#somewhat fluff?

You’re making this man STRESS in this😭

Giyuu x GN!Reader — Post Dental Treatment Care

It's called "Scheherazade" :DD The Sultan maries women at night and then unalives them by morning. So Scheherazade devised a scheme. She would tell a story every night and leave it on a cliffhanger every time. After 1001 stories, he made the decision of keeping her.

basically- before reader is supposed to ascend to paradise (get eaten alive lolol), she does that ^ so that he'll spare her and let her entertain him every night with her very intriguing stories until he finally doesn't even care about eating him until he doesn't even feel like eating her anymore👍

What’s Afab? Oh, nevermind! I’ll find it out myself with my magic ✨G O O G L E✨ hands! Okay. Hmm, I hope I can do this exactly as you want

Douma- Fascinating Tales

“Aaah~ really? Continue!” Douma hummed excited, tapping his mighty clawed hands on his dark Hakama pants rhythmically as he continues to flash his somewhat manipulative beam before you, encouraging you on pinpointing the interesting details of your next wild tale. Sat on your knees in front of his glamorous, shiny throne, Douma egged you on to speak once again in your immersive tone like you did just before

Your situation with the one and only Upper Moon 2, Douma was a truly fascinating one. More fascinating than the many stories you told him at the peak of black night. You were a prideful follower of the Eternal Paradise Cult, unaware of the fact you were truly in danger until the very final day you were a faithful sheep to the women body-loving demon. Your beloved leader, Douma himself on one faithful day, selected you as the special one to “ascend to paradise”, the special treatment he always spoke about

You, however, weren’t a fan of being eaten alive by your admired leader so you indirectly fought back on his offer and decided to stall his greedy need to devour you, such a pretty woman, by telling him a story so intriguing that he just couldn’t resist but let you finish up, sparing your life in the process. This precisely developed strategy always saved you from meeting a painful and cruel end as Douma grew eager to hear your far tales and kept you alive slowly to satisfy his curiosity

Over many months, you seemingly never ran dry of your tales and Douma’s almost mind-swallowing desire faded away into nothing, at his own surprise. He didn’t want to eat you anymore, he couldn’t really see you as a another walking lunch but as his all-so-interesting story teller, someone who comes into his throne room at a very precise time and tell him a new fantasy narrative that’ll shake his thoughts for hours on end afterwise

You couldn’t believe your efforts genuinely worked as you gently smiled back at Douma, parting your lips to persevere the lead you were weaving and Douma was all for it with every fibre of his bean. Even if you were to lose your material and spark, Douma knew he wouldn’t want to kill you. You don’t seem like you would taste appeasing to him and he was feeling a little but meaningful flame of passion for you burn within him. He wanted to keep you alive until you perished at natural means, he didn’t mind

He could always have you read him written books if you had nothing left to entertain him with. Douma traced his otherworldly beautiful rainbow eyes over your face, your cute defined face and those pretty sparkling eyes. He always found himself amused by your voice and your passion as you explained the plots to him. Douma found you adorable in every form

September 21, 2018. 

It’s officially been a year since Shane left Ryan. 

“Cheers,” Ryan whispers dully, raising a glass with one of the most expensive bottles of whiskey Ryan has ever bought. “to another year, right?” And Ryan downs the shot, Shane deserves only the best. The burning attacking his throat makes Ryan hum in comfort. Pain now seemed like the only way for Ryan to feel normal again. 

It’s been a year since Shane got into a car crash with a drunk driver who was too busy playing fuckin candy crush rather than paying attention to the damn road. The worst thing about it was the fact Ryan rested in the passenger seat right next to his friend’s soon-to-be death bed. 

Ryan poured himself another drink with shaky hands, he’s trying so hard to follow his therapist’s advice and think about the happy moments of Shane’s life except for his finals. But it wasn’t working. 

Ryan remembers the screams, not from Shane, but from him. Crying for Shane to watch out as the driver drove into their lane. He remembers telling Shane to turn to the next lane as he didn’t trust the guy ahead of him. He remembers Shane’s constant reassurance, telling Ryan he was just being paranoid as usual. 

Ryan chuckles at the last one, “How’d you like that, Madej? I was finally right about something and you were wrong.” it’s an empty praise and Ryan knows it; he wishes for the other way around but he couldn’t have that because that would just be normal. And nothing about that situation was normal. 

Ryan remembers hating Shane afterwards. Screaming to nobody but the walls in his apartment of how stupid Shane was. How incredibly wrong he had been, how if he had just listened to Ryan for just this once Shane would be alive and Ryan wouldn’t have a fractured arm. Because of course, Shane just had to be Shane, his usual smug, know-it-all, typical fucking douche. 

Ryan had once been afraid of bears but mental pain was something that put a bear attack to kiddie’s play. 

The whiskey bottle was half gone now and Ryan was crying profusely, his eyes red and puffy, body shaking and mind wrecked. He didn’t dare to look at his phone, knowing to only expect messages of fans and friends commemorating Shane;s death and how he was such an ‘inspiration’. 

“Well i just think you’re an asshole,” He sobs to himself, shaking his head as he stood up too quickly. Only to be greeted with a severe dizziness, much appreciated for the distraction. “fuckin, can’t be here anymore.” Ryan decided, pouring the rest of the whiskey into a red solo cup.

Ryan stepped out of the refinements of his house, stumbling out drunk deciding he didn’t care if his place got robbed while he was gone. His hand was glued to the cup as he walked down the streets and into the void of the night. No stars in sight and the moon was a crescent. 

“Look how they treat your death,” Ryan mumbled in disgust, “Shane deserves more than a fuckin half ass moon.” he continued, his expression hardening. 

Ryan just remembers. Remembers the guy stopping abruptly on a highway that went on an 80mph speed. Remembers the person behind them crashing into their rear. Remembers Shane, God, he remembers the god awful thud Shane’s skull made against the closed window. He remembers that Shane’s first initial reaction was to protect Ryan by throwing his right arm in front of him even though it only gained Shane a glass shard into his bicep. Ryan remembers his arm being slammed against the car door. Ryan remembers only recently being able to go around without the arm cast. 

Ryan sips on the whiskey, he’s openly crying in public but he doesn’t care. “Not so invincible now, are you Shane?” Ryan blinks, looking down at the red cup that’s almost gone of its previous liquid. “But looks like neither am I.”

What Ryan remembers the most are his eyes. Shane’s eyes in his last moments were spent watching Ryan. His eyes tells so much, it was apologetic, as if Shane knew what kind of fucking torture he would give Ryan if he were to past right now. Ryan remembers watching the light drain from Shane as he tried to say one last thing to the man next to him. 

Ryan fell to his knees and gritted his teeth, “The one time you could end up speechless you chose it to be on your dead line? Fuck you, Shane!” he cries as he holds himself. Thankful, at least he thinks he should be, for the lack of audience. 

Shane Madej died on impact. 

They say on the autopsy.

Shane Madej was an exceptional man and an inspiration to us all. 

They say at his funeral.

Shane Madej will forever be missed, but the work he left here will carry his spirit through. 

They say at work. 

“You know what I say, Shane?” Ryan inquires, pushing himself back up. “I say, ‘Shane Madej would never know how much Ryan Bergara loved him.’ so fuck off!” 

Suddenly, Ryan’s pressed against the back of a cement wall hard enough for the wind to knock out of him. The red cup falling from his fingertips and spilling the rest of its contents. Fear overtook Ryan’s hazy mind, instantly gaining some type of clarity. 

“You know,” The person who held a knife to his neck started, “you’re drunk, clearly in some sort of misery. I say I add on. Give me your wallet.” the petty thief grunts. Emphasizing his point by digging the steel tip into his neck. 

“Must be both of our unlucky days, left everything home.” Ryan states rather cockily than he would usually would had. 

“You think this is a fucking joke?” The man bellowed, re-shoving Ryan up against the wall. 

“You think I fuckin care anymore man?” Ryan’s voice cracks as he pressed the back of his head against the wall. He swallowed thickly, “I don’t. Now let me the fuck go!” he struggles now against the pin, biting his lower lip in dissatisfaction. 

“Maybe I should do you the fucking honors then.” And with that, the knife that was pressed against Ryan’s neck moved down to Ryan’s abdomen and sheath itself inside him. 

Ryan falls as the man runs right before he pulls the knife out. Ryan can’t screams, he can’t move for it hurts too much, and for once during this whole day, his brain isn’t concentrated on Shane. 

Blood began to seep from Ryan’s lips and Ryan thought this was it. That he’d die drunk in an alley way on Shane’s death day. He really does tend to steal the spotlight from Shane, doesn’t he? 

“Ryan,’ The voice is soft, hesitant, but caring. “it’s going to be okay. just breathe.” Ryan knows that voice but he’s too scared to open his eyes, especially now. 

“Was this how it feels?” Ryan questions towards the voice. 

“Unfortunately, you’ll be okay though, you have to be.” 

“Yeah, I thought the same for you.” 

Ryan finally opens his eyes, only to see Shane, he was sitting right next to Ryan too. Ryan could see the side of his head dried with blood and cuts that decorated Shane’s arm. 

“Am I going to die with a gap permanently in my abdomen?” Ryan asked softly, a wheeze escaping Ryan as it does Shane. 

“You’re not going to die.” 

“Unfortunate.” 

“Ryan!”

“What Shane? You think life is at the best for me right now? Nice ghost form by the way, you owe me 50 bucks.”   

“Ryan- fine, you were right, God you were right. They’re all real but that doesn’t mean you should become one right now.” 

Ryan looks over to Shane’s eyes, he could feel cold but hot, tired but too awake. “It’s not the best to watch your best friend die.” 

Shane’s lips pressed into a firm line, “Yeah, and it’s worse to see your lover die too.” and like that, Shane was gone and Ryan passed out. 

Ryan woke up in a hospital bed, Shane was gone, and he was silent as he read the white board. 

Ryan Bergara, stabbed.