound him to his collar. The air that entered his nostrils was thick and stale and tasted sourly of iron.

Sweat poured from his forehead onto his already sweaty hairline. It pooled at the small of his back. He began to quiver once he realized that whoever came into this room had no intention of leaving it anytime soon. “Hello Adam. I want to play a game.” Your voice echoed throughout the chamber-like walls. “You’d consider yourself a photographer, wouldn’t you, Adam? I sure would.” You stepped further towards him and shoved a box of photos in his lap, the box containing pictures of yourself in excessively vulnerable situations, like finding yourself in the hallway of different hook-up apartments or in your own home, some even depicting yourself getting undressed in the shower. “You’ve spent your life following others, but you’ve chosen the wrong person to follow, Adam.” You took another step towards him, reaching your hand out and pressing it against his face, caressing the side of his cheek. “You probably thought you could live your life without consequence for your actions, but you’re wrong. Just like how one wrong move could be the end of your life, so follow my rules and play nice, sweetheart." You smiled a thin smile filled with malice and lust.

A grin so fake that it was more than believable, if a bit unsettling. You grabbed his collar and yanked him upwards, the metal biting deep into his flesh, untying his makeshift gag and throwing the fabric onto the ground. His swollen cheeks and puffy eyes only made your lust for him grow so much stronger. “What do you want from me?” His voice was hoarse but whiny and strong with misery. “What’s wrong? You wanted to see me so badly before, and now that you can, you don’t like it? You should be grateful. John wanted to leave you there to starve; Mandy wanted to put you out of your misery, but not me. I wanted to meet you face-to-face." He let out a small breath as your hands slipped over his bare shoulders, down his chest, and back to his arms, squeezing them as you reached them, his muscles flexing under your hands. “I guess you’ll finally get to see everything in live motion, and not just from one of your silly pictures.” You moved your lips closer to his ear. His breathing hitched as he looked at you with glossed-over eyes, and his pupils dilated to slits as he stared at you. “Tell me what else you think is wrong, Adam. Tell me how you feel about being here. Tell me how you really are." As you whispered in his ear, you squeezed your fingers harder onto his upper arm.

You watched him squirm and whimper. “Oh fuck, man.” His hands found their way to your hips. “What did you do with those photos of me, Adam? Did you think about me at night?” You gave him a sly smile as you toyed with the lock on his collar. “Do you want me to take off my shirt? Do you want me to lay it across the chair so you can touch me? What kind of fantasy do you have of me, baby?” You leaned forward so that your chest pressed firmly into his.

Your lower leg rested against his crotch, pressing down and giving him his strongly desired relief. “Do you want me, Adam?” Your hand brushed his hair back; it was greasy and had dried blood and sweat in between strands, but at that point in time, nothing else mattered; only he did. "Shit, you’re fucking crazy, dude.” Your face snapped at his response, changing from pleasure to anger. “I would watch your attitude if you want to get out of here alive. Remember my rules, Adam; play nicely.” You tugged on the chain binding him, drawing a few beads of blood out of his neck. “Bite me.” He spat at you, his words stinging on your lips as you captured his in an angry, heated kiss.

He sucked your tongue into his mouth while you moaned into it; your lips parted slightly as you explored your tongue with his, and your hands were wandering his body. They slid up his chest to his shoulders, then his neck, then his jawline, until they tangled in his dirty locks. He pulled you closer until you were completely wrapped around him, grinding your hips into his groin as minutes felt like hours with your lips interlocked. “Fuck, I fucking knew you were perfect, so pretty.” He cried out against your lips, his hands gripping your waist tightly and pulling your hips down against him.

You both moaned when you felt his erection rubbing against your clitoral area through your trousers and underwear, his cock hardening even more against you. Your hips slid against his jeans as you sat on the floor, tucking your knees under your thighs. Cold hands slid across his jeans, unbuckling his belt and sliding off his blue trousers, hooking his underwear, and pulling them down.

You opened your mouth slowly, sliding your bottom lip along the tip of his erect penis. Your tongue danced delicately, sucking him off gently and softly. His head hung low as he groaned against your mouth.

His arms encircled your waist, keeping you pressed into his warm, hard body. “Are you enjoying yourself, Adam?” you asked quietly, licking away the last remnants of cum. He nodded quickly, turning his face away so he didn’t have to look you in the eyes. He couldn’t hold your stare and instead opted for staring at the ceiling, his arms still tight around your waist. He shivered as you continued sucking on his cock. “Yes, yes. That feels so good.” He gasped as your lips closed around the head, taking his full shaft into your desperate throat. He buckled his knees, his hips rocking into you roughly as you swallowed him down, moaning lightly as your nails dug deeply into his skin, nearly breaking it and almost bruising them as he tried desperately not to cum too early.

He clenched his fists, digging his own nails harshly into the skin of your shoulders as he guided your head up and down his hard cock. You licked the length of the base of it until it was throbbing painfully.

You took him to the back of your throat, holding him in place as you drank him down slowly. “Oh shit…” He breathed out as his body trembled, his eyes wild, and he panicked with desire, feeling his own orgasm rising in his abdomen. You pulled his cock out of his mouth, much to his displeasure and anger.

His whimpers made your hole clench around the emptyness that you so desired to be filled. “If I unchained you right now, would you scream and run? You remember the rules, right? Let’s see if you’ll still play by them once you’ve gotten your freedom. Get on your knees.”

His face was distorted in confusion, not quite understanding what for. "Look, man, I’m not into that sort of thing." He shook his head and looked at you in fear, sitting down on the cold floor anyway. “I’m taking your collar off, not pegging you with a knife.” The keys from your pocket jingled as you unlocked them, the heavy metal contraption falling to the floor. He removed his white shirt that was covered in dried blood, his pale body glistening with sweat and grime that covered every inch of his smooth chest. You placed the collar on the table next to you as you pulled him to the chair nearby. “Are you sure that this is what you want, Adam?” Your expression showed genuine concern.

Even though it was true you had locked him up in this room and kept him as your personal hostage only to give him a sloppy head, you still had a heart, and you were determined to give it to him in its entirety. “Put that pretty pussy right on my cock, please.” You smiled at him as you pushed your black pants and panties down to the floor, straddling his muscular thighs and kissing his neck.

His body twitched as you slid down his shaft, bottoming out as your pussy stretched around his dick, gushing around his flesh. “Shit, Adam.” You sighed, loving the heat of his body in the cold room, the wet warmth against your insides, and the way your juices trickled down the shaft of his dick and dripped in soft puddles onto the floor. You began moving up and down his cock with slow, steady strokes, adjusting your puckering hole to his shaft. Your legs started shaking as he lifted himself up, thrusting into you deep, your nipples pebbling, and your core tightening as your body began to move in rhythm to his movements.

His face flushed red, his eyes became glassy, his head thrown back, and his mouth opened in pleasure. His hands gripped your waist tighter, taking full control of your body movements as they related to your wet heat. His hands ran up and down your hips, his fingers sliding up and down your waist, causing you to tighten and pull harder on his shaft. He groaned loudly, his cock hitting all of your sweet spots as he pumped into you.

You were panting, your eyes closing as you focused on the way your walls tightened around his cock. “Did you ever touch yourself with those pictures of me, Adam? Did you imagine what it would be like to fuck me?" He bit his lower lip as he began to growl against your shoulder, releasing his grip on your waist as he buried his head in the crook of your neck. “F-fuck, every night. I wanted to know what your tight pussy would feel like around my cock.” He ground against your pussyrelentlessly until your whole body started shaking. “I knew you were a disgusting little pervert." You were so close, and his confession only drew you closer.

You could feel your juices dripping into your pussy as he continued to pump into you, pushing you further and further toward your release. You arched your back, reaching your hands behind you to grab onto something to help hold on to as you came. You screamed his name as you came hard, your pussy clenching around his thick cock, still chasing his orgasm as he pound into you, overstimulating your sore nerves.

His body tensed, his muscles trembling violently as he spilled his seed inside you, filling you to the brim. His arms wrapped themselves around your back as he held you close. “That felt so good. So fucking amazing.” His voice shook as he spoke against your neck. You turned so that your faces were level, and his arms were still wrapped around you. You kissed him tenderly, your lips lingering on his, before you pulled away. “Congratulations, Adam. You’ve won your game. You have been reborn.” He smiled and wet his lips. “So was that, like, a reverse rebirth kind of thing?” Your face turned from joy to bewilderment, and it only took one sentence from an idiot. “Dude, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

#veras1ne #adam stanheight smut #adam stanheight x reader #adam stanheight #adam faulkner stanheight #Adam Stanheight imagine #saw x reader #saw imagines #saw 2004 #saw franchise #saw x #saw movies #saw #Adam Stanheight Fluff

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realisticjupiter · 2 months

Note

Can you do a jealous chishiya please??? 🥺 I love that man and i would die for a jealous chishiya. Thank you if you decided to do it.

Summary: Chishiya finds a way to sabotage, what could have been, a good night.

Genre: Fluff, slightly suggestive

Pairing: Chishiya x gn!reader

Warnings: jealous!chishiya, talk of killing, suggestions to sex, lmk if anything else.

Word count: 772

a/n: just something small. hope you like it!

You laughed along to a conversation with some guy that came up to you at the pool.

Your first impressions of him, was that he was sweet and pretty funny. He had humor to him, and constantly complimented your appearance.

He made you feel seen. You felt like someone saw you for you, and nothing else to bias his opinion on. You felt like a new person, as if he was chance to start over with every other guy you've been with.

Chishiya couldn't help but stare; to study your body language and notice the way you flirted with each other. He'd be lying if he said his blood wasn't boiling. But, he knew he had to keep his calm expression.

Chishiya tried to walk away, but he was afraid once he did, he'd lean in closer and touch you where he was supposed to.

"Maybe we can go to my room... Get more privacy, yeah?" The guy suggested, looking you up and down with a smile.

"I like the sound of that." You smiled back, biting your bottom lip as you became conscious of just how the water of the pool dripped down his skin.

You followed him out of the pool, walking closely behind him as he headed towards the entrance of the Beach.

"y/n," A voice stopped you from walking inside, turning your head to meet Kuina.

"Oh, hi." You waved, smiling at her.

She smiled back, eyeing the man behind you before aiming her eyes back at yours. "You're leaving already?" She asked, her brows withering to show she was pretty bummed out.

"Yeah, i--" Your words were cut short to Kuina grabbing your wrist.

"Don't go yet! Niragi said he'd scare everyone out of the pool for us! ...As long as he gets to join us." Kuina winced at her last words, clearly disgusted as much as the next person.

"Oh, but I was--" You tried to explain once again, but Kuina cut you off once more to explain something you didn't quite listen to.

You turned around to try and find the guy you had met earlier, but you couldn't see him anymore.

When you turned back, Kuina was now talking to Chishiya, but Chishiya was only looking at you.

"Looking for something?" He raised a brow, cutting off Kuina mid sentence. Which felt a bit like karma.

"No," You shook your head, now avoiding eye contact as you shivered under the night's gaze.

"She's probably looking for that guy from earlier, bad vibes to be honest." Kuina shrugged.

"It doesn't matter now. He's gone, and I don't even know his name." You rolled your eyes.

"Ouch, already forgot his name?" Chishiya joked.

"No, he just never told me." When you said it out loud, you realized just how weird that was. You talked for a while, and not once did you exchange names. And the fact he was inviting you to his room, despite not knowing it, said a lot.

"Whatever, I'm going to sleep. Have fun." You forced a smile, grabbing a random towel that was folded neatly on a chair to wrap around your body.

As soon as you walked back into the resort, Chishiya's eyes went to Kuina, "Thanks." He nodded.

Kuina rolled her eyes, "You seriously owe me. She deserves to get laid." She put her hands on her hips, emphasizing her serious tone.

"I'm not having this conversation with you." He crossed his arms.

"Someone has to. If you're not going to make a move on a girl don't make someone drag her away from a good night." Kuina spat, now walking away from Chishiya; making him stand in silence and think about what she said.

Which he did. He stood still, his eyes tracing the window that belonged to your room as he let his mind wander to all the other possibilities. Maybe you would've went with the guy, but in the morning he'd be gone. Maybe Chishiya should've intervened, pull you in and get you to go to his room instead. But Chishiya knew every outcome; the guy wouldn't be there no matter what anyone did. It's just a matter of how.

"I could've had him killed instead." Chishiya muttered to himself, shrugging off the thought as it left his lips in a mere whisper.

He didn't mean, that he, himself, would kill him. He'd merely just sabotage him, or frame him. Maybe get him killed for being a traitor.

As long as he's not the one holding the knife, he'd argue.

reposts and comments are appreciated <3

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greycaelum · 7 months

Text

If you saw your father die... What would you do?

It seems more susceptible to be standing there and wallowing in grief. Because who are you to join in the fight of the strongest?

If he were any younger Kouki would've been beyond traumatized to see his father in his own pool of blood as the clear crystal relive the thousands of past and future passing through his eyes.

He has always believed his father is the strongest. A man unmoved and undefeated by his own rights. So if he sees the scene of his father's lifeless body, torn apart and mangled by a familiar face, his heart breaks apart into thousands of pieces.

"Kou? Sweetheart?"

You called out from the kitchen only to feel a weight hug your leg, followed by series of inconsolable sobs. Worry immediately overtook your heart to see your son crying without any explanation.

"What's wrong, Sweetheart? Hmmm? What happened?" You kneeled down and held his shoulder, wiping his tears with your thumb. "Shhh, shush dear, what's wrong?"

"P-Papa!" He called out brokenhearted.

"Wh-? Kou... Sweetheart..."

You frown softened and shushed him even more. Your eight years old son was having a trouble articulating his words without remembering the grotesque scene the crystal marble flashed in his eyes.

You gathered him in your arms, hugging him tight while telling him how to breathe and calm himself down. You stroke his head, shushing and assuring him until he slumped to your shoulders and the sobs turned to sniffles.

"Did you see something bad, Sweetheart?" You held Kouki in your arms, his ear pressed against your chest so he could listen to your heartbeat as the two of you sat on the floor, with you cradling his small body in the security of your arms and presence.

"Papa... he was all bloody and..." Kouki hugged your neck. "I don't like it... I want Papa home Mama."

Kouki hid his face in the nook of your neck and asked for a very tight hug which you obliged. Stroking his long silvery lilac locks he inherited from Satoru and the puffy orbs he got from you.

You wish you could do that too. You wish he was home right now. If he's home, then maybe, just maybe things would be easier.

"It's okay, Sweetheart. It's okay..."

The door opened followed by Saika's loud footsteps.

"Mama!"

You looked up to see Satoru peering down at you and Kouki on the floor, confused.

"Hey Baby, what are you doing on the floor with Kikufuku?"

Kouki immediately ran to Satoru's arms prompting his father to kneel down beside you on the floor and gather his son into his strong arms.

"What's wrong Kikufuku? Why's my buddy crying? Mnnn?"

You watch your father and son converse in their own world. Satoru talked with Kouki in his arms, whispering something to the little boy's ears, calming him down and eventually hugging his father's neck, a lot better and calmer.

"Mama, Papa and I bought more plushies for Sunshines! Look, look, we got light blue and royal blue." Saika sat down beside you and put her hand over your growing belly. "You think Sunshines, will like them?" Saika look up to you with hopeful eyes.

You pat her head, kissing the tip of her nose.

"Of course... They will love it, Sweetie." Saika beamed at your reply and animatedly talked to your baby bump.

Kouki had to sleep after the stressful session with his manifesting cursed technique. Saika went to sleep beside her brother too that leaves you and Satoru on your bedroom, in each others arms while a movie is running on the background. Satoru totally spoiled you with the ending so you didn't bother watching it and instead relished on the calming way his hand rub your back and from time to time the soft kisses to your forehead followed by the caress on your baby bump.

"Kouki said..." Satoru started with a sigh. "He saw me dying. On Shibuya... That fight with Sukuna."

A sad smile graced your lips as you snuggled yourself closer to his arms.

"It's so crazy how thousands of possible scenario could happen in one moment..." Satoru kissed your temple. "How I couldn't possibly be here right now with you, if I just made that one wrong decision back then."

"But you didn't. You're here with me, with us Satoru." You cut him off. His idea of possibly losing his life on that tragedy pinched your heart. "You're here at my arms, at our home. That's what matters to me the most. The myriad of possible futures could go and burn down, as long as I get you back home."

Satoru stared at you and slowly nodded. A future without you... It's hard to imagine for him.

"I don't care about the possible futures Satoru... I will find that one possible future out of the millions there is as long as I can have you... I only want the future that has you." You said with conviction, a bit angry for him to think of possibly leaving this world without you.

"Me too Baby... I only want the future with you... and our children." Satoru nods, taking your lips into his soft ones, replacing the bitter imagination with his soft, delicate kisses, filling your mind with his presence and his touch until you forget the memory and override it with his touch and his love.

General/Kaleidoscope Series Taglist: @ice-icebaby @aeanya @gummy-dummy @tender-rosiey @lexiene @nevermoresworld @loml-riri @pelicanpizza @emichou-chan

—Grey,

#[grey talks: my love]#gojo satoru #kaleidoscope series #gojo satoru x reader #jjk dad gojo #jjk married gojo fluff #gojo satoru imagines #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk fluff #gojo satoru fanfic #jujutsu kaisen #gojo kouki #gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #husband gojo x wife reader #jjk dad gojo satoru #gojo saika #greycaelum

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cultofdixon · 5 months

Text

Life or Death, Dixon

Daryl Dixon [PLATONIC] • She/Her Pronouns • Youngest Dixon Sister!Reader • It’s always these messy arguments that lead them into messy situations…let’s just hope neither of them have to die for it • ANGST/SFW • TW: Arguments / Gun Violence / Suicidal Tendencies Mentioned / Injuries / Violence / Scar

Requested by: Anon

“Are you seriously still mad at me? It wasn’t just me!”

“Yeah a grieving mother and a fucking ex-tyrant. The perfect team with little miss flight risk”

“I’m your fucking sister and you talk to me like that?!”

“Merle called you way worse!” Daryl snaps as he couldn’t believe he agreed to go on a run with his sister when he hasn’t completely wrapped his head around everything that had happened. The end of the Whispers war and the Reapers.

“At least I didn’t sleep with a fucking pyromaniac’s bitch”

“Hey!” He shoved Y/N to have her get the idea she went too far. But she wasn’t done.

“Seriously. You’re going to be mad about risking my life to save our fucking family when you rolled over on your back for a woman you fucked once in a cabin in the middle of nowhere just to get “inside it all” only for her and her own bitch to escape Maggie’s revenge. They’ve killed a good chunk of her people, Daryl!”

Daryl quickly whipped toward his sister dropping his crossbow and grabbing her by the jacket.

“At least Henry never my goddamn fucking sight long enough for him to get killed” He did it. He needed the last word and the last nerve wasn’t just struck but burned causing Y/N to instantly force him off storming off.

Then what happened next was a blur. Which led them here…

Bounded to wooden chairs and Daryl was the first to wake feeling his mouth was duct taped shut. If only he had duct tape during this risky trips with his bike, it is an easy fix type tool. But that didn’t matter in the moment as he tried to get a better look of his surroundings.

The place wasn’t familiar and once he understood that he quickly glance to his sister noticing the blood pooling from her temple. He didn’t know how long she’s been like such and the panic started to pool inside of him as he tried to make any form of noise to get his sister to react.

But it got someone with a familiar, enraged tone to emerge from the shadows showing the injured Reaper Brandon that had it out for the archer when his idiotic fallen group took him in.

“You weren’t easy to settle down. She definitely was” He laughs lightly as he with all his force kicked the chair she was bounded to watching her quickly sit up.

Y/N had a cut dangerously close to her left eye and it was swollen shut with that side of her face bruised as well. She had to be “put down” in order to be tied up. One can only imagine what they did to Daryl. She didn’t say anything when she rose her head given the pain and she thought if she tried to protest that the gun in the man’s hand would be used on them.

“You pinned my brothers and sister against each other back at our home. Killed big man and that bitch that got away really should’ve been in what…this your sister right?” Brandon grabbed her shoulders from behind her seat watching Daryl tense. “In her place. But you know…pinning siblings on one another make for better entertainment”

Daryl couldn’t say anything but with the way his expression almost always matched his emotions. At least in a way only another Dixon can read. Y/N turned her head toward the man she didn’t know when he rounded back toward her brother.

“What do you want with us? Your family’s gone”

“Yeah…so I need one of you to be” Brandon drops the gun he held onto the table in front of them watching them flinch at first. “There’s one bullet. I think you understand the rules if you’ve lived long enough”

Russian Roulette.

“You know he’ll just aim it at himself” Y/N scoffs spitting a bit of blood onto the table causing the worry and anxiety to build even higher inside her older brother. “Too selfless…”

“Yeah, but I heard y’all’s little squabble in the woods…he may still do what you say. But what are you going to do?” He smirks pushing the gun toward Y/N and taking out his knife threatening to kill Daryl if she didn’t pick it up. But once she did he didn’t retract knowing she would aim at him if he wasn’t going to keep a short leash on the situation.

“Judith gave yea Rick’s gun?”

“Until she’s ready”

“You know how to shoot a colt?”

“I think I can handle a revolver” Y/N laughs holstering it. “We are the only ones besides Negan that have used anything other than a gun. Thought she’d trust you with it more than me”

“You know Rick liked yea. It would’ve been you or Michonne holding that. Both of y’all’s mains not being a gun”

“Michonne is badass with a katana. I’m just a wannabe track and field star with an old javelin”

“So what I’m hearing is you want me to teach you how to use it”

I wish you didn’t Y/N frowns holding the gun in her hand watching Brandon grab her brother by the hair forcing his head back and bringing his knife to his jugular if she didn’t take aim.

The second she aimed it at Daryl, Brandon backed off knowing she was pissed about their argument and finally putting a permanent end to such.

“Life or death, Dixon”

“I choose life, Merle” Y/N rolls her eyes at her eldest brother as they were on the roof he was currently chained on. She decided not to leave him as she watched the vehicles that got the others out flee the city to their camp.

“You chose death here, pumpkin. By staying with me while the walkers flood the building and gain a sense that there’s fresh meat on the roof. You’ve always risked your life”

“For my family.”

“So what are you going to do”

Choose my family. Y/N gripped the handle on the gun, clicking it to load or not load the bullet and right as her finger rested on the trigger.

The two froze watching her quickly aim it to her temple and Daryl fought against the restraints while Brandon stood a bit in shock that she would do such even from what her brother said that he didn’t entirely understand.

Then the gun fired

A thud met the floor

And silence grew in the room causing Daryl to hyperventilate filling the emptiness as he had shut his eyes when he heard the gun fire not wanting to open them.

“You seriously think you’re going to end up alone?” Carol accused Daryl after he had told her about this Leah woman. “As much as not everybody finds a romantic soulmate. There are platonic ones out there”

“I’ve been accused by Y/N that Rick was mine. So I really am gonna end up alone”

“Seriously? Did you forget about the other name in that sentence? Let alone forget that I’m right fucking here?” Carol laughed at such receiving a confused look from her friend. “You still have a family, Daryl. And as much as the world pushed both Dixons into the earth to show them a piece of its mind…Y/N ain’t going anywhere. It will take a real nuclear ending for her to say goodbye to her life. She’s never leaving you, Daryl Dixon”

She’s your blood Daryl felt tears spring in his eyes as his body flinched to the couch of a comforting hand that when he opened his eyes he was met with Rosita’s worry filled expression.

“Aaron told us about his crazy experience being…sort of kidnapped. When you and Y/N didn’t come back when you did…we had to make sure you were alright” She states carefully taking the duct tape off as Daryl quickly whipped his attention to his sister getting cut out of her restraints by Aaron while she also set the gun she held on the table.

The gun was freshly fired. But her end wasn’t met.

Rosita had taken out Brandon and that was the gun fire that out sounded the fire that Y/N triggered. But again, her luck in russian roulette was there this time around.

“You need help standing?” Aaron asked as Y/N shook her head giving out a soft ‘thank you though’ when he went to check their surroundings outside.

The moment Y/N rose to her feet, Daryl brought himself over taking her into his arms caging her a bit. She kept herself cemented at first trying to keep up her front when Daryl has already cracked after what happened. It wasn’t until Rosita gave her a look that led her to give the Dixon siblings a moment of privacy as Y/N sobbed softly the second she left and latched onto her brother.

“You could’ve died…” Daryl stated as the group started their journey back to Alexandria. Y/N just shrugged at him. “Seriously?”

“What? If it was Merle, I wouldn’t hesitate to shoot his bitchass.”

“‘M just glad yea didn’t eat a bullet” Daryl wrapped his arm around her shoulders as she opened the barrel and started laughing like an idiot.

“Bro I would’ve met fucking Merle in hell” Y/N showed him the next shot was the bullet as Daryl instantly swiped the weapon from her. “Hey! Imma need that”

“Nah stick to your sharpened stick shit. Shouldn’t have trusted yea with drugs when you were six. Ain’t trusting yea with a gun now”

“I didn’t take the drugs!”

“Whatever”

#cultofdixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 2 months

Text

I'm been dreaming of the Trump Card of Hearts.

One card in a deck, and the world stacked against him. What can he hope to do by himself?

Simple: he'll be the one that trumps them all.

How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die?

Card Soldiers mob the courtroom. The trial has reconvened, the verdict drawn up. Excited whispers--rumors, theories--swirl around the onlookers in the circular stands.

At the center, a single man snorts.

They've come for free entertainment; to witness his execution.

"Order, order! I will have order in this court."

A gavel sounds from up above. Each strike against a block, the toll calling for his head to roll.

The audience automatically quiets.

A throat clears.

At the judge's bench is the Three of Clubs, anxiously gazing down through his spectacles. He's complicit, another mouthpiece for the Queen. No guts, no will.

Lame, the one in the center of the case thinks.

“This court hereby finds the defendant, one Mister Ace Trappola, guilty of stealing the Queen’s tarts," the judge declares. "The sentence—”

“OFF WITH HIS HEAD!!” roars the royal from the side. He’s red in the face, the same color as his hair and the painted roses.

“… Yes, that," the Three of Clubs agrees. One more decisive swing of the gavel, and the defendant's fate is sealed. "Really sorry about this, but rules are rules."

The judge nods to the guards on standby, a battalion of Diamonds, all in a neat row. They nod back, registering the order, and flutter free, surrounding in their target. Each of them wears the same grim expression.

The jury clamors for a better view.

"Really sorry about this, but rules are rules," Ace repeats mockingly. "Do you hear yourself? How pretentious can you possibly be?"

Veins throb on the Queen's forehead. Steam pours out of his ears. He grips the railing of his perch, glaring from his throne.

The condescending tone, the bossy orders.

A familiar story.

"It'd be better if you don't talk back," the Three of Clubs advises. "That makes things easier for me. For us all."

"So just lie down and take it? Nah. I don't think you guys get it. You just hate that I'm telling the truth and you can't handle it."

"Ace--"

"Enough waiting. I've been patient enough. I want his head, and I want it NOW," the Queen bellows, driving their scepter into the ground.

"At once, your majesty," the Cards simper. Their voices overlap with one another, like a deck cut and then reshuffled into one.

There's so many of them now. Jurors climbing out of their seats, soldiers spilling in from the far wall.

"Whoa, hey! Fellas, fellas, let's calm down here." Ace holds up both hands. "All this over one, maybe two, measly pies? How about a trick to help smooth things over?"

He turns a hand over, revealing a single card in his grasp. Upon its face, the ace of hearts.

"Watch it dance!"

Ace sets the card into motion. It twirls, alive, around his fingers, orbiting his palm and then swapping to the other. Spinning, spinning--and then, the sudden drop.

The Card Soldiers descend on him.

His ace makes contact with the floor.

It's showtime.

He looks away.

BOOM!

The ace erupts into harsh beams of light and crackling colors. Fireworks consume the courtroom, loud and bright and disorienting. Alarmed shouts ring out, Card Soldiers shielding their eyes from the attack.

“Calm yourselves! It’s nothing more than cheap parlor tricks!” the Queen snarls. He searches in the crowd for the defendant—and catches a head of tangerine bolting up the stairs.

His temper flares.

“Don’t just STAND there!! Deploy all units! CAPTURE THE THEIF!!”

"Not today!" Ace retorts.

He throws open the doors, clearing the courthouse as he steps onto a checkered lawn.

The world opens before him, lush with tall trees and shrubs trimmed into the shape of hearts. White roses dribbling red poke out from the foliage, paint pooling like blood at the roots. It's beautiful and cruel in the same way that heartbreak is--but there isn't a moment to admire it.

Not when the maze awaits.

A stone drops in his stomach.

The hedge maze is massive, stretching out and taking up most of the garden. Too tall to climb, too wide to walk around. Too twisty and complex to power through on sheer will alone.

Stomp, stomp, stomp!

Militant footsteps come from behind.

There's no time to think. Just act.

He launches himself in, hears them in pursuit. Row after row of soldiers marching in unison, single-file.

Ace doesn't know where he's going, if the choices he's making are right. He relies on his instincts, the flightiness of his feet, to carry him away from the shouts, the spears pointed at him.

He's pulled deeper and deeper into the heart of the maze. Down the rabbit hole, to some unknown place.

All the leaves look the same, and so does the sky. The criss-crosses and zig-zags don't make sense. His vision spins.

Damn it, where's the exit?!

Ace's head swerves left, then right, surveying his surroundings. To his dismay, his gaze connects with a Two of Spades at the end of a corridor. Their eyes widen in realization.

The Spade is turning now, calling out for the others to come.

Ace looks the other way. He is greeted with a dead end, impossible to scale.

"Shoot!”

They're going to cage me in if I don't get out of this tight spot…!

Mustering all his strength, Ace throws his body into the Two of Spades. He slams into the pole of a spear, which pushes back against him. His head and his rival's connect.

"Outta my way!”

The Two of Spades grits his teeth. "You should surrender now and come back with us. If you sincerely say sorry, Rosehearts-senpai might show you mercy."

"And let him have the last laugh?" Ace scoffs. "I don't think you know me too well."

"I want you to be better. I know you can be.”

“That line, coming from you? That’s rich.”

“If you'd just listen to the dorm leader, to us—”

"--What, I'd be like you?" Ace taunts, his hands closing on the Spade's spear. They clench on so tightly, his bones threaten to tear through his skin. "I'd catch up with everyone else? Finally get my unique magic and get to do something flashy? Is that it?"

“What…!”

“You don’t need to nag me, I get it! I get that I’m behind, okay?!”

“That’s not what I…” He falters, and Ace draws out an exasperated sigh.

A Card Soldier doesn’t stick out.

A Card Soldier must conform.

Those are the rules, and always has been.

His annoyance twists with upset. A fire ignites in his chest.

“Aaah, dammit. I’m getting sick of everyone tellin’ me what to do all the time. The only one that gets to decide that for me… is me!”

That’s right, falling in line just doesn’t suit the trump card. I won’t be satisfied with this alone.

The warmth spreads from his torso to his limbs, as if propelled by his very veins. Sparks feeding into an inferno. His skin tingles, buzzing from head to toe.

The Spade stares, jaw agape.

What is this feeling…?

Ace stares at his hands. They feel molten, yet brimming with energy.

Is this what I think it is?

The buzzing reaches his ears, rattles his head. The magic begs to be unleashed.

Rise up, it urges him. Incite rebellion. Defy their will. You know what to do, what to say.

Do it.

Ace opens his mouth.

And recites his incantation.

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niki-phoria · 1 year

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Hello there! If its okay can you do gn neutral reader x Chishiya,so the scenario is Chishiya seeing his campus crush on borderland and they are the new excutive member who is sarcastic, kind but mean as a joke and pretty intelligent and THEY ARE REALLY REALLY ATTRACTIVE.I hope it's not much if you do it, it will be a another motivation for me to shift tysm!

xiao's love of doctor chishiya gifs returns

pairing: chishiya x gn!beach executive!reader (they/them pronouns) genre: fluff, comfort (??) word count: 1.7k

warnings: kinda ooc chishiya, reader gets shot with an arrow (non descriptive), mentions of blood, implication of stitches, the person helping reader is supposed to be tatta but i couldn't figure out to bring it up (my boy deserves better), niragi, poor depiction of the beach executive scene, niragi, i am a niragi hater and a dori lover until the day i die, tumblr glitched and the original post i wrote for this didn't save and it scared the shit out of me lmao

a/n: thank you for requesting !! i couldn't really figure out how to add reader being chishiya's campus crush so it just starts with them knowing each other lmao. thank you for being so descriptive with reader's personality that's super helpful i hope you like it :))

additional note: i'm almost at 500 followers (HUGE thank you btw that's crazy) and i was thinking of doing an event thing ?? but i'm not sure if anyone would be interested so lmk ig lmao

requests are open !! read my rules first

“y/n?” you perk up at the familiar voice, quick to leave your conversation with ann and mira.

“chishiya!” he stands with his hands stuffed into the pockets of a white jacket. he’s wearing a pair of swim trunks and sandals. you can barely see his wristband from where the sleeve of his jacket ends. “i can never get rid of you, can i?” you tease.

“i suppose not.” chishiya leans back against the wall, a little uncomfortable at the stares of the other beach members in the room.

sensing his discomfort, you glance over your shoulder at them. “ah, i should give you a tour. have you picked a room yet?”

“i was hoping you could help with that.”

you tug chishiya along with you, guiding him through the different areas of the beach.

your shoulders brush against each other as you sit by the pool, dunking your legs in the cold water. “how long have you been here?” you ask.

“just a few days,” chishiya replies. “i’m still not entirely sure what’s going on.”

you glance behind you over your shoulder, dropping your voice to a whisper. “you know about the visas and the cards?” he nods, subtly leaning in a little closer. “hatter thinks we’ll be able to send someone back to the normal world once we collect all of the cards.”

“you don’t think so?”

you sigh. “i’m not sure. we only have a few cards right now, but something tells me it won’t be that easy.” despite the pool being completely empty, you lean in even closer to chishiya to whisper in his ear. “i don’t think we can trust the people here.” chishiya shivers. your breath is warm against his neck. he can feel his ears burn slightly when you pull away.

an unfamiliar feeling settles itself in his stomach. fear? dread? anxiety? you kick small ripplies into the water, slowly reaching over to hold his hand. despite all of the unknowns he’s sure you’ll be forced to confront, chishiya finds comfort in the feeling of your hand in his.

chishiya paces along the outside of the beach, continuously looking out at the horizon. “waiting for someone?” kuina asks, leaning back against the wall of the hotel. chishiya sighs, knowing her question is rhetorical.

“y/n’s not back yet.”

kuina pushes off of the wall, suddenly serious. “they’re not?” he shakes his head, looking out into the darkness again. “well, do you know who they were with during their last game? maybe someone knows something.”

“i haven’t seen anyone since i came back.”

“what about the other executives? have you told them?” chishiya doesn’t answer. “there has to be something we can do, right? what about-”

“hey!” in the distance they can barely see a man struggling to pull someone towards the beach. “help me! i need help!”

kuina is quick to react, rushing over to the man. chishiya watches her as she runs to meet him, gasping. “chishiya!” she yells. “it’s y/n!”

he can almost feel the blood in his body go cold. kuina shoves herself underneath your other arm, helping the man pull you to the beach. it feels like the world has stopped - everything frozen at this moment in time.

after what feels like forever chishiya manages to will his body to move, rushing to you. blood coats your side and jacket, seeping through your shirt. he presses a hand against your wound, supporting your weight.

“what happened?” he hopes his voice isn’t shaking.

“they had crossbows,” the man pants. “i had to pull it out but i think it went straight through. i didn’t know what else to do.”

“chishiya,” you whimper, clutching his body.

“it’s okay,” he whispers. “it’s gonna be okay.”

you grunt as he wraps an arm around your waist, lifting your body into his arms. you cling to his body, letting him carry you into the beach’s basement. he gently sets you on a metal table before frantically searching through the room for medical supplies. kuina leans over you, pressing a towel against your side. you wince at the pressure, tears stinging your eyes.

“sorry,” she whispers. “i’m sorry.”

chishiya takes over for her soon after, moving the towel to the side. “this is gonna hurt,” he warns. you grab his hand, squeezing it.

“i trust you.”

the pain is sharp and sudden. it feels like someone is pressing on your chest, preventing any air from entering your lungs. the ceiling above you blurs into a mix of blue lighting and gray metal before it all goes black and the world disappears.

the pain has subsided greatly when you wake up. your vision is blurry as you blink a few times, trying to clear your vision. sunlight shines through open curtains, illuminating the hotel room you lay in. it’s clean - cleaner than your room. the sheets feel nice against your skin.

you grunt, forcing yourself to sit up. your body aches as you lean back against the headboard. the door opens quietly before it closes. a man sighs before he enters. “chishiya?” your voice is raspy when you try to speak. your throat stings.

“y/n,” chishiya rushes to your side, opening a bottle of water and handing it to you. you gulp it down quickly, desperate for any liquid. “how are you feeling?”

“sore.”

chishiya takes the empty bottle, sitting down next to you. he reaches out to grab your hand, running his thumb along your knuckles. his voice is quiet when he speaks again. “you really scared me, you know.”

“about me dying? come on, you can’t get rid of me that easily.” you squeeze his hand. “chishiya,” you whisper. he looks down at you. “i’m okay. you saved me.”

“i know, i just…” he sighs, staring back down at your hands. you intertwine your fingers together, a silent way of encouraging him to continue. “i can’t lose you. you were back late, and then when you make it here you were hurt. and then you passed out and…” chishiya takes a deep breath, tension from his shoulders relaxing a little. “i don’t want to see you hurt. i love you.”

“‘shiya,” you bring a hand up to his face, wiping away a stray tear he hadn’t realized had fallen. you lift his chin, forcing him to look at you. “i know everything will be okay as long as i have you. i love you too.”

chishiya gives you a small smile, pulling your hand up to press a kiss against your knuckles. “don’t ever do this to me again.”

you chuckle. “i won’t. i promise.”

you pull the chair out between chishiya and niragi, taking your seat at the executives table. arisu stands uncomfortably at the other side of the room, watching you. chishiya raises his hand, waving at him. you playfully elbow his side. “he’s nervous, leave him alone.”

“i’m just waving,” he retorts.

“you looked just like him when you got here,” you tease. “give him a break.”

mira, ann, and kuzuryu sit across from you. on your right, next to niragi, aguni sits at the edge, right next to hatter.

“we are here to discuss the potential promotion of our very own, arisu!” hatter enthusiastically introduces, pointing over at the man. arisu shifts uncomfortably at the attention.

niragi scoffs. “are we really trusting him to be an executive?”

“we’re trusting you to be an executive.” niragi glares at you, reaching for his rifle before ann interrupts.

“he was able to win a seven of hearts. we haven’t seen that card before.”

“it’s a seven of hearts,” mira exaggerates. “if arisu was able to win the game, then, we should be able to send someone back to the normal world soon.”

“she’s right,” kuzuryu says, leaning back in his chair. “heart games are the most difficult.”

“i vote for promoting him.” you say. under the table, chishiya reaches over to grab your hand. “he won a heart game we’ve never seen before. people have been promoted for less.”

“why don’t we test him? send him into a game with an executive and see how he operates under the pressure.” ann suggests. hatter points at her, tutting.

“now that’s a good idea. any objections?” after a few seconds of silence, hatter stands. “perfect! this meeting has been concluded.”

chishiya’s hand remains in yours as you leave the room, slinking through the various corridors of the hotel you’ve found to a private area. “what are you thinking about arisu?” he asks.

“he won a heart game and you said he was good in tag. he could be a useful ally.” he hums in agreement.

the fire burns around you as you re-enter the remains of the hotel you used to call your home. a man stands in the center of what used to be the lobby, hands stuffed in his pockets.

“chishiya?” you call, avoiding the heat as you step closer. he glances over his shoulder at you, picking something up off of the table. you lean over to see what he’s holding. it’s a card. the ten of hearts.

“you were right, you know,” he says, throwing the card back onto the table. he smiles when you cock your head at him in confusion. “when i first arrived, one of the first things you said to me was that i shouldn’t trust the people here. you were right.” chishiya steps closer, intertwining his hands with yours. “i’m starting to think collecting the cards was pointless after all.”

the flames around you only grow stronger. “as much as i’d like to bask in your praise, we really need to leave,” you say, reaching over to grab his arm. “let’s go. kuina’s waiting.” he hums, pressing a kiss against your temple as he follows you out.

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carnivorousyandeere · 3 months

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College Group 1 + Horror post made me think.... College Group + slasher darling... 😳

GOD THAT’S SO HOT. Thank you Anon 😩🤌✨

CW: blood, gore, murder, attempted murder, knives, hammers

Elena: Elena could smell others’ blood on you from a mile away. There’s something about the scent on you that’s like an incredibly sexy cologne. Mixed with your natural scent, it makes the hairs on her arms and neck stand, goosebumps rising in their wake. She hasn’t felt so intrigued by anyone, felt so alive, in many decades… probably since she was turned. Elena turns the charm up to an eleven, flirting with you, letting her fingers trail up your arm, dark eyes peering up at you through her fluttering lashes. ‘Easy prey,’ you think… until you stab Elena and she barely flinches, pulling out the knife and licking her own sickly, undead blood from it, finishing with a sly laugh. “So forward, mi vida… no foreplay? I was so hoping to pretend to run from you, like a scared little mouse…”

Wisteria: overheard somebody flirting with you, got jealous, and stalked you on your ‘date’ with them. Imagine Wisteria’s shock when you act like you’re going in for a kiss, only to thrust your knife into the other person’s abdomen and twist, gutting them for the crime of getting on your nerves. She watches with awe, reverence, fingers turning white as she grips the corner of the building she’s peeking out from. You’re just like her. Wisteria daydreams constantly about killing with you. Maybe she’d pretend not to know how to wield a knife, just so you’d wrap your arms around her, sliding your hand over hers, to guide her. You begin to receive gifts from a “secret admirer.” Weapons she thinks you’ll like… trophies from her own victims.

Penny: gags every time you come home drenched in blood. “You know I love you, sweetie, but we’ve talked about this! You need to throw your clothes in the brick oven outside and wash in the pool shed before you come in…” She sighs. “I’ll never understand why you insist on being so… hands-on. It makes life so much more difficult than it has to be.” You grin, more blood staining your teeth. Penny’s stomach flips at the sight, repulsion and attraction mixing uncomfortably in her gut. “You know I love a challenge, Pen. And it’s not like you complain about my hands-on approach the rest of the time…” Penny blushes and swats at you with a dish towel as you try to reach for her hips to pull her closer. “G-go take a shower first!”

Thorn: even before she knows you/knows you’re the killer, Thorn constantly jokes about hoping the killer roaming campus will take her out in one way or the other. Starts putting up copies of articles about you on her wall, especially anything that claims to be a picture of you. It’s usually the blurriest, grainiest security camera screenshots you’ve ever seen, to the point you can barely tell it’s even a person in the photos. But it’s enough for Thorn. She lets her imagination run wild, thinking about being hunted by you, being spared by you, not being spared by you. Her mind had run through each and every scenario. Well, almost. She hadn’t imagined bashing some would-be final girl’s skull in with a hammer at some stupid party, but then there she was, covered in gore and standing over you with a hammer. You push the body off you and stand, staring at Thorn inscrutably, and she blushes so hard she thinks she might die then and there.

#mail 📬#oc Elena #oc Wisteria #oc Penny #oc Thorn #my thoughts #yandere #yandere oc #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere cw #slasher darling

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aidaronan · 5 months

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24 for the Steddie/Spotify wrapped prompt!

Welp. This one got away from me and is less a ficlet and more of just... a fic, but here we go! 24 - Scary Kids Scaring Kids - Watch Me Bleed

Lucky Number 42

Tags & Warnings: Blood, Time Loop, MCD but it’s a time loop so…, maybe it's supernatural or maybe it's maybelline It’s March 27th for the 41st time, and Steve doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the sickly colors of the Other Sky. He won’t forget the blood either, the way it stains Eddie’s shirt and mats up his pretty hair. The way it gushes through Steve’s fingers as he tries to hold it all in yet again, as though if he just squeezes tight enough, it’ll finally—finally—work this time around.

“Guess we’ll try again, huh?” Eddie smiles, red pooling in the cracks between his teeth. “Fuck, Stevie, why’s it always so cold?” Nearby, Dustin sobs uncontrollably. Steve won’t forget that sound either. It’s seared into his brain, all of it. The same day over and over and over again, both of them stuck in it together. Changing everything, changing nothing.

“What is it you told me, Eds? 42 is the answer, right?” Steve squeezes his hand tight, his heart so full of love and yearning and clogged-up grief that he can feel it all spilling painfully into his chest. “That’s gonna be it for us. Lucky number 42.”

But whether he heard him or not, Steve doesn’t know. Eddie’s gone again, his eyes empty, his hand limp. Steve sinks into the dirt and hugs his knees, letting his forehead fall against his folded arms.

He has a mental tally running, everything that’s worked, everything that hasn’t.

There’s really only one direction left, the one direction Eddie wouldn’t entertain when Steve suggested it 28 days ago, 24 days ago, 15 days ago, 7... The more they fell for each other, the more vehement Eddie got about how that particular avenue was off limits, ‘un-fucking-entertainable, actually.’

It’s the only way though, has to be. There isn’t any other way left.

Taking a few deep breaths, Steve raises his head and crawls for Dustin, still crying, completely unaware of how many times they’ve been here before.

“I love you, Dustin. I love you and I’m sorry your childhood got absolutely shit on, and I hope you know you deserve better than all this.” Steve will say it again on the next loop, too, when it’ll actually (hopefully) count. But he needs to say it now. For himself.

“This can’t be happening,” is Dustin’s choked-out reply.

Steve wants to say that it’s okay, that he’ll fix it. But he and Eddie have also talked about how maybe all of it’s some kind of personal hell built just for them. So maybe there is no fixing it.

All Steve knows is he can’t watch Eddie die again, and he can’t watch anyone else die in Eddie’s place.

So…

So.

“I know.” Steve holds onto Dustin’s arm, waiting for the girls to make their way back to them so they can get out together, so Steve can shower and fall into bed and do what needs to be done. “I know,” he says again. And he does know. Fuck, he knows 41 times over.

It’s exactly three hours and twenty-seven minutes later—it always is, give or take five minutes—when Steve finally lays his head on his pillow., curled protectively around Robin’s back. It’s another half hour or so before she cries herself to sleep.

Then countless unquantified minutes before Steve manages to drop off. On the edge of consciousness, he dreams a voice quietly speaking the number, “two.”

When Eddie asks the plan for the day, Steve lies. They sneak into the woods near the clearing and they have each other wholly, primally, sex forged from bonding in a way that only they could ever understand. And then they plan.

And Steve lies.

He suggests they rehash Day 13 with Day 42’s knowledge, plus Day 17’s solution for saving Max. He talks Eddie through the hang-ups, through the objections, feeling a sickening mix of resignation and guilt with every inch of ground he gains in convincing him.

In the end, Eddie nods. “Let’s do this then. Lucky number 42.”

“The answer to the universe, life, and, uh, all the other stuff.”

Eddie huffs a small laugh and looks at Steve fondly, cupping his cheek. “How many roads must a man walk down indeed.”

When they kiss for luck, Steve focuses on every single millisecond, on the way Eddie’s lips feel, on the hands on him—small of his back, back of his neck—and on the feeling of Eddie’s hair sliding hairspray-rough through his fingers. Every little breathy sound, every note of birds calling, bugs flitting.

Life.

It may not have been everything Steve wanted, but he got to have this. For one fleeting moment, he got to fall in love and to be part of a small family of misfits. Some people never got that lucky.

“I love you, Stevie.”

“I love you too.”

It feels like a blink before they’re outside of the trailer, Dustin locked in the bathroom in Right-side-up Hawkins. It’s just them and their makeshift armor—spear and nail bat against the swarm.

Eddie looks at him and nods.

Steve looks back and chokes down a sob, summoning all the bravery he possesses. “Eddie. I’m sorry.”

“Wh—”

This is the easy part, years of sports and fighting all culminating in this moment. At full speed, Steve plows into Eddie, tackling him to the ground, covering his body with his own.

They’re already biting by the time Eddie reacts, fighting like hell, pushing with all the strength of someone who spent years hauling around band equipment and theater props. Eddie’s strength is mostly in his thighs though, a force he uses to drive the rest of him. If Steve keeps him on the ground long enough…

“You motherfucker. You motherfucking fuck! You fucking son of a goddamned…” A feral scream, a shove that Steve counters by squeezing Eddie’s arms tight against him. Eddie growls, broken and desperate, “Stevie, please.”

They’re both fighting hard and with all the love in their bones. Apologizing over and over, Steve forces his fingers deep into the dirt, gripping the roots of rotten hell-vines hard even while the bats chew, even while he cracks his fingernails, and his hands bleed along with his body.

He’s halfway dead by the time the bats drop, and he knows it.

Eddie pushes him off and gets onto his knees and Steve can’t help but smile because Eddie is gloriously and beautifully okay. There’s a bite on his arm along with a few scratches from their tussle, but that’s it. He’ll make it this time. He’ll make it.

“I did it,” Steve says, falling onto his back despite the fact that it’s nothing but open wounds. “I did it. You’re alive and no one else is gonna…”

Eddie replies with a broken scream, with hands that reach for the bloodied hole on the side of Steve’s neck, that try to turn him over to see where else they need to press.

“Don’t.” Steve grabs weakly at his wrists. “Please, just… Let me. See if it works.”

“Fuck you, Steve.” Eddie blinks out several tears. “Fuck you. I said not this. Not this.”

“It’s the one thing we haven’t tried, Eddie. Maybe this is how it was always supposed to go, you know. Why we couldn’t break—” Steve coughs wetly. “God, it really is cold, huh?”

“Just… Just stay, okay, Stevie. Be stronger than me. Hold on, and that’s how we’ll break it, yeah? With you living.”

In the distance, Steve can hear Dustin finally bursting out of the trailer, crying his name.

He blinks up at Eddie’s brown eyes and smiles at the warmth of his hands on him.

Somewhere else, he can hear voices, unfamiliar and new.

“Oh,” Steve says, the edges of his vision going black, swallowing up Eddie’s face. “So there really is something else after all.”

Death, it seems, is darkness. Not terrifying but restful. Not cold, not warm either.

Just floating, quiet and peaceful.

“Two.”

A voice flows out of the void, a voice Steve thinks he may have dreamed once or even more than once. It’s quickly followed by more, all speaking rapidly from everywhere and nowhere.

“Four in cold blood. Undoing.”

“Two from love’s sacrifice. Healing.”

“And so it is. See how it all knits back into one.”

“Then it is done. Send him back.”

Steve tries to open his mouth. “Where—?”

He never finishes the question.

Steve blinks awake to the rhythmic sounds of a machine beeping.

He slowly turns his head to find Robin curled up in a chair next to him, snoring softly with a book steepled open in her lap.

“Rob?”

She startles awake and locks eyes on him before exclaiming with a smile that goes instantly tearful, “Holy shit. Steve.”

From a lumpy bag by her feet, she unearths a walkie-talkie, nearly flinging it at him in her haste to use it. Her hands are shaking when she brings it to her face.

“Hey, uh, everyone. We’re… We’re having a good hair day.”

There’s a chorus of voices, all of them expressing some kind of joy and relief, all of them saying they’ll be there as soon as they can.

“Already in the van. Munson over and out.”

He’s there within five minutes, hair in a messy bun that implies he might have genuinely thrown it up while steering with his knees.

Standing in the doorway, he pauses, eyes on Steve. Steve feels like his entire stomach might drop out under the weight of that gaze. If he’d had any reason to wonder if Eddie remembered all the loops, he’d have no doubt now.

“Hey Rob, can I have a minute with Stevie boy here before the entire Scooby Gang shows up?”

“Uh…” Robin looks back and forth between them, furrowing her brow at Steve before getting up. “Yeah, sure.”

She softly closes the door on the way out, and just like that they’re alone.

“I should kill you all over again for what you pulled, you know?” Eddie says, sitting down and reaching for Steve’s hand.

“You should.”

“But then again, here we are.”

“Here we are. How long was I…?”

“Dead? Or here? Because you did die. I checked your pulse, listened for a breath, fucking everything. And then the girls showed up and out of the blue, you twitched a fucking finger, so Nance and I… You’ve been in the hospital for a week.”

“I had a dream. Maybe. Or maybe it wasn’t a dream at all. I don’t know.” Steve thinks about it again, the infinite peace of the void. “There were, uh, voices, and I think they were saying you and I both had to be willing to die for each other. Like specifically two people in love. To undo Vecna. Are the gates…?”

“Closed, but that could be because Nance and Robin flambéed him alive.”

“Yeah.”

“More things in heaven and Earth though, Stevie. We did just repeat March 27 for a month and a half. Maybe someone was looking out for us. Or they just really fucking hate Vecna. There are many options for motive here.”

Steve rubs at Eddie’s knuckles with his thumb. He hadn’t even taken the time to put his rings on. “So many.”

“It’s over though,” Eddie says. “All of it. The suits cleared my name in five minutes and Hopper ripped the local PD a new asshole. Only question now is…” Eddie gives the spot where they’re holding hands a pointed look. “Now what?”

Steve thinks for a second, mouth twitching at every stolen happy moment in those 42 days of hell. Every smile, every kiss, every sneaky sweaty fuck. Every little conversation that made him laugh, made him feel, made him fall. “Do you remember Day 19 when I asked where you’d go if you ever left Hawkins?”

“I do. By then we’d already given each other hand jobs so I had exactly zero qualms about saying I’d go to San Francisco where I could be gay as hell and also make the heaviest of metal.”

“Yeah, well.” Steve shrugs. “I’m assuming I have to stay in this hospital for a little longer and probably sign, like, another pile of papers that say I won’t tell anyone the government broke Hawkins because they were experimenting on little kids. But after that, why not?”

“Why not? Just like that? ‘Eddie, let’s move in together and also let’s do that in California.’ That easy, huh?”

“We just lived through the end of the world 42 times, Eds. Why the hell can’t it be?”

Eddie laughs quietly and looks down at his lap, shaking his head, a few tendrils falling out of the bun as he does.

Outside of the room, Steve hears a series of sneakers squeaking on linoleum. The door bursts open and Eddie quietly pulls his hand away. But he’s smiling ear to ear when he leans back to let a gaggle of teens throw themselves semi-gently onto Steve for half-hugs.

“Well okay then, Stevie,” Eddie says over the sound of six other people talking at once. “If that’s what you want.”

#steddie #fanfic #mine #spotify wrapped but make it fics #time loop

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nixcwen · 1 year

Text

➳ wildfire | vinsmoke sanji

request by anon: Hii! I saw ur requests are open so may I please request a sanji x fem!reader where while fighting marines reader took the bullet/hit for sanji? And sanji got shocked because he wasn’t used to being saved by women (btw sanji and reader has a crush on each other) and reader confessed to sanji before fainting and after everything reader was treated by chopper and when she woke up sanji was there and akso confessed to her and then they kissed hehe. I hope this is okay! Thank you!!

“Sanji, Sanji!” You ran so fast your limbs were scorching- also uncomfortably aching, sweat poured non-stop from your forehead, throat forcing shouts in hurry and worry. “Sanji! Look back!”

The cook of Thousand Sunny displayed his blazing long legs with pride. He was exchanging blows with his opponent, hands tucked in his pants, his focus not faltering- which left you with no choice. You wouldn’t be able to take it if he gets hurt, even worse, die. Not with you around.

Without a second thought, you flung yourself forward to Sanji, tackling him to the ground. Immense pain unlike you’ve never experienced before enveloped your abdomen. It was sharp. Excruciating. You could not catch your breath, gasping for air while clutching the frame of a motionless Sanji. His mouth hung open leading to drop the cigar he has been consuming.

“Y/N-chan?”

“I told you to look back. You never listen to me.” You drop your head onto his chest. “Hear me out this time, will you?”

“Are- are you hurt? I’m gonna go get- I’ll call… call for help- wait for me-” you placed your pointer finger on top of his wobbling lips.

“I said listen-“ you took a deep breath, hissed at the pain that suddenly surged, but continued nevertheless, “we don’t know how things would go. I’m not one to do so but I’ll take the chance this time.”

Amidst the battle cries, the shade of red painting the ground, it can never be not romantic so long as he was close. So long as you can hear his heartbeat. You continued expressing the feelings you have suppressed.

“I like you, Sanji. Maybe even more than I’m admitting. I like you. Did you hear that?”

The word stunned would understate what he feels at that very moment. He was baffled- bewildered. Then he was afraid. Urgency knocked him back to reality when your eyes fluttered closed. He was shaking you, calling you, but you didn’t answer anymore.

Your world goes black and so does Sanji’s.

“Sanji,” a familiar cute little voice uttered, “I guarantee you she would wake up. You wouldn’t want her to open her eyes and see you like this, would you? I don’t want to treat any more of you than I have to.”

“I’ll wait for them, Chopper.”

An adorable but noticeably frustrated sigh left the Doctor’s mouth. “Sanji-“

“I said I’ll wait for them.”

With that, you’re eyes fluttered open, your lips turning up in a smile.

“I got this, Chopper.” You answered with a sore throat. Chopper left with a relieved sigh.

“Y/N-chan!” Without wasting a second, his arms immediately surrounded you, trapping you in a tight and warm embrace. A little sting on your abdomen made you hiss. It made him release you from his hold, opting to settle his hands on your shoulder before looking you in the eye.

And that was when you wished you took all the hurt you could have, so it did not have to make a home in Sanji’s face, it was a heartbreaking sight. Tears pooled in his eyes, dripping down his cheeks- ones that are hollowed from probably skipping his meals. His hair was disheveled but no—it was not the worst part—it was the same suit, same necktie, same blood-soaked clothes that he wore when you were shot. The hands on your shoulders continued to tremble. So you held it. Enclosed it against yours.

“I’m alright, Sanji, though it seems like you’re not.”

He closed his eyes, shaking his head from left to right. “No, I’m not,” he uttered in a voice so small you barely heard it. “Don’t tell me that you love me just to leave me.”

The statement made you clear your throat.

“Excuse me? I don’t think I recall saying that.” You didn’t know his eyes also held much power because they made you take your words back as soon as you said them. “I mean, yes, I did tell you I like you-“

“I do. I like you. Hell, I love you, Y/N! Don’t tell me you take a bullet for me and expect me not to? But please let me take the bullet for you next time. I’d rather suffer myself than see you… like this.”

He rested his forehead on the crook of your neck. Meanwhile, you leaned down a little, pressing a kiss to his hair.

“I can’t have you hurting in my stead. Let’s just compromise. How about taking down the enemies before they even touch us? I think that sounds better.”

“Yes, that does sound better. I won’t let them lay their hands on you. Never again. But…” you wondered what it was again when he pulled away from you, not that much really, just enough to stare deep into your eyes and communicate his message, “you still haven’t said it back.”

You smiled, a giddy one, a surge of warmth spreading like wildfire in your heart.

“I love you.”

Your lips pressed against one another, molding with his in a slow and passionate kiss. It was searing. The fire resisted to cease, rather, it only glowed brighter. Just like wildfire.

Hello! I hope you enjoyed reading! You can check more of my works if you did. I’m also planning to take commissions soon, in case you are interested, hehe. Please do your like or reblog. I wish you a nice day/night!

Sincerely, Nixxy ♡

taglist (join here!): @ek4t

#by nixxy #opw by nixxy #one piece #one piece x reader #sanji x reader #one piece sanji #sanji fluff #one piece fluff #op fic #op scenario #op sanji #one piece drabble #one piece imagine #one piece scenario

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peachyloveswriting · 1 year

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wow!!! the immortality post was so good!! you captured every character so well 🫶 im glad that for nai’s part he stopped himself before he accidentally killed reader—i wonder how insane that would’ve made him. i’m tempted by how angsty that would be …

Anon: *Slides angst onto table*

Me: (in a very suspicious and obviously trying to not be obvious outfit) *snatches the angst and runs away with an evil cackle.*

If you can't tell, angst is my favorite and OMG I absolutely love this idea I'm drooling over it as we speak. Sadly though I feel like my last knives fix was rushed so I'm going to try and write this one better for you.

IT'S A GOOD THING I CAN'T DIE --- Millions Knives

SUMMARY: How could he ever do something like this. And why to you of all people?

WARNING: Death, descriptions of death, mutilation, trauma.

⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝

He has always seen himself as being incapable of caring for someone else. Humans are especially at the top of this list, they are the very thing he's worked so hard to get rid of and yet, he let one walk right into his life. You slowly took over everything he did, his planning became filled with ensuring you had food to eat, finding you a place to sleep and keeping you safe. He kept you in his company, even while you slept, just in fear of what others might do to you. He knows his disciples don't like you, they'd even go as far as killing you, but Knives, he would never hurt you. Never has the day come that he has ever thought about laying a hand on you and if he dared, he might mutilate himself.

The time for that day fills with its unprecedented arrival and it swallows him whole, eating him alive with guilt. In this moment he stands frozen, unable to think or move. Beyond the door he attacked had come a name, his name, in your voice of all things. In his worst nightmares he's dreamt of this but... was it really you?

Just hours before this he had seen a horrific sight, one he hopes will be wiped from his mind forever, an image of you laying in a pool of blood. Impaling every open spot of your skin is nails, each of them driving through to the floor and mangling you beyond recognition. Maybe it wasn't you that he saw, his mind was just playing a trick on him. At this point, he's too scared to break himself from this trance, he doesn't want to know what dead body lies outside that door. He knows he has to check it soon or he might lose his mind at the thought of killing you.

Pulling out of the trance, his tendrils hook the door and relieve it from its place upon the hinges. It snaps with a loud crack as he pulls it away and sets it to the side. Even with the ability to see the body laying in his doorway, Knives is too scared to look. He refuses to bring his eyes forward, and looks away. If the blood seeping into the carpet was yours, what would he do? Would he actually kill himself? Without you, what would he do?

Knives begins to gather the courage to look down at the body in his doorway, casting his eyes to the figure, it runs his blood dry.

The blood covers the whole room outside, it makes his stomach churn at the sight. Saliva fills his mouth, Knives keels over from the sudden intrusion and opens his mouth to let his stomachs contents pour out. Without it being any substantial food at all, it burns the back of his throat with bial. Tears build and blur his eyesight, keeping him from making out the full body, but he didn't have to look that long to know who it was.

Falling apart around him feels like the world, his last line of sanity, the only thing he cared for has been stripped away and by his own hands. If only he had inspected the first body closer he might not have killed you in a fit of rage, he might be able to salvage any sanity still left over, but it's long demented. Simmering in the juices of hysteria.

To his knees, he falls. First Vash and now you. This couldn't really be happening could it? The body before him smells of you, but how could it really be you? Why did you step in at the wrong time? Why did he fail?

From his throat erupts a scream of raw, unadulterated, pain. It's sad and pulled with sorrow before it delves back down into a low sinister cackle. Hysterical to no end, Knives finally loses it. Everything he's lived for up until now could go to waste, and everyone else better swear to God for their safety, if anyone touches you he might not step back over the edge. Any drop of sanity he might just have left, will be gone. Not even Vash would be able to bring him back.

#millions knives x you #millions knives x reader #knives x reader #millions knives #trigun stampede #trigun x reader #trigun stampede x reader

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oneangstymotherfucker · 10 months

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Sebastian Taking Ciel's Soul...

Sebastian caught the tips of his glove between his teeth, slipping it off before setting Ciel gently down to slip off the other.

Ciel took a deep sigh. It was okay. Sebastian's slowness put him a little at ease. Ciel wasn't nervous-

But maybe he was.

The demon looked deep into his eyes, hands delicately cupping his face.

"Bocchan," he said softly.

Ciel blinked at him, both naked eyes looking into his butlers, the person he had depended on, the person who had given him everything, the person he was ready to die for-

squish.

Sebastian's hands gently squished Ciel's cheeks. Patted them. Squished them again. Wiggled his ears. Squished his cheeks again.

This went on for some minutes.

"...Sebastian."

"Ah,"

"Don't play with your food."

Sebastian smiled a slow evil little smile.

"Bocchan," he repeated, more serious than the last, "are you ready?"

"Yes." Ciel said, with much more confidence than he felt.

"Well then," Sebastian said, leaning a little closer. Ciel took a deep breath.

Squish.

"Sebastian!"

"Apologies, young master," Sebastian said, hands visibly restraining themselves from going again, "you are nearly too pretty to eat."

He was going to miss Ciel's cheeks more than anything else, Ciel mused with annoyance.

Then a cool finger slid under Ciel's chin.

"I would like to kiss you. Is that all right?"

Ciel was taken aback by the question. He knew his turn was over and he was Sebastian's to toy with now, but this didn't make any sense!

"Wha-what? Why?" He stammered, hoping his hot cheeks weren't too obvious.

"Is it not what humans do, when they feel this way?" Sebastian asked, that terreible look of innocent sincerity on his perfect face.

"What way Sebastian?" Ciel demanded, palms sweating against the hems of his trousers he'd been gripping.

"Ciel," he whispered, his name sounding like sugary poison on his breath.

Ciel's heart was pounding. His face was hotter than hell and his hands grabbed Sebastian's wrists.

He could kill this bloody demon!!!!

"How long?!?!" He blurted.

"Since what?" Sebastian blinked.

"How long have you- have you-"

"Loved you?" Sebastian asked, the finger under his chin joined by a thumb barely brushing Ciel's lip. It was good Sebastian had finished the sentance, because there was no more air in Ciel's lungs with which to speak.

"Several months now," he said simply.

"Fuck you," Ciel said, tears falling from his eyes despite him trying his hardest not to let them.

Months?!?! Months. Months of Sebastian's silence in the face of Ciel's agony, only now to be broken when he had maybe minutes left???

"Bocchan," he whispered, even closer and gentler despite Ciel's rage.

"Fuck you," Ciel repeated, more broken than before, leaning in to close the distance, suprising his demon butler as their lips finally met.

It was hot, it was too much, it was so much more than Ciel had imagined it (and oh, he had imagined it so many times!)- maybe this was how Sebastian was to eat his soul, for surely it had left his body! Left him hot and hollow and full of feeling, a beating heart and a boiling pool of blood!

Sebastians hands ran soothingly down Ciel's body even as he cried and kissed him more hungrily than the demon himself.

"Bocchan," he whispered, so lovingly, so gently, every time Ciel was forced to break for air.

"Fuck you," Ciel groaned back each time, tears rolling freely down his face. Suddenly he pulled away, done with the pain of Sebastian's teasing.

"Do it then," he all but begged, his pounding heart broken in his chest.

"Do what?" Sebastian blinked.

"Take it. My soul. If we can't- if it must be, let it be over. Please. I can't anymore."

Sebastian's face flickered evilly but rested into a gentle smile, his thumb tracing Ciel's jaw.

"Oh bocchan," he said, softer than gossamer- "your soul has been mine for a very long time. Hasn't it?"

Ciel fell forward onto Sebastian's chest, finally letting it all out, overwhelmed with all his feelings.

How dare he!! How dare he do this to him, put him through so much, make him hurt so exquisetely!! How dare he defeat him!! How dare he make it feel so good to be defeated!!!

Sebastian ran his hands over his back, letting him take his time before Ciel nodded-

"yes," he practically whined, "so long-", leaning up to kiss Sebastian's neck, his jaw, anything he could reach-

"Very well then, Bocchan. Shall we return to the manor?"

Ciel pulled away from the little trail of marks he was leaving on Sebastian's skin.

"The contract-" he said, coming to his senses a bit, finally.

"I am rather fond of the markings," said the demon, a thumb gently running under Ciel's eye.

"But my so-"

"Do you wish to be mine?"

Ciel blinked.

"Yes."

"Say it."

Sebastian's eyes were red, his pupils slits like when they first met.

"I am yours." Ciel said, without hesitation.

"Mine," Sebastian said, that horrible, beautiful, evil, comforting little grin coming to his lips. He leaned forward and laid a tiny little kiss on Ciel's forehead.

"It is complete. Would you like to keep the markings?"

Ciel finally understood, finally trusted it.

"Yes," he said, thumb running over Sebastian's hand.

"So back to the manor it is then?"

"We are late for tea," Ciel mused. Perhaps he could still win this game.

Sebastian grinned.

"Then we must hurry. A Phantomhive butler who is late for tea is not worth his salt."

"No he is not," Ciel agreed, already thinking up several different strategies as to how to make him even more late.

#kuroshitsuji #black butler #sebaciel #sebastian x ciel #stupid little bits of fic

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droogiesanddiscourse · 1 year

Text

“I’ll Fake God"

Pairing: Herbert West x GN!Reader [Re-Animator 1985]

Summary: A lab accident renders you on the brink of death with little to no hope for recovery. But Herbert isn't about to let the only person he's ever loved to leave his life so quickly.

Warnings: Body horror, death, the usual re-animator content.

A/N: we love the angst. Changing a little bit of the ending to re-animator (1985) to fit my sick little evil narrative. This was written in an odd dreamy like stream of consciousness thing im not exactly sure what this is or if its even good, but I hope you enjoy it.

Memento Mori. Remember that you will die.

When you feared monsters as a child, ones that hid in the deepest corners of your room, you would close your eyes and count to ten. The fear dissipating as your heart rate returned to normal, there was nothing that could hurt you in the first place.

Applying that same practice now, you squeeze your eyes shut; hoping to re-awake in the comfort and safety of your shared apartment. In bed. Waking up from a horrible, incredibly lifelike dream.

But the monsters were real, now. They walked among the same Earth you did. There was no escaping the re-animated monstrosities of flesh and bone that clawed it's way out of the dark makeshift laboratory deep within the basement. The sound of inhuman claws ripping through your flesh, right through your delicate insides.

It's not a dream.

The white coffee cup in your hand you brought for Herbert loosened from your grip, making a resounding crash on the concrete floor. Shattering into uneven pieces as the brown liquid pooled beneath your feet. You didn’t scream. Simply widened your eyes at the spectacle before you, as the monster’s hand continued to create a penetrating trauma; right through to the other side.

The way you looked up at Herbert will be permanently etched into his mind for the rest of his days; a mix of terror, shock, pain, and something else within your [e/c] orbs.

One that Herbert immediately recognized as betrayal.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Herbert and Dan’s worried faces loom over you on the gurney as you are pushed through the Miskatonic University ICU. Your hand desperately clutched to your chest, doing little more than coating them with the blood gushing out of your open wound; painting the digits a bright red.

You didn’t dare to look down at it. If you couldn't see it, it wasn't real.

Metallic iron and antiseptic.

The faces of horrified onlookers parted the aisle like the red sea. Each of them blurred into a mirage of color, unrecognizable as they merged into a single entity. Your colleagues, friends, and professors surely spectating the horror no doubt.

What will they say about you in the morning paper, what photo will they use?

"I'm dying, oh god this is it isn't it? I'm dying, Herbert. I'm sorry I'm so sorry I'm sorry”

You hold your bloodied hand up to the overhead fluorescent lights zooming by above you, marveling at the way the harsh light bounced of the ruby liquid. In other less dire circumstances, one might even find it beautiful. Your fingers grasp and coil in the air towards Herbert's direction, desperate to make skin-to-skin contact with the one you call your partner. Your palm presses flat against his cheek, transferring your sticky blood onto his flushed face.

“Shut up, [____], you’re not dying," he huffs out, the warble of uncertainty in his voice makes you doubt him. "Stop being dramatic." He presses his lips against the middle of your palm, giving the area a chaste kiss.

These usual terms of endearment do little to comfort you; having never seen Herbert look this concerned before. The most unhinged events he's encountered have simply been brushed off with ease; he is the only man to have stared down death in the eye and challenged its finality. Never in those intense moments did his eyebrows even dare raise in shock. You lull your head to the side, attempting to hold back a choked sob stuck within your throat.

"Is it bad?" you ask, your chest rising and falling as you let out a pathetic laugh. He doesn't even bother to respond. You know the answer anyways. You'll be entering oblivion tonight.

Pushing you into the empty examination room, Dan and Herbert already knew it was too late. They weren't quick enough, not fast enough. Your eyes glazed over as blood continues to pour from you -- trailing and spilling its way down the side of the now still gurney. A cascading river of crimson. Your arms were stuck with a crosswire of tubes, gathering your vitals. It seemed more a formality at this point, as your heart rate already starts to fade.

Dan, with all his optimism, understands any attempts to save your life would be futile at this point. Instead, his infinite mercy injects morphine into your iv bag - a type of drugged-out relief washing over you almost instantly. Kneeling next to you, he holds your hand as your labored breathing fades into short breaths as the medicine enters your veins. Still painful, yet not unbearable. Just enough to bring you comfort before your expiration.

"You're gonna be fine," he smiles, squeezing your hand. You don't have the heart to tell him he's lying. Instead, you just give him a closed mouthed smile back.

Euthanasia. What a beautiful word.

You can hear the rummaging of vials in between your haze, your stomach twisting as Herbert pulled out his precious container of re-agent. His facial features become illuminated by the sickly green glow emanating from the bottle, neon reflecting off of his wire rimmed glasses.

Herbert notices you staring at him, as he waves his hand in front of you, seeing your eyes already grow wide in fear. “It's okay, this won't hurt. You'll be okay in no time, back in our apartment, you just have to trust us-"

"Oh, no no no. NO. You've got to be fucking kidding me, Herbert. You're not doing that to [____!]" Dan interjects, jumping up from his kneeling position next to you. Lunging forward, Dan attempts to grab the liquid. Doing what should have always been done.

Where it should have gone the first time Herbert played God.

Smashed onto the floor into a million fucking pieces.

But Herbert's too quick, as he moves backwards away from Dan's rather pathetic attempt. He cradles his potion like a newborn baby, holding it to his chest for dear life. Lips pressed together into a harsh line; his eyes aflame with fury. "It's the only way Dan. This, or we lose them forever."

Dan stares stunned at his partner, his eyes welling. "You want to turn them into one of those monsters, Herbert? Is that what you want? You want [____] to turn into a snarling, disgusting reanimated beast? Because that's what will happen! That's what happened every FUCKING time before, Herbert! I know you want things to be different but you can't save them. I-I'm sorry," his voice waivers as a sob threatens to steal his voice. "It's not working. At least the way you want it to."

"NO. That's not true. It's different! B-Because this time it's a fresh body, Dan! It will work," Herbert explains, hands shaking, barely getting the needle to plunge into the green fluid. "It's different!! It's different this time because...because it's THEM, Dan! Don't you understand? It has to be different!"

Dan shakes his head solemnly. "But it won't be, Herbert. No matter how much you love them."

"Is that truly what you think? What if it was Megan, Dan? Wouldn't you do the same for her? Give a second chance to the person you love the most, breath new life into what was lost?"

Silence.

"Look me in the eyes right now and tell me you wouldn't. This is what we've worked so hard for, Dan. We will eradicate death altogether. There will be no more suffering, no more pain. No more grief."

He wouldn't admit Herbert was right.

"I can't lose anyone else, Dan," he emotionlessly states, turning his gaze towards you.

"Herbert, please," you beg desperately, a gargle from the blood invading your airways makes your speech difficult to understand. There wasn't much time left.

“You're a monster, Herbert."

“And you’re a hypocrite, Dan,” he spits coldly, flicking the tip of the syringe with his middle finger. “I don’t need your moral superiority interfering with this."

With what little strength you have left, you push yourself to the corner of the gurney, cowering with fear as he stalks towards you. You feel like a lab rat, as Herbert stands before you with an emotionless gaze.

This isn't what love was supposed to feel like.

“Don’t. You promised...you wouldn’t." You feel the cold metal of the needlepoint run against the delicate flesh of your inner arm, and you jump. Your sobs of pain slowly materialize into ones of pure terror. "Don't turn me into one of those creatures! Please!"

The pleads fall hopelessly on deaf ears as every ounce left of your body thrashes in protest, fists weakly hitting against his chest. Your voice hitting a shrill octave that was unfathomable and almost out of the human sound waves. Dan turns his head, unable to bear witness.

"PLEASE, PLEASE HERBERT LET ME DIE. PLEASE!!!"

This was for your own good. You couldn't leave him now, not yet. There was so much more to accomplish, so much more that you had to experience together. You are the exception.

Reversed human decay. Memento Vivere. Remember that you must live.

Your clinical death was called at quarter to twelve.

You rose again at midnight.

#herbert west x reader #re animator 1985 #herbert west imagine #re animator imagine #slasher x reader #gn!reader #this sure is something that I wrote #we got a hot priest break

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